Punch 1848: Vol 15

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HMMM MMMM TT Loy a Y i] } / iy i A / il LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET. AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1848,

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LONDON BRADBURY AND FVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. pam

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Hy ' wi \ N \ Mi aN Vey AN , \ \ i, Tage 7s gE 2 -. (22 > a _s. a, =, ew ae : oon turns over a new leaf—page 1849. It will take some pause to convince us that the leaf be turned ; to assure us of the exit of Eighteen-Forty-Light. And for this good reason :—Eighteen-Forty-Eight has, all through his life, been such an uproarious knave, that we cannot for awhile get his doings out of our ears. Like the bell that vibrates with the last stroke of twelve—with the last pulsation of the dead year—so does the round world still hum with the hubbub of the deceased. France rings with a brassy sound—the sound of a counterfeit Nav. A crown las been suddenly dropt in Austria, and (though picked up again) we still hear the echo of the fall. Prussia pricks up her ears, startled by the rumpling of parchment—the unfolding of a Constitution. Rome, with Head separated still, like Sr. Dents, moves on. Naples shifts uneasily under a lucifer sceptre. Spain, to be sure, is tolerably quiet ; for, like a bankrupt pieman, she has no money to pitch and toss with. The Russian Bear sucks his paws, seeming inclined to doze. And Joun Buxt, rejoicing from his show of cattle, smacks his lips at fat six inches on the ribs. If, however, Eighteen-Forty-Eight have been a swaggerer, Kighteen-Forty-Nine, feeling himself a born | gentleman, will, no doubt, behave himself as such. In France, he will be the pink of courtesy and gentleness : he will

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PREFACE. iv cease to yell Mourir pour la patrie; but do the best to Vivre pour la patrie. France has died often enough : it is now high time to try to live. Austria will plant olives throughout, and disband her armies. Mortars will be turned into beehives; and lances into vine-poles. We already see JeELLaticu and Winpiscueratz promoted from the field of glory to the field of turnips. Prussia will march on softly and comfortably in the path of Constitutional Freedom—a path carpetted with the best of Berlin wool, worked with excellent designs. The Porr, having read the following notice in Punch :—“ If Pius will return, all will be forgotten ; his absence is not yet generally known: ”—the Por, we say, having read this, goes back ; and makes haste to secure his triple crown with the best Roman cement. Naples does nothing but eat maccaroni; and Sicilians and Neapolitans do not eat one another. FERDINAND’s lucifer sceptre changes into a sugar-stick. Spain is prouder than ever ; and neyer with such good reason—She pays her debts. We hear nothing of Russia; and from some folks, no news is the best of news. He has wholly discharged a good many idlers ; and But to think of Joun’s business all 1849 ! He hasn’t had a moment’s rest, orders from customers at home and abroad coming so thick upon him. And the fine old fellow—for Joun, after all, is never without hope—anticipating this, has already taken off his hat and, having had Joun Bux has been very economical, and very busy. others he has put upon small pensions, to let them die comfortably out. a Merry Christmas, (pray shout with him) shouts for— “A Happy New Year.”

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pated) rYN i \ \ zs a Ly — | ~~ TAS j a. ay Vem nd NC ea Vy " ays ae A | & Zag , a J) ’ Se SZ = ‘ Puncno PresentInc HIs FourTeEENTH VOLUME TO THE GENIUS oF HIS COUNTRY. PUNCH’S BIRTHDAY I. Ami the crash of toppling crowns, The crack of dynasties, And thunder of bombarded towns, Far booming o’er the seas, While Europe with an earthquake-shock }, Is reeling to and fro, . Joun Bute sits calmly on his rock, Begirt with Ocean’s flow, — Watching the storm with quiet survey, He being safe ashore ; And whilst abroad all thing are topsy-turvy, He sees his QueEN upon her throne, His Lords and Commons holding still their own, And some of them, perhaps, a little more. Il, Oh, pride! our Institutions— The old, the wise, the free— In a world of revolutions Still flourishing to see ! To view our own majestic native Oak, Whilst other trees of Liberty decay, Still whole and sound from stem to spray, Not in the least inclined to droop ; _ Indeed, without a joke. This sight should make each Briton cock-a-hoop ! Ill, But of our Constitution There ’s one peculiar t, Its finest Institution— That is to say, almost— With warmest exultation, And self-congratulation, With admiration utterly unbounded, Should every mother’s son d THaT Institution, founded Eighteen Forty-one ! | ODE TO HIMSELF. Yes, Punch, for ever vernal By strife and storms unshaken, Thy celebrated Journal The proudest feelings must awaken In every patriotic breast That throbs beneath a British vest. » IV. Lo, Punch, whose Fifteenth Volume now appears, Begins the eighth of his immortal years ; ixhaustless his outpourings as the sea, And also quite as shiny, : With laughs innumerable, as the “ briny.” Thus Aiscny.us, you know, Describes the Ocean’s glow, — When its countless ripples glitter In a universal titter, A tremendous Ha, ha, he ! Ho, ho, ho! v. This is the happy day of Punch’s birth, And that is why he crows, And his own trumpet blows In plenitude of mirth. He makes his fresh appearance, Intent, with epee To follow out the good Horatran rule With which he first began: That is, in season still to play the fool, Which to do well, And wear with decent grace the cap and bell, Takes a wise man. Thus, being now septennial, Punch trusts to be perennial ; To him Oblivion’s trunk and dusty shelf Suggest no fears. He ag his readers—like himself— ay live a thousand years.

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2 _ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Newspaper-boy (reads). “ A GENTLEMAN IN THE N-E-I-G-H—NEIGHBOUR- HOOD OF HAS AT THE PRESENT TIME SEVERAL E-NORMOUS GOOSE- BERRIES IN HIS GARDEN, WHICH MEASURE TEN INCHES IN C-I-R-CIR C-U-M- CUM F-E-R-FER E-N-C-E-ENCE CIRCUMFERENCE, AND ARE OF THE A-S-AS ASTON-ASTONISHING WEIGHT OF THREE HOUNCES HEACH.” His Friend. “ On, wHat Wuoprers! Wovtpn’t I Like a PINT.” THE SPECIALS’ BANQUET. In imitation of the heroes who meet every year to celebrate the glorious days of Waterloo, a splendid banquet has been given in com- memoration of the 10th of April, by a select troop of suburban Specials. ‘The chair was taken by Bonner’s-FieLp MarsHat Smitu, who was supported right and left by his own staff, and the staffs of those who had served with him in the recent wars with the Chartists. The dinner service used on the occasion was the celebrated united service of the willow pattern and the Asiatic birds; while the side- board was one blaze of that true Britannia metal which was so fit an emblem of the courage of the company. The bill of fare was on a scale of sumptuousness not often equalled, but almost always surpassed ; for while Glory may be said to have presided up-stairs, Frugality, taking a wide range—the kitchen-range— had exercised its empire over the culinary arrangements. A magnificent fillet of veal—out of which every hero present might have carved for himself a fillet like those of the ancients, to crown himself with renown —a fillet of veal had been roasted for the occasion, and each of the Specials had gone down in turn to assist in basting it,—a ceremony supposed to be symbolical of the basting they would have administered to the mob had their active services been really required. To return, however, to the bill of fare, of which we have been fortunate enough to obtain a copy. It consisted of— 50 Eightpenny large plates of miscella- neous eats. 50 Sixpenny small ditto, 2 of Greens, 3 of Spinach, 100 Breads. 20 plates of new Potatoes, plain boiled. 80 plates of old, mashed. 16 Cos Lettuces, au naturel, 15 hap’orths of Onions, | The liquids were of the most refreshing kind, and were supplied from the vats of Messrs Mevx, with the motto of “ Zant M(i)eux” arranged in pint pots over the side-board. ‘The mustard was a present from the Bishop or Duruam, and the salt was supplied from the well-known cellars of Messrs. Saarpus, of Cockspur Street. The vinegar consisted of a recently popular white wine, which had been soured by the late storms in the political atmosphere. The cloth having been removed, and the table, as well as the Chair- man’s throat having been cleared, he proposed the health of Her Masesty. In doing so, he ventured to express a hope that the crown upon her head may reflect the loyalty of her subjects, and that she may always preserve that attachment for her people which is the diadem’s brightest gem—at least in the eyes of all respectable ge’men. Aiter the other usual and complimentary loyal toasts, the Chairman rose to propose the health of the Army of Specials. The cheering at this moment was tremendous. The roof of the 2 of Cauliflowers, 10 of Stilton. 20 of Cheshire. 70 of Low Dutch. | 6 potations (exactly one pottle deep) of } Strawberries. 6 pots of Jam, including two of old Goose- berry, one of fresh Strawberry, and three doubtful. building responded to the roofs of the mouths of the company, and even the gas-lights rattled their glasses in unison with the wine-glasses of the assembly. When the applause had in some degree subsided, the Chairman proceeded nearly as follows :— “In rising to propose the health of the Specials, I feel that the toast will not create enthusiasm in this room alone, but that wherever the staff of Civilisation is known to have cracked the head of Rebellion, your cheers will find an echo. Yes, my friends, * We've done the State some service, and we know it,’ as Othello very sensibly remarked, and I must say that I quite concur in the candid sentiments of that honourable gentleman. (Hear/) For my own part, I may exclaim with the Moor, (A voice, ‘The more the merrier.’) 1 shall not be deterred by that atrocious attempt to disturb our harmony and conviviality by a hateful pun. I shall not, I say, be deterred by that from exclaiming withthe Moor,— ‘ that in the City once, When a malignant and disturbant snob Beat a policeman, and traduced the force, I—took by the snout the ragged trowser’d dog, And smote him—thus - _ The honourable Chairman, in suiting the action to the word, smote a jug of half-and-half—dividing the vessel into two halves—amid the enthusiastic cheers of the company. . After the toast had been drunk, the vocalists present sung ihe following, to the Arp of ‘* The Soldier Tired.” Tue Special, tired of war’s alarms, Comes home from Bonner’s Field ; The glass of Frog puts forth its charms, The hero then must yield. But when the brazen street-bell sounds, His truncheon’s seized once more ; He fearlessly will go his rounds, And crack of heads a score. This novel effusion having been powerfully chorused by the whole company, Mr. Brieriess, as a Special Pleader as well as a Special Constable, rose to return thanks in the name of the united body o Speeials, The learned and valiant gentleman observed, that of all motions to which his practice had extended, he had never witnessed such a regular motion of course as that which ensued by the running away of the mob whenever the Specials showed themselves (Hear / and a smile), He had himself had the pleasure of exercising the old legal right of stoppage iz ¢ransitu, by collaring a young scamp who was running across the road after throwing a stone at him (Mz. BRIEFLESS). (Trés bien / and Vive sensation !) He was glad to see around him many of those comrades who had fought—and he would not say bled, but he hoped he might say that they were ready to bleed if the country required it—against the common enemy—he meant the Kennington Common enemy, on the 10th of April. (Cheers, and one laugh.) He (Mr. Brizr- Less) would always be proud to appear for the defendants in the cause of Order, and he would never shrink from throwing himself upon a British public—he meant a British mob—if that British public should be bent on throwing upon him either a stone or any other mis- sile. (Sixteen Hears, three laughs, two titters, and one Oh!) He would not lodge a further detainer against the company, some of whom, he observed, were preparing to demur to his declarations —though those declarations were of the most loyal and con- stitutional kind; but he would now conclude by expressing a hope that every one ea would be ready to draw his purse, or even more than that, his cheque—perhaps he who held money of no account (at least at his banker’s) might be willing to draw his bill—in defence of public Order, the British Constitution, the British Sceptre, the British Lion, and the British Crown. é The learned and gallant gentleman sat down amidst the most enthu- siastic jingle of wine-glasses and tumblers ever known. Several other toasts were given, and the festivities were prolonged until the period when that very early riser, the lark, emerges from his bed to witness the other larks that are being carried on by those strange human birds who ‘*_won’t go home till morning, Till daylight does appear.” Several of the company partook of coffee that had been prepared for them under the Piazzas of Covent Garden, and at other convenient stations throughout the metropolis. Mx. Brierzess, who declined to indulge in this déjediner al fresco, proceeded to Hyde Park for his usual refresher in the Serpentine, to which he generally resorts for the purpose of “keeping up the allegory of a refresher” as well as circum- | stances will allow. Nor a Bap Ipga.—It has been suggested to us confidentially, by a high authority whom we need not more particularly indicate, that if the Orleans family should ever be restored to the French throne, the emblem of the Bourbon dynasty should be partially restored by the modification or translation of the fleur de lis into the white feather. oO ty h bir | shi liar dou

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ur or rb be a he he PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 3 HOW TO TREAT THE FEMALE CHARTISTS. tay We every man of experience is naturally alarmed, for he knows that the| have, however, something to propose that will easily meet the vox famine is the vor diaboli when it is once set going. We confess| emergency. A heroine who would never run from a man, would fly in we are much more alarmed about the threatened rising of the ladies | dismay before an industrious flea or a burly black-beetle. We have than we should be by the revolt of half the scamps in the metropolis. | only to collect together a good supply of cockroaches, with a fair The women must be put down, as any unfortunate victim to female | sprinkling of rats, and a muster of mice, in order to disperse the largest dominion can testify. How, then, are we to deal with the female and most ferocious crowd of females that ever was collected. We Chartists? ‘The police will never be got to act against them; for that respectfully submit our proposition to Siz Georce Grey, as a certain gallant force knows how much the kitchens are in the hands of the | specific for allaying all turbulence. gentler sex, and there is no member of the force who would willingly | Lonpow is threatened with an pouption of female Chartists, and; make himself an outcast from the hearth of the British basement. THE BRUMMAGEM FRENCH EMPEROR. the cap fitted so badly, that it was rey by wearing it, he woul between his own head-piece and that of his renowned relative. d uRtnG the last month, Lovuts Napoteon has been en- gaged in completing his arrangements for the as- sumption of the character of Emperor of France—a part he contemplates filling with more success than has attended his past per- formances. He has already urchased, at Waterloo ouse, six yards of imperial purple, at 3s. 97. a yard, and heis in treaty with the proprietors of Covent Garden for some of the still existing “ machinery, properties, dresses, an decorations,” that were used for the grand spec- tacle acted some years ago under the title of Napoleon. | Paryce Louts was offered, at a low figure, his uncle’s “identical hat ;” but upon “trying it on,” only expose the difference Some difficulty has been experienced in finding an Imperial Eagle, warranted not to be sick at sea, which it was supposed would compromise the dignity of the expedition. The old , suggestion w. BROUGHAM IN LUCK. Some people appear to have been recently seized with a mania for leaving their property to Lorp BrovucuHay, who has within the last few years become a legatee to the tune of many thousands of pounds. Now we have no objection to our old friend and involuntary contributor to our pictorial department becoming the re- cipient of bequests from strangers; but when he reflects that to us he owes his popularity— that we in fact have made him what he is—we are sure that he will consider us in justice entitled to a fair share of the property that has been bequeathed to him. Ifthe money is left to console him for our banter, we are surely entitled to a share of the proceeds; and if, on the contrary, he is enriched by testators, from a feeling of admiration, it is we who have done d| everything, during the last five years, to render him popular, by keeping the eyes of Europe upon him as frequently as possible. We trust his Lordship will take the hint, and cause a hand- some per centage on his legacies to be paid to the respective accounts of the writers and artists | of Punch with the Bank of England. We shall 'send to have our Books made up in the course 'of next week, and we hope to find that our ill have been duly attended to. original Colisseum Eagle, who accompanied Prince Lovts on the last occasion, had his bill | seized by the French beaks, and died in the hands of the magistrates. An experienced Eagle | from the Surrey Zoological received a liberal offer ; but it turned out to be by far too old a bird | to be caught taking a part in any affair got up by Lovis Narozgon. It has therefore been | decided to throw the Eagle overboard, or rather not to take one on board at all i and the agent of Prince Lovis has purchased a quarter of a main of Gallic Cocks, as a su bird of larger pretensions. It will be remembered that, on the e of men, and a hamper full of sandwiches stitute for the it is therefore to be superseded on this occasion by some imperial ginger-pop, which, while cheaper, and almost as invigorating as the champagne, has the advantage of at least a nominal relation- ship to the soi-disant Emperor. A large quantity of that elicious old “ sweet-stuff,” fami- liarly known as “Buonaparte’s Ribs,” will be placed on board, to be distributed, as a douceur, among the people. Ir the Emperor or Austria does not quickly return to Vienna, the Imperial Palace will be | for no longer bearing it. Old Iron for Sale. | Wnuat ever will become of the Iron Crown of Lombardy? It has fitted many heads in its ime; but now it is withuut a single head to fit. dition to Boulogne, six dozen of champagne, a handful | we believe the Railway King has sent in a 1 , formed, with the Eagle, the whole of the Prince’s | tender for it retinue; but it was thought that the champagne produced a deleterious effect, and ¢ The Iron is certainly more in | his line than any other king’s. We can imagine |how uneasy the poor Emperor of Austria’s | head must have felt under such a heavy load. | The report is, however, that the crown no longer | exists—that it was broken up long ago, to enable RapDEtskI to make a rod of iron of it, The heaviness of his rule, therefore, is easily ac- counted for, and the people cannot be blamed ion would the English sold off by Public Auction, to defray the expenses of its keep and the wages of the household. | like an Iron Ruler over their heads ?

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PUNCH’S POEMS OF PARLIAMENT. The Political Babes in the Wood. ow ponder well, you statesmen deare, e wordes which I shall write ; A doleful storie you shall heare, With moral obvious quite. The Whigs, a race of good account, Held Downing Street of late, And did in honor most surmount Who’ve fill’d that ticklish state. One of this blood, grown grey in place, The Commonweale to save, Of boroughs close the rotten race Still closer vowed to shave ; So the Reform Bille he did passe, '' ith Radicals combined, And then himselfe passed hence, alas ! But lefte two babes behinde. Russet the one, his father’s joye, Of speeche right quicke and bolde; Morprerta the next, a maiden coy, Framed in Listonian molde. For legacie these prettie babes ‘ Had from their father deare Great credite, and bills falling due, For many a coming yeare. Then Hume, his brother radicalle, Bespake the grandsire, GREY— **Be kinde unto my children smalle, When I am passed awaye ; nape them to keep, like brother true, The credit that I leave; Nor let my billes be overdue, _ Lest so my babes shoulde grieve.” This speech did then that brother make, To that olde gentleman— *T’ll tend your babies for your sake, The best that e’er I can; So may I keepe my seate so deare, And never change my coate, As I will aide your children here, With speeche and eke with vote.” Their parent being past and gone, These babes in task he takes To teache, but when his teachinge’s done, Thereof small profit makes. He had not had these babes in hand Twelve sessions and a daye, When he doth find them ever stand Right grievouse in his waye. So with two ruffians he did speake, That were of ruthlesse moode, That they shoulde take these children weake, And slaye them in a woode. One of these ruffians CoppEn hight, The other Prete, his friende, _ To what the firste his troth did plight, The last his aide would lende. Awaye these pretty babes they bore Full innocente of minde, Deeming that all was righte before, And nothing wrong behinde. They prate and prattle pleasantlie, And wonder while they playe, Why that these men should ride so fast, So rough and long a waye. But nought this pretty speech they had, Made those stern hearts relent ; The men that undertook the deed _Were not men to repent. Till Pewe, the one less hard of heart, Shrunk somewhat from his charge, Tho’ knowing, if they’re slain, his part Of the reward were large. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI.

The other won’t agree thereto, So falle they to debate, As fiercely as old friends will doe, Aboute those babies’ fate : Till he that was of mildest moode At last did have his waye ; These babes, that nothing understoode, They deemed it was but playe. He took the babies by the hande, That still like babes behave, And bade them straightwaie follow him, Would they their bacon save. But aye the faster he led on, They followed aye more slowe: ** Nay,” quoth he, “an you ’ll go alone, Stay till you wiser growe.”

These helpless babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and downe, But never more came back the man That thus had done them browne. In vain out of their hapless plighte To find their waie they tried, ¥ And when they sawe the darksome nighte, They sat them downe and cried. Thus flounder’d on these innocents From pillar unto poste, Till piteouslie they rendered up Their smalle official ghoste. ; No sorrowing worde this pretty paire Of any man receives, Till Mr. Punch most piously Embalmed them in his leaves! wr: Hany ‘ “4 q 3 ar J Se

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re PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 5 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. ItzRoy Timmins, whose taste for wine is remarkable for so young a man, is a member of the Com- mittee of the Megatherium Club, and the great Mrrozonant, good- natured as all great men are, was only too happy to oblige him. A young friend and protégé of his, of considerable merit, M. CavaLca- pouR, happened to be disengaged, through the lamented death of Lord Havuncuer, with whom young Cavatcapour had made is débit as an artist. He had nothing to refuse to his master, Mrrogorant, and would impress himself to be useful to a gourme so distinguished as MonsIzur Timmins. Fitz went away as pleased as Punch with this enco- mium of the great MrropoLant, and was one of those who voted against the decreasing of Mrro- BOLANT’S salary, when that mea- sure was proposed by Mr. Parines, CoLONEL CLosE, and the Screw party in the Committee of the Club. Faithful to the promise of his great master, the youthful CavaLcapour called in Lilliput Street the next day. A rich crimson velvet waistcoat, with buttons of blue glass and gold, a variegated blue satin stock, over | which a graceful mosaic chain hung in glittering folds, a white hat worn on one side of his long curling ringlets, redolent with the most delight- ful hair oil—one of those white hats which looks as if it had been just skinned—and a pair of gloves not exactly of the colour of deurre frais, but of Jeurre that has been up the chimney, with a natty cane with a gilt knob, completed the upper part, at any rate, of the costume of the young fellow whom the page introduced to Mrs. TrmMins. Her mamma and she had been just having a dispute about the gooseberry cream when CavaLcapour atrived. His presence silenced Mrs. GASHLEIGH ; and Rosa, in carrying on a conversation with him in the French language, which she had acquired perfectly in an elegant finishing establishment in Kensington Square, had a great advantage over | her mother, who could only pursue the dialogue with very much diffi- culty, eyeing one or other interlocutor with an alarmed and suspicious look, and gasping out “‘ We” whenever she thought a proper oppor- tunity arose for the use of that affirmative. “T have two leetl menus weez me,” said CavaLcapouR to Mrs. GASHLEIGH. ‘ ** Minews—yes O indeed,” answered the lady. “Two little cartes.” “ O, two carts! O we,” she said—“‘coming, I suppose ;” and she looked out of window to see if they were there. CavALCADOUR smiled ; he produced from a pocket-book a pink paper | and a blue paper, on which he had written two bills of fare, the last two which he had composed for the lamented Hauncuer, and he handed these over to Mrs. Fitzroy. The poor little woman was dreadfully puzzled with these documents, (she has them in her possession still), and began to read from the pink one as follows :— “DINER POUR 16 PERSONNES, Potage (clair) 4 la Rigodon. Do, a la Prince de Tombuctou. Deux Poissons. Saumon de Severne, ila Boadicée, Rougets Gratinés ala Cléopitre. Deux Relevés. Le Chapeau-a-trois-cornes farci 4 la Robespierre, Le Tire-botte 4 l’Odalisque. Six Entrées. Sauté de Hannetons a l’Epingliére, Cotelettes 4 la Megatherium. _ Bourrasque de Veau a la Palsambleu. Laitances de Carpe en goguette a la Reine Pomaré, Turban de Volaille a l’Archévéque de Cantorbéry. oo soon with the extremets, and hors d’wuvre, and the rofis, and releves, “Madame will see that the dinners are quite simple,” said M. CAVALCADOUR. “O quite!” said Rosa, dreadfully puzzled. “Which would Madame like ?” “Which would we like, Mamma?” Rosa asked; adding, as if after a little thought, “I think, Sir, we should prefer the blue one.” At which Mrs. GaAsHLEIGH nodded as knowingly as she could; though, pink or blue, I defy anybody to know what these cooks mean by their jargon. “Tf you please, Madam, we will go down below and examine the scene of operations,” Monsreur Cavatcapour said; and so he was marshalled down the stairs to the kitchen, which he didn’t like to name, and appeared before the Cook in all his splendour. He cast a rapid glance round the premises, and a smile of something like contempt lighted up his features. “ Will you bring pen and ink, if | you please, and I will write down a few of the articles which will be |mecessary for us? We shall require, if you please, eight more stew- | pans, a couple of braising pans, eight sauté pans, six bain-marie pans, a reezing-pot with accessories, and a few more articles of which I will | ieearibe the names ;” and Mr. Cavatcapour did so, dashing down, with the rapidity of genius, a tremendous list of ironmongery goods, which he handed over to Mrs. Timmins. She and her mamma were quite frightened by the awful catalogue. “T will call three days hence and superintend the progress of mations 5 and we will make the stock for the soup the day before the inner.” “Don’t you think, Sir,” here interposed Mrs. Gasuxeicu, “ that one soup—a fine rich mock-turtle, such as I have seen in the best houses in the West of England, and such as the late Lorn Forry- SKEWER—” “You will get what is wanted for the soups, if you please,” Mr. CaVALCADOUR continued, not heeding this interruption, and as bold as a captain on his own quarter-deck: “for the stock of clear soup, you will get a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham.” “We Munseer,” said the cook, dropping a terrified curtsey. “A leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham.” “You can’t serve aleg of veal at a party,” said Mrs. Gasnieien ; ‘and a leg of beef is not a company dish.” “Madam, they are to make the stock of the clear soup,” Mr. CavaLcapour said. , _ “What?” cried Mrs. Gasutercn; and the cook repeated his former (expression, : E : |. Never, whilst 7 am in this house,” cried out Mrs, GasuLeicu | Sadionently “never in a Christian /nglish household ; never shall | such sinful waste be permitted by me. 1f you wish me to dine, Rosa, | you must get a dinner less expensive. The Rigut Honouraste Lorp | FoRTYSKEWER could dine, Sir, without these wicked luxuries, and I | presume my daughter’s guests can.” “Madame is perfectly at liberty to decide,” said M. Cavaucapour. ae iy to oblige Madame and my good friend Mrroporant, not | myself.” _ “Thank you, Sir, I think it wi// be too expensive,’ | in a great flutter; “but 1 am very much obliged to you. | “JI wy a point d’ obligation, Madame,” said MonsiguR ALCIDE |Caminte Cavatcapour in his most superb manner; and, making a splendid bow to the lady of the house, was respectfully conducted to the upper regions by little Burrons, leaving Rosa frightened, the cook amazed and silent, and Mrs. GasuieicH boiling with indignation against the dresser. Up to that moment, Mrs. Biowser, the cook, who had come out of | Devonshire with Mrs. Gasueicu (of course that lady garrisoned her daughter’s house with servants, and expected them to give her inform- ation of everything which took place there) ; up to that moment, I say, the cook had been quite contented with that subterraneous station which she occupied in life, and had a pride in keeping her kitchen neat, bright, and clean. It was, in her opinion, the comfortablest room in the house (we all thought so when we came down of a night to smoke there) ; and the handsomest kitchen in Lilliput Street. But after the visit of Cavatcapour, the cook became quite discon- tented and uneasy in her mind. She talked in a melancholy manner over the area railings to the cooks at twenty-three and twenty-five. She stepped over the way, and conferred with the cook there. She made inquiries at the baker’s and at other places about the kitchens in the great houses in Brobdingnag Gardens, and how many spits, bang- marry pans, and stoo pans they had. She thought she could not do with an occasional help, but must have a kitchen-maid. And she was often discovered by a gentlemen of the police force, who was, I believe, her cousin, and occasionally visited her when Mrs, GASHLEIGH was not in the house or spying it;—she was discovered, seated with Mrs. Rundell in her lap, its leaves bespattered with her tears. “ Pease be gone, Pelisse,” she said, “zins I zaw that ther Franchman:” and it was all the faithful fellow could do to console her. “the dinner,” said Trmns, in a rage at last : “ having it cooked in the house is out of the question: the bother of it: and the row your mother makes are enough to drive one mad. It won’t happen again, [ can promise you, Rosa—order it at Fusssy’s at once. You can have everything from Fusssy’s—from footmen to saltspoons. Let’s go and order it at Fusspy’s.” “ Darling, if you don’t mind the expense, and it will be any relief to you, let us do as you wish,” Rosa said: and she put on her bonnet, and they went off to the{grand cook and con- ? Rosa stammered ” fectioner of the Brobdingnag quarter.

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6 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | | | | | FLUNKEIANA. WL , Lady. “You WISH TO LEAVE—REALLY IT’S VERY INCONVENIENT. Pray—Have yOU ANY REASON TO BE DISSATISFIED WITH YOUR LACE P’ Flunkey. “OH, DEAR NO, Ma’AM—NOT DISSATISFIED EXACTLY; BUT—A—THE FACT Is, Ma’AM, YOU DON’T KEEP NO WEHICLE, AND I rinp I miss My CARRIAGE EXERCISE.” THE MODEL DEBTOR, | nence of others he will certainly report to all his friends: and he silences the noisiest with a piece of stamped paper, on which his name it dear. No dinner is too good for him; the | bubble gets larger and larger, till it bursts. Then the Moprt Desror dearest wines, the earliest peas, the most juvenile | tumbles from his high estate—if ever he had any—and from an strawberries; the strongest liqueurs, the most | “ eligible mansion” he falls to a “ desirable lodging,” at a few shillings exotic luxuries—everything that is expensive and | per week. He likes the Surrey side of the Thames best. delicious, so that he is not called upon to give; His life is now a constant game of hide-and-seek. He is never “ at ready money for it. The world pays, and he | home,” especially to top-boots and Jerusalem noses, that bring letters enjoys himself. His cab is found him free of | and wait for answers in the passage. He grows nervous. Every expense, and by some charm he has a 200 guinea | knock at the door throws him back, and he rings the bell violently horse sent home to him without paying a single | two or three times, whispers to the servant through the door, turns the penny for it. The rent of his house is several | key, and crouches down with his ear at the key-hole. He looks out of quarters due; the furniture is of the very best, | window before he ventures in the street. He only walks when he can- but not a stick ora stitch of it has been settled for, and the very sheets | not afford to pay for a cab. Omnibuses are dangerous: it is not so he sleeps in might be taken from under him by his washerwoman, for | easy to avoid a creditor inside. » He selects the dreariest thoroughfares, terrible arrears of debt. ‘These thoughts, however, do not trouble his | and never penetrates into a cul-de-sac, or approaches within a mile of happiness. He trusts, for everything, to his appearance. He knows | Chancery Lane. His impudence, however, does not desert him. He well enough that a man with a shabby exterior never gets credit for | never recollects any bill whatever, and if stopt and questioned about anything in this world. He has a good coat, and on the back of it | his name, he threatens in the grandest manner tocall the police. When orders as many clothes as he likes. He has only to ask for hats, ny for money, he is sure the account was peid long ago, and that boots, walking-sticks, pistols, dressing-cases, and they are all left at | he has got the receipt somewhere at home. He is most fruitful in his “residence,” exactly as if he had paid for every one of them. | excuses, and lavish in promises. He generally expects a “good round No — are asked—not a soul is in a hurry; for “any one can | sum in a day or two.” He can never get his accounts in, and was disap- see he isa perfect gentleman.” He flourishes a cheque-book, though | pointed only last week of a large balance he had relied upon for paying his drafts would not be liquidated at any other bank but Aldgate Pump. | your little “‘trifle.’ As he falls lower in the world, he gets meeker. The day of reckoning, however, sooner or later, comes. Then it is that | He would pay if he could. All he asks for is time. Business is very the wonderful impudence, the real genius, of the Mopet DeBror bad—never was worse. He only wants to look round him. He hopes bursts out in all its greatness. It is not convenient for him to pay, | you won’t be bard upon him; but if prosecuted, if goaded to death in just at present. It would be ruination to sell out when the funds | this way, sooner than lead the life he does, he will go into the Gazette, are so low. He wonders at Mr. Smiru’s impatience (Samira is his | and then his creditors must not blame him if they oat a farthing. butcher)—the bill can a been owing two years—but he will | He means well, if they will only leave himalone. He be happy to call and settle next week. me he threatens to expose; the imperti- | give youabill. He has a wife and three children. In fact he is a o long as he gets a thing on credit, he never thinks | is inscribed, as the representative of hundreds of pounds. But the | cor ae

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CHILD’S PLAY. Hume. “An! My Dot.’s BIGGER TIAN yours! ”’ Russell. “A GREAT vaLy THING! IT ISN’T HALF SO PRETTY AS MINE! ”

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ee ee mn

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_——— PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 9 most affectionate parent, and the sacrifices he has made for his family | ! but himself—which he does upon every possible | And your Machinery acts well ? no one can te 1 opportunity. He grows tired of answering letters, and as for giving the name of his solicitor, he hates the law too much to do it. He meets a bill and a bailiff with equal horror ; but does not care much for either, if he can only be sure of a “ good long run.” He is very sensitive about the left shoulder, going off, like a hair-trigger, at the slightest touch, His great day is Sunday. He is then everywhere—in the Park especially—and any one to see him wo imagine “he could look the whole world in the face, and defy any one to say he owed him a shilling.” He is brave, too, during Vacation. He is very intimate with the law, and has a profound respect for the Statute of Limitations ; but thinks England not worth living in since the County Courts Act. He carries his antipathy, indeed, so far as to run over some fine morning to Boulogne and never coming back again, leaving all his property, though, behind him in a carpet-bag replete with Bricks. There his first care is to cultivate a moustache, and to procure new clothes, new dinners, fresh victims. He is always expecting a remittance by the next post, His bankers, however, are very remiss, and he is lodged at last by his landlord in the Hétel d’ Angleterre—in plain English, the wrison. He only asked for time, and at last he gets more of it than he ikes, for he is locked up for two or three years in jail, unless he is very lucky and is liberated by a Revolution. He disappears no one knows where. His friends wonder what has become of him, till there is a vague — that he has been seen as an attaché to one of the gaming- houses about Leicester Square, or, if he is tolerably well off, that he has been recognised on the road to Epsom, driving a cab, with a large number (say 2584) painted upon it. The Mopex Desror is honest at last, for he has arrived at that stage of life at which no man will put any trust in him. He pays his way— turnpikes included—and does not overcharge more than what is perfectly Hansom. He pays réady money for everything, even down to the waterman on the cabstand, and gives himself out as ‘a gentleman who has seen better days.” His great boast, however, is that all through | the ups and downs of his racketty career, he never left unpaid a single debt of honour. Doubtlessly, this is a great source of consolation to the numerous tradesmen to whom he never paid a penny ! =- WANT PLACES! A’ EMPEROR, OR PRESIDENT, in a place where a large Standing Army is kept, by a young man, of Imperial principles, who can be well recom- mended—by himself. Is willing to revive the glories of the Empire, and to make Europe generally uncomfortable, References to respectable Conspirators in Bou- logne and Strasburg. Was six years in his last situation, the fortress of Ham. Letters, post paid, to be addressed to Louis NAPoLEoN, Poste restante, London, S LEGITIMATE SOVEREIGN OF FRANCE, by a young Gentleman, who has been brought up for the place, and can give any amount of constitu- tional guarantees, Has travelled a good deal, and can turn his hand to anything in the royal line. Has a great objection to being treated as the rest of the family. Applications may be addressed (under cover) to the Duc pE BourDEAvux, Martier, St. Germain, Paris. WASTED, by the German Confederation, a decent pretext for backing out of the Danish quarrel. yj ANTED, by the French Republic, Tenders for the undermentioned articles (to be sent in to the Salle de l’ Assemblée Nationale, opposite to the Place de la Concorde, Paris), Strong Ministerial measures (Frenchmen’s size), at per measure. Clap-traps for Workmen (new), at per humbug. Bass Voices for President and Vice-Presidents of the National Assembly (Lablache quality), at per voice, Plans for raising the wind, at per cent. of wind raised. Confutations for Communism, at per confutation, Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, at per practical scheme. *,* The lowest Tender accepted, THE PUBLIC PHYSICIAN’S VADE-MECUM. Tue Health of the Public has of late been frequently examined into, but there has been a great want of system in the mode in which the inquiries have been conducted. We beg to suggest to the political attendant the following somewhat more scientific method of investi- gating the state of the patient :-— Put out your capital. Let me see your revenue. So,so! How are your Funds? Tolerably firm—eh? In what state are your Consols? Advancing ?—No? What! alittle reaction? Ah! How do you find a Foreign Securities? Rather shaky? Well, that we must expect. oreign Exchanges, too—somewhat depressed? So I thought. Divi- | dends regular? Pretty well? Oh! Any sense of weight and sinking | in Railway Shares? Well, well! Corn Market ores steady? Good, | good ! Coffee? Brisk, yousay? Very good! Saltpetre? Looking up? That’s right! Indigo lively? Middling? Cotton? Not quite so well again?—Hum! Cochineal rather flat? Ha! Exports? Much the of tightness remaining? But not quite so bad as when I last saw you? ut you have not quite regained the use of your Hands? Cramped still, I see. But you will.get the better of that by and by. Come, come! We must open the ports, and stimulate the raw material—a—and give you a little discount—and you must keep up your confidence—and—a—my quarter’s salary? Thank you—and we shall be all right in a little time. THE BUONAPARTIST PRESS. pa \ ‘in {f . = MATERIALS FOR A FUTURE EMPEROR. | The Buonarants mania that has lately burst out in France, has developed itself in the form of a flood of newspapers, emanating from the press under all sorts of names, purporting to furnish some reminiscence of the old original Emperor. There are already the Redingote Grise (the Grey Great-coat), and a variety of others; but we miss the Zadbatiére Grande (the Large Snuff-box), Les Bottes de Jean (the Jack-Boots), Le | Chapeau de Cocher (the Coachman’s Hat), and other attributes of Napo.eon, with which History and Gomersat have conspired to render us familiar. We have heard it rumoured, by the bye, that the respected Emperor (of Astiey’s Amphitheatre Royal, Westminster Bridge,) has written to the President of the National Assembly, repu- diating all idea of a pretendership springing up in Lambeth Marsh, or of the Republic getting a fresh y Pn from the New Cut—a possibility that has been suggested by certain inveterate enemies of liberty. His Dramatic Excellency the Emperor, NarpoLEON BuoNAPARTE (GOMERSAL,) has, in fact, become the landlord of a highly respectable tavern, and his attachment to the res publica is, therefore, utterly undeniable. We are happy to be informed also that his faithful Mameluke, so far from harbouring any ideas for the aggrandisement of his late master, may be seen every evening in a straw hat, a flaxen wig, smock-frock, and high-lows, at the Adelphi, where, in the piece of Harvest Home, he is | amongst the most contented of our peasantry. Unpardonable Omission. Amonest the toasts given at the Waterloo Banquet we miss that of F, M. Generat Moon. Can it be possible that the distinguished F. M. was not present? We are pained to remark that this looks a little like jealousy on the part of the Iron Duke. However, we are informed that the gallant General did dine at the Waterloo Banquet, for he had the large Plate, on which that great annual event is served up, put opposite to him at dinner, and drank all the toasts in perfect rotation, not Omitting one to himself, to whieh he returned thanks in a short but eloquent speech. F. M.Generat Moon retired a little after eleven, after which the Banquet proceeded home to Threadneedle Street in a large portfolio. “Lend us a Bark.” Ir is told of a Smithfield drover that, perplexed by the eccentricity of a flock of sheep that would not go in the direction he desired, he | thus accosted a professional brother, “ Bos, iend us a bark of feat dog.” | When Lorp Joun RussELt wants a help (see, for instance, is speech same? Imports? Go on augmenting? Ho! Paper Currency? | on Hume’s Reform Motion) he always reads extracts of a s ch of Slightly contracting? Bullion a little more copious? But still scanty ? Embarrassment in the circulation not whollyremoved? No! A degree Peet. Invariably, at a non-plus does Joun obtain of Box the “loan of a bark.”

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10 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

CHOICE OF A PROFESSION.(\ _— SSS Ne NSS TS <== fH — ~ !

Old Gentleman. “ Now, Avaustvs 3 YOU HAVE HAD ALL THE ADVANTAGES OF A GOOD EDUCATION, YOU HAVE BEEN WELL BROUGHT UP; AND AS I BELIEVE you{ TO BE A WELL-DISPOSED Boy, I SHOULD WISH YOU TO CHOOSE YOUR OWN Proression. CoME, WHAT WOULD You LIKE TO BE?” Augustus. “I KNow wuHat I sHOULD LIKE—BUT YOU WOULDN’T LET ME.” Old Gent. “A SurGEon 2” Aug. “ No.” Old Gent. “A Parson ?” Aug. * No.” Old Gent. * A Soipier ?” Aug. “ No.” Old Gent. © WHat THEN 2?” Aug. “ Wuy—a CiLown at A

Old Gent. © Wuat 1s 1T—a LawyYeER?” Aug. “No: 17 ain't a Lawy | COMMERCE RUN MAD. | Tue tradesmen of London appear to be occasionally bitten by one of Apotto’s mad dogs; (for the commercial puffs exhibit frequently a furor that can be compared to nothing fr short of downright insanity. A firm in Oxford Street has | just caught the terrible cacoethes, and has burst out with a | placard exhibiting a very bad case indeed of counter-irritation | or shopkeeper’s lunacy. Not only has Jonnson been pillage of all his hard words, but the most formidable of our lexicogra- phers have been left far behind, by ‘the accumulation of a startling array of compound words of the most confounding character. The tradesmen alluded to, announce their “ co-acervation” of a lot of umbrellas and pocket-handerchiefs, which are heralded as a “ beautiful compilation ;” and they describe the recent depression in the value of foreign goods as an “ aurif- | erous opportunity.” These are but a sample of the extraor- dinary conglomeration of astounding dissyilables, trisyllables |and polysyllables culled from the deepest recesses of classic research, and crammed into the small compass of a single prospectus, If the sons of the yard-measure proceed at this rate, their advertisements will soon have to be read with a | eager peed in one hand, and a Greek Hederici Lexicon in the other. | We should not omit to state that the exaggeration is not | limited to the language, which would [be harmless enough, but it extends to the goods, which are described with all the united force of fudge and fancy. 150 Dresses are announced as “manufactured for the Drawing-room, by the QuEEN’s com- mand,” as if Her Majesty had intended to treat a few of the nobility and gentry te.a new gown each, and had then, by changing her royal mind, thrown the lot on the hands of the manufacturer. This is as near as may be a libel on our beloved Yo gr in addition to its eqregions absurdity. Considering that they were manufactured by Her Magsesty’s order, it is rather strange that they should form part of the stock, | “resulting from the last Custom-house sale of goods” adver- tised as “Seizures by_Her Magzsty’s Customs.” It may 'well be called an “Extraordinary excerption of foreign merchandise,” when part of the excerpta happened to be ordered by the QuEEN to be made in Spitalfields for her own | Drawing-room. The idea of there being in the collection many “peregrine productions,” combines novelty and classi- cality in a high degree; and we wonder we were not told of : “exotic gloves,” “alien parasols,” and “ outlandish bonnets.” | We must say, that we prefer the good old British puff about the “5 Million Dunstables,” and the old familiar “ Glut fof Ginghams,” to all the new-fangled bits of humbug in the | circular we have been noticing. ER ”?

THE TREMENDOUS OpposITION AGAINST Monte Cristo.— Taking a paving-stone to crush a fly; or raising a whirlwind to STLEY'S.’ | blow out a farthing candle.

ANTICIPATED SPEECH OF SIR ROBERT PEEL, ON MR. HUME’S ADJOURNED MOTION. (From our private Prophet). “Mr. Speaker. Sir—There is no doubt the time has come to advance. I never take the smallest step without deeply pondering where my feet are likely to take me to, and I have come to the conclusion that it would be suicidal lameness, in the present rush everywhere around us, to attempt to stand still. We have gone too far to think of ever golig back. You cannot turn the clock of St. Paul’s the single fraction of a second towards the Past. Its hands ever point Onwards. Its whole machinery works only to one end—the Future. (Loud cheers.) It | is true its movements may be regulated to a nicety. You may prevent its going too fast, as you can guard against its going too slow; but the man would be a madman, Sir—he would be behind his time altogether, if he attempted to suspend its movements, or to pretend to keep them still. (Loud cheers.) It is with the human mind, Sir, as with that mighty clock. It is ever moving, ever advancing. I do not wish to push it on, but still L would be the last man in the world to presume to keep it fixed con- tinually at the same point. (Hear.) The human mind knows no Finality. The circle of its movements is infinite; without beginning—without end. Statesmen at best are but good regulators. They keep one great clock, by which others time their little clocks. But if the great clock too slow, surely the little ones have a — to ——, ~~ te t is with this profound | insist upon its going a little faster (/aughter). conviction, Sir, that I rise to support the motion of the Hon. Member for Montrose, and I only regret that his usual timidity has prevented | him from giving a wider scope, a more liberal extension, to his judicious ‘reforms, They must be carried; and the time is not far distant when Posterity will be not only astonished at the smallness of the boon asked, | but actually surprised at the shortsightedness of men pausing for a moment to grant it. I, for one, will not be guilty of such weakness ; and I sit down with the full certainty of seeing this motion triumphantly carried—if not by the present Member, at all events by some superior power, which never fails to come forward as soon as it is wanted.” (Lhe Hon. Member knocked the red box with his wonted energy, and resumed his seat amidst the loudest cheering.)

DEVOTION TO SHAKSPEARE. “Mr. Puncn, “THERE is no doubt that the players generally have been much scandalised by the shameful sqpensenee of Frenchmen on the classic (and unprofitable) boards of Drury Lane. The enthusiasm of the Green-room in the cause of SHAKSPEARE is really affecting. “Would it be too much trouble for you to print the names of the actors who have subscribed—say even shillings—to the SHAKSPEARE Fund? Of course, where there has been so much indignation, there has been at least an equal amount of generosity ? ** Your obedient Servant, * An Oxp CaLL-Boy.” |

(POD RPS oe

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Fen ap ~~ “Ve = SS ee ee Oar’ lc itTUTrltCTULClUlULhee lO eelC tile oy IS

WONDERFUL TRANSFORMATIONS. EverysBopy must remember—at all events everybody ought to remember—the inge- nious individual who went about with a sheet of paper, which he professed to fold into “ six-and-twenty different forms.” We are perfectly familiar with the old delusion by which, in “ childhood’s green and happy hours,” we were persuaded that a bit of paper “upside down” represented “a garden seat,” and that the same piece o paper “downside up” gave us an exact resemblance of “an old-fashioned curry- comb.” We can thoroughly recollect being convinced that if folded double, the sheet of paper showed us “a door-mat,” and if folded single, it brought before our eyes “a stable lanthorn.” ‘These convictions were assisted considerably by the warmth of juvenile credulity. But our ballet- P Bee dancers make in these days almost equal claims on our simplicity. For instance, a sort of muffin-bell made of muslin, with a double clapper—the two legs—gives us the ballet-dancer in her original state; but clap a pair of wings on the muslin muffin-bell,

and we are taught to believe that we see a Sylphide. Adorn the handle of the muslin muffin-bell with a crescent, and make a little fillagree work in the shape of a bow, and we get a Diana; while a hat and a

gun turns the muslin muffin-bell into a toy pen-wiper, in the semblance of a female brigand. ‘Taking the head as a separate article, and in fact ane the ballet-dancer, we see it stuffed with coral one night, and adorned with a tiara the next,—an arrangement which gives us the same head as Coraia and Juno on alternate evenings.

A single 'sheet of paper cannot be more easily twisted into six-and- twenty different forms than a ballet-dancer into six-and-twenty different or indifferent characters. A “VERY BAD” AMBASSADOR. AmonG the batch of letters left in Paris by Louis-Partirre, and cruelly published by the Republic, there is one in which GuizoT says— ‘ BREsson writes me word that Botwen is really seriously ili at Madrid. I don’t like Boiwep’s illnesses ; he turns them to account.” We have heard a story of a crafty child, who, to work upon the fears of his mother, said—“ If you won’t give me a penny, I know a little boy that’s got the measles, and I’ll go and catchem.” Thus our Ambas- sador had a knack of turning illnesses to advantage. Indeed, we have a few letters (purchased of the Ambassador’s confidential friend, regard- less of expense) in which Sir Henry Buiwer lays down the politics of sickness to the Foreign Minister. If Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori,—so to be sick has its degree of sweetness and propriety, if sick for our country. Did not Lorp LoNDONDERRY, upon a certain memorable occasion, show his sense of value of this truth, and was he not—upon the testimony of Lorp Liverroot—even “too bad” for England ? However, we give a few of the letters sent by Sir Henny Butwer to Lorp Patmerston. They will show how the simplicity of Guizor and Lovis-PHitIPre was played upon by our crafty Ambassador. ; “ Madrid, — ——__ “My Lorp,—Seeing the advances that the French party are daily making in the Palace, and wishing to hear of the further movements of Bresson without ane 3 liable to any personal interview with the Am- bassador, I have thought it my duty, for ten days, at least, to be alarm- ingly ill with the small-pox. I thought this the safer malady, being reviously assured that Bresson had been neither vaccinated nor inocu- ted. In ten days—or sooner, if affairs require it—I shall be perfectly well, * Meanwhile, I am, &c., &.” “My Lorp,—I regret, for the honour of human nature, that I have been grossly deceived. Bresson, it now appears, has had the small- pox; though, with the cunning of Frenchmen, nobody would think it to look at him. . : “ Understanding that it was his intention to call upon me, I found it advisable to be immediately convalescent, and ~s oapncn a day of meeting. However, on the previous evening I made every necessary arrangement to be seized with hooping-cough; so that when BREsson came—for it appears that he has had the hooping-cough too, and laughs at it—I was always prevented, by a violent access of the * hoop,” from giving any answer to any definite question. “T have the honour to be, &c., &c.” My Lorp,—A violent cold caught at the last Bull-fight, brought on a sudden deafness, when apprised of the wish of the Minister to com- municate with me. He therefore sent me a letter (a copy of which I forward); whereupon, I thought no course was open to me but to have a violent inflammation of the eyes. Awaiting your instructions, “Tam, my Lord, &., &., &.” “My Lorp,—The plot thickens. The French match is determined upon. The Minister pressed to see me. Immediately I was a victim to typhus. This has staid proceedings.”

“My Lorp,—The Queen-Mother having insisted upon the Minister demanding an interview, I was attacked with the piaene. Considering, too, the alarming character of the political crisis, I did not hesitate even to kill my valet and coachman with the disease. i “ Nevertheless, the Queen-Mother insisted I should write. Where- upon, I put certain generalities upon paper—and the letter was sent. Curistina, as I understood, was present when the missive arrived. The Minister was for having the letter passed through vinegar, whereon CuristiIna—having cast one of her terrible smiles upon it—said it would then do quite as well without. “Tan, &., &c.” “ My Lorp,—It was my intention this morning to have the Asiatic Cholera, but as I understand the double marriage has certainly taken place, it is only throwing away an excellent malady to no purpose. *T am, my Lord, &., &., &., “ViscounT PALMERSTON.” “H. Butwer.” We could add to the number of these letters; but surely we have printed enough to prove the sagacity of M. Guizor. No doubt of it, our Ambassador at Spain has been very bad indeed—for France.

PARLIAMENTARY BRICKS. Mr. DrumMonp would give a vote only to property, not to the indi- vidual. He would give a vote to a house and not to the lodger.

Hence, all Britons have only to be “ bricks,” to obtain the suffrage.

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PUNCH AMONG THE CELESTIALS. ONDON cannot go to China; but that is no reason why China should not come to London. “The Hermit of Nations,” as Mr. Artuur WalLL- BRIDGE calls the Celestial Empire, has broken through his exclusive- ness for once, and sends us a ship, / a real ship, mounted with real guns, and a sail made like an immense door-mat. We have visited the Junk, of course. You go down by the Blackwall Railway, and find yourself suddenly in the middle of China. Chinese sailors, with plaited tails, like bell-ropes, hanging down their _—* backs, meet you on the pangway. A Chinese Mandarin, with a face the colour of gingerbread, ut no gilt on it, receives you in green silk petticoats, and smiles a good-natured welcome. Chinese musicians sing their native melodies to you. You have the Chinese Joss, too, or idol, with hands darting out of him on all sides. This Joss is supported by voluntary contri- butions. He will take anything you offer him. Put what you like before him, and the next morning it is gone. This habit of grabbing everything accounts at once for the number of his hands. We could not help comparing him to the Afeliers Nationaux—a large body most absurdly worshipped recently in France, where the only use of the numerous hands employed upon it is to take all they can, and to remain perfectly idol. The priests must make a good thing of this Joss. Their perquisites must be enormous. We have a good mind to start a Joss in our own office, and to advertise immediately for a Hundred Active Hands. All offerings, of course, to fall tous. Oh, the haunches of venison, the pineapples, the Arabian horses, the black footmen, the Opera-boxes, the diamond rings, the lovely legs of Welsh mutton, that would be deposited at our feet every day! The thought is too much, so we will return to the Chinese Junk. i gil a) \V } \ N ay ||) Pacem \ | KL! | } MTA LN o il fit Ss ’ ' ‘ whi ( mNN N ve (a Everything is curious about it. The Emperor’s two unmarried daughters—we mean their portraits—are very curious. Their com- plexions are of the most beautiful coloured rice paper. Their hair is the finest spun glass ; and the sumptuous bunch of blue ribbons at the top of their large cocoa-nut-shaped heads must be very convenient for keeping them on their feet, in case they fall off their little toes, which are quite as ré¢roussés as their celestial noses. Their large staring green eyes, with the long eyelashes sticking out of them, though very charming, struck us as too much like a couple of enormous goose- berries, of the vulgar species called “ hairy,” and we could not help PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | smiling at the comparison, even whilst our heart was thumping against | our waistcoat like a pocket steam-engine at the effect of the concen- | trated loveliness before us. They must be decidedly two of the | very best leaves torn out of the Pekin Book of Beauty. We could not |imagine how the Emperor’s two daughters, with such a rich dowry of | charms, could possibly remain unmarried, till our loving eye was caught {by their long nails, protruding like immense fish-hooks, and we no | longer wondered that no man had been bold enough to ask for their | hands in marriage. They looked very gentle, but we would not trust | the best-tempered woman in the world with such instruments of defence always ready at her fingers’-ends. | It takes fifteen men in calm weather to lift their rudder. It runs up | three stories high, and must take thirty men at least to keep it quiet ‘ina storm. When they want fine weather, they feed the compass with |cakes ; but they told us it took a rare number of puffs in a dead calm | to get up a good wind. We informed them that the best ve to | get up a breeze was to tread three times on the Mandarin’s tail, They | promised us they would try it at the very first opportunity, We must say we suspect the Mandarin. It is not likely one of our magistrates would let himself out on hire to the captain of a ship. We do not shoot coals in Japan, or that I she were going to exhibit amongst the barbarians of Kamschiatka. We challenged him to produce his peacock’s feather; but the good- natured Chinaman only laughed, and showing his Chinese teeth, (perfect “ivories,” by the bye), simply said, “ How did-you-do-do ?” What could we say to an answer like that? We examined the ship on all sides, but. could make nothing of it nautically. We might sink it, quite riddle it, with jokes; for in all truth there never was a ship so curiously rigged. But Cui dono? as Gonrvucius said of his whiskers. It is the mest perfect Chinese uzzle we ever saw. The stage-coach in a ottle; the four-and-twenty ivory balls, all inside one another; the tremendous froth in a pint bottle of Scotch ale, are the easiest solutions compared to it, It must be seen to be properly understood, or rather to be properly misunderstood ; for the more we looked at it, the less we could get to the bottom of it. This mystery may have had something to do in keeping it so well afloat across 27,000 miles of not the most amiable ocean. May it have a safe passage back again to its native element at Canton! Only we would recommend it this time to go straight home, and not to go reeling about to America, when it’s half-seas over. Now we must leave the Chinese Junk; but we wish it to be distinetly understood that we do not run away because we are frightened by the hideous faces that are painted on the lids of hampers, which they call shields ; us at LoveGrove’s. Before going, however, we gave a sitting tothe Chinese artist on board ; and how he has hit our handsome physiognomy, may be judged from the fact that he has made us quite black in the face. He has evi- dently wished to Japan us The fellow, however, is not without some talent, and ranks as the TuRNER of his country. He had a narrow escape coming over, for ina violent storm that arose off the Cape, the Captain called out “Let go the painter!” when a Chinese middy, taking the order literally, nearly threw the poor artist overboard. We beg to say, he does not take likenesses of every one—only great people. We have a proposition to make before sitting down to dinner, and that is, that. subscription be got up to purchase the Chinese Junk, in order that it may be presented to the British nation, and anchored, @ perpétaité, in St. James’s Park. It would make an additional ornament for that ornamental water; it would amuse the ducks and nursery-maids, delight the little children, and such a slender vessel of China would be perfectly at ease in such a small basin of water. We hope all but because there is a Whitebait dinner wai a think JARDINE would ery peed the best collier that was going to | ALL would take a berth in the Bride, if | | those—and their names are SmitH—who have money to lay out on | tomfooleries, will adopt our proposition, and never mind about the Emperor or Cutna being angry at the diminution of his fleet. If he wants his man-of-war back again, why, let him come by all means and take it. Now to dinner, and, “ Waiter, let no one disturb us for the next two hours. We are engaged upon most important business.”

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SOR Pec + - t ' =O fm “ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 13 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. On the arm of her Firzroy, Rosa went off to Fuxssy’s, that mag- nificent shop at the corner of Parliament Place and Alycompayne Square,—a shop into which the rogue had often cast a glance of appro- bation as he passed; for there are not only the most wonderful and delicious cakes and confections in the window, but at the counter there are almost sure to be three or four of the prettiest women in the whole of this world, with little darling caps of the last French make, with beautiful wavy hair, and the neatest possible waists and aprons. Yes, there they sit; and others, perhaps, besides Fitz have cast a sheep’s eye through those enormous plate-glass window panes. I suppose it is the fact of perpetually living amongst such a quantity of good things that makes those young ladies so beautiful. They come into the place, let us say, like ordinary people, and gradually grow handsomer and handsomer, until they blow out into the perfect angels you see. It can’t be otherwise: if you and I, my dear fellow, were to have a course of that place, we should become beautiful too. They live in an atmosphere of the most delicious pine-apples, blancmanges, creams (some whipt, and some so good that of course they don’t want whipping), a tipsy-cakes, cherry-brandy—one hundred thousand sweet and ovely things. Look at the preserved fruits, look at the golden ginger the outspreading ananas, the darling little rogues of China oranges, ranged in the gleaming crystal cylinders. Mon Diew/ Look at the strawberries in the leaves. Each of them is as large nearly as a lady’s reticule, and looks as if it had been brought up ina nursery to itself. One of those strawberries is a meal for those young ladies behind the counter; they nibble off a little from the side, and if they are very hungry, which can scarcely ever happen, they are allowed to go to the crystal canisters and take out a rout-cake or macaroon. Inthe evening they sit and tell each other little riddles out of the bon-bons; and when they wish to amuse themselves, they read the most delightful remarks, in the French language, about Love, and Curr, and Beauty, before they place them inside the crackers. They always are writing down good things into Mr. Fusspy’s ledgers. It must be a perfect feast to read them. Talk of the Garden of Eden! I believe it was nothing to Mr. Furspy’s house; and I have no doubt that after those young ladies have been there a certain time, they get to such a pitch of loveliness at last, that they become complete angels, with wings sprouting out of their lovely shoulders, when (after giving just a preparatory balance or two) they fly up to the counter and perch there for a minute, hop down again, and affectionately kiss the other young ladies, and say ‘‘ Good bye, dears, we shall meet again /a haut,” and then with a whirr of their a scented wings, away they fly for good, whisking over the trees of Brobdingnag Square, and up into the sky, as the policeman touches his hat. It is up there that they invent the legends for the crackers, and the wonderful riddles and remarks onthe bon-bons. No mortal, I am sure, could write them. I never saw aman in sucha stateas Fitzroy Timmins in the presence of those ravishing houris. Mxrs. Fitz having explained that they re- quired a dinner for twenty persons, the young ladies asked what Mr. and Mrs. Fitz would like, and named a thousand things, each better than the other, to all of which Fitz instantly said yes. The wretch was in such a state of infatuation that I believe if that lady had pro- osed to him a fricaseed pans, or a boa-constrictor in jelly, he would ave said, “Oh yes, certainly; put it down.” That Peri wrote down in her album a list of things which it would make your mouth water to listen to. But she took it all quite calmly. Heaven bless you! hey don’t care about things that are no delicacies to them! But whatever she chose to write down, Fitzroy let her. After the dinner and dessert were ordered (at Fupsgy’s they furnish everything; dinner and dessert, plate and china, servants in your own livery, and if you please, guests of title too), the married couple retreated from that shop of wonders; Rosa (delighted that the trouble of the dinner was all off their hands, but she was afraid it would be rather expensive. “Nothing can be too expensive which pleases you, dear,” Fitz said. “ By the way, one of those young women was rather good-looking,” Rosa remarked; “ the one in the cap with the blue ribbons.” (And she cast about the shape of the cap in her mind, and determined to have exactly such another.) _ “Think so? I didn’t observe,” said the miserable hypoorite by her side; and when he had seen Rosa home, he went back, like an infamous fiend, to order something else which he had forgotten, he said, at are. Get out of that Paradise, you cowardly, creeping, vile serpent, you ! ; ; ntil the day of the dinner, the infatuated fop was always going to Funssy’s. He was remarked there. He used to go before he went to Chambers in the morning, and sometimes on his return from the Templel; but the morning was the time which he preferred; and one day, when he went on one of his eternal pretexts, and was chattering and flirtin at the counter, a lady who had been reading yesterday’s paper on eating a half-penny bun for an hour in the back shop (if that paradise may be called a shop)—a lady stepped forward, laid down the Morning Herald, and confronted him. That lady was Mrs, GAsHLEIGH. Fitzroy was in her power; and she resumed a sway over his house, to shake off which had been the object of his life, and the result of many battles. And for a mere freak—(for on going into Furnssy’s a week afterwards he found the Peris drinking tea out of blue cups, and eating stale bread and butter, when his absurd passion instantly vanished) — I say, for a mere freak, the most intolerable burden of his life was put on his shoulders again—his mother-in-law. On the day before the LITTLE DINNER took place—and I promise you we shall come to it in the very next chapter—a tall and elegant middle- aged gentleman, who might have passed for an Earl, but that there was a slight incompleteness about his hands and feet, the former being uncommonly red, and the latter large and irregular, was introduced to Mrs. Trurns by the page, who announced him as Mr. TRUNCHEON. “T’m TRUNCHEON, Ma’am,” he said, with a low bow. ** Indeed !” said Rosa. * About the dinner, M’m, from !Fupssy’s, M’m. As you have no butler, M’m, I presume you will wish me to act as sich. I shall bring two persons as haids to-morrow; both answers to the name of John. I’d best, if you please, inspect the primisis, and will think you to allow your young man to show me the pantry and kitching.” TRUNCHEON spoke in a low voice, and with the deepest, and most respectful melancholy. There is not much expression in his eyes, but from what there is, you would fancy that he was oppressed by a secret sorrow. Rosa trembled as she surveyed this gentleman’s size, his splendid appearance, and gravity. “I am sure,” she said, “I never sh dare to ask him to hand a glass of water.’ Even Mrs, GasHLEIGH when she came on the morning of the actual dinner-party, to superintend matters, was cowed, and retreated from the kitchen before the calm majesty of TRUNCHEON. ; And yet that great man was, like all the truly great—affable. From that day the miserable an z AVIZFALVUILIMER EY Whol | W| { F ~ am Fa 7 He put aside his coat and waistcoat (both of evening cut, and looking prematurely splendid as he walked the streets in noon-day), and did not disdain to rub the glasses and polish the decanters, and to show young Burtons the proper mode of preparing these articles for a dinner. And while he operated, the maids, and Burrons, and Cook, when she could—and what had she but the vegetables to boil ?—crowded round him, and listened with wonder as he tall-ed of the great families as he had lived with. That man, as they saw him there before them, had been cab-boy to Lorp TANTALLAN, Valet to the Hart of Bareacres, and Groom of the Chambers to the DucuEess DowaGeRr oF FitzBaTTLEAXE. O, it was delightful to hear Mr. Truncueon ! REVOLTING INDEED! Ir is generally said that language is inadequate to characterise the conduct of the Parisian Insurrectionists. We believe that we pre- cisel Lane the rebels’ proceedings by pronouncing them perfectly revolting. VoL. XV.

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14 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE MONKEY THAT WENT UP IN A ‘BALLOON. anpipiy, Mr. Punch, I am a monkey, and not ashamed to own it. (I could wish, Mr. Punch, that all of my species residing in London were alike ingenuous.) Well, Sir, I am a foreigner ; and therefore, it seems, my feelings are to be violated ; my liberty, for a season, .\ outraged. This, however, is , the result of the feverish- ness of the times. Joun Bott thinks it only a proper display of his own security, to put contempt upon the poor alien. Joun BuLt is himself so delighted with ‘._ his institutions, his sea-girt . isle, and all that—that to == complete his happiness he 7. must be contemptuous to the stranger. “ Mr. Punch, 1 have been some years an inhabitant of London. You may possibly not recollect me; but I am the same green monkey— with a thoughtful earnest face, and restless eyelid—that has twenty times taken off his Polish cap to you from the top of an organ. My former master was an Italian, late of Saffron Hill, now of the House of Correction, for feeding his poor little boys from Naples wi'h melted tobacco-pipes instead of macarone. “The music I have suffered upon the top of that organ I shall not speak of; at least, only a word or two. What have I endured from the Ethiopian melodies ? for, Sir, 1 am a native of Ethiopia. Therefore, the music—the airs of my country—have carried me back to my golden clime; have, in thought, wafted me back to a green wife, and a green and happy family, where the only cane | ever knew was a cane with sugar in it. Many atime, Sir, have I sat upon the top of that organ—trying to think it a palm-tree—with my thoughts buried in my wife and family,—when an inhuman tugging at my chain would almost wrench my heart out; and with my bosom running out in tears at my eyes, I have been compelled to twitch my Polish cap from my burning brow to beg a halfpenny ! “* Mr. Punch, for two years I was compelled—in the dress of an officer of Lancers —to ride a poodle in the streets of London; and, to make the mortification all the reater, the brute had no tail for me to bite to ease my heart in moments of esperation. I have been mde to dance the slack-wire—I have— “* But let-me hurry to the extreme of degradation. “ At length, Mr. Punch—at length, and:toveumulate my misery—they have sent me up in a balloon! “ Yes, Sir, the.person,'the liberty of the.helpless ‘foreigner upon your shores has been grossly violated in:my unhappy person. ‘To-sit-squat upon an organ was bad enough; to beg for ce was worse ; to:ride a tuil-less poodle was, I thought, the extreme of degradation; until I -was:made to skip upon the slack-wire. Degraded to this, Lsmatehed my cap from my brow, and screamed defiance at fate. * Destiny,’ I yelled, ‘you: have done:your worst, and I defy you.’ Miserable me! “The next day Lwas.sent up in a balloon from Cremorne Gardens! I refer you to the columns of the Zimes newspaper for the particulars. But I will myself strive to pluck up the nerve to repeat them. was—permit me to say—packed in a parachute for an experiment. An experiment! Upon we/ Descended from the Blue Monkey, with a diamond in his head that no king can boast of in his crown. But, read, Mr. Puach. ‘he demoniacal reporter observes :— «The ascent tas a fine one ;—[was it ?]—the balloon took a course from the west over London ; there was little wind, and tne sky being clear, it continued long in sight, so that a good oppor- tunity was afforded to the spectacors to form an opinion of the parachutes.’ “Tt is not now my intention to write a book upon the ascent. I do not at present purpose to tell May Fair how it really looks to people really above it; how small, and of what little fillagree work much of its greatness is. This work, when it has sufficiently fed upon my brain—like a worm upon a hazel kernel—shall, like the worm, come out. _ “The cold-blooded penny-a-liner continues—‘ When the balloon was at an immense elevation, the parachutes were let off simultaneously.’ There were three parachutes, with an inoffensive foreigner in the shape of a monkey in each. The reporter, with a diabolical coolness, proceeds :— _‘* The parachute of Mr. Hampron was obviously the best ; it preserved a perfect perpen- dicular throughout the whole of the immense space through which it descended, and came down steadily and without any dangerous rapidity.’ “True enough; but no thanks to Mr. Hampton. No, Sir, the credit is due to me—to me, the monkey passenger of that conveyance, whose nerves ‘ preserved the perfect perpendicular’ of the parachute, that otherwise would no doubt have wiggle-waggled itself into annihilation. “TI shall not spoil my book by here disclosing my emotion upon my descent. How the sun twirled and twirled about like the pewter plate upon the point of a juggler’s sword; how the whole sky went'round and round like bright-blue humming-top. All this—it is only fair to my publisher—I shall keep for my book. “ And now, Mr. Punch, let me ask where is this to stop ? I have ‘already communicated with the Ambassador — AsD-£L-MUFF-OF-A-FELLAH — for Ethiopia, who will no doubt demand his passports of Lorp Patmerston. The other two monkeys being natives of Gibraltar, and therefore under British supremacy, have, I fear, no remedy; unless a remedy much worse than the grievance: I of course allude to Mr. Urquuart. “ But let me close with the reporter :-— ““* The monkeys were brought back in safety to the grounds, and received the caresses of a very large assembly, attracted by their enterprise.’ “Now, Mr. Punch, to a monkey of proper feeling—to a monkey possessing any claim to the common decencies of Monkeydom—this is the greatest insult of all. My life, whether I will or no, is to be put in danger, and then I am to be ‘caressed’ if I escape with a whole skin. What a reasonable monkey—as I really am—considers a piece of —_ tomfoolery, is to be turned and twisted to his glori- ication. “‘T shudder to think of it; but from what I have already heard, there is a conspiracy getting up among certain young ladies of certain families to coerce me to all their evening parties, as—par excellence— ‘THE MONKEY THAT WENT UP IN A BALLOON.” The Endignant Policeman. THEY say we are resigning ! Heed not the idle tale Of crafty knaves, combining Our honour to assail. No—till life’s thread be broken We'll ne’er desert the lists Which—duty’s noble token— We wear around our wrists. In spite of service doubled, And though of rest debarr’d, Whilst public peace is troubled We’ll stick to Scotland Yard ! Yes, unfatigued, undaunted, Our oil-skin capes we ’il don; And still, when we are wanted, Our cry shall be “‘ Move on! ” No—by each area-railing To recollection sweet, Never, with courage failing, Will we desert our beat ! The loved one—and the luncheon— This heart shall ne’er forget, This hand shall wield the truncheon, And wear the Berlin yet. Who was the faithless talker That raised the rumour mean ? Was ’t the perfidious WALKER, Or Cuerks, the false Marine #- We scout the accusation ; Tis all a hoax—a do— We scorn the fabrication— Our corps is still true blue. Cruel Hoax. Puncu is requested by Lorp Brovenam to state “ that there is unhappily no truth in the report of a sum of money having been bequeathed to his Lordship by the late Mr. Wart, of Aston-Hall.” However, for the information of affluent parties who may feel disposed to do what Mr. Watt has, most emphatically, zo¢ done, namely, to leave £20,000 to an ex-Chancellor who has deserved well of his country, Puach is further desired to state that copies of a legal form of bequest may be had upon application at No. 4, Grafton Street, Bond Street. An early application is required.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARTL 15

A FEW KNOCKS ON KNOCKERS. Ir seems that Art is knocking at every man’s door. We are having Fine Arts knockers; but as the designs of those we have seen are not worth a rap, we present manufacturers with sketches of a few which are warranted to answer in any climate, even the Equinox. Our great object is, that you shall know a man instantly by his snocker. For instance, if your hand was on a Gothic door-handle, you would jump at once to the conclusion that some member of the family of Puetns lived inside, and you would knock accordingly in the Gothic style. Great feeling, and a deal of meaning, may be thrown into these simple appendages to the Wooden Doors of Old England. Every Sheriff’s-officer’s house, where hos- pitality is given to distressed persons upon the dearest terms, might be epigrammed with a knocker of an officer in the touching act of shouldering his victim. It would have all the effect of a bird of prey over a barn. Comic authors—and we are all comic, or attempt to be so, now-a-days—will of course take Punch as their prototype, for we find they always steal one or two of our features when they wish to make a blow. We are perlectly willing to give ) our countenance at all times to the Fine Arts; but still we are not ambitious to have our portrait taken as a door- knocker ; so we beg no comic author will make a handle of our great organ, and will choose other means of knocking than by wringing our nose. Other funny subjects can be selected. There are several heads in the House of Commons most admirably adapted for knockers. We have ourfinger at present on two or three that would make a great noise in the country, if turned to that pur- pose. There is likewise an Ex-Chancellor —we do not like mentioning his name— who would shine splendidly in the charac- ter of a door-knocker. The range, in fact,

skull; a lawyer’s a sheep under the shears ; and the barrister’s an empty shell. The series, like the French Revolu- tions, is endless; only we must acknow- ledge that we are indebted to the pretty pages of the Art Union for the lively little notion. We hope, before long, to see our doors hung with Venetian, Egyptian, Byzantian, Ethiopian, and Raphaelice knockers; and we think some- thing might be done with the Old Fathers. We leave the knockers in the hands of our elegant contemporary, and we are confident he will not go to sleep upon them.

An Unanswerable Correspondent. A GENTLEMAN, who tells us very liberally he has just arrived from the country, writes to be informed whether the House of Commons has removed to Holborn, and continues its sittings there? For he says that he has observed written up ina shop full of wooden machines, a large placard, “ Best Jointed Ciocs Here,” and he imagines, from the little progress business has been making at St. Stephen’s, that the “Best CLoes” can be no other than those Members who have been ey the Session, and nothing else, at St. Stephen’s. The gentleman rom the country is referred to the shop in question for an answer. We recommend him to go in and ask for Lorp Jon, and to see what sort of a Clog they will show him. We have no time to answer such questions.

\THE EASTERN COUNTIES AGAIN. Oor old friend, the Eastern Counties Railway, has been transferring its irregularities from the passengers to the cattle, and a cow going from Norfolk to Shoreditch has become very like the “‘ Gentle ZiTeLua,” in being detained “‘so long on the road.” case of an aged pig, who was “advised” as having started from London on Saturday, and who did not reach his destination, Norwich, until Wednesday afternoon. We know the difficulty of being able to “please the pigs” is proverbial, but surely the poor creature in question had a right to grunt out his objections against this cruel detention. Happily a stoker, touched by the affecting incident of a pig without victuals in a railway cattle-box, offered the melancholy animal a mouthful of that delicious mangel to which the expletive wurzel has been somewhat unnecessarily subjoined. This sustained nature’s failing energies, but the poor brute arrived more dead than alive—less pig than pork—at , the Norwich terminus, having been in great danger of being compelled | to fast by the slow train. THE POSTMAN’S BENEFIT. WE perceive that the poor underpaid letter-carriers of the Metro- polis are making up, or endeavouring to make up, for the paltriness | of their salaries, by a Benefit at the Olympic Theatre, which, if iit were quite full, and contained 1500 persons at an average of a {shilling per head profit, after-deducting expenses, would give exactly | threepence each to the 6000 postmen of London and its suburbs. e think the heads of departments would fancy themselves rather hardly used if they were expected to put up with something very like half- | pay, and look for the remainder of their remuneration to Benefits at the different theatres. Lorp Joun Russet would come rather poorly off

We have heard a shocking |

if he had to rely on a night at the Surrey, with his own Tragedy of | | Don Carlos, aided by T. P. Cooke at half-price. Nor_do we think | Lorp Morrets, as Chief Commissioner of Woods and Forests, would | be satisfied with a cutting down of his official income, and the privilege means of eking out an insufficient salary ? Letter Duet, with the farce of Deaf as a Post, and other appropriate entertainments, have been resolved upon. Between the pieces there will be a grand display of dexterity in opening a letter, and sealing it up again, by a retired veteran of the department, and the amusements will terminate with the Grand Knocker Movement from SepastTIaAN Back’s celebrated figure in A,B,C, composed in 1826 for the ‘T'wo- | pennies, by general desire.

| ! j | ; SIBTHORP SHOWETH A. PROPER SPIRIT. of calling upon his friends to support him at the Surrey Zoological. | Why, then, should the voor letter-carriers be reduced to thesedoubtful | We have not seen the Programme,-but we understand the celebrated | A Frew nights ago, CoLoneL Sistuorr—to show in the most mag- | |nanimous manner his contempt for the advice of Mr. CoppEen—said, jshould go in the directly opposite direction.” is infinite. A doctor’s door might have a| “ Whatever way the honourable gentleman directed him to go, he | Thus, if in a lively | | moment the Hon. Member for the West Riding should desire the Hon. , | Member for Lincoln to “‘ go to Bath and get his head shaved,” it may | reasonably be expected that the Colonel would go to Birmingham and | sacrifice his whiskers. ‘here is a certain pig, illustrious in Irish | history: the pig that could only be induced to goto Fermoy when he | thought he was being driven to Cork. In the late resolve of the olonel, it is clear that he has stooped to copy a member of the swinish multitude. Extraordinary Novelty. As we like to encourage enterprise in every branch of trade, we beg lately been added to the exhibition at St. Paul’s Cathedral. In addition has been erected at a tremendous cost. that we recollect, bearing any resemblance to it, was the gallery at Vauxhall, from which In Diavoto Antonio precipitated himself when he made his Terrific Descent in an envelope of fireworks. The one at be pulled down during the entire holidays. ‘There is no extra charge for seeing it. ; ¥ : ca” Please observe, the admission is only 4d. Babies gratis. Be in time! be in time! TURF FLOWERS. Lorp Gzorcr’s abuse has the recognised qualities of good Turf fire —a great deal of heat and very little light.

to call the attention of all sight-seers to the new features that have | to the Gold Cross, there is now appended the Surveyors’ Gallery, which | The only thing of the kind | St. Paul’s, however, is much stronger, and, we are glad to state, will not |

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16 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FLUNKEIANA. ’ . WS : WN WN \ f pe | Sil Ke) ) Se een | i | | ha \\\ | PMU | Lb =—/ \ ||) eee ; = ro ——— Flunkey. “1 B&G YOUR PARDON, SIR—BUT THERE IS ONE THING I SHOULD LIKE TO MENTION AT ONCE. I AM EXPECTED TO CLEAN THE BOOTS.” Gentleman. “‘ Buess mE! On DEAR, No! THERE MUST BE SOME MISTAKE; I AM AFRAID—A—THAT I ALWAYS CLEAN THEM MYSELF—AND IF YOU WILL LEAVE YOUR SHOES OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR, I WILL GIVE THEM A POLISH AT THE SAME TIME.” A PARLIAMENTARY COLD WATER CURE. Mr. Hume very Properly complains of the lengthy talk of Members of the Commons. There is no doubt of the alarming fact ; the Tongue of Parliament has grown too long and too large. Like the tongue of a certain species of parrot, it is in preposterous disproportion to the brevity of its ody. Mn. Hume proposes that certain Members, under certain con- ditions, should only be permitted to speak for half-an-hour. We woul make this another Point of the Charter. Few Members are so full of knowledge that they may not pump themselves entirely dry in thirty minutes. The ancients measured time by an instrument that dropt water; a machine called a clepsydra. Now, we would, improving upon this notion, measure Parliamentary time by the power of the lymph; and after this manner :— _We would have every Member about to address the House, place himself in a sort of roofed pulpit. He should not be permitted to utter a syllable from any other place. Well, from this pulpit there must be a wire leading to the chair of the Speaker. The Member having had his full thirty minutes’ discourse, should be summoned by the Speaker to remove himself to his seat. Two minutes’—for we would do nothing rashly, uncourteously—two minutes’ grace should be allowed. If, after then, the Member persisted to address the House, the Speaker should touch the wire, which, communicating with the roof of the pulpit, should act like the string of a shower-bath, and immediately flood the orator. No call to‘ Order” could, in our opinion, be half so efficacious. Again, should a verbose, stammering Member, with sundry bottles of champagne fizzing and effervescing from under his white waistcoat, still insist upon transgressing the half-hour, he would be soundly ducked, as was done in the good old times, for the misdemeanor of scolding. THE HEINOUS HUMBUGS. Tue Herves of Hamburgh, or, as some folks who cannot catch the German pronunciation call + och the Heinous Humbugs, are continually bringing their lottery schemes under the attention of the British public ; but a circular lately sent round, beats every preceding thing of the kind within our wide experience. The circular requests a money-order for d|£410s., on a Bank note of England for £5, or the kind return of a certain ticket that may or may not have reached the individual who is requested to return it. Perhaps if he ever received it, he threw it behind the fire as waste paper, directly he got it; and it is of course in consideration of its very doubtful value, that an option is allowed in the sum demanded to be paid for it. An order for £4 10s., on a £5 note, presents an alternative of such a perplexing nature, that there is every inducement to pursue the voluntary Fag oo so far as to send back neither one sum nor the other. e have no doubt that the correspondents of the Heinous Humbugs will avail themselves of the privilege conceded by the loose and indefinite nature of the demand, to treat it in the same indefinite style, by making no reply to it. , Dramatic.—Very Munificent. Ir is said in the Green-rooms—and therefore we do not vouch for the veracity of the report—that the receipts of Drury Lane Theatre, on the approaching state visit of Hen Masesty—will be handsomely devoted to the necessities of the late Monte Cristo Company. This is very magnanimous. Popular ignorance breaks a head, and a humane philo- a applies golden ointment as a plaster. —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 19 NY A LASS OF WAX. =~ == > 1? apg ‘ ~ Our old friend, Mapame Tussaup, is indefatigable in sticking like wax to the improvement of her Exhibition, which is enriched almost every week by the addition of some new celebrity. The last importa- tion is a Chinese gentleman in the original clothes he wore at Pekin, and who must have accordingly parted with his wardrobe to some Chinese old-clothesman in order to enable MapAME Tvussaup to repre- sent him with the accuracy that is always professed in the saloons of Baker Street. The individual in question is supposed to have been the generous Howquva. w We believe that Howqua’s last moments were divided between Captain Prpptne and Mapame Tvssavp, by his giving to the first the recipe for combining the hundred teas, and making the latter the legatee of his Chinese wrap-rascal, and Pekin tweedish trowsers, in which he is now to be-seen side by side with Her Masesty, Jenny Linn, Pius THE NintH, Taw, Burke, Hare, and the other waxen i//u strissimi and tllustrissime of our era. THE MODEL FAST MAN. You know him at once by his being the noisiest, the most conspicuous person wherever he is. | ), ne’ ; notice. He is unhappy if not seen—he is miserable if not heard. In the street he flourishes a little stick, which, for want of something | better to do, he rattles against the railings. He stares ladies in the) face, and takes his hat off to carriages, and delights in kissing his hand | to some old dowager who is looking out of a drawing-room window. A sedan-chairis his great amusement. He stops the porters, and asks them what they will take him to Buckingham Palace and He directs hackney-coaches to drive tr the British Museum, and be put immediately under a glass-case amongst the Fossils. He takes a card | that is offered to him by a street conjuror, and gives him in return one of his own, with an intimation that he “shall be happy to see him at any time between two and four.” He walks behind fat old ladies, and is very loud in the praises ‘‘of the jolly mad bull there is in the next street.” He rings area-bells and inquires “if they could oblige him with the loan of a cucumber-slicer for five minutes.” e€ removes any pewter-pot he finds, and knocks at the door to ask “if it belongs to them: it was hanging outside the railings, and might be stolen by some unprincipled person.” Newsvenders are his especial favourites. He calls them from the other side of the way to ask “if they have got the Gentleman’s Magazine of 1356,if not, he should like to see the third edition of the Zimes to-morrow.” He makes cruel faces to little babies as they hang over their nurses’ shoulders, and is flattered if he makes them cry. If he meets with twins, he is happy indeed. He shouts into sausage shops as he passes by--“‘ D ’ye want any cats, dogs, or kittens, to-day?” He hails an omnibus, and whilst it is stopping, turns down the next street; and he looks at a cabman till he drives up to him, when he wonders what the “cabbie” wants: he was only admiring his handsome whiskers. If he finds a is dress, too,’never fails to attract public | back again for? | looking-glass, he adjusts {his toilet in it, and takes off his hat, and bows to himself, exclaiming, ‘On my word, you are looking remark- ably well; I never saw you look better.’ He looks at the milliners through the shop-windows, and darts at them his most piercing smiles. He stares at the watchmakers at their work, with intense curiosity, and talks to them with his fingers till they get up and leave their stools with great indignation. If he meets the Lord Mayor’s carriage with three footmen on the footboard, he is sure to eall out ‘ Whip behind!” | and he laughs his loudest if the coachman should unconsciously lay his | whip across their calves. He is very richim noises. His “ Va-r1-E-TY” iis unequalled at. two o’clock in the morning; «and his collection of “Ri-too-loorals,” and “ Rum-ti-oddities,” sand select choruses, is not to be surpassed by the oldest Aabitué of the Coal-hole. He whistles, | too, through his fingers, and can bark, crow, and bray quite naturally, | especially inside Exeter Hall, or any place ‘where he shouldn’t do it. | One of his proudest achievements is to enter-an.omnibus crowded with | females, and to display on his knees a large jar marked ‘‘ Leeches.” | He delights, too, in sprinkling cayenne-pepper‘and snuff on the floor of |a dancing-party after supper, or in going ind the cornet-i-piston and making him laugh during a long solo;when thestruggling laughter, oozing out in short gasps through the ‘valves, nearlysends him into | fits. He glories in sending in six “ bramdies 'warm”'to the chairman ‘and different gentlemen on the platform of a Temperance Meeting. He ! makes a practice of ringing the bells of alldoctors as he walks home. In the theatre, he slams the box-door,and shouts “‘ Box-keeper!” | with the most stentorian lungs. He is vociferous in his applause, and | sparkles up at the prospect of a row.- He likes to sneeze during the | pathetic parts, and shouts “ Brayvo, Wricut!” when the old father is | blessing his long-lost child. He revels in a burlesque with plenty of ; Amazons in it. He cries out “ Encore /” at everything. | In respectable society he is awkward, and generally very quiet. He does not dance, not knowing what to say to his partner. He hangs about the door and staircase, and consoles himself with the cakes and wine ; he leaves early, for “he is dying for a pipe and a drop of beer.” In his appearance he selects the gayest fast colours, and the more |the merrier. His shirt is curiously illuminated with pink ballet-girls. | He has the winner of the Derby in his pocket-handkerchief. His boots | are very delicate, only keeping sole and body together with the aid of mother-of-pearl buttons. He revels in a white hat. His trowsers are | of the chess-board pattern. His shirt-pin is an Enormous Gooseberry, | that would make the fortune of a penny-a-liner. His coat has a New- | market expression, of the very deepest green. He is above gloves, but encourages a glass, suspended by some magic process in his left eye. His accomplishments are various. He carries in his waistcoat- pocket the stump of a clay pipe, the bowl of which is quite black. He }can walk along the parapet of Waterloo Bridge. He can slide, skate, |and box a little, and play the French horn. He can win a game of | billiards, and give you twenty. He is “up to a dodge or two” at cards. | He can imitate all the actors, and a brick falling down the chimney. | He can fry a pancake in his hat, and light a cigar at a lamp-post. He |can manage a pair of sculls, and tool a tandem through Smithfield | Market. He can talk slang witha novelist, and “chaff a ‘ University Man’ off his legs.” He can, also, “do a bill,” and many other things, | as well as persons, that ought not to bedone. He is proficient in all the | gentish graces of life, and knows “a wrinkle” of everything. High life, | low life, gambling life, sporting life, fashionable life, every kind of life he is intimately acquainted with, particularly fast life. This consists in his beginning the day six hours after everybody else, and finishing it six hours later. It implies the knowledge, on his part, of the Polka, with | certain embellishments, and a constant attendance at Casinos, and other | places where that knowledge can be displayed. It involves, also, a course | of theatres, sporting-houses, masquerades, singing-taverns, cigar-shops, cider-cellars, and early coffee-houses. To all of these the Mopet Fast | MAN is an accomplished guide. He condemns everything as s/om that does not keep pace with the rapidity with which he runs, or rather gallops, through life; and he annihilates everybody as slow, who presumes to live like a rational creature. All books are slow—SuaksPEane is slow —all domestic, all quiet enjoyments are slow. The country is very slow, and so are sisters. He even calls the railways slow. His great impulse is “ Fast bind, fast find,” and he sighs that Society is not bound by the same fast law. He is without shame, as he is without gentlemanly feeling. He is familiar with servants, jokes with waiters, and does not care how he insults an inferior. Impudence, to him, is fun —giving pain his most exquisite enjoyment. His highest notion of humour is saying to everything, “‘ I believe you, my bo-o-0-0-y.” Inthe morning —that is, the afternoon—he is feverish; in the evening —that is to say, four o’clock in the morning—he is what he calls “fresh.” His first call is for soda-water, his last for brandy. Such is the great beginning, and such the grand end, of the existence of the Mopet Fast Man! AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE. Her Magesty has honoured the Haymarket Theatre with her presence i this week. ‘The play very appropriately was Ze Wonder.

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20 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. GRAND SPECIAL CONSTABLE TESTIMONIAL. HE result of the glorious 10th of April was celebrated with extra- ordinary splendour lately at a most fashionable chop-house in the vicinity of Covent Garden. The Globe gave a very jejune account of the banquet: we shall humbly endeavour to remedy this short- coming by leaving for the future historian of the Annals of English Dinners, some farther detaiis of the Grand Special Constable Sym- posium of the parish of St. Paul’s. It is well known that Covent Garden parish is the very hot-bed of Westminster politics. There is no doubt that the existence of the vegetable market in the locality has had a subtle influence upon the political exuberance of the place. Early patriots, like early asparagus, have generally made their first appearance in Covent Garden. Mr. CocHRrane, it will be remembered, showed himself—on his first canvas—with the first half-pint of greenest ooseberries. ‘There has always een a pleasing reciprocity be- tween the gardeners and the Westminster public men: thus, if the candidate never failed in his gammon, the gardener was never behind with his spinach. Moreover, the professions and doings of M.P.’s for Westminster have very often been typified by the Covent Garden pottles of strawberries ; beginning with very decent fruit indeed, but becoming shabbier and shabbier to the end. There is Sir De Lacy Evans, for instance: consider his political pottle. He, it will be remembered, showed some very good fruit at the commencement; but when += by his constituents to march on with the Hume and Cospen Reform—why, | his political strawberries became smaller and smaller; faint, and weak, | and insipid in the mouth, and altogether different from the big, sound, full-flavoured berries that lay upon the top. Strawberries, however, since the days of Exizapetu, have been | made to illustrate, and receive illustration from, public doings. Does not Bacon, in his Apothegms, relate a strawberry quirk of Virgin Bess? “For she,” says the Chancellor, “was wont to say, upon the } commission of sales, ‘ that the commissioners used her like strawberry- wives, who had two or three great strawberries at the mouth of their pot, and all the rest were little ones; so they made her two or three good prizes of the first particulars, but fell straightways.’” (There is MELBOURNE family stood for Westminster, somehow turned into a Lamb; but which has come back to the Fox again, the mark getting redder and redder with the approach of the hunting season. Wherefore, it may be asked, have we at this length prefaced the account of the Special Banquet? The answer is, we take it, conclusive. St. Paul’s, Covent-Garden, being at once the most political and the most enlightened parish in the United Kingdom, its doings ought to be quoted and set before all men, as their political and social creed and pattern. Thus, when the Special Constabulary of Covent Garden present their Chief with a magnificent piece of plate, the mode and the object of the presentation ought to be scrupulously followed by all men to whom the memory of the glorious 10th is precious. The banquet took place at the well-known Chump-and-Gridiron Chop House. At two o’clock the omnes began to arrive. It is usual to say of a dinner that it was composed of every delicacy of the season. This we think absurd in the way of luxury. The true test of magnificence is to present everything out of the season : it is more difficult, and was triumphantly manifest on the occasion in question. The minor toasts being drunk, a most distinguished Special rose. He then took out of his pocket what we at first imagined to be a prize cucumber, done up in silver paper. Breathless silence was maintained, whilst the Special unwrapt fold after fold. In the course of twenty minutes he then made visible to the naked eye— A Spectra ConsTaBie’s Starr, IN SOLID SILVER (¢es¢e Hall-mark). A thunder of applause burst upon this piece of plate. The Special then proceeded to the business of presentation. He said, that he thought the staff being made of virgin metal, would prove to the mob that the Constable had vested property ; and that with so much metal in his hand, he had the price of many steaks in the country. (Cheers.) A blow upon the head of Rebellion with that staff would perhaps be the greatest change of silver ever given by a private individual. (Applause.) The Chairman rose, and said :—‘‘ Gentlemen, I receive this gift with the liveliest feelings of gratitude; of gratitude that it shall be my first endeavour to give a perpetual form and expression to; and in this manner: the silver being no use whatever to me as a staff, I shall, that I may always think of the givers, have the staff immediately thrown into the melting-pot; and, as 1 say, to keep you in my constant recollection, have the metal reproduced as—a complete set of spoons.” A EEFLECTION OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. no doubt, we think, that the sort of “ British Queens” now so big and luscious in the mouth, were so named in memory of this pithy saying; a are to be considered the great ones at the mouth of the world’s pottle.) It would certainly take more time and paper than Punch can devote to the subject, to illustrate the intimate and pleasing connexion between | | Covent Garden Market and Govent Garden Politics. It is well known that Westminster Hustings were erected in front of the Market in the finest spirit of accommodation for those unsophisticated patriots who might desire to explain their notions to the unpopular candidate by means of potatoes, cabbage-stalks, or turnips. Arguments of the sort being always at hand, the discussion was sure to be carried on in the most piquant, and often in the most convincing style. Everything about the Market smacks of politics. The adorning motto of the Bedford family—Che sara, sara, “‘ What will be, will be,”—is of singular siguiticance, and has often been beautifully illustrated by the Whigs, when determined to make bad worse, and worse seldom better. ——— Everything is political in Covent-Garden. All its memories—all its associations. The beautiful DucnEss or Devonsuirx still haunts the place on polling-day; and old Burnett, in shadowy top-boots, and smalls of yellowest moonshine, may now and then be seen by the Ee | ee Sees ee ee SS ee = a on FA 2 = 5 callie eee THE GALLIC COCK FIGHTING ITS OWN SHADOW. Transported Insurgents—The King of Convicts. Tue Paris Insurgents, with their wives and children, it is said, are to be transported to the Marquesas. The Daily News doubts the report, 20,000 people, viz. Oldest Inhabitant of the Market, looking with wistful face at potted laurel-trees, thinking of triumphant chairing when he rode in a bower of bay, and his horses carried whole shrubberies about them. Thus, is it to be wondered at that politics should hold the people of St. Paul’s, Covent-Garden—hold them like nippers? Is it a matter of astonishment that the parochial heart—for these last hundred years— nursing and beating with party emotions, should cause strange outward developments of the inward feeling? At this moment, we are informed there is a distinguished carver and gilder who came into the world marked in the small of his back with a Fox, which when one of the and asks, “‘ Where is the fleet to be found to —~ seven thousand insurgents, with their wives and children, round Cape Horn ?” The fleet—upon a fair contract—may be found ia the Thames; and, considering the character and purpose of the transports, where could be picked so good an shuiel for the expedition as from the bowers of Claremont ? Indeed, we do not see why old Utysses—Lovis- Puitirre himself—should not sail with the batch, and, succeeding Pomanre, be crowned with a cocoa-nut diadem, and invested with royal robes of parrots’ plumes, here and there mixed with a feather from congenial cormorant and magpie.

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Ae il FOr eo Oe O i CoS ore 8 OCP ee Ss we Ce OF Te eorw cr» trenacae PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 21 THE WINDSOR PARK EXCLUSION BILL. To the Right Honourable the House of Commons in Parliament Assembled. The Petition of Wit11AM SHAKSPEARE and ALEXANDER Pops, Humbly Sheweth: Tuat your Petitioners (as perad- venture it may be known to your Honourable House) are certain Poets, of whom one hath written a Poem, entitled Windsor Forest, and the other a Play called Zhe \ Merry Wives of Windsor: in virtue \ of which Performances, they, your | Petitioners, enjoy no small Credit ~“; and Reputation with the British L Public : é : That the said Play and Poem of your Petitioners do contain sundry and divers allusions to the Scenery in the neighbourhood of Windsor, to the right under- standing and comprehension whereof, and therefore to the due appre- ciation of those your Petitioners’ works, it is necessary that the Public should enjoy free access to such Scenery : : That your Petitioners have seen, with alarm and pious, that a Bill hath been introduced into your Honourable House, which Bill, should it unhappily pass, will almost entirely deprive the Public of this their ancient Right : : That in particular, the effect of this Bill will be to close and shut up the greater part of the Long Walk in the Great Park at Windsor, and also the whole of the Home Park, including the walk from Windsor to Datchet by Herne’s Oak, which have been open and common to all men from time immemorial : ; ; That great injury will accrue to your Petitioners if their readers, that is to say, the People in general, are hindered and prevented from roaming, strolling, and meditating in the above-named places, and pursuing the pleasant fancies and ruminations by them suggested in connection with your Petitioners’ Writings: . : That the green-sward surrounding Herne’s Oak especially is hal- lowed ground, and sacred to the memory of your Petitioner, WILLIAM SwaxspPearE: And that to deprive the Public of the very sight of such ground will be to inflict a grievous wrong upon the said SHaksPEARF, by snapping and tearing asunder the bonds of sympathy whereby, eons the recollections of those precincts, he is bound to the hearts of Englishmen: | That your Petitioners have a vested interest in the turf, and flowers, and the forest trees, and glades, and foliage of the Parks at Windsor, which it is sought by the aforesaid Bill to shut up and inclose, to the great injury and detriment of your Petitioners: That your Honourable House hath respected the vested interests of the City of London in filth and mud; wherefore your Petitioners trust that you will also respect their vested interests in green fields, and woodlands, and sweet-smelling flowers : _ That the interferences contemplated by this Bill with your Peti- tioners’ Rights and the Public Enjoyment, are described in the Preamble thereof as alterations and improvements, which “would be conducive to the privacy and comfort of the QuEEN’s Most Excellent Majesty, as well as to the accommodation of the Town of Windsor :” That your Petitioners humbly submit that such alterations would be anything but improvements, and that, whatever they would conduce to, they would conduce to nothing so little as to the accommodation of the Windsor People; for that they would greatly lengthen the journey between Windsor and Datchet, and totally destroy its pleasantness : That the privacy and comfort of Her Magzsry are at present effec- tually secured by a deep ditch, surmounted by an iron fence, whereinto the pathway through the Home Park hath of late years been converted; whereby Her Masgsty’s subjects are effectually prevented from getting the most distant sight of her, and not only of herself but of her Royal tle : That Her Most Excerrent Masesty doth usually reside at Osborne, or else at Buckingham Palace, and doth comparatively seldom occupy her Castle of Windsor : _ Lastly, that the cost of these alterations and so-called improvements is estimated at £280,000. Your Petitioners, therefore, humbly hope that your Honourable House will not, considering the present distress of the Nation, consent that so large a sum should be thrown away on any account, and least of all to the injury of your Petitioners, and to the inconvenience, discomfort, annoyance, wrong, and privation of the Windsor People and the Nation at large. And your Petitioners, as in duty bound, will ever pray. (Signed) Witttam SHAKSPEARE, Witness, Mr. Punch. ALEXANDER Pore. THE LAST OF THE CLAP-TRAPS. Muczs curiosity has been excited on the subject of the disappearance from the stage of everything in the shape of clap-trap, and people are asking on all sides why it is that those beautiful apopthegms eae with “The man who—” are no longer allowed to warm our hearts an expand our minds at the playhouse. We miss from the British drama all those magnificent eulogies on the character of “‘the British mer- chant,” which used to fill us with admiration for all our tradesmen, and look upon them as such generous beings, that we never thought of insulting them by paying them—until we were shabbily reminded of the necessity for doing so. We have long ago missed from the mouths of our actors the emphatic “ Let me tell you, Sir, that the poor man’s cottage is equal to the rich man’s castle!” and we listen in vain for the cheering announcement that “Old England, with her Magna Charta for a sail, the — for a mast, and the crown for a figure-head, will ride out bn roughest gale that ever blew off the hat of the tar for all weathers.” We have, however, made the discovery that clap-trap is not dead, but has merely changed its quarters; and though it has retired from the dramatic boards, it flourishes as much as ever on the floor of the House of Commons. “The flag that braved a thousand years” has been moved from the minor theatres to the Lower House; and though the Heavy Man of the Surrey no longer inquires “ When did Old England ever turn her back on a foe or a friend,?”; the Heavy Man of Parliament will ask, in almost the same language, for the exact date “ when Britain refused to help an ally with her hand, or} to put a sword in it against an enemy?” Clap-trap has, in fact, been banished from over the water and having stopped at the foot of Westminster Bridge, has foun its way to St. Stephen’s. There it is as rampant as ever, with all its “man who’s,” its “ allow me to add’s,” its “ honest hand of industry’s,” and its “ flag that braved’s,” with a string of other old familiar bits of humbug too numerous to recollect, and too absurd to mention. A PATTERN FOR PARLIAMENT. a Hume observed the other night, in the House of Commons, that— “They had no fewer than five adjourned debates standing over. ... He would ask the House to consider seriously how it was possible to get rid of their present entanglements.” We would not generally advise our British Senate to take a leaf out of any foreign book; but really, for once, we would beg its attention te the following statement of the Zimes correspondent relative to the Prussian Chamber :— ‘Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour is the average of an address in the Chamber ; half an hour is an exception ; one of an hour’s length is a phenomenon.” It is a pity that the House of Commons cannot “imitate the illus- trious Roman,” and the sensible German, “in brevity.’ We know what description of persons are known by their much speaking, and what must be thought of our Collective Wisdom when this is its peculiar attribute ? EXTRAORDINARY PHENOMENON. “TRUTH,” says somebody, whose name we have been unable to catch, “is strange, stranger than fiction; and we can vouch for the truth of this, for we have lately witnessed a wonder that throws all the gigantic gooseberries ever invented completely into the shade. The marvel we have witnessed was on a certain railway—if anything in the shape of a railway can be called certain—on which'a big train was travelling, when the discovery was made, that though the wheels were twirling round at the raie of 300 miles an hour, the vehicles were not making any pro- gress whatever. On examination it was found that the rails had ac- quired, by friction, such a wonderful smoothness that the wheels would not hold, and thus, though the rotatory motion continued at a speed of five miles per minute, the whole train remained in one position. Many ways have been attempted of accounting for this great pheno- menon, but we believe the true soluticn of the apparent mystery to be, that the Share Market has been so extremely flat as to have prevented — ony the shares, but even the wheels from getting any purchase at all. Query. Can the alarming depression of “ native talent ” in our theatres, at this moment, be in any way attributable to the sudden stoppage of the —— of French pieces ? , When the French theatres are ruined, how can the English ones flourish? You might as well expect the West London mains to be full when the River Lea was dried up. Cessante causa cessat effectus.

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22 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ms | THE GHCST OF GOOD INTENT. Cor SS (ee ee. Oo Poor Louis Branc! Whilst they fought in Ok “ie . 6 €. i+ } A i= { Paris, he now and then appeared—the Ghost of ; 3 i vas — oT Tl Good Intent, revisiting his former scenes. Now 7 as he pops out at the corner of the Rue Richelieu, and the National Guard cock their muskets and are about to make short work of the author of the Organization of Labour, and The Barricades, (just published in granite, and to be had at the Faubourg St. Antoine, and other places). And then Louis is snatched up under the arm of a | friend, put in at the window of a cabriolet, and whirled, for the moment, out of danger of ball- | cartridge. A few hours afterwards, and Lovis re- ; appears somewhere near the Madeleine, desi- rous of making his way to the insurgents. Whereupon he is ordered back by the sentries, with a brief intimation that, unless he immedi- ately retires, he will be shot upon the spot. We _ | believe that Louis Buanc, all through the piece, = | meant well: therefore is there something melan- = j|choly, touching, in the figure cut bythe late = |idol of the populace—the cheered and huzzaed hero of the a¢e/iers—rebuked, rebuffed, snubbed, | threatened in the very city it was his hope to | make a fruitful garden, every man eating there 'his own fig from his own tree. To our mind Louis Buanc flits through Paris, hovers about |the Barricades, as the restless spectre of a | system—the mere shadow of a good jintention. “Ox! gust aInt PEOPLE PROUD WHAT HAVE GOT PAIRASOLES.” | Alas! Poor Ghost ! * 7 Win, | = = ae A Common Disappointment. “ But what zs to be done better?” asks poor Lorp Joun, bewildered. : : : « tion!” “LarGE constituencies,” pathetically observed Mr. BROTHERTON ee Protectio1 - “always expected their Et to say something.” And how very Competition ! often do they speak, and yet, like Juliet, ‘say nothing!” There isa P oe 1» Ensemble of Surru, Jones, Rosrs- great reform to be worked in the Commons. e want more work and| ,, N dron |” son, THompson, JENKINS, ToMpP- less talk. Abuses are not to be put down with the like weapon to that| ,, Do rt ag 1% KIxs, Topp, and Dopp: with which Samson put down the Philistines. Is there no city—no| ,, Cooli —, large constituency sufficiently courageous, in order to show its proper| ,, omen hl 1» value of taciturnity—is there no electoral body bold enough to send ; for its Member to Parliament—a dumb man? And that’s the way we.go on in St. Stephen’s, a. p, 1848 ! ST. STEPHEN’S MARTYRDOM ; OR, THE GREAT SUGAR PUZZLE. “Dreaprut state of the West Indian Interest!” says Smrru. ie on 10s, protective duty for six years, or the colonies are smashed !” “ Precious mess Protection’s brought the planters to!” says Jonzs. “Competition ’s the only thing to bring them to their senses.” “Nothing can be done without immigration of free labour,” says Rosinson. “They ’ve abundance of hands, only they want work, THoMrson. a “Must get rid of that humbugging African Squadron,” swears JENKINS. ; " “The blockade must be kept up more strictly than ever,” says ToMPKINs. “I'ry the Coolies,” says Topp. . “The Kroomen are the only fellows worth their salt,” says Dopp. “Something must be done!” chime SmitH, Jonzs, Rosinsoy, THompson, JENKINS, Tompkins, Topp, and Dopp. mes, “ Here it is!” says Lorp Jonny Russext, holding up his Bill. “ Nonsense! it don’t give’em their Protective Duty,” roars SmiTH. 5 “1t’s a departure from the Free Trade measure of 1846,” growls ONES. “* £500,000 for immigration isn’t half enough,” grumbles Rosrnson. “Tt will throw the free negroes out of employment,” snufiles Trompson.” , - mt SO . put down the murderous African [Squadron,” shouts John Bull. “He wovuipn’r 60 aT ALL IF_IT WASN’T FOR THE MAN * mm.” “ It don’t improve the blockading system,” bawls TomPxKINs. — " : ene to es femme Saas ey on eam, my — rere ; “ It will swamp the islands with those idiotic es,” bellows DODD. | printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans: “It’s good for nothing,” chorus Smita, Jones, Ropinson, THompP-| of No.7. Churen Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middleser, Printers, at their Ofice, in Lombard Street, iv the Precinct of Whitefriars,in the City of London, and SON, JENKINS, TOMPKINS, Topp, and Dopp. No. 83. Fleet Street. in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.—Saruavar, Jovy Sth, 1848 ” cries

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AN ILLUSTRATED PARLIAMENTARY DUEL. We give a Diagram of how honourable Members figh “in a Parliamen’ sense,” or rather “in a Parliamentary nonsense.” We do not quarrel wit them for not fighting—for we dislike quarrelling in any case, especially if the oo is likely to lead to “pistols and coffee |for two”—but we blame them or the stupid display of valour, the hard words, the insults, and all the etceteras that might lead to a meeting at Chalk Farm, if the absurdity was not so well understood. The following are the points of the circle round which Members revolve, chasing one another, with as much result as a dog running after his tail ; that is to say, only exciting the merriment of those who look on. 6¢h. The little man did not mean to say anything offensive. 7th. They neither meant anything 1st Round is the hard word. Qnd. The hard word returned. 3rd. They bothset to. Hard hitting, nght and left. offensive. 4th. The little man “in Chancery.” 8th. They shake hands, and always " 5¢h. The big man did not mean to | entertained the very highest opinion of | ~~ hurt him ; . one another. Thus ends the Parliamentary Duel, and it is best it should end thus; only the = thing is so absurd, that it never should have had a beginning. Cannot gentle- men meet without insulting one another? The above diagram might be made into an instructive toy for juvenile M.P’s, A QUESTION OF CONSCIENCE AND SUGAR. A GzntLEman named Butt being in great trouble and distress of mind, is anxious to be introduced to some Casuist who will undertake to quiet his con- science. Mr. Butt is the proprietor of certain colonial possessions devoted to the cultivation of sugar. these he, some years ago, abolished Negro slavery, from a conviction that it was barbarous and wicked. In justice to his colonists he entered into an rrangement to place a prohibitive duty on slave-grown sugar. This arrangement Mr. But, bar fond of sugar, and desirous of obtaining the article cheap, subsequently annulled. Butt is persuaded by his economical advisers that he did not, by so doing, break faith with his colonists; but feeling uncomfortably dubious as to this point, he would be glad to have it settled to his satisfaction. He has renounced slave- holding, believing it to be criminal; but while he continues to consume slave- grown sugar, it strikes him forcibly that he isin the same position as a receiver of stolen goods. He will feel deeply grateful to any ingenious person who will convince him that he is mistaken in this view. _ Mr. But desires to enjoy cheap sugar, unalloyed by the reflection that. he is enco g slavery. He wants to be enabled to eee himself on having abolished slavery, without being obliged to reproach himself for admitting the produce of slave labour. He wishes to revel, at the same time, in sugar and self-complacency. He seeks, in fact, to be relieved from the disagreeable sus- cion that he is acting the part of a humbug; and any special pleader who will Yo him this kindness will be handsomely rewarded. a THE BLACKING BATH. Tue Serpentine, that great Pond of Correction for refrac- tory dogs and convicted cats, looks at present more like a dyer’s vat for dipping articles of mourning into than apiece of ornamental water. If it is ornamental at all, it can only be a “jet” ornament, for the water is “‘as black as your hat.” It has more pretensions for a jef-d’eau than any fountain we have yet seen, including the lively ginger-beer bottles in Trafal- gar Square. It may be called a perfect “jetty.” Musicians who wish to give their countenance to Ethiopian music, have only to bathe in the Serpentine, and after a few dips they will have one great requisite for the nigger melodies, for they will be quite black in the face. We heard of a Count falling in, who had on a pair of the most beautiful white trowsers—“ perfect ducks” they were—and they came out after the plunge a 4 of the “best blacks.” A young gentleman after one bath, quite lost the lovely strawberry-and-cream complexion he was universally distinguished for, and now walks about town with features muffled up in the most “inky sables.” Really something ought to be done to this great reservoir of blacking. Let Day and Martin purchase it, or sell it to TURNER, or, if necessary, “ is! Warren.” It might wash an elephant and give him a fine black-lead polish; but no gentle- man, excepting one of colour, and that colour the ~~ dian black, would think of putting his body into the liquid mis- called water, unless for a masquerade or a matter of the darkest aos It is a large stain on the lovely bosom of Hyde Park—a blot on the escutcheon of the illustrious Ranger. The sooner the Serpentine is washed of it, and the filth is taken clean away—if such a thing can be done “clean”—the better it will be for the fair ladies who are in the habit of driving in their carriages up and down the great tank of malaria. Let no fond father allow his children to bathe init! Let no sympathetic Duchess allow her “ King Charles” to be dipped into it! The first would not like to press to his heart a bunch of little Blackamoors, and the second would faint at the notion of nursing in her muslin arms a nasty little poodle as dingy as a kitchen poker. Our cry is, “Send for the Ranger and duck him in it ;’—we mean, make him bathe in it. AFTER I CAME OUT. BEFORE I WENT IN. IMPORTANT INTELLIGENCE, Our fashionably-frivolous, though sometimes politically- forcible contemporary, the Morning Post, in his Thursday’s memoranda of the movements of the Little Great, informs the world of the astounding incident about to mark the biography of the Eant or YarsoroucH. We were told, in language o simple grandeur, or grand ongliety, that “the noble Earl will pass through the metropolis on Monday, on his way to York, to act as President of the Royal Agricultural Meeting.” How considerate of our contemporary to prepare the meng three days in advance, for such an event as the passage of th Ear or YARBOROUGH peg the British capital! The para- graph was as considerate as if it had contained the warning of an approaching comet, for it put London on the alert, and pre- vented it from being dazzled out of its five, six, or seven senses —we almost forget which—by the too sudden appearance of the Eart or YarsorovcH. It be remembered that on Monday the day was scorchingly hot, blazingly fine, and all that sort of thing, which may now be accounted for by the fact that the Eant or YaRBoROUGH was passing through our metropolitan hemisphere on his way to York, revolving, we suppose, all the way on his own axle-trees. VOL, XV.

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24 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. GOVERNESSES.-—SISTERS OF MISERY. E do not want any Parliamentary Reform soever. The House of Commons is the House of all the Cardinal Virtues. Every Member, from Joun himself down— down—down to Newpecats, SPOONER, and Sisrnorp, is an “entire and perfect. chry- solite” of a senator. There is nothing amiss in Parliament; all the mischief is among the people ves. We do not want better M.P.’s—all we need is a more enlightened elective power. Education— says SensEant TaLFOURD—is grand thing needful ; let us wait until the people are educated, and then they shall have the franchise. e time is not yet come. Whereas, when two or three generations of b schoolmasters and schoolmistresses have done their best to school the millions (how the schooling isto be paid for, is not to be thought of) why, then, Loxp Joun RussExu’s great-grandson (for the Premiership, like right of patent, will of course remain in the family) may bring in a new Reform Bul, with a touehing allusion to his illustrious ancestor, giving the rs to the | a Fulham, Kensingto | representation. owing to mersmit ns m, an Chelsea included, the luxury of one Member. We do not liketo be too sanguine, but we are willing to cocker ourselves with the hope that Lonp Joun RussEt1’s great-grandson may do this—for our successors. _ Meanwhile, let us do our best for the encouragement of the scholastic ality. Let us elevate the condition of the teacher, that his better Lenity may act upon the pupil. With this determination beating at our heart, we lay before the reader two most interesting documents. We quote them—with the gravest assurance of their authenticity, being conveyed to us by a known correspondent—as the strongest evidence of the growing importance of the character of the teacher. The papers are from the principal of an Academy—where, we are sure of it, all the stoic principles flourish like birch saplings—on the banks of the Humber. The first document is a touching letter, penned by the wedded Minerva of the establishment. It is addressed to a young lady, who, having read the general advertisement, writes— doubtless in a flutter of hope—for the particulars :— “Mas. begs to inform Miss that she wishes for a lady who will be able to instruct a cuass of about ten little boys about three hours daily ; to give instruction to her two daughters in needlework ; to superintend the washing and dressivg of Mz ’s pupils, and to assist at table and in the wardrobe depart- ment. These objects are paramount. Ocher valuable services would receive due consideration. ‘The salary proposed is not less than £20, nor more than £30 per annum. £2 d for travelling expenses. The lady to pay her own lavndress, RS, trusts to engage one whom she may have pleasure in associating with, and that the connection may be lasting. lf Miss will fill up the enclosed form as well as she is able, and return it, a definitive answer shall be given without delay.—No. of pupils about thirty.” There is a fine spirit of discipline, very strong and very eloquent, throughout this. The lady’s “class” has, moreover, a vagueness that awakens fancy. The class is “about ten;” hence, it may be a dozen. Well, the ten—or the about ten—boys being duly taught the humani- ties, the young lady is then called upon to teach single and double- stitch to “two daughters.” And now comes a greater variety of employment to give wings to the otherwise heavy hours. The young lady is “ to assist at table,” and “in the wardrobe department.” Whether she is merely to preside at the potato-dish, or is to be expected to fulfil the sterner duty of carving the joint, is not set down. Neither is it stated whether her assistance in “the wardrobe department” of the little boys is to be limited to putting on buttons, or is to be made more onerous by the nice adjustment of patches. Further, the young lady is to superintend the washing, towelling, and combing of “ Mr.——’s mele ;” and their number is “‘ adoué thirty.” holly to instruct ten boys—to teach sewing to two girls—to carve, and mend, and patch, and darn for about thirty young innocents, being moreover, their C.C.B.—or Companionof their Cold Bath—are, of course, objects “ paramount ” in the Academy on the banks of the Humber ; and the emphasis with which they are touched upon, ought to recom- mend the establishment (we shall be happy to insert an advertise- ment from the principals) to Parents and Guardians. But these objects paramount being effected, what a new field of exertion is laid open to the teacher in her mysterious over-hours (the mystery being, to get them), if, being of an active turn of mind, she will acquit herself of “other valuable services!’ They would receive “due consideration ;” and then we perceive that the salary cannot be less than £20, and— should gray hairs await the instructress in her teaching—cannot be more than £30 (‘‘the lady to pay her own laundress”) for her ordinary work, the extra pay for extra duty is very encouraging. It is absolutely ; and possibly—for better equality of | ¢ a new development of The Pleasures of Hope! What may we not expect from the instruction of a multitude of such | teachers upon a future generation! ‘I'alk of the self-denial of the| of Misery—must have the noblest effect upon the higher and soberer virtues of their apple-eating pupils. “ Wisdom is found with childhood ’bout her knees,” writes WorvswortH; but the poet neglected to specify the exact duties of carving, stitching, and oe of the tub, with the salary, minimum and maximum, to be enjoyed. The magnificent pro- etor of the Academy on the Humber has, we conceive, with singular intelligence and liberality supplied the omission. Now, however, comes the trial. The young lady is “requested to fill up the enclosed form.” The reader has heard of various ordeals; the red-hot ploughshare ordeal, the ordeal of poison—of boiling-water— of molten iead; and other ingenious tests to try the strength ahd inno- cence of weak and erring humanity; but for our part, we think the Sister of Misery who—for not less than £20, and not more than £30 per annum—fills up the subjoined to the satisfaction of the Philosopher and Friend on Humber, has earned the noblest recompense of moral glorifi- cation. We immediately behold her: She stands before us, wan, and thin, and pale; not imagardenof roses, but beneathaclump of petping irch.— And she has crown of misery; thirty sovereigns, dispose like stellar halo, round about her beatin 3 As, however, this Humber test may * sent to other applicants, and as many of these—poor, ger things !—may be puzzled to fill up the form in a manner worthy of its intelligence, Punch will underwrite a response to every query, the said response to be now and then modi- ed aecording to the peculiar circumstances of the Sister of Misery. “* Mrs. requests that the following queries may be answered in the hand-writing of the lady in question.” [The lady will, therefore—it is the earnest. advice of Pxeci—pen her response, if she can any wav obtain the implement, with a quill drawn from the tail feathers of a Bird of Paradise. Nothing meaner ought to make reply to such golden questions. | “* Have you had experience in teaching children? Duning what time? In schools: or families, or how long in each?” [For some years a teacher in the School of Adversity; can be well recommended by suffering. | “ What branches of learning do you profess to understand ?” (To carve a joint with no waste of fat; and to make tea upon tea- leaves as strong as the first: pot.] “* What accomplishments ?” [Darning, fine-drawing, footing old socks, taking grease out of boys’ jackets, and iron-moulds out of shirts. ] “ Have you had much practice in plain needlework ?—Ditto in orna- mental ?” : [A good deal in plain-work ; having made shirts for threepence a-piece, before reduced to the condition of a governess. In ornamental, worked two kettle-holders for the Countess of CaNAAn’s stand at Fancy-fair, for Untatooing the New Zealanders, or as the case may be.] “ Have you read any works on Education ?” [Yes.] “ Name the authors or titles.” fSatan. Rosert MontTcomery. | “ Are you ATTACHED (0 the Established Church?” ’ (Very much attached: because of the superior accommodation of the pews. _ “* Can you sing so as to lead children?” [Yes : especially if to be led to the pastrycook’s. ] “* What do you consider the most important virtues to be cultivated in children by the example of their teachers?” [To eat fat and lean together; and never to ask twice for pudding.] “ What vices are most to be feared ?” [Neglecting their pocket-handkerchiefs, and putting their fingers in the butter. | “ What are the best grounds or incentives to good conduct ?” [Bull’s-eyes, Buonaparte’s ribs, brandy-balls, and the real Albert rock.) ** What are the best punishments?” [If boys, threaten to make them ushers; if girls, governesses. | “ Can you reprove children without using offensive epithets, such as ‘Srupip,’ ‘Naveurty,’ ‘TrousLesomeg,’ &c. ?” (Certainly. My reproofs are in this style—‘‘ Why don’t you wipe your nose, you darling cherub?” “ What a mess you’ve made with your milk-and-water, you love-bird!” ‘Take your thumb out of your mouth, you pattern of an angel,” and so forth. ] ** What is your age?” F P [Here let the Governess set down her age by the register, adding thereto five years for every twelvemonth of tuition. ] Are you now, and have you generally been, in good health?” [Most happily constituted for the situation. Lungs of iron, flesh of granite, and heart of lead: otherwise, should not presume to apply for the appointment. ! ; “ Are you able to rise at five in the morning in the summer, and at siz in the winter ?” 3 [Oh dear, yes; and would have no objection—to further the interests of the establishnent—never to go to bed at all.] : There are three or four other queries, such as name and address, with Sisters of Charity; why, the heroism of such teachers—such Sisters, the address of clergyman ‘“‘ at whose church” the applicant has

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 25 “habitually communicated.” To such questions Punch can fashion no eager reply. But he puts it to the reader--again seriously assuring im of the authenticity of the documents quoted—whether the liberal and benevolent queries of the great Academician on Humber have not answered in a spirit of respect and seriousness worthy of the decency and humanity of the greater number of questions ? further, after pondering thereon may we not truly call the Governess the Sister of Misery ? WE WANT NO REFORM! To be said or sung by everybody. DEDICATED TO B. OSBORNE, ESQ., M.P. Two pounds twelve and sixpenee a-head Is in England the rate of taxation ; Seventy millions and upwards, ’tis said, the average that’s raised on the nation ; But we want no Reform ; Oh, no! certainly not! Not a bit—not a jot. Pooh! we want no Reform ! Out of twenty, ten shillings on tea Are paid by the labouring classes ; Eight on coffee; on sugar—let’s see— Why, six shillings, hard cash, by the“masses ; But we went no Reform ; Take the word of Lorp Jonny, We are going well on: No—we want no Reform! Five on soap, four on beer, and fourteen On spirits—sixteen on tobacco Do they pay to our Lady the Quzen, But what, nevertheless, savs Lorp Jacko? “ Why, we want no Reform, All is proper and right, Satisfactory quite ; Pish! we want no Reform!” On Industry, more than on Wealth, There ’s the weight of the Income Tax pressinz, But the nation’s in excellent health, And we’ve no wrongs that call for redressing. So we want no Reform; Oh, no! not in the least ; We’re not plundered nor fleeced. Stuff and nonsense! We want no Reform! MR. ROBERT HOUDIN’S “ BOTTLE.” BEFORE THE TRICK OF THE BOTTLE. WE do not know what Mr. Georcre CrvuIKSHANK would be likely to say to Mr. Houpin’s “Bottle.” The former inculcates temperance in a pictorial poem that is the best sermon we ever read; the latter makes drinking so pleasant, that we wonder no tee-totaller has yet risen and protested against the danger of putting such a “ Bottle” into the hands of the public. Why, it is inexhaustible! The more liquids he pours from it, the more there are concealed at the bottom. It is a bottled oeean of wagne, port, claret, and Curagoa. It is the whole London Docks, apparently, corked down in a quart bottle— nay, more than that: for we really believe if Horace happened to drop in at the St. James’s, and called for a poculum of his old Falernian, that Mons. Houpin would pour it out for him, and then ask him if he would have a little magnum of Cyprus ! There are many good things in Mr. CrurxsHanx’s “ Bottle,” but we doubt if its greatest admirer could squeeze a bumper of Bur- guady, or the smallest glass of Madeira out of it. In fact our moral ALLOT would not be very well pleased if any ome could, considering he wishes to expose the horrors of drinking, not to prove the pleasures of it; and that his “Bottle” was drawn, not to go to men’s lips, but to their hearts. We implore Monstsun Hovupin, however, to be careful, or else some night, if he does not put a timely “stopper” on his liberality, his audience may be carried off to the station-house and locked up, on the dreadful charge of inebriety. The scenes, too, that might occur at his theatre would be rather unpleasant for the liberal eonjuror, if he hada number of young men rushing up to him for “just one glass more.” “We advise him to limit every lady to two Ss, and every gentleman to four, unless they have been dining, the best thing to give them—we mean the gentlemen—will be a bottle of soda-water. ‘The drink should bewaried, also, in_ this warm weather, and be made to consist of some of SoyEr’s “Nectar,” or Sams- BURY’S summer beverages. ENGLISHMEN AND GLORY. “To M. Poncue. “Monsieur PoncHE, * Square of Leicester, July 11, 1848. j “THe other day I did see in your contemporary the 7imes an account of a dinner of your Specials Constables at the Highbury Barn. It was with the most great astonishment that I read as follows :— *¢ An original comic song sung by a Mg. Saarpg, in which the “ Specials” were covered with a good deal of clever ridicule, created a vast amount of merriment.’ “Tn truth, M. Ponche, you English are a race inexvlicable. For what your ‘Specials’ met they at the Barn of Highbury? Was it not to celebrate one grand triumph? Howthen? M. SHarres sings a comic song which covers them with ridieule. And this creates ‘a vast amount of merriment.’ I cannot comprehend that. Ought it not rather to have excited the most live indignation? What! when you con- ceive yourselves covered with glory, you allow yourselves to be covered with ridicule. I could well imagine M. SHarpes to have sung your anthem national, or your Rule Britannia. There would therein have been something grand—sublime. But in place of that, he sings a comic }song at the expense of his company, and they are char of it. For ime, I should have shouted, ‘M. SHarpes to the lamp-post!’ Think | you that our National Guards, or our Mobiles, would have suffered a | Suarpes to mock himself of them in this manner? Ah! no: they | would soon have made repent M.Suarprzs. But you English, you seem | to take delight in laughing at all enthusiasm and all glory. | “T have the honour to be, Monsieur Ponche, “Un Francais.” ! A very nice Point. | Amone the recent applications for relief under the Poor-Law was one made by a man on behalf of himself, his wife, and a donkey. A question arose as to whether the donkey was a fit subject for out-door relief, and whether he ought not to be made to bear his own burden. After considerable difficulty, and a stringent application of the be- labouring test, the brute was declared irremovable.

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26 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. QUEER QUADRILLES. AN anything be more ridiculous than getting up quadrilles with all sorts of a — _ out any icular applicability to the subject of heir title ? Such a fashion has lately grown up, however, amongst the no- bility. At the Spitalfields Ball there were the “ House of York” and “House of Lan- caster Quadrilles,” but there might as well have been the House of Waterloo, ‘consisting of elegant young couples of ladies and gents from Hatiine, Pearce, and Stone’s; or the \ House of Coburg Quadrille, y supported by the messieurs et dames de comptoir from that well-known establishment. The Quadrille of the Kings and Queens of England might have \. appropriately included our old ~~ friend Epear the Saxon mon- Ay arch, from Regent Circus, hay- : : ing for his partner the fair Swas, as she was familiarly called—the long-necked and beauteous Maung, of well-known oveliness. The Red and White Rose Quadrille was intelligible enough: but the Lace Quadrille must have been something very remarkable. We cannot conceive an un-lace quadrille; but perhaps the description had reference rather to the material of the dresses than to the mode of wearing them. The Book-muslin Bolero would have had a pretty effect, and the Flounced Fandango would have been no doubt delicious for its breadth and boldness. If there was a quadrille of lace, why should there not have been a quiet little Reel of cotton,’or an entire Ball of worsted ? We hope to see these novelties introduced at an early period. = SS S S A SS Y 4 f/f ff//// DOMESTIC BLISS. =~ WSs SEE SWS SSNS TO ea \ AN } fu ‘all, LM SSE | ate me me ee et tt ME Ml he VY, Wi ILL ae VU YU VVUUE I LAM LL dds Kv ‘SME MTM e me Ly LILLE im \ Q S SYS Jt Se MME ANTS h A\\ oi ‘a AY \Y ‘Bo Ww Wii \ i | | la jlo Domestic. “ Hzre’s Miss BrapsHaw, Mum, HAs JUST COME ; SHE’S GONE UP-STAIRS, Mum.” Angelina. “On, VERY WELL—I wILL—” Edwin. “ Brapsaaw !! Wuo THE DEucE Is Miss BrapsHaw ?” Angelina, “Ou, 1T’S NOTHING OF CONSEQUENCE, DEAR—SHALL I GIVE YOU SOME MORE TEA, DEAR?” Edwin. “Yes ; But wHo 1s Miss Brapsuaw ? BrapsHaw ts ¢” Angelina, “Law! Ip you must KNow, It ’s—i1T’s—tHE—TH’ Dressmaker |! 1!!!” Way can’T You TELL ME wHo Miss Grand Launch at Bungerford. Every addition, however humble, to our naval resources, must be of considerable interest at the present time, when “the stormy winds (of politics) do blow, do blow, do blow,” like a regular, or irregular hurricane. Every English- man must feel anxious to prevent the bellows of foreign rebellion from blowing up a domestic breeze, and consequently the slightest augmenta tion of our marine force is an affair on which to congratulate our countrymen. With these views of patriotism swelling in our bosom and trying the strength of the buttons of our waistcoat, we may |be supposed to have gone with intense emotion to witness the launch of a new coal- barge at Hungerford. The craft was one of the tautest we were ever taught to lcok upon, and her a (of coals) amounted to exactly twenty. She had been built for the Wallsend service, and her figure-head, which consisted of a correct portrait of Fame (after Jonzs) blowing a trumpet (after Harper), was a work of art that would have done credit to any carving-knife. The launch .was arranged to take place off Hungerford, and when we arrived at the spot we ‘found Youth at the helm, with Pleasure at the prow,” to say nothing of Middle-age at the oars, and Obstinacy at the marlin-spike, both making a desperate endeavour to “shove off,” though the effort was quite ineffectual. At length, at a —_ signal, the jolly craft was unlaced from er stays, and, slipping beautifully away, she glided into the mud with a splash that shed its influence over all the bystanders. At this moment the scene was most exciting, for there was scarcely a dry eye, or a dry foot, or a dry coat, or a dry bonnet among the whole of the surrounding company. The name was to be given to the ant vessel by Miss Matitpa Jonnson JONzs, who broke a bottle of ginger-beer against the prow, and christened the craft the 7idy ’Tilda, The cheers of the spectators at this moment were absolutely deafening, and when the crew struck up Rule Britannia, the Captain singing God Save the Queen, and an adjacent organ-boy playing Marble Halls, the struggle of alternate emotions was too much for anybody, but particu- larly for a policeman, who happened to be present, and whose stentorian “Move on!” rose high |above the din, like the voice of Molus soaring | over a concert of halfpenny whistles in a thunder- storm, The Tidy ’ Tilda being now firmly embedded in the mud, acold collation was served up to the company on board, who partook of shrimps and ; the other delicacies of the neighbourhood. Dancing then commenced on the gunwale, and was kept up till a late hour—the amusements of the day being varied by naval hornpipes, allusions to “dear eyes,” “swabs,” and “ land- lubbers,” with the other customary peculiarities of the nautical character. In the course of the afternoon the company retired, apparently very much dissatisfied with the proceedings of the day. A vote of censure was passed upon the Jack-in-the-Water, and replied to with a volley of stones by that indi- vidual. A few speeches were made, but it was impossible to catch their tenor, as the speakers all spoke at the same time; and on our reporter attempting to take notes, he was ducked with vehement rapidity. CLASS AGAINST CLASS. Mz. Oszoryz, in his admirable speech, said, “If you set class against class, the most frightful collisions must inevitably ensue.” Upon hearing this, Mz. Hupson exclaimed, “ On my word, it’s precisely the same on a railway!”

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Page 33

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 29 THE MODEL MOTHER-IN-LAW. C= isa tender creature, and requires the nicest care and the hottest luncheons to keep her in good tem- per. daughter, but she is pany fond of her. he “only lives to see —and everybody else miserable. To insure this, it is necessary to Accordingly, she “brings her things” some day before dinner, and takes ssession of the best m, only to stop for a week. Her weeks, however, never have a Saturday. She has no knowledge of time, as measured by the week, #S month, or year, but is sadly put out if supper is not brought up precisely to the minute. But Juri always required a mother’s care. She was very delicate, even as a child, and the little thing is far from strong now. She has never left her side for two days together since the hour she was born. Her daughter!must not walk.—‘‘ Do you hear me, JULIA? I will not allow it: the exertion is too much for you, and cabs are cheap enough, goodness knows! You must not exert yourself, child; so give She has only one child, a/} her dear child happy” | g, be constantly with her. ons me the keys, and 1’Il attend to the housekeeping for you.” __ The shopping is attended to from the same generous motive. The | tradesmen soon look up to the Mother-in-Law as the mistress of the | house, and it is not long before the servants are made to acknow- | ledge her sway, and come to her regularly for orders. ‘The husband is | nobody—a creature to give money as it is wanted, and to hold his tongue. If he ventures to remonstrate, he is “killing” her daughter; | and as a mother, she is not goingito allow the murder ‘of her u child before her own eyes and not tell. him what she thinks about it! | He is reminded every day that “he little knows the treasure he pos- | sesses in that dear creature;” and if he hints anything about the creature costing him rather dear for a “treasure,” he is asked if he calls himself a man? If poor Junta has a headache, the husband is blamed | for it. “ It is all his doing; he knows it is. Didn’t he speak harshly | to her at breakfast?” If the dinner is badly cooked, he must not say a word, for the tears immediately flow, and the mother quickly upbraids him “as a wretch who ought to be ashamed of himself for speaking in that way toa suffering woman.” If he refuses to go on the continent, “his motive is very clear ; but let the crime be upon his own head! She woul not have his feelings afterwards for a thousand pounds!” If he — about any extravagant outlay, she is not going to allow her | aughter to starve for the consideration of a penny. She tells him he put up in the drawing-room, she will not answer for the consequences! She should like very much to know what he calls himself ? The Move. Moruer-tn-Law in her kindest mood is fearful, but she is most despotic when there has been a settlement made upon her daughter. The domestic tyrant then rules with the iron rolling-pin of a female Nero. All the little attempts of the poor husband to maintain his rights are loudly anathematised as ‘base machinations to secure her poor daughter’s property. He wishes to drive Juxia mad, but she sees through his mean devices!” Letters too are rifled for secrets— ockets ransacked for Jillet-dous, old servants dismissed, new ones ired, the dinner hour altered, the luncheon kept on the table all day, and the children brought home from school, just as Mrs. SriTriRe pleases. ‘The house is quite a family Bastile. No one dares move out or come in without her permission. The latch-key is surrendered, and the husband is quite under the Mother-in-Law’s surveillance, and is only let out upon parole. Woe to him if he returns home a minute late! He is asked through the keyhole “if he’s not ashamed of him- self?” and before he has wiped his feet on the door-mat, he is told, loud enough for all the servants to hear it, that ““Juxia is determined not to endure his abominable profligacy any longer,—the poor thing is | sinking fast into a premature grave, and she is resolved upon having ’a separate establishment.” The next morning the Mother-in-Law and her daughter leave with a hundred band-boxes, and the husband is left | alone without as much as the key of the tea-caddy to console himself | with. But he is not allowed to enjoy his solitude long. A St. Swithin | of letters from the mother, in the name of her injured daughter, keeps | pouring in upon him, reproaching him with everything short of arson. | He is visited at length by his dread enemy even in person, and after an ts killing her, and if the new curtains are not instantly hydraulic scene, made more terrible by the threat that “she will never leave him till she has brought him to 9 sense of the injuries he has inflicted upon ¢hat sainted creature,” he is obliged to capitulate: he falls upon his knees before his wife, and begs to be forgiven. The Mother-in-Law stands by, like a stern Nemesis of the sex, and will not allow the poor culprit to rise before he has d over and over again how deeply Ae was in the wrong, and “ what am infamous wretch e must have been ever to doubt such angelic goodness!” ~ The husband’s children belong, pos speaking, to the MopEL Moruex-1n-Law. She superintends their education, dresses them, whips them, physics them, and does whatever she pleases with them. e begs “he’ll not interfere in matters he cannot possibly under- stand.” It is at the advent of anew baby, however, that her tyrannic power is the most absolute; the whole household then, from kitchen to garret, is under her thumb, and, the centre of a large circle of FREYS, Gamps, Prics, and Datsy’s, she administers elixirs and commands alternately, which no one dares disobey. The doctor even succumbs to her ; and as for the poor husband, he sinks to the smallest possible point of virile insignificance. He rings the bell, no one answers it: he wanders about a miserable PeteR SCHLEMHIL in his own house, a Husband who has lost even the shadow of authority. He asks for his dinner, not a soul knows anything about it. A bed is fitted up for him somewhere in a lumber-room at the top of the house. He asks to see his wife, but is met by the Mother-in-Law at the door, and questioned crs ham wishes to kill his innocent babe and wife?” He is ity e man.” The Mopgt Mortuer-tn-Law is essentially a “ strong-minded woman.” She is always telling people “a bit of her mind.” The husband gets a bit every day. ll his relations, too, who dare “to put their noses into what does not concern them,” are favoured with “a bit ’—a good large bit—also. Her “mind,” like the bell of St. Sepulebre, is never told, py . the prelude to some dreadful execution. She dearly loves a quiet family. _The Mopet Morser-tn-Law makes a my of residing with her victims. When once in a house, she is as difficult to get out as the dry- rot, and if allowed her own way, soon undermines everything, and brings the house “in no time” about everybody’s ears. She goes out of town with them every year. She should never forgive herself if anything happened when she was a“, and she was not near her dearest Jucia to aid and comfort her. ' he husband’s comfort is never considered. does succeed in driving her out of his house, his torments are by no means at an end, for the chances are that she takes a a in the same street, and lives just opposite to him. Then she amuses herself by running backwards and forwards all day, dropping in to dinner or luncheon about six times a week, or else watching every- thing that takes place in his house from over the window-blinds of her “first pair front.” His only escape, then, is in establishing a Society for the Promotion of Emigration from England of all homeless Mothers- in-Law who have only one daughter. If this should be fruitless, his only hope is in procuring a Law to annul all marriages where the husband can prove that he has married “a treasure of a daughter” who has a “ jewel of a mother.” If this remedy even should fail, he had better take a couple of Life Pills, for there is “no rest but the grave” for the husband who groans under a MopeL Motuer-in-Law. UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY. PROBABLE APPOINTMENTS. Grand Commemoration. OXFORD. Monsieur Guizor. Ciroyen CrEMIEUX. Pore Pivs 1X. CrtoyeN LAMARTINE. — CAMBRIDGE, Professor of Political Economy . CiroryeN Lovis*Bianc. CrtoyeN Lovis-PHiirrr, “ ex- Professor of Modern History . -}) Regent,” now “non-Regent” of Professor of Modern Languages Regius Professor of Hebrew . Professor of Pastoral Theology . Professor of Poetry. . ° rance. Professor of Anatomy and of Arabic Le Géinérat LAMORICIERE. Professor of Geology .. . Prince METTERNICH. How to make a Budget. _ Reckon your expenditure half a million too low: Reckon your income half a million too high; the country thus gains one million. _ Then take from the income of next year another half million, and add it he ae income of this: the country will thus have gained a million and a half. Then give up a half-million of projected outlay; and you may take to yourself the credit of having added two millions to the national income—if you can get it.

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30 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PERSONS WHO WANT NO REFORM. URELY it is easy enough to see that there is a very large class who are not at all eager for Reform. Amongst the num- ber there are those who hold nomination boroughs. Is it not very natural that a family which has en- joyed for generations the privilege of send- ing two Members to Parliament, should grumble at the pros- pect of its being taken away from them, and cry | out, “We do not want any Reform?” The _ sinecurists : are far from partial to the notion of Re- perfectly content with things as they are. They Dowming $4 form. an we don’t want Reform y The over-paid government officers, also, are not very anxious for Reform. A gentleman who is in yearly receipt of £500 for getting some one else to look after a door of the House of Commons, is not exactly the person to clap his hands with joy at the notion of its being taken away from him. Who can wonder at his shouting, “It’s absurd 7, one wanting Reform ; J don’t.” aie! he same with a Prime Minister who commands alarge majority, made up of office-holders, and Whig Commission-brokers, and little placemen from five thousand to five hundred a-year. He is perfectly satisfied with the present state of things. He has everything he wants. He has only to ask for a Bill, and he has it merely for the asking. He wants an advance of ten thousand men, some new stables, or a good handful of pensions, and he fets them, if he makes the request at all in a gentlemanly manner. hat can a person with all these easy advantages want with Reform ? Then there are all the persons who support the Minister, his nume- rous lordly relations whose -_ pride does not prevent them accepting = fat appointments ; and Mr. DisRae.i’s country gentlemen, with estates and numerous voters—calculated like so much timber— upon them, and the nominees of the Peers, who all know if there were to be Reform to-morrow, that they would lose their only chance of sitting in the House of Commons. These gentlemen are very useful in swelling a majority, but what can they want with Reform? Who can blame them, therefore, for voting against it P The class of persons, in fact, who do not want Reform is very numerous. It consists of some 800,000 persons, who have all they require, and who laugh at the absurdity of a few millions es to have the same “ privilege” which they possess. It would make them none the poorer, and would make the poor man all the richer: but it is useless talking. The wealthy want no Reform. Lorp Jonny does not want it; the House of Commons and the Aristocracy do not want it; no sinecurist wants it; and this settles the question. it is pretty clear that no one does want Reform—so where is the use of saying another word about it ? PASSENGER-CATCHING IN THE PARKS. Tus very pleasant amusement is much indulged in during the summer months, by the Park-keepers. Their orders are to shut the tes at nine, and the fun of the game turns on this arrangement. hey allow passengers to enter by all the gates up to the last moment. Then as the clock strikes nine, the gates are all closed at once, and the passengers secured. Their first rash in opposite directions is ve amusing, as are their subsequent attempts to scale the palings, whic besides being difficult, is forbidden by law. Thus, if they escape being impaled, they are pretty sure to fall into the hands of a policeman outside, and to spend their night in the station-house. The only other alternative is to pass their night in the open air, under atree. Some malicious persons, envying the Park-keepers this innocent amusement, have proposed as a change, that instead of the gates being closed simul- taneously, no person shall be allowed to enter them after a certain hour, but that they shall remain open for egress till some time later than the hour fixed for shutting them. It is obvious that with such an arrangement no passengers would be caught, and a very deserving class of public servants would thus be deprived of a ess and exhilarating recreation. THE HAMPSTEAD ROAD. A Comepy 1n Four Tapigavx. TABLEAU I. at Te ~ ( nar ~ ea aN [i M/ AN ¥™ ’ " ‘ > | - a “ THE MAGNOLIAS,” MR, SMITH’S NEAT COTTAGE IN THE HAMPSTEAD ROAD. Nurse (behind the shrubbery), O you darling tootsy pootsy. Baby. Gilgrilwgilgriluggle. Nurse. Baby see pooty flowers ? Clock (from cottage). Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting. TABLEAU II. Se is SG LIZZ vee it ht ve iM ly, Wiivas i ! ' Enter Pouiceman X 21, Clock goes on. Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting. X 21 (whistles). Whew-e-00-0-00! Nurse. Come and see pooty osses in the zoad, baby.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 31 2 X21. Well, I declare! Nurse. Law! Mr. Pleaceman; = iL boa = so. ‘aby. eglooggrrr. Mrs, Smith (from window). Well, if it isn’t that good for nothing hussy of a nurse speaking Nurse. Lor, it’s Missis Baby. Gloogloogrl. X 21. Blow her old hi +a SaaS Pa. \ i Ni if } e TABLEAU III. WWiPE Nel | {| ll’ il ee WK S34 = — \' it’s Miss Mary. to the policeman. *s! J TABLEAU IV. “4 {') Ny ‘J i ’ SS } \M who ever expected to see you here! [Ereunt omnes. THE HALL OF MR. SMITH’S COTTAGE. Mrs. Smith. Get out, you imperence. Give me my child; you pollute it, you vicious wretch, — do. Take your wages and go. Baby. Boo-000-000-w: Page (snivels) ah-wah-w Mary (with a last look at the child, exit). Mary becomes Mrs. X 21; at first she often walks up the Hamp- stead Road to look at the baby she has left. Then she cares of her own, or [Ezeunt omnes, as domestic , have; for the truth is, l only saw the first three Tableaux of this comedy last Saturday as ever was. Spxc. The Old Ladies of Aprahire “Wot with Sugar.” Mr. Oswatp has for ever endeared himself to the gudewives of Ayr- shire. Cannyfchiel that he is, he has made his election sure upon the tea and the whisky-toddy of the old ladies of his constituency. For on the Sugar Debate, Mr. Oswatp thus delivered himself, to the enduring glory of the anility of Ayrshire :— * Every old lady in Ayrshire liked a good deal of sugar in her tea and her whisky- toddy (laughter). But not one old lady there wished to rob her grocer (hear, hear, hear) to obtain it. If it was neeessary to pay one y in the pound, as satisfac- tion, he was quite certain every one of his old-lady fiend (much laughter) would say, ‘ We will take a little less sugar and rob nobody ’ (cheers and laughter). It was easy to speak of sympathy, but sympathy was of no manner of use at all unless it be attended by some sacrifice (hear, hear). Sympathy should not be on the lip, but in the heart (hear, hear).” It is gratifying to know that there is at least one Member in the House intimately connected with the feelings and consciences, and with the yearnings towards tea and whisky-toddy of an influential section of his constituency. We are, moreover, glad to find the declaration of the willing self-sacrifice of old ladies so well received by the Commons : it argues a ew on the part of some of the Members that we hardly looked for. Mr. Oswatp spoke in homely, household phrase; yet, after all, there was fine charity enshrined in his lumps of sugar. If, for instance, throughout society, folks would only consent to sacrifice a few bits of sugar of some sort to the necessities of others, how real would be the relief effected by the self-devotion! If sinecurists and pensioners would only throw back some of their me of sugar into the state basin —sugar, by the way, refined by the blood of over-taxed industry—the timely sacrifice would be no less wise than prudent. We have only to turn over the Black Book, and what asaccharine heap might be obtained from its leaves ! i We understand that the old ladies intend to commemorate the chivalry of Mr. Oswaup. He has already sat to Count D’Orsay fora statuette in sugar—the best shilling lump—and will, in due season, adorn every tea and toddy-table in Ayrshire. KINGDOM FOR DISCHARGED KINGS. We think it is a great pity that the numerous deposed monarchs now “hanging out” ignominiously in different parts of the world cannot be accommodated with small substitutes for their lost ki ms out of the various little independencies scattered over England. There is the well known Isledom of Dogs, which would jump at a ~ aod that offered, to say nothing of that snug little cluster familienty wn as the Eel-Pies, and hitherto torn by civil dissensions in the shape of struggles among the waiters for precedence in changing a and pocketing a sixpence. Perhaps the Isledom of Thanet be some- what too large and expensive for any of the ousted potentates to undertake the management of, but the others we have named have got a quantity of allegiance on hand, which they are dying to bestow in change for a sovereign, which is considerably more than the price it has been yet able to realise. Fellow-feeling of the French Insurgents. WE read in the Daily News— “ The insurgents who were stationed in the Jardin des Plantes have, it is said, killed and eaten during the three days the rare birds, and destroyed the pheasantry ; even the small exotic birds have shared the same fate.” There can be little doubt, could the insurgents have made good their position, that they would have had a complete run of the menagerie. After the birds—the due course of poultry—they would, doubtless, have fallen upon the rhinoceros and elephant, as picces de résistance, There is no doubt, however, that the individuals who could commit the fantastic atrocities with which they are charged, would—from a horrid sympathy, a fellow-feeling with the brutes—have spared both the tigers and the monkeys. More Monstrosities, WE perceive by the papers that a new source of profit is opening out for the penny-a-liners, in addition to the tremendous gooseberries, strapping strawberries, and colossal cauliflowers, which have hitherto furnished the materials for profitable paragraphs. It seems that the mushrooms have burst out into a sudden state of amplification, and an article headed “ Monster Mushrooms” has been going the round of all the newspapers. Should these fuagi become permanently enlarged, they will supply many a meal to the gentlemen of the press, who were beginning to be pretty hard run, for the gooseberries were almost used up, and the public had begun to object to being made gooseberry-fools of any longer.

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32 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI

WORK FIRST. PLAY AFTERWARDS.

Aut work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but all play and no work makes him a stupid boy’; and when Jacx is stupid, he takes to fighting, and the consequence is he gets into mischief. The evils of the former system are often proved in our factories, and many of our metro- litan establishments; but, thanks to the Early Closing Association, ese evils are d hing every day. The evils of the other system have been terribly proved lately at Paris. The their maces new burnished for the visit. 3 Indeed, everybody about the Court bestirred = themselves. Gold-sticks and Silver-sticks S— were in a state of ming excitement, and even the Maids-of-Honour full of bustle. The Loxp CHAMBERLAIN, whose peculiar boast it is, hat “he never, never, goes to an English ; . theatre, and knows nothing at all about ’em”—his Lordship, who licenses new plays because he never reads them—sported a new key for the solemnity. It was, however, with eat difficulty that his Lordship found his road to the Royal box. fonder and dissatisfaction were also expressed in the Royal stables ; and more than once the Royal coachman had to pull up, and ask “the way to Drury Lane.” _ The Theatre was, of course, brimful of fashion. May Fair was crushed into the first tier, and Belgravia was squeezed close in the private boxes. The play was Henry the Eighth, a piece (we give this information exclu- sively for the Chamberlain) written by Wittiam SwHaksPeaReE of Stratford-upon-Avon. Many of the Court seemed a little startled at the beauty of the language. Even the Lord Chamberlain was heard, in a courtier-like whisper to say to himself—‘“ Really, very good!” and further, at the end of Wolsey’s famous speech to Cromwell, “ Upon my life, extremely good!” Lorn Jouw Russet, as a brother dramatist, was of course very enthusiastic in his applause of the poet. All the House of Commons occupied the pit; and it was cheering to witness the tolerance of Siz Henry Inouis towards the Popish Cardinal in his meretricious scarlet. Spooner, however, who sat between CotonzL Srstuore and Mr. Newpeeate, looked ominous throughout. More than once, moved by the scene, and taking up the arm of Mr. N. between his thumb and finger, Mr. S. observed—‘ Now Her ¥ can pay the least attention to a Cardinal ””—for the Queen had throughout evinced the profoundest interest in the actor—“ there ’s an end of the Protestant religion.” The Colonel, with a short, emphatic exclamation, merely declared, “It was all owing to those infernal 8 It is not for us to say how many times God Save the Queen was sung. Even now, 80 vociferously was it given that—we doubt not—“ echoes

talk along the walls.” Even Fusseit must have heard the strain = | at the granite ribs of Newgate. Well, the tragedy over, Hen Masesty commanded the attendance of Mr. Macreapy. Upon his almost instantaneous arrival, our beloved QuzeEN—to osey the high honour in which she held the actor’s art in its noblest a a | e kneel. Macreapy, after a modest hesitation, did kneel. Whereupon, the Queen taking a drawn sword from behind her chair of state, laid it upon the actor’s shoulder, saying in her silveriest way, “ Rise, Sin mu1AM Macreapy, Knight of the Fleece and the Garter, and Commander of the Bath.” This accumulated honour was too much for words. Mr. Macneapy retired to the sanctity of his own dressing-room, and immediately wrote a cheque for £1000; sending it to Garter-King-at-Arms (who luckily happened to be with his family in the slips) as herald’s fees. This pleasing duty was scarcely fulfilled, when the Lonp CHAMBERLAIN (as it turned out) knocked at the door of the ae oe Upon being requested to come in, that functionary entered, g upon a silk velvet cushion the Order of the Fleece and the Bath, and the Garter besides (all of them warm from His Royal Highness); with Prince A.zBERT’s “compliments, that Str Wint1am Macreapy would do him the honour to wear the trifles for Ais (H. R. H.’s) sake.” Comment upon this is superfluous. Notwithstanding, we should be more or less than human, did we restrain the emotion that puts this uery—this one—Who shall dare to question the patronage of the English Drama by the English Court now ? We pause for—but do not expect—a reply.

MORE REPUBLICS. THERE seems to be no end to the revolutionary mania, which threatens even to invade the vegetable kingdom, and turn it upside down. The potatoes have already passed through the terrible ordeal of blighted prospects; and, so hard was the struggle they went through, that very few came out of it without an enormous number of black eyes. There was not a member of the potato tribe, scarcely, that did not find itself the victim of a very bad spec—and the boldest champions were found to be worth nothing when their jackets were thrown off. The carrots were for a time threatened; and, such was their pitiable condition at one moment, that if they could have done it, they would have, in despair, severed their own carotid arteries, which would, in fact, have been cutting their own throats. We have lately heard that the parsley is so sickly as to be confined to its bed, and that the peas are so very poor that they can hardly be got to shell out. If this state of things should continue, the vegetable kingdom will be completely annihilated in a very short space of time.

Printed by William Brad of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church hows Stoke Newington, both in the County of at their Juxx léth, 1948,

Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precint of Whitefriars, in the City of ‘a, and Published by them, at No. 3, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the City by T+

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 33 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. ‘ttt N the great, momentous, | i} | stupendous day of the | dinner, my _ beloved | . female reader may , i imagine that Firzroy TIMMINS was sent about his business at an early hour in the morning, while the women began to make preparations to receive their guests. ‘* There will be no need of your going to Fusssy’s,” Mrs. GAsHLEIGH said to him, with a look that drove him out of doors. ‘“ Everything that we require has been ordered there / You will please to be y back here at 6 o’clock, and not sooner: and I presume you will ac- quiesce in my arrange- ments about the wine.” “O yes, Mamma,” said the prostrate son- in-law, “Tn so large a party —a party beyond some folks’ means—expensive wines are absurd. The light Sherry at 26s., the Champagne at 42s.; and you are not to go beyond 36s. for the Claret and Port after dinner. Mind, coffee will - served; and you come up stairs after two rounds of the Claret.” “ Of course, of course,” acquiesced the wretch: and hurried out of the house to his Chambers, and to discharge the commissions with which the womankind had intrusted him. As for Mrs. GasHLEIGH, you might have heard her bawling over the house the whole day long. That admirable woman was everywhere ; in the kitchen, until the arrival of TroncHEon, before whom she would not retreat without a battle; on the stairs; in Fitzroy’s dressing- room; and in Fitzroy minor’s nursery, to whom she gave a dose of her own composition, while the nurse was sent out on a pretext to make purchases of garnish for the dishes to be served for the Little Dinner. Garnish for the dishes! As if the folks at Funsy’s could not nish dishes better than GasHLEIGH, with her stupid old-world evices of laurel leaves, parsley, and cut turnips! Why, there was not a dish served that day that was not covered over with skewers, on which troufles, crayfish, mushrooms, and forced-meat were impaled. When old GasHLEI¢uH went down with her barbarian bunches of holly and greens to stick about the meats, even the cook saw their incongruity, and, at T'RUNCHEON’s orders, flung the whole shrubbery into the dust- eo oe while poking about the premises, you may be sure Mrs, . Saw it. Every candle which was to be burned that night (including the tallow candle, which she said was a good-enough bed-light for Fitzroy) she stuck into the candlesticks with her own hands, giving“her own high- shouldered plated candlesticks of the year 1798 the place of honour. She upset all poor Rosa’s floral arrangements, turning the nosegays from one vase into the other without any pity, and was never tired of beating, and pushing, and patting, and wapping the curtain and sofa draperies into shape in the little drawing-room. In Fitz’s own apartments she revelled with peculiar pleasure. It has been described how she had sacked his Study and pushed away his papers, some of which, including three cigars, and the commencement of an article for the Law Magazine, “Lives of the Sheriff’s Officers,” he has never been able to find to this day. Mamma now went into the little room in the back regions, which is Fitz’s dressing-room, (and bi ice, to be a cloak-room,) and here she rummaged to her heart’s elight. . In an incredibly short space of time she examined all his outlying pockets, drawers, and letters; she inspected his socks and handker- chiefs in the top drawers; and on the dressing-table, his razors, shaving- strop, and hair-oil. She carried off his silver-topped scent-bottle out of his dressing-case, and a half-dozen of his favourite pills (which Frrz possesses in common with every well-regulated man), and probably administered them to her own family. His boots, glossy pumps, and slippers, she pushed into the shower-bath, where the poor fellow stepped into them the next morning, in the midst of a pool in which they were lying. The baby was found sucking his boot-hooks the next day in the nursery; and as for the bottle of varnish for his shoes, (which he generally paints upon the trees himself, having a pretty taste in 7 Mv Mi that way) it could never be found to the present hour; but it was remarked that the young Master GasHLEIGHS, when they came home for the holidays, always wore lacquered highlows; and the reader may draw his conclusions from ¢hat fact. In the course of the day all the servants -_ Mrs. Tris warning. The cook said she coodn’t abear it no longer, aving Mrs. G. always about her kitching, with her fingers in all the saucepans. Mrs. G. got her the place, but she preferred one as Mrs. G. didn’t get for her. The nurse said she was come to nuss MasTER Fitzroy, and knew her duty; his grandmamma wasn’t his nuss, and was always aggrawating her.—Missus must shoot herself elsewhere. The housemaid gave utterance to the same sentiments in language more violent. Little Burrons bounced up to his mistress, said he was butler of the —, Mrs, G. was always poking about his pantry, and dam if he’d stand it. At every moment Rosa grew more and more bewildered. The baby howled a great deal during the day. His large china Christening-bowl was cracked by Mrs. GASHLEIGH ne the flowers in it, and pre- tending to be very cool, whilst her hands shook with rage. “Pray go on, Mamma,” Rosa said with tears in her eyes. “ Should you like to break the chandelier ? ” “ Ungrateful, unnatural child!” bellowed the other; “ only that I know you couldn’t do without me, I’d leave the house this minute.” _ “As you wish,” said Rosa; but Mrs. G. didn’t wish: and in this | juncture ‘l'RUNCHEON arrived. : ; That officer surveyed the dining-room, laid the cloth there with ad- mirable precision and neatness ; ranged the plate on the sideboard with graceful accuracy, but objected to that old thing in the centre, as he called Mrs. GASHLEIGH’S silver basket, as cumbrous and useless for the table, where they would want all the room they could get. Order was not restored to the house, nor, indeed, any decent progress made, until this great man came: but where there was a revolt before, and a general disposition to strike work and to yell out defiance against Mrs. GasHLEIGH, who was sitting bewildered and furious in the drawing-room—where there was before commotion, at the appearance of the master-spirit, all was peace and unanimity: the cook went back to her pans, the housemaid busied herself with the china and glass cleaning some articles and breaking others, BuTTons sprang up and down the stairs, obedient to the orders of his chief, and all things went well and in their season. At six, the man with the wine came from Bryney anp LatTHAm’s. At a quarter-past six, Trans himself arrived. . At half-past six, he might have been heard shouting out for his varnished boots—but we know where ¢hose had been hidden—and for his dressing things; but Mrs. GasHieicH had put them away. __ As in his vain inquiries for these articles he stood shouting, “Nurse! Buttons! Rosa, my dear!” and the most fearful execrations up and down the stairs, Mx. TRUNCHEON came out on him. . “Tgscuse me, Sir,” says he, “but it’s impawsable. We can’t dine twenty at that table—not if you set ’em out awinder, we can’t.” “What ’s to be done?” asked Fitzroy, in an agony; “they ’ve all said they ’d come.” ; “‘Can’t do it,” said the other; “ with two top and bottom—and your table is as narrow as a bench—we can’t hold more than heighteen, and then each person’s helbows will be into his neighbour’s cheer.” “Rosa! Mrs. GasaieicH!” cried out Tormins, “ come down and | speak to this gentl— this—” ‘* TRUNCHEON, Sir,” said the man. The women descended from the drawing-room. “Look and see, | ladies,” he said, inducting them into the dining-room; “there’s the room, there’s the table laid for heighteen, and I defy you to squeege in more.” ¥ : ‘ ; i ee person in a party always fails,” said Mrs. GasHLeIcu, getting alarmed, “That’s nineteen,’ Mr. TruNncHEeon remarked;” we must knock another hoff, mam;” and he looked her hard in the face. Mrs. GasHLEIGH was very red and nervous, and paced, or rather squeezed round the table (it was as much as she could do)—the chairs could not be put any closer than they weve. It was impossible, unless the convive sat as a centre-piece in the middle, to put another guest at that table. ; , “ Look at that lady movin round, Sir. You see now the difficklty ; if my men wasn’t thinner, they couldn’t hoperate at all,’ Mr. Taun- CHEON observed, who seemed to have a spite to Mas. GasHLEIGH. ‘* What is to be done?” she said, with purple accents. ** My dearest mamma,” Rosa cried out, “ you must stop at hone— how sorry | am! And she shot one glance at Fitzroy, who shot another at the great ‘I'nuNcHEON, who held down his eyes. “ Wecould manage with heighteen,”’ he said, mildly. Mrs. GASHLEIGH gave a hideous laugh. * ca + * * x * * She went away. At eight o’clock she was pacing at the corner of the street, and actually saw the company arrive. First came the Tor- HAM Sawyers in their light-blue carriage, with the white hammer- VOL. XV, E

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| stepped out of the carriage. The fourteenth Karu or BunGay couldn’t PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 34 cloth, and blue and white ribbons—their footmen drove the house down with the knocking. 2 ; Then followed the ponderous and snvff-coloured vehicle, with faded gilded wheels and brass Earl’s coronets all over it, the conveyance of | the House of Buncay. The Countess or BunGay and daughter come. | Str Tomas and Lapy Gutptn’s fly made its appearance, from which issued the General with his star, and Lapy GuLprn in yellow satin. The Rowpys Brougham followed next; after which Mrs. Burt’s handsome equipage drove up. The two friends of the house, young gentlemen from the Temple, now arrived in cab No. 9996. We tossed up, in fact, which should pay the fare. Mr. Ranvitte Ranvitwte walked, and was dusting his boots as the Templars drove up. Lorp CastLenoppy came out of a twopenny | omnibus. FunnyMan, the wag, came last, whirling up rapidly in a | Hansom, just as Mus. Gass EiGH, with rage in her heart, was counting that two people had failed, and that there were only seventeen after all. Mr. TruNCHEON passed our names to Mr. BiLuiTER, who bawled them oxt on the stairs. Rosa was smiling in a pink dress, and looking as fresh as an angel, and received her company with that grace which has always characterised her. | The moment of Tue Dinner arrived, old Lavy Buneay scuffled off on | the arm of Firzroy, while the rear was brought up by Rosa and Lorp CasTLEMOULDY, of Ballyshanvanvoght Castle, Co. Tipperary. Some fellows who had the luck, took down ladies to dinner. I was not sorry to be out of the way of Mrs. Rowpy, with her dandyfied airs, or of that high and mighty County Princess, Mas. TorHam SawYER, THEATRE ROYAL, OLD BAILEY. AN innocent correspondent of the Daily News naively writes :— I always thought it was one of our national boasts, that Justice was administered in open Court.”? The verdant gentleman proceeds to narrate that, on presenting himself at the Old Bailey, to witness one of the ' Char'ist trials, he was told the only means of getting the Court opened to him was by the use of a silver key, with a lubrication of palm oil. “At the entrance to the gallery,” he adds, “a fee of two shillings was demanded for permission to enter.”— **Ts this exclusi:n of the pub'ic sanctioned by legal authority, or is it merely the result of unchecked official impertinence and cupidity? The gallery door-keeper, on my demnrring to the required payment, told me that ‘SernsEant WILKINS was addressing the Jury.’ Truly, the learned Serjeant must feel gratified by this tribute to his eloquence.” With such attractive performers as Mr. SersEant WitKrns, there are hopes for the truly British Drama, in spite of the foreigners; and aithough Pwzch is no advocate for crushing private enterprise by public monopoly, yet he does not see why the second-hand horrors of | the Surrey and Victoria should not be superseded by the real-life terrors of the Old Bailey. ‘The performers, both in the Dock and on the Bench, are extremely costly to the country ; and as the principle of paying to enter Courts of Justice is, it appears, fully recognised, it should either be abandoned altogether, or thoroughly carried out. If followed up with skill and energy, a profit might be realised sufficient to pay the cost of criminal prosecutions, especially if the working of this plan were intrusted to the parent of public economy, Mr. Hume. | Meantime, we wou'd modestly suggest that a programme of each day’s performance should be published, as at the other theatres; something after this fashion :— | A CRY FROM A BLUE-COAT BOY. | FAR Mr. Puncu,—Tnoven I ani only a little boy, I am sure you will hear what I have to say; for do you know I am very miserable, and don’t know what to do? I’m sure I’m ready to cry whenever I hear the little blackguards whisper as I go along, ‘ D’ye twig the Blue- coat Boy? It’s only acharity school, crikey! of a betterer kind” Now, it isn’t any- thing of the sort. It is true | that the school was origi- nally founded for poor children; but that’s quite | altered now. My father! keeps his carriage, and| many of the young fellows | are the sons of noblemen, and we are all gentlemen, excepting the masters,—I know we| are. There’s nothing of the charity school about us. I believe} it was so once, but that’s long ago, and I wish you'd tell people that our school is quite different from what it was at first; and| I’m positive that every one of our fathers pays the Income Tax, | and goes to the Opera as often as he likes, and thinks nothing of | a hundred or two. If the blackguards knew this, they would not call us charity boys, for they would see we are gentlemen’s sons, and no mistake about it. The place has been improved very much since when | it was built by Kine Epwanxp, and there isn’t now a vulgar boy | in the place, that there isn’t ; and I wish you would mention this, and | then we should not be mixed up with charity boys and that sort of thing, as if we belonged to an Institution that was open to any poor man’s child that chose to come and be educated. I’m sure my father had a precious deal of trouble to get me in, and I don’t like to be called charity boy when I have three shillings a week pocket money ; and my uncle, Sir James, always tips me a sovereign when he comes to see me, and I have a Welsh pony at home. But the bell is ringing, so I must run, or else I shall catch it. “Tam, my dear Mr. Punch, “Your humble servant—but no tellings, “A Buvs-coat Boy.” “Oh! I forgot: there is the son of a washerwoman—his father was a tallow-chandler in the City—but none of us speak to him. Not a word of this toany one. I want you to support the school a bit, by just telling the truth. I should cut precious quick—and all the boys would too—if we thought it was a charity school; but I’m sure it isn’t—is it, now ?” CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT. Immense Attraction! First Appearance of the Lory Cuter JUsTIcE this Session! ! Mr. Serseant WILKINS iz two new Pieces!!! Tri- umphant success of the ATTORNEY GENERAL! /// The Performances will commence with a New Trial, to be entitled SEDITION; OR, THE CABINET-MAKER OF CLERKENWELL GREEN. First Conspirator P e P ° ° Mr. In@NEvS FUSSEL. (Who will be assisted on this occasion by his five Infant Prodigies, with real daggers and new pina/fores.) Second Conspirator ‘ ‘ ° ° Mr. F. Looney. Other Conspirators Messrs, VERNON, WILLIAMS, SHarre, &c, Counsel for the Prosecution ° ° . Sm J. Jervis, The part of Counsel for the Lx fence by Mn. SersEant WILKINS. First Judge ° . ‘ Sirk THomas WILDE, Second Judge ‘ Mr, Baron PARKE. First Alderman )\. -», ee f Mr. Srpyey. Second Alderman § */ull costun (Sir G. Carrot, Clerk of Arraigns Mr. STRAIGAT. Mr. HARKER. Crier ° ° . ° ‘ ° ° Policemen, Witnesses, Penny-a-liners, $c. $c. FC. THE BATTLE OF BONNER’S FIELDS; OR, THE CHARTER AND NO SURRENDER ! The Charter, BY AN INVISIBLE PERFORMER, First Ranter ‘ Mr. Ernest JONES, Lhe other Characters as above. GaLteEry, 2s. Jury-in-waiting; Boxes, 4s. ; Srauts, ove Guinea each, to be engaged at the principal Police Stations. —N.B. No Half-price.—Distinguished foreigners may secure seats on the Bench for the Seasou, at Zienty Pounds a-piece. TO-MORROW, A CASE OF MURDER OF THRILLING INTEREST ! BY AN ENTIRELY NEW COMPANY. Support the British Drama! Come early! ! The advertising department, placed under the management of a Fare- BROTHER, a Moszs, or a Professor Houtoway, and such would be the | influx of company and capital into these truly national establishments, that the Old Bailey would, in a short time, become self-supporting, would drive the French from our shores and theatres, and would infal- libly shut up its other rival—that stupendous show-place on the top of | Ludgate Hill. Notice. If the gentleman who went up in a balloon two years ago does not return within a twelvemonth, his inconsolable wife will consider her- self a perfect widow, and will certainly marry her dear Irish cousin as soon as she is out of mourning for her dear departed husband. }

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| moment’s notice by any printer. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 35 LOOKING INTO THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK. DYING FOR A MEDAL. ~iE Charivari aceuses|.. 1H® Peninsular war veterans are asked to exercise their patience a the Illustrated News of being the real author of the late insurrection at Paris. Our Parisian contem- porary supports his charge on these absurd facts: —The fighting at the Porte St. Denis was no sooner over than there appeared in Paris copies of the Neus, containing most beautiful pic- tures of the barricade in question. “Now it is very evident,” says the good-natured Charivart, “that these beautiful —_ pictures must have been drawn and engraved several days in ad- vance, and that the Editor, no doubt, drew up the barricade in question upon the exact plan of his drawings, in order to supply the newspaper market of England with the very earliest intelligence.” We must say, in defence of the J/lustrated News, that this plan of anticipating events, if it does adopt it, is only perfectly fair. Any one might have foreseen for weeks previous that there would shortly be another Revolution in Paris, It required no great prophet to guess such a very common event as that. Accordingly, orders were doubt- lessly given to the artists to get up agreat Kevolution immediately, with plenty of barricades in it, so that at the slightest disturbance they might be inserted as wanted. The only thing that would be required to perfect the cuts would be the titles, and these could be supplied at a It would be only necessary to write under them “ Tremendous Conflict at the Porte St. Denis! ” or “ Fearful Slaughter at the Barriére de l’E'oile!” and who would be any the wiser a “t NZ OUR ASTROLOGER. when one half of the engraving is filled with smoke, and the other half | with paving-stones? ‘The system, we contend, is perfectly fair, and we doubt if an illustrated paper could exist without resorting pretty often to it. We should not at all wonder if our spirited contemporary has not | already on hand half-a-dozen more Revolutions, so as to meet the pres- sure of the times. If persons will have pictures, they must not be particular as to the accuracy of the facts. Illustrations were never | meant for history. Who ever expects a “ Winner of the Derby” to be a correct likeness ? or believes an “ Alarm- ing Conflagration” to be a view of any- thing but the fire- engines and _ the flames? or imagines that a “ Grand Battle,’ or the “Awful explosion of a Powder Mill,” was ever sketched by an artist on the spot? And yet, these things are indispensable to the success of pictorial newspapers, and they would lose half their charm in our eyes, if we looked at a Number without finding some- thing of the sort init. We maintain that the Illustrated News has shown its usual acumen in this instance; and the fact of there having been a barricade at the Porte St. Denis, only proves that it seldom errs, when it trusts to those high powers of embellishment which have raised it to the proud success it enjoys as the richest illustrated paper of bey period. May the same imagination always guide its clever pencil! A STANDING BARRICADE FOR A REVOLUTION. OMNIBUSOLOGY. Ir is a very singular, but nevertheless an indisputable fact, which any person in a great hurry can vouch for, that since the Omnibus fares have consisted of “odd coppers,” no Omnibus Conductor ever has the smallest change ! little longer before they receive their long-promised medals. Only another five years more, or at the utmost ten, and they will be ready; for has not Eart Grey informed us that “the dies are finished, but that at the same time the necessary engraving will cause some further delay ?” By the time these dilatory medals are awarded, they will be valuable as coins, and future antiquarians will compete for the possession of one, as eagerly as they do for a QuEEN ANNk’s Farthing. As for the poor veterans, they have, in the altered words of one, whom it is the fashion of these fast days to call “slow,” **_set their glory on a cast, And they must wait the hazard of the die.” However, whatever difficulty there may be on the side of the Govern- ment, there is certainly none on the part of the veterans in “making a die,” as ‘he Military Obituary will abundantly prove if examined. Can The Duke, who has the interest of the soldier so much at heart, possibly know that the brave fellows are literally dying for their medals? Per- haps, after all, we may be wrong; for nothing can be more likely than that the issue of the medals has been postponed altogether “‘ sine die?” CURIOUS DISCOVERY. ast Saturday week a joke was dug up out of the columns of the Morning Chronicle. was never known betore, in the recollection of the oldest printer’s devil. ‘he joke is considered a very perlect specimen of the reign of CuaRLes THE First, if not of an earlier date. Its age, in fact, has been a matter of great dispute amongst our oldest antiquarians of jokes. R, PLANCHE has given it as his opinion that the joke must be at least three hundred years old. it is undoubtedly a waigue specimen of the rich italicised school, which was brought over from Hanover by one of the celebrated Murrs attached to the suite of GzorGr THE Frest. It is perhaps a little the worse for wear, but still is easily recognised by those who are at all versed in the science of jocular numismatics. Mr. Wippicoms has inspected it, and turned it over in his mind at least seven times. He tried it in every way, and at last put it to the | severest test to which a joke can be applied—that of the ring. This at once decided its antiquity. He recollects vividly hearing the great TARLETON repeat it, and Queen Bess laughing at it. He was then in the Hoop, a travelling circus to which old Ben had given a number of lively conundrums, which he had taken out of Every Man in his Humour. It was at that period called “a ryghte merrie jeste.” , It is still a profound mystery how the joke could have found its way into the office of the Morning Chronicle. \tis supposed that many more of the same distant date may be on the premises, and will some day turn jup. We look forward to this hope, with anticipatory feelings of venera- | tion. Our old jokes are plentiful enough, but it is extremely difficult to meet with one in such a fine state of preservation as the aged specimen in question. By the way, the Editor of the Morning Herald has offered any sum for it: he wants it to complete a museum of fossils and epigrams, which he preserves in his studio. however, has reiused to part with it, and we cannot blame him for it. He has had it put under a giass-case, and out of memory to its origin, it is preserved in the original sawdust, which is supposed to have been made from some of the classic boards which TaRLETON trod in his day, and which has been an heir-loom in Wipp1comp’s family for centuries. For the benetit of the curious, we subjoin a copy of this venerable joke. Attention is directed to the italics :— FAC-SIMILE OF THE JOKE WHIC/I WAS DISCOVERED ON JULY 81TH, 1848, AMONGST THE RUINS OF THE “ MORNING CHRONICLE.” “En point of taste, MM. Soper’s Nectar ts vecivedlp superior to the reach @Aines; for whilst it frequentip precedes ‘Champagne,’ it is never succeeded bp ¢ Real pain.” The inscription under the glass-case is very brief, but it tells the whole truth in the tewest words. It simply says, “ VERY RARE—THE ONLY ONE OF THE KIND.” Broad Hint to Parliament. In the National Assembly of France, M. ALrarocue, according to the Times, lately proposed a bill demanding 150,000 francs to be distributed amongst literary men and artists, which, after some dis- cussion, was agreed to. We merely mention the circumtances, in case the British Parliament should ever, on the advent of better times, have more money than it knows what to do with. Such a thing | The Editor of the Morning Chronicle, |

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36 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FLUNK \\ Lady’s-Maid, “ Wet, I’m sure, Mr. Ropert ! THAT GREAT EASY CHAIR. a | AL er EIANA. Wy ae i (NR W\/ rfr | *: Mw a oS _— I THINK YOU MIGHT FIND SOMETHING BETTER TO DO THAN LOLLOPING ABOUT IN You MIGHT GO AND HELP IN THE HAY-FIELD, ONE WOULD THINK!” Flunkey. “Ou, yes! AND A NICE FIGGER J sHOULD BE! Wor wovuLp Missus say, PRAY, IF | WENT AND SPYLED MY COMPLEXION, AND MADE MY ’ANDS ’ARD?P” THE AUSTRIAN AUTOMATON. Ir is a great pity that the Emperor Ferprnanp cannot discover the famous Automaton purchased by his ancestor in 1759. The thing would do admirably for an Emperor, and would have the advantage of great cheapness—not always an imperial quality. However, as few of our readers have, doubtless, heard of this wonderful machine of the last century, we give an account of it, having stumbled over the document in the Annual Register. “A certain artist at Vienna,” says the annalist, “has constructed an Automaton dressed in the habit of an Austrian gentleman, with a pen in one hand and a standish in the other: after dipping the former in the latter, he strikes upon a sheet of paper, marked with a kind of spiral line, and inthe space between appears the following inscription : Auguste domini Austriace et imperatort Deus nec metas nec Jinem ponit: that is, that God has not set either bounds or periods to the august House of Austria, or tothe Emperor. His Imperial Majesty has bought the piece, and settled a considerable pension on the inventor.” Now, there can be but little doubt that such a valuable piece stil! exists. We would answer for it, that if search were made for the *‘ Austrian gentleman with a pen in one hand and a standish in the other,” he would be found—no doubt a littly rusty in his springs —in some corner of some old museum; in some nook devoted to the gimcrackery of the olden time. Indeed, Austria itself may have altogether forgotten the wonder. It was the glory of Cicero, a stranger, to discover the tomb of Archimedes to the eat geometrician’s countrymen; in like manner, it may be one of the innumerable services of Punch to discover to the Viennese the Automaton Austrian gentleman, If found, a very little alteration in the “spiral line” will enable him to sign royal warrants, instead of continually writing, as before, a bit of vapid brag; and thus, the services of Fexpt1- NAND being entirely dispensed with, nothing remains but the formality of crowning the Automaton gentleman, and voting for him a modest income, sufficient to find him in pens, a continual supply of ink, and oil | wherewith to oil his works. THE POETRY OF PRIZE CATTLE. BetwEEn the agricultural and stable mind, there are some analogies ; but there are also some differences. The stable mind has certainly the advantage of the agricultural in taste and fancy. There issomething pretty and playful in the nomenclature of race-horses, which we do not recognise in that of prize pigs and cattle. We show have perused the list of the winners at the late Agricultural Show at York, with much more pleasure, if the interesting animals had been designated by suitable titles. ‘“‘ What’s in a name ?” it may be asked; and it may be urged that a hog by any other name would look as plump. True, but in a nice name there is something pleasing, even when applied toa pig. For example, one would experience an agreeable emotion in reading of Mr. Gites’s boar “ Zephyr,” or Mr. Hopee’s sow, “Flora,” or “Lisette,” or “Julia,” or “Zitella,” weight so many stone. An ox might be called “Tiny;” a fine milch cow, | ** Dudu.” We do not see why the graces of nomenclature should be | engrossed by horseflesh, and none of them shed upon pork, and beef, and mutton. | Tne Coary GovERNMENT.—Two Hundred Chairs have been placed | in Hyde Park and St. James’s Park. This munificent gift on the part | of Government must be to console the labouring classes for not allowing them the smallest seat in Parliament.

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| NOT WORTH AN OLD SONG. | Twere was an action tried the other day | (Davipson v. Boun), which is valuable for the light it throws on the very disputable value of ; that common article of comparative value, “an |old song.” Mr. Serseant Tatrourp declared | that the words of a song were of no value apart. ‘from the music, and that “immortal verse ” 4 peas outright as to any market value it may H ave, from the moment of its being wedded to jmusic. This is to consider the music as the husband, and the words as the wife, whose per- sonality is merged in that of the man in wedlock. , Composers were called who had been accus- | tomed, when disposing of the copyright of their accompaniments, to throw in the words as of no | value, just as turnip-tops are flung in to the purchasers of turnips. Branam and Bisnor take no account of the poet. Yet there are words, by one SHAKSPEARE, and one Moors, and one Herrick, and one Barry CorRNWALL, and One Keats, and one SHELLEY, and one TENNY- son, in this lamentable predicament, of being coupled with flats, and minims, and crotchets— |prisoned within musical bers, and warbling through their cage like captive nightingales. It |is the cage, however, we are now informed, and | not the bird, that is to be looked to. The sound |is not the echo of the sense, but the sense of the sound. The music is the accompaniment of ' the words, and not the words of the music. We congratulate the champion of Copyright on his argument and his theory.

A Mettine Sient.—A Prize Cattle Show during the Dog-days.

RAILWAY PICNICS. { Tne grand object of Railway Directors is to get a dividend ; and the | maxim applicable to this process is, “Get a dividend—honestly if you | can—but—get adividend!” Among the various artifices lately resorted | to for the purpose of swelling the coffers of the various Companies is | the happy idea of Railway Picnics, which are becoming exceedingly | popular. A few days ago the Station of the Eastern Counties, at | Shoreditch, was alive with all the resources that beauty can derive from | millinery ; for a party of gay and light-hearted houris, in stiff muslins of every degree—from the broad-skirted book to the jaunty jaconot—had thronged the platform for the purposes of pleasure. The ample Visite hung upon the'sloping shoulders of youthful grace, and the newly-imported | Palalla—manufactured of every material from the rich brocade to the altry Persian or the seedy Sarsnet—gave life and vigour to the Station. | e were at first puzzled to make out the meaning of this group, | assembled among porters and packages, luggage and luggage-vans, | passengers and paper-venders, until upon inquiry we ascertained that | a Picnic party was going off by the railway, with sandwiches stowed | away in the stufling-box of the engine, hot water for tea in the boiler, | hard eggs deposited in the cylinder, and some champagne, placed for security in the safety-valve. Nothing could be more complete than all the arrangements, and when the tender started, with Pleasure in its train, the sight was a truly refreshing one. The Picnic came off, we believe, at one of the largest Goods Stations of the Eastern Counties Railway, and the eatables were set out upon | one of those revolving pieces of machinery upon which the carriages are turned round, and which, acting as a sort of dumb-waiter, caused the wine to circulate with the utmost facility. There was a constant | succession of hot tea from the boilers of the trains passing up and down | the line, and the festivities were kept up with great spirit till a late | hour. One of the locomotives was kept constantly supplied with the pure element, to act as a great moral engine for the advancement of temperance principles among such as were inclined to follow them. Wonderful Unanimity of the Paris Press. “Tw consequence of the violent outbreak which visited our city yesterday, we regret that our paper could not possibly appear.”—7ve Débats, Constitutionnel, National, Charivari, Gazette, Le Neveu de Mon Onele, La Canaille, and all the Napoleon, Republican, Legitimist, Henri inguiste, and five hundred miscellaneous newspapers, that appear | every day “in the most civilised city in the world.” | discovered somewhere near the | large letters, may be read R. U.S.S.E.L.L. This child, there is no DRAMATIC DEFAMATION. A CorRESPONDENT, signing himself ‘“ Dramaticus,” wrote last week to the Zimes, insinuating that the malcontents in human shape at Drury Lane, on the QuEEn’s visit, went with malice prepense to insult Macreapy because of his advocacy of fair play in the case of the ill-used Frenchmen. ‘This insinuation has caused the greatest wrath throughout the whole profession. So indignant are the actors in general against the Zimes that—we tell this in confidence to our distin- guished contemporary—ihat an émeufe may in a few evenings be looked for in Printing-House Square; the actors having purchased the wood pavement of Piccadilly, wherewith to throw upa barricade for an attack upon the office. However, we are further told that the demands of the insurgents will not be extravagant, the head of “ Dramaticus” being all ~ intend to ask for. We do not see how they could very well ask for less.

Whig Phenomenon. Ir may be remembered by the sight-seers of London, that some five- | and-twenty years ago a little boy was exhibited, the iris of whose eyes was formed by the letters N.A. P.O. L. E.O.N. It will, we are sure, gladden the heart of the country to learn that a little boy has been Land’s End, in whose irides, in very doubt, was born triumphantly to illustrate the sublime Whig truth | modestly hinted by Lorp Joun, that Russe.ts are to be ever appointed by Providence as English Prime Ministers. ‘The Divine Right of Kings is exploded: not so the Divine Right of Whigs. A Wise Saw adapted to a Modern Instance. Tue boon offered to the West Indian proprietors by Lorp Joun | RussELL is quite homeopathic in its amount, and may be considered as pushing to extreme the principle of half a loaf being better than no bread in a case where an unlimited supply is required. However, he does his best, though his best is bad enough, to make everybody indiffer- ent. He seems to have a community of feeling with the old poet, who thus addressed the object of his solicitude :— “ Though times are hard, to show how I adore you, Here ’s my whole heart and half-a-guinea for you.”

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40 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE SUNDAY BILL. HE tolerant Mr. Hinpiey has brought in a Bill to restrict Sunday trading. Now we are great advocates for Sabbath tranquillity. A Sunday in England may be thought to have its dullness ; but with that dullness is there not an 4 — exceeding comfort ? It is a beautiful - pause in the moil and toil of life: and may the day be far distant, when the > shopman and the labourer shall not a look towards one whole complete day = 2 f=) ox q ‘e b 2 >) ea in the week, when—to use a com- mercial phrase—he may quietly take stock of his inner self. At this time of day Punch need make no declaration of his unqualified dissent from the gloomy tribe of the funereal AGNEws. | Punch would not desire to have the birds dumb on the Sabbath, the | hand, very much would Punch deplore a flowers closed, the rivers stagnant, and the very greenness of the meadows covered up in a fog of nip And, on the other axity that should permit even | the acknowledged heroine of Domestic Drama to embody her bright fireside truths at the Victcria Theatre on the evening of the seventh day. Whilst Punch would not, with Siz ANDREW, put everybody in sackclothon a Sunday, neither would he permit anybody to wear the motley. It is goo that men should take their seasonable pleasures on the seventh day: it is good that they should innocently and heartily enjoy the great First Day of Rest: and the poorer the man’s lot, the greater his right to the en- joyment; for with him the hours of Sunday are doubly precious. Was it not the wise all-tolerant Fin&Lon who, when a curé complained that his parishioners would dance on a Sunday, answered him with a soul of | goodness :—“ These poor people work all the week, and may if they | will, without blame, dance on Sundays. | are therefore shrimps from the Lake of But you, Mons. Curé, and myself—you and I, who do not work all the week—let not us dance on Sundays.” We would, therefore, have Parliament legislate with scrupulous tenderness towards the poor man, in this projected Sabbath enactment. Many suspicious little meddlings have been already menaced. Some- body in the debate threatened a crusade against the peripatetic sale of oranges. Now, surely, there can be no harm in a Sabbath orange. The men—mostly of the Hebrew tribe—who proffer the grateful fruit, do not, with their nets, like the Evil One, fish for unwary souls. Neither | = do we think a pint of shrimps sold, and te and eaten on Sundays, arkness. Ginger-pop carries with it no alarming thunder to our conscience; and we can, with no dread of after remorse, serenely contemplate even the foaming periwig of an overrunning pot of ale. ‘“Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.” Sure we are that the excellent Lonp Morpetn is an advocate for | Sunday recreation. Or wherefore—for we see the amenity published , in the papers—wherefore, by order of the Woods and Forests (by com- _ mand of bounteous Pan) have “‘ upwards of two hundred chairs been | would laced in Hyde Park, and a proportionate number in St, James’s Park, or the public accommodation ?” Why, to the end that the people, to whom Sabbath is double rest and double sweetness, may, at theis ease, — the feathered pensioners of Her Masgsty’s Civil List. It ld be well, too—would certainly afford pleasanter matter for re- flection—were all the pensioners at least as useful as the swans, and ducks, and Solan geese, and all the variety of shovellers and waders | disporting in the stream, and unconsciously drawing forth the humanities | of little children, prodigal of cake and biscuit. It is our stubborn faith that the black swan, the noble stranger from the Antipodes, is a source of quite as much benefit and pleasure to HER Magesty’s subjects, as the Hereditary Grand Falconer: and—not that we desire to be taken as an authority on the fact—and doubtless hardly | costs the people more money. Indeed, if the mob of ladies and gentle- | men of the Civil List could be brought into St. James’s Inclosure, and fairly confronted with their fellow nted oe in feathers, it is our belief that every dipes implumis would fee ; humiliated by a sense of uselessness conveyed in the self-comparison. Besides, the ducks and geese on the ornamental water—the web-footed pensioners—may in due course be stuffed with sage and onion, and so be eaten. Now, we do not believe that even Mr. Hume could ever think of putting the Grand Falconers upon the spit. To return to the immediate purpose of the Bill. It is just now one of the measures always brought in at an advanced stage of the Session, to make a show of business, and be duly withdrawn. We shall hear but little more of it for the present year. It is said, however, that Mr. Spooner has a few clauses—cut and very much dried—to propose, to equalise the law, whenever the subject shall be agitated, between rich and poor. We give a few of the enactments :— “ That no lady or gentleman soever (bishops inclusive) shall ride to church on Sundays: That no footman shall be employed to carry a prayer-book for master or mistress : : “ That if the sale of oranges be forbidden in the streets, the delivery of pine-apples shall be forbidden at private houses : “ That if shrimps are not to be sold, under a penalty, at Bagnigge Wells, neither shall lobsters be supplied at the Athenzeum, the Reform, and other Clubs : . : “ That if bake-houses are closed on the Sunday, every family keeping —_-s cook on the Saturday, that they may dine cold on the ‘ a at. te ” THE IRISH TUTOR FOR LADIES. WE have somewhere heard or read of a Club, rejoicing in the appella- tion of the “Devil’s Own.” Such a title, we should think, would be highly appropriate to the Society alluded to in the subjoined paragraph, by the Cork Constitution :— “« At a meeting of one of the Confederate Clubs, held on Thursday evening in this city, at which a vast amount of ‘base, brutal, and bloody’ language was uttered, three vociferous cheers were given for that ‘ pattern for all Irishwomen,’ MADAME Le Buianc, who confessed in Paris that she had cut off the heads of four of the Garde Mobile during the late insurrection,” So Mapame Lz Branc is to supersede KATHLEEN O’MoreE and Norau Cretna, as the type of Irish womanhood. Kitty or COLERAINE is to spill, not buttermilk, but blood. The Cork Confederation Club having proposed Mapame Le Buanc as a model for their ladies, we d | wonder what distinguished personage they would choose for their own. The great BurKE, we presume—we mean the friend of Hare, not of JOHNSON. But it seems that the Irish female character, according to the Con- federate view of its perfection, is not yet quite developed. Education is requisite to bring out its latent virtues. “ Therefore,” says our contemporary, ‘« It is proposed to establish clubs for women, in which they are to be instructed in all the arts of assassination capable of being effectively carried out by the ‘ fair daughters of Erin.’” By way of a preliminary training to actual homicide, we should _re- commend a quiet course of pig-butchery to the tender novitiates. But we doubt if any amount of initiation would qualify them to become priestesses of Thuggee. We suspect that no instruction in the arts of assassination would render the “fair daughters of Erin” more killing than they are at present. / — + VT Wo) L eS = aN ‘i y oe Driver. “ WHERE DID THE OLD GENT WANT TO GO TO, BILL?” Conductor. “ Vy, HE WANTED TO GO TO BLACKWALL IN A QUARTER OP | AN HOUR.” | Driver. “Ou! Dip HE? THEN HE’D BETTER ORDER A BALLOON!!!” New Writs. WE understand that several new Writs have been moved for by Mr. Lawrence Levy, who seeks to procure the return of a number of individuals whose acceptance of the hundreds has not been confined to the Chiltern, their acceptances extending to many more hundreds than it would be possible to enumerate.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 41 of hyn = prog ng cyte by - name b ee _ and in his tailors’ eyes he is the best man who turns out the best after THE MODEL TAILOR. he has been well-dressed by him once or twice. He despairs of Lorp / Broveuam ever being a great man, but has great hopes of Prince ‘ME is the most confiding of human | ArpeErr. fll beings. He is generous—chari-| The Moprt Tarror rarely makes a fortune, unless he has been very table to a fault—for yo desti- | unfortunate through life. An insolvency just puts him straight; a first tute have only to go to oo and | bankruptcy leaves him a handsome surplus, and a second one enables ask !for clothes, and they £et | him to retire. The sad truth is, that the simple child of Eve knows he exactly what they want. He gives | owes all his business to the fact of her biting the a ple, and he has not them the best of everything—| the heart to distress any son of Anam for the clothes he wears. Per- velvets, silks, the finest a. haps he feels that it would be like pocketing the wages of sin. His meres,—nothing is too good for assignees, therefore, are obliged to collect his debts for him, and ac- them. He even feels a virtuous cordingly, the oftener he fails, the richer he becomes. He buys, in pleasure in the act—and is quite | his old age, a large estate with a small title upon it, somewhere in angry if the person whom he has Germany, and leaves his “goose” to be cooked by somebody else, clothed does not return to him | yniversally regretted by all those customers who have known him since afterwards, and be measured for | the date of his last fiat. He dies a contented Baron. Of all tradesmen, anew suit. Far from a there is not one so estimable, so incredulous, so generous, so beloved, ing'you, he makes you welcome, | when you meet with one, as the MopeL Tatior. and really feels grateful that ou have not forgotten him! a He presses you in the most tempt- ing manner to have something A SCENE FROM OTHELLO. new. He has a lovely pattern fora Ww stcoat—a real Cashmere— PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS, it is jus the thing for you. will Othello (on this occasion) > ‘ ‘ ‘ by Mr. Poncr. you allow him to send you home Lhe Lamp (one of the lights ofthe age) . by Lonp Jonny Russet. F one? Heis miserable if you refuse, so take the waistcoat by all means, and make the poor fellow happy. | Zfer Oruetio (Puncu) taking the Lame (Lorp Joun Russet) ix He has, also, some beautiful stuff for trowsers—just arrived from his hand. Paris—it would become you admirably—will you let him make you ? ee a pair? Don’t say No, or else his generous heart will sink, and with Ir is the cause, by Jove, it is the cause ; it his high opinion of you. His philanthropy, in fact, is unbounded ; Let me not name it to you, ye wild Rads. he does good merely for the sake of doing good. All men are his It is the cause. ; brothers, with this exception, that he gives them all they ask, even Put out Lorp Jonny, and then put in Bos Pez. lends them money if they want it, and never expects the smallest Yet Ill not oust the Whigs, return. He is the Gentleman’s Best Friend. Nor force the really able ones to go :' ; 1d rather aid them with some sticking plaister. The Mopet Tartor, sometimes, it must be confessed, sends ‘in his Yet h he’il bet bill, though payment, generally speaking, never enters into his ne € must 4, nd we ray ag Thies | thoughts. But then he is ashamed of the liberty, and apologises most irk out, amet vom th t fee tat the Whigs ! profusely for it. He is fully sensible that he is doing wrong, and I —— t a thou ng pnater, ; blushes in his soul for the shabbiness he is guilty of. It is only that more thy former p ne et oo it — me ; he is terribly distressed for money, or else he would not think of ves once put ov gs, 4 not where “troubling” you. He is greatly subject to that heaviest of all social That party is t aoe Penees Coe SEES: d r “tut calamities—a “little bill.’ He asks you, as the greatest favour, to let [Othello (Puncu) sits down in a desponding attitude, and him have a “trifle upon account,” and leaves you happier than poets bsg io oe Lamp (Loxp Joun RussE11), he naturally 1ULS AS. le can express, if you promise to let him have something in a day or two. Should it be inconvenient, however, he never presses the point, and ee tee pt _ in some — —_., oy you ans a at his emand—you cannot have had his bill more than two years—he excuses Q TING V a vA himself in the most penitential manner, and begs your pardon for DISSOLVING VIEWS.—PRIZE CATTLE SHOWS. having mentioned the subject. The next day he calls to inquire if you} —__ Tne sympathy of the DuKE or CaMBRIDGE wasjgreatly want anything in his way; the generous creature forgives as quickly as | | THE | moved by the evident distress of a prize ball at the he forgets. His anger is only roused when you leave him to go to| | _, ¢ sacr| York Agricultural Show. The poor beast could another tailor. He is very jealous of any one else doing a kind action, | | CATTLE SROW | seareely breathe under iis accumulation of suct. The and would like to enjoy the monopoly of all the Schneider virtues.| | g-a*% | tallow, like Parliament, was just on the eve of disso- In his anger he has been known to send a lawyer’s letter; but if you| | :—..- | lution’; the heat was so intense that the suffering go to him, and tell him what you think of his conduct, and order a new =| animal’ seemed to be basting itself to death with its wrap-rascal, he will settle the matter himsel/, and assure you that the | own fat. It was a piteous sight, and His Royar it than he is. | | | equerry and cook, Baron Von Spelsexart, that | thing is purely a mistake, and that no one can possibly be more sorry for ——_ * Hicuness could not help remarking to his chief | i the bull was literally “dripping wet.” The joke, THE Monet Tattor takes a pride in seeing his clothes on the back | such as it is, fled with all the wonderful rapidity of a of a perfect gentleman. He knows no higlier gratification than when he | is “cutting out” anobleman. His greatest enjoyment is going to the Opera, and recognizing, from a distance, the Karls, and Marquises, and the dashing young Barts. and Knts., all walking about in the “ charm- ing” coats he has made forthem. He throws his entire soul into his busi- ness, and places it high amongst the Fine Arts, Sculpture excepted, which he excludes altogether, as he cannot imagine how persons can see any beauty in APpoLto and Venus, dressed as they are, or how a toga can be considered a suit of clothes any more than a table- cloth. life as a “sad dog,” and have his bov-mots collected Tue Mopet Taitor has exquisite taste, and unlimited faith. He after his death, and sold at all the railway stations. praises the figure of every one of his customers, and never doubts any } —-__~=—— Ss cS one till after four years’ credit. He strives his utmost to conceal the one eccentricities of a pair of parenthetical legs, and spares no cloth for Mortality for the Million. fattening every miserable lean calf that comes under his paternal shears. He disowns fox’s heads and four-in-hands, and such vagaries upon} Last week, at a meeting of the Society for the Promotion of Colo- saucer buttons, and does not encourage the style of dress invented by | nisation, the Ean. or Harnowsy is reported to have stated that the the ‘stable mind.” He warrants to fit anything, and boasts, though | population is incre: sing at the rate of 1000 souls a-day. It cannot be not much given to joking, of having made a dress-coat for a corkscrew. |said that Government is doing nothing to supply a remedy for this He does not recommend things to wash, that are sure to leave their | monster-evil; for Government sanctions the sale of quack-medicines, complexion behind them in the first wash-tub, nor make a practice of than which nothing can operate more effectually as a check to over- registering his straps, his belts, button-holes, and every little article | population, a versation for hours afterwards at the Mayoralty, and the principal black-doll shops of the ancient. City of York. If the Duke can only make another joke like forefingers into his royal ribs, and exclaim reproach- royal joke, and formed the exclusive subject of con- | fully, “ You’re a wag!” or else he will pass through | it, or one only half as good, his reputation is achieved | as agreat wit. When he speaks, persons will dig their |

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42 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Y iv if he WAR; OR, THE PIPING TIMES OF PEACE. versus ENGLAND AND ENJOYMENT. | ELBOW-ROOM. , Listen, and mark yon press that wedged in close discomfort stands, Where Labour thrusts on Capital a crowd of craving hands, Where Capital itself is cramped, till stagnant stands the gold, That thro’ its limbs, with room to stir, a living tide had rolled. No air to breathe, but at the price—a buffet for a breath; No space to spare, but what lays bare the scythe of Mower Death. Each foot must tread some fellow’s head, or heart, or heel, at best, With smiting hands for helpful, and restlessness for rest. ’Tis England, full and over full! True—fertile is her soil, But all its growth, trod out by those that have no room to toil : Hearts may be oak, and sinews steel, and arms of Saxon pith: | ‘There’s work enow for these to win bare standing-room therewith. Look, where a steam of filthy life the breath of summer taints, _ Where o’er day and night-long shuttle the hand-loom weaver faints ; Where plies the skinny stockinger his labour till he drops ; And the grinder drinks Consumption from the wheel that never stops ; Where mothers turn from mothers’ cares to earn a niggard dole; Where Infancy must toil to eke the household’s scanty whole ; | Where for hours the little trapper crouches darkling in the mine, Nor, save when comes the Sabbath, sees the blessed daylight shine ; Where diggers and where delvers, with due sweat of the brow, May scantly earn their meed of bread from acres that they plough ; | Whereon outworn Labour, gloomily to close a life of gloom, Waits, certain, Workhouse dotage, Parish-shell, and Pauper tomb. Nor this the only wretchedness of field, or mine, or mill : | There’s starvation that must smile and wear its black coat bravely still ; | The thread-bare Usher, hawking all about his useless store, i Glad, for the sorriest mess, to sell his heritage of lore. | The Barrister who thro’ the Courts, sore pinched and ill at ease, Hollow of cheek and bag alike, still hopes for hopeless fees ; | The College-bred Physician, heart-sick, and poor, aud prim, | Patient as patients waiting, that never wait on him. } , And the poor Scribe, that to a film spins out his sorry brains, As spider spins its web—but his, alas! no prey detains ; The worn Inventor, adding still new engines to the old, Starving himself on the device shall breed for others gold. | So Mind and Matter pine alike in this eternal press, The kindly seed of Pity choked with rank growth of distress ; Hearts drown with all their freight of hopes, as on life’s ocean rolls, Sapping our bodies of their strength, and of their grasp our souls. | Gar | Yet earth is wide enough for all, and England holds in fee | Rich prairies—broad savannahs—o’er South or Western sea, Where virgin soils are offering their riches to the hand That withers for pure lack of work, in this o’er-peopled land. conpenes mines, ports shipless, loam innocent of grain, ens unpruned, wild vineyards, happy islands, happy main; The banquet spread, the guests unfed, that jostle here and jar, Plenty that runs, unblessed, to waste, while want here breedeth war. Then raise the cry, till loud and high it rise from lathe and loom, From forge and field, from hut and hall, the ery of “ Elbow-room ! ” Of elbow-room for labour, of elbow-room for life, | For mind, for means, that so may come some calm upon our strife. That we may have some pause for thought, may find some breathing-space, To look, not as a foeman looks, upon our neighbour’s face ; That we may hold our hold on life, not like poor drowning souls, Where each that grasps the plank, to death some weaker comrade rolls. And then how many a swimmer, now struggling with the tide, Will find that he was grappling with a brother at his side !— What Right may grow where Wrong is now, what Concord from Debate, What Knowledge out of Ignorance, what Loving out of Hate ! LOGIC OF DEBT AND CREDIT. THE Morning Chronicle has a long article on the law of Debtor and Creditor. The essay is finely conceived and logically conducted ; imparting to the trading world in general one unexpected comfort. For instance, “ at this moment,” credit is in a most wholesome condi- tion. Hear the Chronicle— “ At this moment, not less than nineteen shillings in the pound of everybody's money is fructifying or evaporating, as the case may be, in the pockets of some- | body else.” Now, as nineteen shillings in everybody's pound is one in the pockets of somebody else, it follows that everybody must owe — y nine- teen shillings; and as everybody owes nineteen a. and everybody has nineteen shillings to receive, why everybody, in fact, owes every- body nothing. Borinc ror Water.—“ If you please, Sir, the man’s called again for the water-rate.” Printed by William Bradbury, of Ne. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and k Mullett Evans, of No.7. Church Kow, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office, in Lombara Street, iv the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published bv them at | No. 8 , Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarunpar, Juxx 22nd, 1848. | ~-

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| Lake ice, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 43 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS’S. F course it does not become the present writer, who has partaken of the best enter- tainment which his friends could supply, to make fun of their(somewhat ostentatious, as it must be confessed) hos- pitality. If they gave a dinner beyond their means, it is no business of mine. I hate a man who goes and eats a friend’s meat, and then blabs the secrets of the mahogany. Such a man de- serves never to be asked to dinner again; and, though at the close of a London season that seems no great loss, and you sicken of a white-bait as you would of a whale—yet we must always remember that there’s ano- ther season coming, and hold our tongues for the present. As for describing, then, the mere victuals on ‘l'IMMINS’S table, that would be absurd. ’ Everybody—(I mean of the genteel world, of course, of which I make no doubt the reader is a polite ornament)—everybody has the same everything in London. You see the same coats, the same dinners, the same boiled fowls and mutton, the same cutlets, fish, and cucumbers, the same lumps of Wenham &c. The waiters, with white neckcloths, are as like each other ' everywhere as the peas which they hand round with the ducks of the ' second course. | SCHLOPPEN). | nances, and a vast breastplate of twinkling, twiddling, black Can’t any one invent anything new ? The only difference between Timmins’s dinner and his neighbour’s was, that he bad hired, as we have said, the greater part of the plate, and that his cowardly conscience magnified faults and disasters of which no one else probably took heed. But Rosa thought, from the supercilious air with which Mxs. Tor- HAM SAWYER was eyeing the plate and other arrangements, that she was remarking the difference of the ciphers on the forks and spoons— (which had, in fact, been borrowed from every one of Firzroy’s friends —I know, for instance, that he had my six, among others, and only returned five, along with a battered, old, black-pronged, plated abomi- nation, which [ have no doubt belongs to Mrs. GasHLeicu, whom I hereby request to send back mine in exchange)—their guilty consciences, I say, made them fancy that every one was spying out their domestic deficiencies; whereas, it is probable that nobody present thought of their failings at all. People never do; they never see holes in their neighbours’ coats—they are too indolent, simple, and charitable. Some things, however, one could not help remarking; for instance, though Fitz is my closest friend, yet, oak i avoid seeing and being amused by his perplexity and his dismal efforts to be facetious? His eye wandered ail round the little room with quick uneasy glances, very different from those frank and jovial looks with which he is accustomed to welcome you toa leg of mutton; and Rosa, from the other end of the table, and over the flowers, entrée dishes, and wine-coolers, telegraphed him with signals of corresponding alarm. Poor devils! why did they ever go beyond that leg of mutton ? FunyyMan was not brilliant in conversation, scarcely opening his mouth, except for the purposes of feasting. The fact is, our friend Tom Dawson was at table, who knew all his stories, and in his presence the great wag is always silent and uneasy. Fiz has a very pretty wit of his own, and a good reputation on Circuit; but he is timid before great people. And indeed the presence of that awful Lapy Buneay on his right hand, was enough to damp him. She was in Court-mourning (for the late Prrnce or ScHLIPPEN- She had on a large black funereal turban and — ugles, No wonder a man Could not. be gay in talking to her. Mrs. Rowpy and Mrs. Torpuam Sawyer love each other as women do who have the same receiving nights, and ask the same society; they were only separated by Raxvitte RAnvILLE, who tries to be well with both: and they talked at each other across him. TorHam and Rowpy growled out a conversation about Rum, Ireland, and the Navigation Laws, quite unfit for print. SawyER —_— speaks three words without mentioning the House and the peaker, The Irish Peer said nothing (which was a comfort); but he ate and drank of everything which came in his way; and cut his usual absurd figure in dyed whiskers and a yellow under-waistcoat. Genera Gutrin sported his star, and looked fat and florid, but melancholy. is wile ordered away his dinner, just like honest Sancuo’s physician at Barataria. : : Bornersy’s stories about LaMaRTINe are as old as the hills, since the barricades of last month; and he could not get in a word or cut the slightest figure. And as for Tom Dawson, he was carrying on an undertoned small talk with Lapy Barpara St. Mary’s, so that there was not much conversation worth record going on within the dining- room. Outside, it was different. Those houses in Lilliput Street are so uncommonly compact, that you can hear everything which takes place all over the tenement ; and so, , ; In the awful pauses of the banquet, and the hall-door being further- more open, we had the benefit Fipeien . ; : The cook, and the occasional cook, below stairs, exchanging rapid phrases regarding the dinner ; d The smash of the soup-tureen, and swift descent of the kitchen- maid and soup-ladle down the stairs to the lower regions. This acci- dent created a laugh, and rather amused Fitzroy and the company, and caused FunnyMan to say, bowing to Rosa, that she was mistress of herself, though China fall. But she did not heed him, for at that moment another noise commenced, namely, that of : ane: The baby in the upper rooms, who commenced a series of piercing yells, which, though stopped by the sudden clapping to of the nursery- door, were only more dreadful to the mother when suppressed. She would have given a guinea to go upstairs and have done with the whole entertainment. A thundering knock came at the door very early after the dessert, and the poor soul took a speedy opportunity of summoning the ladies to Frc though you may be sure it was only old Mrs. Gasu- LEIGH, who had come with her daughters—of course the first person to come. I saw her red gown whisking up the stairs, which were covered with plates and dishes, over which she trampled. J Instead of having any quiet atter the retreat of the ladies, the house was kept in a rattle, and the glasses jingled on the table, as the flymen and coachmen plied the knocker, and the soirée came in. From my place I could see everything; the guests as they arrived (1 remarked very few carriages, mostly cabs and flies), and a little crowd of blackguard boys and children, who were formed round the door, and gave ironical cheers to the folks as they stepped out of their vehicles. As for the evening party, if a crowd in the dog-days is pleasant, oor Mrs. ‘T'rmains certainly had a successful soirée. You could ardly move on the stair. Mrs. Sternnoip broke in the bannisters and nearly fell through. Lapy BunGay could hardly get to her carriage, being An absurd great loss, j entangled with CoLoneL WEDGEWOOD in the passage. There was such a noise and chatter you | could not hear the singing of the Miss GasHLEIGHs, which was no | attempt was made to get upa dance of some kind, but before Mrs. | CrowbER had got round the room, the hanging-lamp in the dining- , room below was stove in and fell with a crash on the table, now pre- pared for refreshment. Why, in fact, did the Truminsss give that party at all? beyond their means. and pleased none of their acquaintances. So angry were many who were not asked, that poor Rosa says she must now give a couple more parties and take in those not previously invited. And L know for a fact that FuBsBy’s bill is not yet paid; nor Binney and LatHawm’s, the wine- merchants ; that the breakage and hire of glass and china cost ever so much money; that every true friend of Trmmins has cried out against his absurd extravagance, and that now, when every one is going out of town, Fitz has hardly money to pay his Circuit, much more to take Kosa to a watering-place, as he wished and promised. It was quite can suggest is that she should come and live with her daughter and son- in-law, and that they should keep house together. If he #grees to this, she has a little sum at the banker’s, with which she would not mind easing his present difficulties; and the poor wretch is so utterly bewildered and crest-fallen that itis very likely he will become her victim. ; The Toruam Sawyers, when they go down into the country, will represent Kitz as a ruined man and reckless prodigal; his uncle, the attorney, from whom he has expectations, will most likely withdraw his business, and adopt some other member of his family—Briancu CrowDer for instance, whose husband, the doctor, has had high words with poor Fitzroy already, of course at the women’s instigation—and all these accumulated miseries fall upon the unfortunate wretch because he was good-natured, and his wife would have a Little Dinner. Awful Desecration. Sir F. Buxton presents his compliments to Punch, and begs to state that, after instituting the most searching inquiry as to the alleged working on the Sunday at his brewery, he has found that the fanlt does not lie with the men, or himself, but with the beer. Sir F. Buxton pledges himself that every precaution shall be taken, for the future, to prevent its working on the Sunday. They have offended a score of their old friends, | As for Mrs. GasHLeicu, the only feasible plan of economy which she | VoL. XV, F

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aon 44 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HAH | au Li = WEI iA, Wl dle Aiiuble Young Lady, No.1. “ Pretty ! Amiable Young Lady, No.2. “Law! Not at atu, + \ NY \ \ y \ Ve On DFAR NO—DO you ?” On BESIDES, HOW ABOMINABLY AFTECTED SHE Is!” ALBERT THE GREAT. Parxce Arpert has made another good speech. Tis oration at the | York Cattle-Show would have done credit to a Bishop—even to the | Risnor or Oxon. The Prince drew a very pretty rustic picture of | the mutual goodwill and respect of the farmer, the parson, and the farmer’s wife. He descended into the details of working-day existence | with an affability and grac> that charmed all hearers. But all this is | nothing to that which is to follow, We understand that His Royal Highness, animated by a noble am.- | | bition, intends in a manner to set aside his present conventional | | whereon the Prince shall labour for the honour of M. | precious relic; a most interesting evidence of the patriotic labour of | ALBERT i i i ' advantages, and to work himself up to the highest honours of the! government. It is said that, Prince ALBERT proposes to model himself upon Peter tHe Great. Thus, at the next election, the Prince will | start for one ot the metropolitan boroughs.—Finsbury has been named. | upon the necessity of sympathising with an enlightened democracy— | when such a senator shakes SrstHorP and fulmines over INGLIs, how | little will it be thought that the new Member—the Jones, or Smitn, or Brown, or WicGins, as it may be—is no other than the Prince | Consort, who, on his return home, will delight Our Gracious Lapy | THE QUEEN with a full and particular account of the night’s debate. When his Royal Highness shall be raised to the Peerage, then, and not until then, will he reveal himself. Then, whom the world admired as WicciIns THE ABLE, the world will worship asa—ALBERT THE GREAT. VAUXHALL IN CHANCERY. THERE is something so utterly antagonistic between a place of amuse- Depending upon the manifesto of his princi les, His Royal Highness| ment and a Court of Equity, that it cut us to the quick to peruse a | has every reasonable expectation of a Gaenatient return, to the exclu-| report in Thursday’s Zimes, of an application made on the subject of | sion of Tom Duxcoms, who will be very much outbidden by the | Vauxhall Gardens in the Court of Chancery. A motion was made to | liberalism of royalty. Once in the House of Commons, there is the| appoint a receiver, or, in other words, it was proposed to make the grandest field for the exertions of His Royal Highness. ‘There, he will work himself up from an Under-Secretaryship to the post of Prime Binister; to be subsequently raised upon his merits to the Upper | ouse. As the hut of Peter tie Great—covered and preserved—the hut where the royal shipwright worked at the dockyard of Saardam, is still shown to an admiring posterity,—so will the Hustings of Finsbury, P., remain a Accountant-General occupy, either in person or by deputy, the money- taker’s box at the door of the Royal Property. It would be enough to damp the spirits of any visiter to be greeted with the words “ Pay here,” from the lugubrious lips of an officer of the Court of Chancery, and to be compelled to give his check into the hands of some filacer or usher from Lincoln’s Inn, with a face of forensic length and an aspect of legal sombreness. The Court of Chancery can,we know, do almost anything in the way of | taking; but we apprehend there will be some difficulty in acting as a re- | In the hut of Perer there is, we learn, an inscription set up | ceiver of all the cash paid in for sandwiches, bottled porter, Vauxhall chick- by the Emperor ALFXaANDeR—“ Nothing is too little for a great man.” | a-biddies, and the other delicacies in which the frequenters of the | The sane inserip‘ion, in raised letters, may be blown in the glass case | gardens luxuriate. We can understand property being thrown into | that covers the ALBERT Hat. | Chancery; but we cannot comprehend its being worth the while of | Of course His Koyal Highness will not start upon his glorious career | Equity to take cognisance of mere provisions. But it is clear that even | under his own name. Such publicity would defeat the noble end. No :| out of a plate of poultry Chancery can find a bone to pick, and, we have as PETER went unknown into the dockyard, so will ALBERT, un-| 20 doubt, would enjoy a grill amazingly. knowr, canvas the constituency of Finsbury—or somewhere else; | for it will be seen that, with our usual astuteness, we have named Finsbury in order to put the country on the wrong scent. When a| Natura Wisu.—A poor shoemaker, who has a lot of Gutta Percha | young Member—duly disguised for the occasion—makes an eloquent | on his hands, utters the humble wish that orders for boots would only onslaught upon the civil abuses, the lavish expenditure of the state, | increase, like the population, at the rate of 1000 souls a day ! |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 45 CHEAP TOURS. In these days, when it is quite impossible to go abroad, there is a most eligible opening for a lover of travelling—if he happens to be a rich man—who may go abroad to his heart’s content without stirring beyond the equinoctial line (so called because it is hali-light and half-dark), of the Diorama in the Regent’s Park. ‘This eligible combination of various climes and countries is advertised for sale, with all its life-like representations of cathedrals and mountains, by daylight, sunlight, moonlight, twilight, or any other light, that a dozen gas burners and ten gauze mediums can be made to produce. We recommend a party of moneyed tourists to club together for the purchase of the Diorama, when they may frequent, as often as they please, some of the favourite scenes of the Continent, without exceeding a twopenny fare by omnibus from their own doors. THE COLD-EARTH CURE. : yy |, Vg Ie Yj ‘ m THE COLD-EARTH DOCTOR VISITING HIS PATIENTS. TERE is no soil in which Quackery flourishes so well, and bears such good fruit, as in England. From cow-cabbages to Life Pills—from homceopathy to brandy-and-salt—from nonsense to downright stupidity—it does not matter what it is, they all take root, and the weaker the plant, generally the further it shoots, and the larger the produce gathered from it. You have only to cultivate it well with advertisements, and the crop cannot fail to be a liberal one. The last specimen of greenness in this particular branch, has been the Cold-Earth Cure. It seems that a man’s diseases, like his faults, are completely buried when once he is put under the earth. You are imbedded for so many hours, up to your chin, and you come out quite new clay. We have heard of an hospital where the patients were arranged in so many beds, with their heads in rows, like a field of cabbages. The doctor is the gardener, and he digs you up when you are well, and carries you home in a wheelbarrow. ‘This system of horticultural medicine, we are told, is spreading everywhere in the North. It must he only another offshoot of the Vegetable Pills. Man can bear a great; deal; but we must say, we should not like being cut and trimmed like a tree, or watered like a flower-bed, or | turned over and harrowed like a plough-field, just to get rid of the rheumatism. Who knows, we might rise with ri our ears full of corn, our head replete with green- stuff, our eyes expanding into two enormous goose- berries, whilst our hands were covered with big foxgloves, and our coat showed nothing but a mass of tares ! ! We have had this new system explained to us. First of all, you are put into a bed of virgin soil up to your waist; your arms are at liberty, so that you can read the paper, or drive away any sparrow that perches on your nose. At twelve o’cluck, one of the medical gardeners arrives and administers to you a douche-bath of the finest gravel. This is repeated every hour till you experience the most delicious shooting pains all over, when a refreshing shower from a wateiing-pot is sprinkled over your head. This has the desired effect, and your rheumatism, or your toothache, or your corn, is considerably relieved, and you feel “as fresh as a daisy.” This | is repeated till nightfall, when you are carried between pieces of turf into the conservatory, where you are locked up tillthe morning; or else you are provided with a comfortable cucumber- frame to protect you from the dews of the nizht, and the nocturnal invasion of the cats. ‘This | system is persevered in till you acquire quite a new trunk, when you are transplanted to the | hot-house and fed upon the most nourishing herbs, and wrapped up in the daintiest leaves. By these means you are restored to the flower | of your youth, and live to a green old age. Now, this course of medicine may be very deep and clever to those who wish to go below the surface of things; but for ourselves, we prefer | standing upon the old order of things. Flesh may be grass, but still we cannot imagine that a | kitchen-garden was ever intended as the hospital to cure all the “ills that flesh is heir to.” But the subject is far too grave to be pleasant. The | duties of such a cure borders so much on the Cemetery, that we are confident none but an undertaker weuld accept the ality living. A GOOD TOAST FOR A FOLITICAL DINNER. Arter the number of disfranchised boroughs, Members unseated, and seats without Members, ; it will be absurd for Englishmen to brag any more about Purity of Election. Henceforward . the national cry must be, “ Impurity oF Exec- TIon.” We are sure every Member will act up to it to the utmost of his means.

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46 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

| political economist ; he knew full well that the Aleliers Nationaur— i wanting a truly economic foundation — would, sooner or later, come | the barricades, Joan Butt found comfort—a selfish satisfaction, but | Nationaux in very merry England. JOHN BULL’S “ ATELIERS NATIONAUX.” USINESS-MINDED, Calculating, practical Joun Butt, with so many wise wrinkles in his ample brow, enjoyed many puffs of contempt at those beautiful castles in the air—castles, rose, and gold, and sapphire-tinted, like the evanescent fabrics of one of these fine Julv skies—the airy castles called <Aveliers Nationaur ; bright, blissful buildings of the last Utopia—Lovts | Banc the hopeful architect. For weeks did Joun Butt grunt, and growl, and pooh-pooh at the glittering mist; and sometimes, in the depths of his prophetic spirit, did he sternly, sadly foretell the total dispersion of the cloudy loveliness—rent, swallowed up by the hurricane and thunder. And when the storm began; and when Lours Buanc heard and saw the destruc- tion of his misty castles in the thunder and smother of the barricades ; when; aghast and spectral, the sometime magician Bianc made his fitful appearance on the scene of ruin, Joan Butt was cool, unmoved, stoieal. He disdained to be surprised. And why? Because Joun isa

down like houses of cards; though, haply, he did not expect with such a crash, and at such a cost of human life and human suffering. Nevertheless, having for a brief time pondered on the homicide at

“My dear,” said Butt, confused, “that is a—a—tradition ; a—a—" “*Fiddledee! You said the right word before, and that’s ‘robbery, and nothing short of it. Again, then, what are we to say to the mint of money that’s still paid to the royal bastards of ——” “Bend sinisters, Mrs. Buti, when you speak of high life,” said Butt, and his eyes twinkled despite of him. “And what are you to say,” cried the persisting woman, “to that Fart or Evtensoroves, that, as the monkey ate the cheese instead of weighing it, takes £9000 and more every year out of the scales of Justice?” “Forms, my love; that is—perhaps—necessary forms,” stammered Butt, and he began to redden. . “And what do you say, then, to the German Princes that are paid for doing nothing m our Nashuno ?” Mr. Butt said nothing; but puffed his pipe very violently. ** And what do you say to the Six Clerks’ pensions, and the Duke oF MaRiBoROUGH’s pension; and Lorp CaMPBELL’s pension, for wearing the Seals of Ireland at his watch-chain for a week; and moreover, what | do you say to the Karu or BesBoroved, that takes of the dear QuEEN | ( or lady, how she is robbed among ’em!) £1700 a year for feeding the buckhounds, as if the Crown was to be supported by dogs ; and— but here—Mr. Butt, look at the list,”—(and here the dame whipped the Black Book of England from under her chair-cushion, and forced it in the hand of her husband)—‘“‘ look at all the names; if some of ’em don’t put me in mind of police cases for false pretence and embezzle- ment, [’m no woman. Look at them, and then say, if you can, that you have, in England here—where we’re obliged to darn stockings, when we should buy new ones—say then that you have no Zelyurs Nashuno.” Mr. Butt received the book as though it were a lumpof ice: opened

withal a cosey one—in the deep conviction that there were no Aéeliers He allowed no idlers: he did not | suffer money to he taken from the industrious to cram it in the ; —all moonshine, and couldn’t last. pockets of the do-nothings. No, no! Afteliers Nationaurx—and such gimcrack Castles of Indolence—were to be expected in monkey France; but in solid, practical, equitable Britain—he would as soon tolerate the or t was with this sort of self-complac-ncy in the superior wisdom of his own beloved Island, that Jonn laid down the French paper—(he had translated the passage to his wife)—that announced the suppression of the Afteliers Nationauz. “Of course, my dear; I always said so: no substance in the notion a ge I ad 7em out of the taxes, too; why, it isn’t im reason—it isn’t, my dear” —and JouN always looked the bigger when he came to the phrase—“ it isn’t political economy.” Mrs. But was darning her husband’s worsted stockings. They had already been so much mended, that, as she avowed, she was ashamed | taking off her glasses, and calmly rubbing them on to see any decent man in ’em. Whereupon, Jonn, with a philosophic indifference, declared that the stockings were quite good enough for the Income-tar. With that sevenpence in the pound to pay, how were people to afford new stockings? People must save somewhere. And after all, what was the Income-tax, when in England there were no such burdens—no such folly—no such stupid political economy as Ateliers Nationaux ? “Certainly not, Joun,” said Mrs. Butt, in her quiet, matronly way, her white linen apron. “You haven’t the same word, certainly; but surely, there is in England—and that, Jonny, that is what is eating us up, and making people wear over-darned stockings when they should buy new ones— | there is exactly the same sort of thing.” _“ Mrs. Buut,” said Jouy, with a mild, benignant look, as though pitying the ignorance of the partner of his bobsom—“ Mrs. a silly woman.” “ Of course,—that’s how you men put us all off. But the fact is, | Joan, you look sc; much to words—now, Iwill say it—that you alto- | I have to darn to save a gether forget the things. Only give a nuisance an English name, and you swallow it as though you loved it, and could live upon it.” “What does the foolish woman mean?” cried But, knitting his wise brow, and drawing his lips to a cherry-bob. “I said, in England, Mrs. Butt, we have no Afeliers Nationaux.” “* And I say you have,” replied the dame, “ only otherwise christianed. Will you hear me, Joun ? ” .“*You’re a silly thing, my dear,” said Bux1, contemptuously filling his pipe—“ but go on.” Well then,” said Mrs. Butt, “suppose, John, every week I was to set down in the house expenses, say ten pounds a week, for seed and sugar and toast for parrots; when, at the same time there wasn’t a single bird in the house. What should you call that?” . Robbery,” said Jon, with no hesitation for the word. Well, then,” said Mrs. Buxt, “what do you say to that precious DuKE or Sr. AtBans?—oh, I’ve been reading all about the fine idlers of our Te/yer Nashuao, reading it till when I think of ’em, and the hours penny, my blood does boil again—that precious Duke that takes in the Nashuno £1200 for feeding hawks, when he hasn’t a single feather on his hands? What’s that?” Pay a mob of people for doing | Butt, you’re | it—ran his eye up and down many a passage—glowing and blinking |the while. At length, in a grand burst of indignation at his long | ignorance, he dashed the book upon the floor, and rose bolt upright | from his seat. | Mrs. Butt,” he said, “I’m sorry to own it; but you’re quite right. ue too, in England, have our A¢eliers Nationaux for pensioned idlers. ut we must sweep them away; we must, and no mistake about it. | | We, too, must throw up our barricades—but tremble not, my love— | they shall be barricades in the House of Commons.”

: : | A NURSERY FOR NURSES, Tue old adage tells us to “train up a child,” but modern sophy calls upon us to “train up a nurse;” hilo-

and accordingly an | ' Institution for the education of the Gampses and the Priccsgs has | been started under excellent auspices. We cordially agree in the policy of this project, and we hope that, among other methods of instruction, a class will be formed for singing “Hushaby baby” with something like a regard to tune and time, so that the sensitive nerves of infancy may not be shocked as they have been, by the imperfect | vocalisation of the guardians of our British babyhood. . We believe there will be daily practice in dressing and undressing dolls, so that the nurses may acquire experience in the art, and avoid } | the errors committed occasionally, by mistaking a child’s cheek for a | 'pincushion. The process by which it is customary to “ Dance a baby- diddy,” as the poet charmingly describes it, will also form part of the training to which the nurses will be subjected.

An Ill-Fated Revolution. How will the Three Glorious Days of July be celebrated this year? | Will there be any rejoicings at Claremont? Will there be any fire- | works, any gratuitous saucissons, any greasy poles, at Paris? And all | the speeches, too, that used to be delivered to the King, full of such | allegiance, such devotion to the throne of July, will they be repeated this year? We have no doubt the same persons will carry their | | homage to the President, and protest to feel all, and to swear all, if not | more, for the Republic than ever they did for the Monarchy. We are | curious to learn how the July fées have been celebrated? By the bye, | different nations have different fates. It is England’s fate to be quiet; ‘it is France’s, apparently, to have nothing but Revolutions. Surely her destiny is reserved for happier things ?

! Buckles and Ties. A writer in the Daily News very ingeniously traces the political disorders in the middle counties, in 1791-2, to the sudden disuse of buckles, for shoe-strings. Thousands were thrown out of work :— “ The manufacturers of Birmingham, Walsall, and Wolverhampton, appealed, by petition, to the Paince RecEeyt. Ile promised his influence and example. | strength of this promise hundreds of persons invested their fortunes in buckles.” ©The Prince, however, did not use his influence in the cause of buckles; being, perhaps, the only instance on record in which his Royal Highness was not neglectful of his former “ ties.”

On the |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 51 THE MODEL MOTHER. uu her childrenare angels. She knows no children like them. Tom can already spell words of three syllables, and the little fellow is only five years old next thirty-first of July. Potty puts such curious questions, that her papa is often puzzled to answer them. It was but yesterday she asked him “ Why he had such whiskers, and mamma had none?” and Mr. Samira reall didn’t know what tosay. Than goodness! she has given all of them a good education, and there isn’t one that can tun round and reproach her with amoment’s neglect. She loves them all dearly, and never ceases thinking of them. It does her heart good to see them happy, and she cannot understand how mothers can part with their children, and put them out to nurse, where they never see them, and leave them entirely to the care of a P strange woman. No wonder their children don’t love them! Now, sie has nursed every one of her family, and is she any the worse for it, pray? She has no patience with such fine ladies. They don’t deserve having children. Why, look at baby! The little thing knows her, and under- stands every word she says. If it cries—though it is the quietest child in the world—she has only to say “ Be quiet, baby!” and it goes off to sleep directly. No! those who don’t behave as mothers, will never be loved as mothers, and it’s her opinion that when children turn out bad, it is because they have been negiected in their childhood, and have never known the comforts of a home. Ingratitude never —- up in a child’s heart, unless it has been first sown there by the and of the parent. Why,she has never had a moment’s uneasi- ness with any one of her children—and she has ten of them,— and why? Because affection begets affection, and she is positive they would not do a single thing to make their mother miser- able. It’s true that Nep is “a little racketty,” but boys will be boys, and the lad is too good at heart ever to go wrong. But if the worst should happen—not that she fears it—the boy never will forget his happy infancy, and that’s a blessing! ‘The thoughts of a happy childhood has brought back many a prodigal son, and she knows oa enough that her Nep would never wander far without feeling that chain round his heart gently pulling him towards home. But it’s all nonsense! The boy’s right enough, if Mrz. Smiru wouldn’t be so harsh to him! Thus the Mopet Moruer defends her children. Their defects are beauties in her eyes: their very faults are dear to her. They cando no wrong. If any breakage takes place, it wasn’t the child’s fault; she tells you she’s only to blame. She stays the father’s arm when his anger is about to fall, and stops his voice when his paternal passion is rising. If any of the boys have gone to the theatre, she sits up to let them in. When questioned the next morning as to the hour they came home, she has forgotten everything about it—all she recollects is, that young Tom ate a tremendous supper. She supplies them with money, | and, if her good nature is laughed at, she asks you, pray to inform her | “ when lads are to enjoy themselves, if not when they are young?” She | is continually sending presents to | not marry so well as her sisters.” Exiza, who, “poor thing! did ; She is not afraid of taking her daughters out with her, for fear of their age leading to the confession of her own, nor does she dress like a young lady of sixteen, in order to | look younger than they. To tell the truth, she carries her family every- | and ever so many more with her. where. The youngest she takes to the theatre; on a Sunday they all go out together; she will not travel, or stir out of town, without the | whole troop, or call on an acquaintance “ just in a friendly way to take dinner,” without having Jutta, and Jackry, and Betsy, and Aueustvs, 1 She imagines that because she dearly loves her children, every one must dearly love them also. She discourses on their talents for hours—the reading of the one, the sewing of the other, | the blue eyes of the third, the superior accomplishments of the eldest, the wonderful “ Busy, Busy Bee ” of the youngest—and tells wonderful | anecdotes that prove them to be the greatest geniuses that ever wore pinafores, She makes plum-cakes for the boys when at school, and has them home on the Saturday, and every possible holiday, though she’s told each time “that it interferes sadly with their studies.” The Mopet Moruer is happiest, however, at a wedding. She runs | about, kisses her daughter every time she meets her, looks after the breakfast, puts all sorts of packages into the travelling-carriage, runs up and down stairs for no one knows what, and laughs and cries every alternate minute. She never was so happy; and when her darling girl says, “Good bye, mother,”’ she throws her arms round her neck and wishes her all the happiness in the world, accompanied with a hope that “she will never forget her dear mother,” and that “she knows where there is always a home for her.” Her joy, too, at the birth of the first child is only equalled by her pride and importance. She never leaves her “ pet’s” bedside, and stops to comfort her, and be the first to kiss the baby. She attends every christening, and nearly ruins herself in presents to the nurses, and coral necklaces, and magnificent bibs and tuckers. At Christmas she has all her children to dine with her; it has been the practice of the family as long as she can recollect, and if there isa daughter abroad, or a son in disgrace no one exactly knows where, she | is the first to call recollection to the fact, and to propose the health of the missing one after dinner, joined with the prayer that he or she ‘may soon be among them again.” In the evening she arranges the romps for the boys and girls, and is not the least offended if any one calls her “ grandmother.” Little presents are given, forfeits are played, glasses of weak negus are handed round, and a Happy Christmas is drank to all. Sir Roger de Coverley finishes the amusements, in which she leads off the dance with her husband, after dragging him away from the whist- table, and she keeps up the fun as long as anybody. At last it is getting late; her children crowd round her, they kiss her, and hang about her, |and there is nothing but one loud “ God bless you, mother !” heard on all sides. This wish springs from the heart of every one, for there is not a child but who has felt, in sickness as in health, in adversity as in rosperity, abroad as at home, the love and kindness of the MopEL OTHER, NATIONAL HARMONY.—A SONNET. Townwarp from Richmond, at the close of day, Two of us were on foot returning straight, We having dined—the fact ’tis meet to state. A Pleasure Van there pass’d us on the road, Which bore of honest folks a goodly load; Holiday-makers, of the class and rate Of working people, by our estimate. The party was obstreperously gay ;, Slightly elate, it may have been, with beer. Joining in chorus as they roll’d along, : “We won’t go home till morning,” was their song. We hailed those revellers with a gentle cheer ; And “Ah! that truly British strain,” said we, “Ts livelier than ‘ Mourir pour la patrie,” DEATH OF A NOTORIOUS CHARACTER. Last week, at John Street Institution, Tottenham-Court Road, died, Physical Force Chartism. The deceased had been in a very bad way some time; and, by his uproarious conduct, gave very great uneasiness to many who otherwise were his well-wishers. The deceased has not been opened, which we regret; therefore there are many conflicting pj as to the cause of his death. Some attribute it to a softness of brain, some to diseased lungs ; some (the more amiable interpreters) to the misfortunes of several intimate friends, now undoing oakum in the House of Correction. We believe that the desertion of Mr. Cur- FEY had a very serious effect upon the spirits of the deceased. It was thought, at least, that Mr. Currey would have closed the eyes of Chartism, and that Mrs. Currey would have laid him out. We regret to state that it has been otherwise. The deceased died almost wholly neglected. It is still declared by some, that he caught his death on the 10th of April; when, against the advice of his best friends, he would go to Kennington Common, where—it is thought—an alarm of the scarlet fever, latent in the neighbourhood, gave such a shock to his system, that he sickened from that hour. Nevertheless, he made frequent attempts to rally, and it is thought, that had his friends supplied him with funds, he might have lingered on for some time. For want of a shell, his remains were consigned to an empty m»ney-box; with a bad shilling nailed upon the lid, as a significant coffin-plate. Fasting Extraordinary. A FASHIONABLE morning contemporary, on last Monday week, made the following announcement :— ‘* Mas, Bares’s breakfast ia unavoidably postponed till the 26th instant.” An awful time to go without one’s breakfast! We sincerely hope poor Mrs, Bares may not have been starved. TrutH on Tomsstones.—The best epitaph we ever saw was that of a Clown. It simply said, ‘‘ Here I am!”

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THE JENNY LIND SHIELD, PRESENTED BY

DON CHARIVARI. THE WELLINGTON WEDDINGS. MR. PUNCH. | We have had the Wet- LINGTON Dispatches, the WELLINGTON Campaigns, the We.iincton J.etters —to say nothing of WEt- LINGTON hoots; but the series of Wellingtonia will never be complete till the We itneton Weddingsare added to the collection of interesting matter relating to the Hero of Waterloo. He has given away more young ladies, and blessed more happy couples than fif- ty old uncles in as many old farces; and he has no doubt, repeated the celebrated clap-trap, “ There, there: take her, you young dog, and be as good to heras she deserves.” He has, we say, uttered this affecting piece of tenderness nearly as | often as Mr. Farren, and | six times as frequently as | Me. TI-pury. | We believe the Duke has |@ quantity of property purses for distribution on i these occasions, to cram into the hands of the bride- }groom, with a “Bless ye! | bless ye!” He has been “‘at it again” last. week, when he was pre- sent at the marriage of a daughter of the DuKE or Beaurort. He and the Duke oF CAMBRIDGE will | be looked upon as the most | remarkable men of the day ; the military hero, for the | number of wedding-break- | fasts he has consumed, the | royal duke, for the quantity of public dinners he has | devoured.

AQ Ae: ti ' << ~C 0G } | | |

A BATTUE OF BILLS. Tue Parliamentary shooting season has just commenced, when it is | customary for the Legislature to fire away in good earnest, and hit the mark at last after the mere noise and smoke in which both Houses have been indulging during the last eight months. Lorp Joun Russet has just performed the customary process of slaughtering all the superabun- dant measures that are not sufficiently matured to reach their natural growth, and a tremendous amount of billicide has been committed. The House of Commons has been turned into a sort of adattoir for the various hobbies that have been ridden since the opening of Parliament, but which have come to a dead stand-still, and now evince such an utter incapacity for further progress that it is considered advisable to put them out of their misery at once, and save their friends any further trouble. The Battue of Bills this year has been perfectly murderous, and there are but a few survivors left to lament the loss of their com- panions, who have been cut short in their career.

The Irish Tribune. THE Times of July the 15th, in its report of the Review of the Clubs at Cork, says, “ The Review having terminated, Mr. Sita O’Brien mounted a heap of rubbish, and, Sronting the Lunatic Asylum, he pro- | ceeded to harangue,” &c. It strikes us forcibly that all those who | take their stand upon Repeal talk to no other end. But really, with Mr. O’Barrey’s position, and such inspiration before him, every word | of his discourse must have gone home. ‘The whole scene, with its rubbish and Lunatic Asylum, must have reminded the honourable | Member strongly of Confederation Hall.

THE SUFFERING FOXES. | No doubt the reader has, of late years, come unexpectedly upon foxes in highways and in bye-ways, where foxes were to be least expected. These foxes—the fact has at length been divulged by the French correspondent in the Morning Post—are victims to the railways. They have been turned out of their ancestral holes by the despotism of the iron king. Listen to the Post. ‘The theme is a description of the road to Vincennes :— “‘ The route resembled much our Epsom road on a Derby day, such as it was wont to be before the railway stretched its lean Jong arms through our fields and parks, shutting us out of our green lanes with its iron bars, puffing its noxious vapours into the pure air of heaven, and terrifying all cur foxes from out our best coverts by that infernal whisile.” Is it too late in the present Parliament to consider the condition of these homeless jainale—~the guileless victims of an infernal whistle! We put it to Cotone SrstHorp whether, as an enemy of railways, as an officer and a gentleman, he ought not to bring in a short Kill to remunerate “‘all old foxes” for the loss of their “best coverts. ” Never, again, shall we travel by rail with our wonted pleasure. We shall always be overshadowed, depressed by the thought of the many foxes terrilied by steam into destitution. Now, it is not “ the little foxes” that spoil the vines, but the lines that spoil the little foxes,

THE (VERY) RUM DUTIES. Tuenre has been a long debate on the “Rum Duties.” It followed the Debate on what the Ministry had done,—or rather had not done, this Session.—A most fit end for such a beginning! By the bye, a Whig never displays the smallest spirit, but it is sure to turn out rum.

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ae PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 53 “OH DEAR! WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE?” Tris is the question one naturally asks when one hears of all the maladies among the animal and vegetable kingdoms, which are being regularly revolutionised, or turned upside down, in accordance with the present order, or dis-order, of things throughout the Continent. The sheep are unfortunately laid up with the small-pox; the pigs are suf- fering from their old complaint, the measles ; the young Highland steers are all so bad that they are being dosed with Stzer’s opodeldoc; the caterpillars can scarcely grub on; the gnats have lost their natty look ; the blue-bottles are breaking fast; and even the fish may be said to be ——e under water on the brain, or some other equally distressing malady. Besides the invalids of the finny tribe, we may particularise the crustacea as being nearly all indisposed; and though the mussels are straining every nerve to keep up, while the cockles are trying to stimu- late the cockles of their hearts by an assumed cheerfulness, those who look ae. to the bottom of the sea—will perceive a general depression among the tenants of the briny ocean: even the sharks are giving vent to a melancholy wailing, and the shrimp, in its small way, is Jabouring under the almost universal illness that has afflicted the inmates of the ocean. We recommend the throwing of 12,000,000 boxes of Parnr’s Life Pills into the sea, for the benefit of the fishes and the good of the public who otherwise might get hold of the medicine, A PLUNGE INTO THE THAMES. A SHABBY CREW, WHO ARE ABOVE PAYING TO SEE THE TOURNAMENT. Tur Earth has been worked fallow for afresh crop of amusements. The Air has been traversed with fireworks and balloons. Even Fire bas heen stirred up and eaten, to give the greedy public a fresh appetite for sight-seeing. There was nothing left but the water, to slake the thirst of the dusty million for something new. The Proprietor of Cremorne Gardens has plunged boldly into this, and it promises to {urn up a new element of success. There are depths in the Thames which have not yet been sounded, and hundreds of pounds are there concealed, if a person will only trouble himself to go to the bottom—but then he must not get on a Cricket steamer to prosecute his search, or he may never return from his inquiry. However, the Aquatic Tournaments do this admirably for every one, and you enjoy all the sport, without getting any of the ducking. Next to bathing yourself, there is nothing so refreshing, perhaps, in this warm weather, as seeing other persons pursue the manly pastime, which is here carried to its greatest depth. Life-Guardsmen go head over heels, and seem to stand water just as well as fire. Wrestlers court the Thamesian mud, reckless of the laughter that follows their divers exploits. Swimmers splash about like regular Tritons, and old Neptune looks on, smiling as becomes such a professed veteran. The balancing-pole, however, is the great fun. The Revenue itself cannot be a more slippery affair to balance than that great pole which _ is bent upon plunging every one into the mud which yawns beneath it, just as if the candidates were only so many Whig Ministers. There is a mine of wealth, we repeat, in the Thames ; the first plunge has only been taken. Why not have an aquaticcircus? Thereis AMPHITRITE, who might be called up from her coral caves to execute a rapid act of sea- horsemanship on a wild monster of the deep! Antony and CLEOPATRA might swim round the circle, ona couple of tame dolphins or in, real natives of the Nile! Nzzson might fight any six French sailors on the back of a British whale ; crocodiles might be tutored to sport them- selves on the luxurious banks of the Thames; and the Courier of St. Petersburgh could carry his dispatches to his native place by water, in the very jaws of danger. ’ We know a bank at Cremorne Gardens, which we should like to bring to our door, and we would warrant to open an account in it, which, like the deposits in the banks of Pactolus, should run with nothing but gold. As it is impossible, however, to bring Chelsea up to Fleet Street, we make a present of the bank to Mr. Exits, as he is the first person who has liberally thrown a fortune into the water, in the hopes of pulling out a larger one. iS We hope he will be i S ae F.. - & eS YAY “Wy newline, and thatall =—=2745 NAA the fish that come === Bi GGL to his net will be = nothing but gold. FOUND, TWO CONUNDRUMS! Tuey will be given up to the owner upon his leaving his name and | address with the publisher, and paying all expenses. Respectable references will be required. : The following is an accurate description of the two Conundrums, as far as we could make them out :— FIRST CONUNDRUM. Q. Why is an old gentleman who gives a hundred thousand pounds to his favourite niece like Perrot ? A, Because he comes down with a plum (aplomb), P SECOND CONUNDRUM. Q. What is the best wine to drink at dinner ? A, Why, or-dinnery wine, of course, you great pump!!! | An early application is requested, as it is feared that the Conundrums, unless speedily removed, will do serious damage, for they are of that a nature that it is found utterly impossible for any one to keep | them In. A Hint for Holloway. Proressor Hottoway has shown so much vigour of imagination in | his cases of “a gentleman having recovered the use of” this, that, and | the other, by the use of the Professor’s Ointment and Pills, that we think | we cannot do Jess than reward his ingenuity by suggesting to him some- | thing new, in the shape of an ADVERTISFMENT. ‘* A GENTLEMAN RECOVERED THE USE OF HIS SENSES BY So-AND- So’s Pitts. The patient had long been addicted to the folly of taking quack medicines, and he had resorted to every pill and ointment that came out, without deriving from any of them the smallest benefit : at length, in a fit of unusual absurdity, he tried} Professor So-and-So’s Pills, the effects of which were such as to cause him at once to recover the use of his senses, and he has never been known from that time to take a single dose of quack medicine.” Oxz Fact Is worTH A DOZEN Depates.—More Members have been unseated for bribery this Session than in any previous one. This is only another proof that No Reform is needed.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI ARMS FOR THE IRISH AGITATION. ' | of canvas fowls and timber sirloins can be detected. We have lately seen the Arms of Sicily, which consisted of nothing but Jegs. Now, the Irish Confederation has ‘been going lately | at such a rapid rate, that the same arms would do capitally for it, for really it wishes to walk into everything. It has long been dis- tinguished for the absence of head, and vapour and smoke are not a bad substitute, as Irish rebellion goes, for brains. A pair of wings will assist its flight, whilst its long legs will help it to get out of the | way of danger in time. We present the Irish Clubs with the above arms; and, if they will only take our advice, ~~ had better throw away | the pikes and blunderbusses they have lately bought, and remain | peaceful, as we are doing in England, in the hopes that there is “ A good | time coming, Boys.” Why not join cause with the Saxon, and make a common cause—one victory of it ? | | TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES. My pear Sir, * WILL you excuse my stepping out of my grave just to address you? You said in your leader of July 18th, (an admirable one, but this | is ‘spoken aside,’) that “a full-grown Bill bounces on the table of the | House like a Harlequin out of a window, and exclaims: ‘ Here I am!’” | ** Now excuse me, Sir, but Harlequins never speak. They jump through windows, it is true, and very cleverly they do it; but not a| syllable ever comes from them. Like a dumb beggar, a word would | ruin them. It is only the Clown who speaks,—a truth which can be! confirmed any day by reading the Debates, or any old copy of Mother | | o008se. ** Will you allow me therefore, Sir, to take the words out of Harle- quin’s mouth, and to put them into my own? I have said them so| often that I am sure no one will doubt my word, or attempt to rob me | of a single one of those above. | * With every respect, | ‘**T remain, my dear Sir, “* Your very obedient Ghost, “ JosepH GRIMALDI.” “Warm weather this for a Pantomime!” ** Compliments to SistHorp.” Turf Pressure. | Tue scientific papers inform us that “Lorp WILLoUGHBY DE| ERgsBy has constructed a turf-pressing machine, which secures uni- | formity of pressure.” ‘The thing which presses the hardest upon the | Turf, we always understood to be the settling day at TaTTeRsALLs’. | The uniformity of this pressure, however, we very much doubt, for hitherto it has only pressed upon those who could afford to pay, without touching in the slightest upon those who had not the means to pay. If Lonp WitLovucusy has at all remedied this inequality, he must be the best friend the ‘l'urf has had for years; for hitherto the pressure has been so much upon one side, and the ground has been so slippery, that it has required a very strong man to maintain his footiag upon the Turf for any length of time. Lorp WILLouGHBy deserves a testimonial from the “Stable Mind.” NationaL Vanity.—Governor Dodge has been nominated as Vice- President of the United States. A DINNER ON THE EASTERN COUNTIES. Ir is not, perhaps, generally known that there is a regular ¢adle @ hote at the Cambridge Station, for the passengers by the trains that stop at that delightful rendezvous. The first course consists of soup, boiled up to fever heat, and the next course is that mere matter of ' course—the ringing of the bell—before three spoonfuls of the soup can be taken by the most determined of railway Salamanders, or caters of fire. It is necessary to have the tongue of Monsieur Cnabert, the gentleman who lived on prussic acid and red-hot coals some twenty | years ago, or took his dish of ash direct from the grate every day—it is, | we say, necessary to have this individual’s tongue, with a throat of ' . . . | genuine asbestos, in order to partake comfortably of the soup on the Eastern Counties Railway. _ WK We have seen some infatuated individuals sitting down to partake ‘of the éable d'héte spread for them at the Cambridge Station, but we never saw any one get beyond the spontaneous combustion of his mouth with the burning soup, and we really believe that the rest of the dinner is a mere matter of fiction, which the rapid starting of the train after | the first four mouthfuls renders completely superfluous. Nothing can be easier than to start a¢ab/e d’hdte ona railway line; for | it requires only a tureen full of boiling hot liquid and a few dramatic | chickens, with a piece of cold roast beef done in profile by a good stage | carpenter who knows his business—and a few slices of practicable— that is to say real—bread, when, by a timely ringing of the bell, the whole company may be drawn off at once, before the ‘‘ mean subterfuge ” We verily believe that we have recognised the same “property” plum-pudding on the table at one of the Stations for the last three months, and we have no doubt that the sponge-cake in the centre is dusted once a week, and garnished with candied Jemon-peel once a month, for the lemon-peel is candid enough to speak for itself, and it tells its ownage by the extreme | dryness of its aspect. As to the sandwiches at the ¢adle d’hdte, they prove the indifference | of the proprietor to his own interest, for it is quite evident that he could not say on which side his bread is buttered. We have nothing to say against the ordinary refreshments at the Cambridge Station, which are no doubt sufficiently cheap and good, but it is against the attempt at a table d’héte that we protest, when five minutes are allowed to make a meal, upon which the most mealy-mouthed could not bestow, conscientiously, the smallest eulogium. THE POLITICAL SIAMESE TWINS. Mr. Urquuant protested— Mr. Anstey complained— Mr. Urqunart would divide the House— Mr. Anstey would support his Hon. Friend— The House does divide, and the Siamese Twins get one by their motion —thus proving, singularly enough, the great unity that exists between them. Really, we wish these two-in-one gentlemen would propose some amendment in their own acts, instead of those of Parliament. This mighty league of two is getting dreadful. It must be weakened. Now AnsTEY is nothing without Urquuart, and Urquuart is still less without ANsTEY. ‘I'he only plan, then, is to separate them, or else the country is lost. But perhaps it will be safest to leave them alone. They are so fond of dividing everything, that eventually they cannot fail to get up a division betwixt themselves. With their usual clever- ness for splitting straws, they must succeed in the operation, and when the division does take place, it will be the first. time that anything emanating from them has elicited no opposition. They will be able to congratulate themselves upon having brought forward something at last eg has been carried unanimously. The report in the papers will be :— “‘ The two Hon. Members divided, and the result of the division was received with | loud cheering fiom all parts of the House.” England by this means will gain an additional Member, for at present, e two Members only making one, neither of them is more than half a Come, ANSTEY, be a man! th Member. Contract for Glass. Mr. Cuartes Cocuranxe having in the handsomest manner (he must say that of himself) determined to remunerate the householders in the vicinity of Traialgar Square for the windows broken on the late meeting— And being resolved to call further meetings, and to bear all the inci- dental charges thereof, is open to receive contracts from glaziers to do his work by the square. ‘Ihe tenders to be sent in sealed, with the lowest price for plate-glass.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 55 THE MODEL LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER. itentilies: Sue is so hurt to hear that AM Mts, Hi uly, the children disturb you! feta) VN) poy) She has the greatest trouble ; Id “Sv in keeping them quiet, but j, begs you will not hesitate j, to mention it if they are at allnoisy. She has told them at least fifty times never to } come into your room, the little plagues !—She’s very sorry, but she cannot make twenty breakfasts, and wait upon twenty gentlemen all at once. You really must wait a little longer.—Well! it’s very strange, but the chimney never did smoke before; whatever can be the cause of it ?—Oh! that noise at the back is the skittle-ground— she quite. forgot to mention it previously, but her house adjoins “a public,”—it’s a great nuisance to be sure, but it’s only of an evening, ==. 4 = and won’t trouble you much ie —— after eleven.—She hopes you feel yourself perfectly com- fortable ? She can’t for the life of her make out who takes your books! all she knows is, that she’s no time for reading—it must be that hussey, ANN ; she’ll send her away as sure as she’s born, if she catches her at it !— You must make a mistake—there wasn’t a bit of the leg left yesterday, she’s ever so positive there wasn’t—she can show you the bone if you wish it.—She never recollects coals so abominably dear; it’s quite shameful! The ton you had in last week is all gone, and she was obliged to lend you a coal-scuttle herself this morning.—She can’t make out what makes the paper so very late—those tiresome boys are enough to wear one’s life out.—She’s very sorry if there’s no mustard in the house—she has told Ann to get some at least a hundred times, if she has told her once, but it’s of no use. She must get rid of the girl! —Lor! how very sere Tag wishes you had only told her you wanted some hot water—she’s just that very minute put the kitchen fire out, but there’s some nice fresh water, if you’ll have any. What! a FLEA? (it is quite impossible to express the scream in type; the reader must imagine in his mind’s ear something equal in shrillness to a railway whistle), A FLEA!!! did you say. Oh! that she should live to hear such a thing! She’s only a poor lone widow, and it’s cruel—that it is—to throw such a thing in her face! Well! if you are bitten all over, it’s no fault of hers; you must have brought the “nasty things” in yourself. Her house is known to be the sweetest house in the whole street—you can ask anybody if it isn’t !—Would ~ be kind enough not to ring the bell so often—there ’s a poor invalid ady on the first floor, and it distresses her sadly !—She begs your pardon, but linen always was an extra—she had a gentleman who stopt in her two parlours once for ten years: he was a very nice gentleman to be sure, something in the law, and he never all the time raised so much as a murmur against the linen, nor any other gentleman that she has had any dealings with. You must be mistaken. She really cannot clean more than one pair of boots a day—some persons seem to have no bowels for the servants—poor creatures !— Well! what’s the matter with the curtains, she should like very much to know? What, rather old! Well! on her word it’s the first time she’s ever been told so, and they have only been up these eight years,— if so much, decidedly not more! However, if persons are not satisfied, they had better go—she has been offered three and sixpence a week more for the rooms—and goodness knows she doesn’t make a blessed farthing by them. She’s anxious to satisfy everybody, but cannot do wonders—and what’s more, won’t, to please any body!—She’s ex- tremely sorry to hear that you have lost half your shirts, but she cannot be answerable for her servants, of course. She has told her lodgers over and over again always to be careful and lock their drawers, till she’s soot tired of telling them! What do you say? They always’ have been locked! Well! she shouldn’t at all wonder now that you suspect her ?—if so, she can only tell you to your face that she doesn’t wear shirts, and begs that you’ll suit yourself elsewhere. She never experienced such treatment in all her life, and more than that, she won ’t—no, not to please the Queen, or the very best lodger in the world! Perhaps Ba *|l accuse her next of stealing your teaand sugar? What, you do? Well! she’s ashamed of you—that she is—and should like exceedingly to know what you call yourself? A gentleman indeed ! No more a gentleman than she is a gentleman. However, she won’t - 1 | y— Yy TW i Oa: ii V/, Ie = SSS VOL, XV. harbour such gentlemen in Aer house, she’s determined of that, so you'll please take the usual notice, and bundle yourself off as quick as you can, and precious good riddance too! She won’t stand nonsense from anybody, though she is nothing better thana poor widow, an has not a soul to protect her in the wide world! She never saw such a gentleman. Not a word more, however, is said. The next evening some oysters are sent in for supper “ with Missus’ compliments, please she says they’re beautifully fresh ;” or if it is Sunday, she ventures in herself with her best cap, and two plates, one over the other, and “ hopes you will excuse the liberty, but the joint looked so nice, she thought you would just like a slice of hot meat for luncheon, with a nice brown potato.” She stirs the fire; sees that the windows are fastened down tight; can’t make out where the draft comes out ; asks in the softest voice whether you wouldn’t like a nice glass of pale ale; and finishes by wiping with her apron the dust off the mantelpiece and all the chairs, and hoping that you ’re comfortable. . As the fatal day draws near, she knocks at the door. “Is she dis- turbing you? Would you be kind enough to let her have a little drop of a» «a should esteem it a great favour—she has such a dreadful sinking.” The next morning she lays the breakfast cloth herself. For the first time the weekly bill is not ready, “but she’s in no hurry—any time will do. Why! surely you’re not thinking of going in this way? You have been with her so long; she should be miserable to lose you—such a nice gentleman too—you cannot mean to go!” But, alas! there is noappeal. Here let usshut thedoor. Language is too weak to describe the terrible slammings and bangings, and the fearful sarcasms of that last day. Arithmetic too, falls powerless before the awful array of formidable “extras” in the last week’s bill of the Move. Lopeine-Hovuse Keeper. Erish Webel HAelovy. Ocu! Murder! Bad luck to ye, base Jounny Russe. ; Sure is it meself ye would saze and confine ? Would ye thrate me like Mitrcuet, Jones, VERNON, and Fusse., And be afther impadin’ me noble design ? Ab, ye thief o’ the world! Ah, ye Saxon oppressor, Would ye rob me, I say, o’ me birthright of spache, All because, in the way of a paceful Professor, Just a little rebellion and bloodshed I prache ? Would ye pinion me, like a misfortunate agle, Since the right of resistin’? the law I maintain, And that property’s theft, and to make it a lagal Possession, it ought to be stole o’er again ? Fond, fond was the pictur me fancy had painted Of uproar and massacre, pillage and flame ; ' Arrah! Would me bright steel with your heart was acquainted !— Ye ’ve intirely destroyed me magnificent dhrame. I beheld o’ me country the glorious image In a grand hubbubboo, a majestical broil, ' All at sixes and sevens, and meself in the skrimmage, Comin’ in for an iligant share o’ the spoil. But me prospects are clouded, the word has been spoken ; ’Tis all up with me schemes—I am ruin’d and kilt ; *Tis me pike that is blunted, me bottle is broken, And what will I do now me vitriol is spilt ? Och, Lorp Jouy, ye spalpeen, be your lot botheration, Since the flower o’ rebellion ye’ve nipt in the bud, — And have snuff’d out meself with your prompt legislation, That has chated me out of me plunder and blood ! Investment for Humbug. A Newspaper advertisement announces that— ‘* A Fortune may be realised in a few years, without any risk, by a party com- manding a small capital, who would invest the same in the purchase of a Patent Medicine, which has been established with unprecedented success.” We commend this to the notice of an’ knave who may be willing to trade upon the public credulity, and to tamper with the public health. Let him listen to the call of the advertising decoy-duck—crying, “ Quack, quack, quack !” A PROBLEM SOLVED. PEOPLE have been ore a good deal lately, how it is that France contrives to be called, or to call itself, the centre of civilisation. We will not dispute the assumption of the French, but we can only say, that if their country is the centre of civilisation, there must be just now a good deal of centrifugal force in operation, which drives all the civilisation away from the place which national vanity proclaims to be its centre. | | | | } | | } } |

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| to a series of arduous tasks of which the 56 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE OVERWORKED DOOR-KEEPER. Some ill-natured remarks have re- cently been made on the subject of the duties and salary of the door- keeper to the Court of Chancery. It is really too bad to throw out insinu- whose occu he even had nothing else to do but to open the door of the Court of Chancery to the abuses that are con- tinually pouring in, he would find himself incessantly at work in his official capacity. It is true, perhaps, that as the door for abuses is left wide open at nearly all times, there is an economy of the door-keeper’s exertions to a considerable extent ; but the labours of the official extend ublic cannot be cognizant. We have been at some trouble to trace the door-keeper through an entire day’s work, and when it is remembered he has oniy £3218 a-year, and that his claim rests upon usage, which is the most peremptory of all laws—for “use is second nature ’—we are sure it must be admitted that the functionary thoroughly earns his salary, He begins his day’s work—in a costume sufficiently light to fit him for the arduous under- taking—by reading, or at- tempting to read, the Morning (\ Post, with the aid of coffee \ and other stimulants. Those only who have tried to accom- lish this exhausting feat, can orm any opinion of what the door-keeper goes through, if he goes through a column of the journal selected for the exercise of his powers of endurance. This toil being over, he roceeds to the scarcely less atiguing operation of a drive in the Park, in the course of which rapid act of gigmanship his head is perpetually at work in the distribution of nods, bows, and smiles—to say nothing of touches of the hat —to his numerous circle of male and female acquaintance. It is calculated that the museles of his mouth assume no less than five thousand different positions during one circuit round the ring, and it is humbly presumed that this of itself would be sufficiently hard work to entitle him to two-thirds at least of his door- keeper’s salary. Perhaps, however, it is the evening’s demand on his physical and mental ener- gies that may be supposed to give the finishing touch to the prostration of the used-up door-keeper. He may be seen in a box of Her Masesty’s Theatre, per- forming feats of almost Herculean strength with his hands, and gasping out in mur- murs, rendered faint and gentle by the exhausting labours of the day, an occa- sional “drava” at the strains of the greatest Swedish turn-up that ever fell into the hands of a manager. We trust, alter this explanation, that we shall hear no more about the oflice of door-keeper Oy 15 to the Court of Chancery, with its £3218 a per annum, being little better than a ane ; sinecure. We shall be having the holder of it giving it up in a fit of over-sensitiveness if these imputations upon the value or extent of his exertions should be cruelly persisted in. Court Patronage. From the immense fatigue undergone by the Silver-stick and Gold- stick-in-waiting during Her Masesty’s visits of state to the Royal Italian Opera House and other theatres, it has been decided to appoint a third officer to lighten the burden of the two above officials. The new birth will be bestowed on G. Hupsow, Esq., M.P., under the title of the “‘ Jron-stick-in-waiting.” ations of idleness against an official | tion is constant; for if | TO AGED CLERGYMEN. We subjoin an advertisement from the Atheneum, that must drop upon the grey head of some curate of “ not less than 80 years of age,” like a whole omer full of manna :— O AGED CLERGYMEN.—The Patron of a Rectory of about £700 a year is desirous of presenting it, in the most legitimate manner, to a Clergyman | of not Jess tnan 80 years of age, of sound High Church principles.—Applications, with testimonials, &c. to be addressed to . All communications will | be considered quite confidential. The Patron is, of course, desirous of keeping the Rectory aired for a | short season ; hence, why did he not at once put forth his wants in the following straightforward terms?— Arte, A WARMING PAN for a Rectory. The said Warming- | Pap must be a very old Warming-Pan, as it is only needed fora very, very | little while; the young gentleman for whom the bed is destined being about to | leave College ia a very short time, when there will be no further use for the Warm- | ing-Pan, the aforesaid young gentleman keeping the bed aired himself. Perhaps, moreover, we do the Patron—(would he sit for his portrait PS; | : : ee . |to Leecn ?)—grievous wrong. Possibly, his “ High Church prin- ciples””—by the way, some people’s principles fly as high as Chinamen’s kites, there is no discovering them—prefer “clergymen of not less than | eighty years of age,” for the best of reasons: they are best illuminated for their office. For what says the poet? ** The soul’s dark mansion, battered and decayed, Lets ia new light thro’ chinks that time hath made.” Hence the Patron—through his octogenarian rector—may obtain at least a glimpse of the light that, from his present darkness, there is no doubt he wants. “Tell him,” said Ben Jonson, sending a message to Kine James, “tell him his soul lives in an alley.” May not the soul of a Patron dwell in the darkness of a mouse-hole ?—Of a Church mouse-hole ? ANOTHER CRY FROM ANOTHER BLUE-COAT BOY. * DeaR Ponca, **T am so glad you have said we were not charity boys, and hadn’t anything to do whatever with a charity. We feel more com- fortable now, and don’t mind so much what the little blackguards say, when they laugh at our dress—it isn’t very handsome, though, is it ? My sisters don’t like it at all, and wish you could get it altered for us. I tell you what we should like—a nice little velvet cap, with a gold tassel; and a coat (red’s a nice colour,) with tails (of course), and some | pretty brass buttons. Then instead of our yellow stockings, which are not becoming, are they ? and expose our legs to all kinds of remarks, we should wish to have some white trousers, that fit tight, and Wellingtons, with high heels. These, with a buff waistcoat and a blue tie, would do much better than our present costume, and would save us the annoyance of being mistaken for vulgar boys, that are under the command of a beadle with a big cane, and sing on Sundays in the organ- | loft. We have no doubt, if you would make a nice drawing for us, that | the thing would soon be done. I am sure our mammas would like it |immensely; or, if it came to the worst, we should not mind wearing |a gown like the boys you see in the pastrycooks’ and cigar shops, |about King’s College—but the red coat and white trousers woul | be much jollier. 1 can’t say more just at present, as papa’s carriage is | waiting for me, and I am going to Windsor to see the Palace, if we can | only get in. “Tam, my good fellow, Punch, Your constant reader (at our Club) “A Buive-coat Boy.” * A riding-whip, or a little cane, wouldn’t look amiss ; but just draw us the most knowing dress youcan. You know so well the sort of | thing we want—something that will be slap-up, and telling—you under- | stand. We want to be taken for young gentlemen. [I inclose you my | name and address, but I trust to your honour not to send it to any of the masters. A Good Mob-Disperser. Ir has been recommended to Government to send Mr. AnsTEY to Treland, for the purpose of addressing all the public meetings, as, from the great success he has had in the House, he could not fail, within the shortest space of time, to reduce the largest assembly to considerably less than forty. Ma. Urqunart, it is reported, is to accompany the Hon. Member in this great plan of Irish pacification, The two together must succeed. PRETTY LITTLE EGYPTIAN SAYING, (Attributed to the good Old Cheops.) Scanpat, like the Nile, is fed by innumerable streams, but it is extremely difficult to trace to its source.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 57 BETTER LATE THAN NEVER. Everyzopy admits that the Thames authorities are only waiting for a tremendous accident, by the overcrowding of a steamer, to take the necessary measures for protecting the lives of the community. We have no doubt that “There’s a good time coming, boys,” as the song says; but it is a great pity that it don’t come at once, for the Lorp Mayor can do nothing for us till he has got a tremendous accident to go upon. He requires a few broken heads and arms, as data to deal with, and it is only upon the disjecta membra of a few tourists to Greenwich or Gravesend, that he can venture to legislate. We-shall not be allowed to feel cool and collected in a steampacket until some of our fellow-creatures have been blown to bits in such a style as to render it utterly impossible that they should ever be cool and collected after- wards. We really begin to wish that some gallant fellows would crowd them- selves into one of the river craft, for the purpose of forming the materials of a “terrific casualty,” and thus do for the Thames what Curttus did for the gulf, in closing it up by making himself the sacrifice for his fellow-citizens. The river yawns, and the Lorp Mayor is asleep, until some over-crowded steamer, turning itself into a forlorn hope, shall perish in the attempt to awaken the authorities from their fatal lethargy. When there shall be a regular explosion on the Thames, and some of the victims shall sing in mournful chorus, “ Here we go up, up, up,” while others proceed with the dismal refrain, ** Here we go down, down, down,” nothing will be done for the prevention of the overcrowding of steam- boats. A reward ought to be offered for a cargo of voluntary Noyades, willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of the public in general. If some of the Irish rebels would undertake this service, they might be doing a service to themselves by cooling their revolutionary ardour, and at the same time earning the gratitude of their English fellow-subjects. THE VOICES OF A NATION. WE see a pretty little book advertised, called The Cries of London. What a curious book the Cries of Paris for the last twenty years would make! It should begin with Charles X., and give the different cries of the House of Bourbon, Vive la Duchesse de Berri, Vive le Duc de Bordeaux, &. &e, Then it should enumerate all the cries of the July Revolution, starting with Vive la Charte, and ending with Vive Louis- Philippe, specifying all the numerous cries which followed Le Premier (and /e Dernier) Roi des Frangais. Then should follow the cries which have made France such a place of crying evils ever since February. The Vice Barbés! Vive le Bonnet Rouge, Vive la Guillotine, and Long Live many other things that would let no one else live. Lastly should come Vive la République. Here, for the present, the series should stop, just reserving a line for Vive Lamartine, (a cry in which we would join with all our heart,) only perhaps it will be best to leave the book alone. It would only suggest melancholy thoughts, proving that a nation is often so childish that it will cry almost for anvthing. Since France, however, is fond of crying Vive everything, we will give it a motto, which is quite as good as Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité. Let the ery of every Frenchman henceforward be “Live anp tet Live.” If this were generally acted upon, it would knock down the barricades more poo ad than all the cannon from Vincennes. We say “ Vive tout le monde,” IMPERIAL PARLIAMENT. COMMITTEE OF SUPPLY—ARMY ESTIMATES. Mr. B. Oszorne said it was a great hardship to compel officers to | march or go to dinner in full-dress coats. How absurd it was to ask an Officer with £60 a-year to march in a coat worth £20. (Hear, hear /) It was also very ridiculous to substitute a shel/-jacket for the usual undress coat, Mr. Poncn (Member for all England) thought that a shel/-jacket was the best fitted for lobsters. (Loud cheering.) GeneRAL Evans and CoLonet SrptnHorp rose to order. Cotone. Dunve didn’t care being himself made the subject of Mr. Puncn’s attacks, but in the name of the whole “line” he protested against the term lobsters being used in reference to that portion of the my. Ma. Ponca had no objection to say, that he had merely used the term lobsters in a Parliamentary sense. (OA, oh: GeneraL Evans, CoLtonen Sistuorr, and {Cotonen Dunye were then perfectly satisfied. Mr. Puncu resumed his seat and his hat. Mr. Osnorne wanted to know how it was that, in the 7th Dragoons at the Cape, all the bullets were too large for the rifles ? Mr. Fox Mauvte apprehended the Hon. Member laboured under a ‘great mistake. The fact was—(Hear, hear/)—the fact was, all the rifles were too small for the bullets. NO LIGHT MATTER. WE are not afraid of being suspected of revolutionary or republican principles, and we therefore do not hesitate to avow that we have serious thoughts of raising the cry of “‘ Les Lampions/”’ in the first-class carriages of the Eastern Counties Railway. If the Directors do not trim the lamps, we shall certainly begin to trim the characters of the Directors ; and we earnestly call upon them to pour the soothing oil of sperm on the storm that is raging in our angry aig Our mental ejaculations have already amounted to ““4 das Hupson !” and we have once or twice * pronounced ” emphatically on the subject to guards, policemen, inspectors, and station clerks, who, individually and collectively, shake their heads with a melancholy confession of utter ignorance as to the cause of the darkness to which the Directors of the Eastern Counties have doomed us. three, it is impossible for more than one passenger in a carriage to be illuminated, while the rest remain wrapped in gloomy obscurity. The intelligent librarian has it, we believe, in contemplation to include a candle in each newspaper or book he sells after eight o’clock, p.m., so that the purchaser may-see to read what he has bought—except in the case of Punch, which, like the sun itself, requiresno borrowed light, and can be perused at all times by the ‘blaze of its own brilliancy. Our Own Alarming Intelligence. Our penny-a-liners in the agricultural districts tell us that drilling |has been extensively practised in most of the English provinces, and | that the effects are beginning to show themselves in a general rising all over the country. As we, happily, never believe a word that our penny- a-liners write to us, we transmitted one of our confidential scouts (we keep fifty at a thousand a year each) to inquire into the truth of our reporter’s reports, and we have ascertained that there has been a vast quantity of drilling (with reference to turnips), and that the rising of the crops throughout the land is general. | ; iirc de | The Weakness of Human Nature. A younG author wrote to his father a letter of the best resolutions. | Amongst other glowing promises, he said, “I am tired of joking, and uight literature is to me now so heavy, that I | ashamed of punning. am resolved no longer to support the burden. I am determined to go | in for higher things.” The next week he went up in a bal'oon! Alas ! for the goodness of young men’s intentions! ! The Great Ventilator of the House of Commons. Tue education of some Members has been dreadfully neglected. Look at Mr. Anstey. It is as much as he can do to count. Some- times he gets as far as 30; occasionally he musters as many as 35; once or twice he has been able to reach as high as 39; but never in our recollection has he succeeded, in one sitting, in getting up to the figure of 40. It cannot be denied that no man in the House counts less (figuratively speaking), than Mr. Anstey. Even the night trainis but partially supplied with | light, and there being only one lamp where there should be two or |

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98 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FLUNKEIANA. a “TI ie. Coachman. “ Wuy—Wuat's THE MATTER, JouN THomas ?” Footman. “ Matrer ENurF! Here’s THE MARCHIONESS BIN AN GIV ME NOTICE BECAUSE | I pon’r matcH JosErH,—aND I must GO, UNLESS I CAN GET MY FAT DOWN IN A WEEK !” “LIES LIKE TRUTH.” WE regret to perceive the Electric Telegraph becoming so very sadly addicted to falsehood, that we never know when the fluid is speaking the truth. If the wires were the wires of a harp, they could scarcely represent such a ferocious lyre as the Electric Telegraph turns out to be. The old saying, “ Between you, and me, and the post, I don’t believe a word of it,” is beginning to be strikingly applicable to what is going on between you (reader!) and me, and the posts of the Electric Telegraph. We may with justice say to the fluid, “Bless me! how you do run on!” when we find it telling lies at the rate of hundreds of miles in half a second. We think an action for libel would lie against the Telegraphic bar for impugning the fidelity of the Army, and we can only express our surprise that the wire, which seems generally pretty rigid in adhering to the straight line, should have allowed itself to fall into such very loose observations. OUR OWN ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. As we find our contemporaries are in the habit of pro- ducing immense effect by news manufactured expressly for them at the offices of the Electric Telegraph, we have some idea of establishing a little electric telegraph of our own, for the production of startling intelligence. In order to give our readers an idea of the kind of article we should be enabled to furnish, we beg leave to lay before them one or two specimens. Of course we should head our news in the usual manner, and the usual type, with the words BY ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. A beadle has just galloped through Kensington, on a donkey, with the report that the pump at Hammer- smith is in flames, the spout torn out, and the handle in the hands of the Chartists. The police are said to have been tampered with, and a Sergeant has been seen with a pint pot at his lips, drinking success to the five, six, or as many points as the insurgents are willing to propose to him. A gentleman whom somebody has seen, and whom nobody knows, has arrived, out of breath and out of cash, at our office, with the announcement of his having been plundered by a mob, who, he says, are in posses- sion of the capital ; but we have not been able to | learn whether he alludes to the capital he had in his | purse, or whether he uses the word capital with a more |important meaning. He states—at a guinea a line— | that the teeth have been torn out of the policemen’s | rattles; that Pumme. has been well pummelled; that |the charity-boys have been called out, but upon the |master seeing them in the street, they were all called in again. The omnibus time-keeper has fled—continues our breathless and cashless informant—Kensington l runs with gore as far as Gore House, and the omnibuses | are being sent as barricades, to block up Fleet Street in | the usual manner. AN IRISH QUAKER, We hear much of the charity of the Society of Friends, but we never heretofore knew of a member of their community displaying such a specimen of that virtue as the following, recorded in the Waterford Chronicle :— ‘Within the last few days, an application was made by some persons in the adjacent town for a small piece of iron and a bit of steel, to make a few pikes, to a Quaker gentleman in the iron | trade. The merchant, more kind than merchants usually are, gave the poor applicants iron and steel sufficient to make 2000 pikes. Honest Quaker that, say we! ” | | | } Honest Quaker, indeed—honest as Jago’ But mark our contemporary’s pathos. The poor applicants come to beg, not a little meal to make a few loaves, but a small piece of iron and a bit of steel to make a few pikes, The Quaker, “more kind than merchants usually are,” gives them—not sacks of flour, wherewith to make two thousand loaves, but iron and steel sufficient to make two thousand pikes. The humble petitioners are hungry and athirst—not for food and drink, but for blood and carnage—and the tender-hearted Quaker feeds them. Why, the Waterford Chronicle is maudlin in its sympathies with murder. : Of all “ wet Quakers,” commend us to our friend of Waterford—this dripping man of sanguinary drab—this professor of peace and promoter of bloodshed. All we regret is, that our Quaker’s name has not been published ; for we are sure that the estimable Society of which he is a member would feel it an imperative duty to “read it out.” A Poet’s Thoughts on the New Shell-Jacket. Tis often said, that, do the most they can, Nine tailors are required to make a man ; But look on yonder regimental suit, Made, as it were, the maxim to refute. Tt proves one tailor may his art employ A regiment of soldiers to destroy.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 61 PUNCH’S LITTLE BIRD. , UpGE what manner of bird it is! : ; Is it a pye—a daw—a starling—a jay? Or is ita — ¥ macaw—or an old maid cockatoo— or a small spinster parrot, succinct in tender en? Is it of the tribe of jewelled humming- irds, trained to swoop at butterflies? Is it a sparrow-hawk with an eye for chickens ? Does it build on the elm-tops of a bishop? Does it nestle in the cornice of a city mansion? Does it watch from a mud hut the feathered mason of a cottage-corner ? It matters not: and if it did, ’twould be all one. The bird i reader at least, without a name—unchristened— as though Apam had never beheld its ancestral cock and hen. There is a sort of swallow, whose nest is melted into soup for man- darins. A hundred swallow-houses are dissolved, steam in one China vase ; the very houses of the birds are gulped by the rapacity of man. Lobsters have a better fate; though devoured themselves, respect is shown to their blood-red coat of mail. Even the oyster, when opened by Equity, is by Equity bolted without the shells. Our Little Bird, like the swallows above, elaborate a nest for the moral appetite of the reader. And the nest will be made of all sorts of materials. Now will be found a bit of cinnamon, a shred of clove, that the phcenix, in his rare building season would take a day’s flight for; and now a lock of wool, plucked, it may be, from the Chancellor’s own sack, when haply his Lordship is nodding. | ‘ Our Little Bird has a bird’s eye for everything: it will pick up all it may. We had hardly written the promise, when our Little Bird flew in at the window with a bit of paper, like a label, in its mouth. Here it is— “ The door. keeper of the Court of Chancery. whose duties are returned as ‘none,’ receives a salary from ‘fees’ to the extent of 32181. per annum, his right to which is returned in the parliamentary papers as ‘usage’ only,” Our Little Bird has perched upon the inkstand, and now sips the ink ; for it is a strange little creature, and loves the literary black broth upon — we foolscap Lacedemonians live, and now preens its rumpled eathers. So; let us again read the news brought by our Little Bird. What? The door-keeper of the Court of Chancery have no duties! Was there ever such ignorance, or such spite? Why, is he not the great turnkey of Equity? Is it not, a watchful janitor, his sole unceasing travail that, suitors once in Chancery, they shall never escape? Is he not the unrelenting We Hxveat—the reversed Cerberus, with his one tail turned to the back of the door, that innocenis may, without seeing his terrors, creep in; and with his three heads—with costly grinders in every jaw—opened and opposed, ny | shall never get out ? Why, his smaller brethren, the grimed and mouldy Philistines, who in other days sat watchful in the human rat-traps in neighbouring Cursitor Street; the biped sponges that, with truly zoophyte mouths, sucked up the last drops of their guests—their life was but a life of listlessness, cheered now and then, it is true, by the music of the door- chain, the shooting of the lock; a life of idlesse to the still incessant toil, the unwinking vigilance of the janitor of the Court of Chancery. No duties! Is it nothing to watch with three heads, only one eye of the six sleeping by turns, lest a thousand captives or so should break ancery? Is it nothing to see the miserable prisoners growing paler and greyer, as they pace the Court, framed of ruddy brass ; and wearing gyves that, though they clank not, are heavier than iron? Fetters of parchment, writ and writ with cabalistic meaning ; bonds that cut into = —_ and—it has been known—bring gangrene to the torn, expecting eart | Or take the other side.—Is it nothing zof to keep the door, and to know that less than your shadow; a xominis umbra of a door-keeper; a thing of moonshine or rather of marsh-shine, being the Jack-o’-ianthorn that is born of corruption, dodges and flickers there, making pilgrims for justice—widows and o among them, mind you—shake from their scrips three thousand two hundred and eighteen pounds every year of God’s grace as a lie offering? Is it nothing to stop travellers for justice with fees at their breasts; fees of three thousand two hundred and eighteen barrels ? Consider it thus, door-keeper. Work out this terrible bit of Newgate arithmetic, and conscience may burn in your cheek, hot and searing as the old Newgate brand. How many thieves—young and mature—say, at twenty groats a head —how many may obtain places in the Old Bailey dock at the booty of three thousand two hundred and eighteen pounds per annum? Get chalk and slate, and work out that sum, master door-keeper. But you will say these are no parallels, for they put their dirty, naked hands into people’s pockets. “And sothey do. Now, Mercury the God of Thieving, has his pets, My ? his piggesnies”— shall remain, to the knowledge of the | _ (The reader will please to understand, it is our Little Bird that now sings. The delicate creature is still perched upon the edge of the ink- bottle; and with one eye upon the bright black pond, turns its head towards a sunbeam that slants goldenly above it. Our Little Bird weaves a silver song, which we undo into the prose of common life; as soaring larks are sometimes shot for puddings.) “ Mercury, the God of Thieving, has his pets, his piggesnies. Now, they who creep into pockets with naked fingers, are rogues to be whipped and hanged. But they who take and give not in return, may dip into pockets with safety and with thrift, if—scorning the naked hand—they wear gloves of parchment.” Naughty Little Bird! CATERING FOR THE PUBLIC. Surety the — must be the concentrated essence of ingratitude : for no sooner does a person attempt to cater for the public, than his attempt at a cater ends in playing the deuce with his own means and pockets. The fate of poor Jutien at Drury Lane shows the cost of catering for the public on a scale of liberality. It is true, that some of his arrangements do seem to have been a little superfluous, and we may particularly inquire what necessity there could have been for a singing rompter, in addition to three other prompters, who are all entered on bis balance-sheet. A company that required so much prompting could not have been worth much, and as to the singing prompter, we don’t know what he could have had to do ; though, if he combined the accom plishment of whistling, he might have been engaged expressly to whistle for his own and his brother artists’ salaries. We see an apologist set down among the régular members of the company. Considering the liability of vocalists to colds, catarrhs, and other casualties incidental to a theatre where salaries are rather irregular, the apologist of a losing concern must have no sinecure. JULLIEN’s apologist must have been almost black and blue with “throwing himectf on a British public” two or three times a week, and he must have worn half-a-dozem white waistcoats dirty in one night with placing his hand upon his heart, and. pressing his hat to his shirt front, in token of his sincerity. We cannot give the Mons credit for the wisdom of all his arrange- ments, since we find £2000 set down for Mapame Dorvs Gras, who only sang a few nights, and who may well have become literally gras if such has been the usual proportion of salary she has been accustomed to take from the pockets of a manager. By the way,we have been utterly lost in admiration at Jut1en’s heart- rending exhibition of sensitiveness as to the opinion of his own country- men, and his declaration that until he has paid every shilling he owes here, he will never return to France. We hope, for his own sake, he will never pay, if a liquidation of his debts will send him to Paris; for we wish no one so wretched a fate as a return to the city of equality, liberty, and fraternity ; but we do think the Mons is a little squeamish when he expresses his horror at entering France with a few English liabilities hanging over him, when he remembers that ‘spoliation and repudiation have been popular in Paris for the last five months. KENSINGTON A PORT. WE understand that since the Serpentine has been opened as a navi- gable river for craft varying in tonnage from six stone to a couple of hundredweight, the project of connecting the narrow tongue of that river with the broad mouth of the Thames, and thus realising the mag- nificent idea of “ Kensington a Port,” is beginning to be entertained by several enthusiasts. The attempt to bring shipping into the middle of Warwick Square, and render the locality a miniature watering-place or fishing-suburb has, it is true, signally failed; for the canal having been intended to supply the railway with coals, and the railway having been constructed to take the superfluous traffic of the canal, these two con- cerns ended in the awful catastrophe of cutting one another’s throats— the one requiring no coals, and the other having no traffic. It is, how- ever, thought that the Serpentine may become a great naval station, and there is already a talk of placing an Admiral on the spot, with two war- punts at his disposal, and a skiff of two guns, or six pistols, to carry his flag, whenever he is on duty. “A DANIEL! YEA, A DANIEL!” Wuite every one else has puzzled himself in vain to find out what it is that really ruins Ireland, our friend the Morning Post has hit the right nail on the head. Indeed, a ninny-hammer may be sometimes quite as likely as any other hammer to succeed in doing so. Our con- temporary informs us, that “imprudent marriages” are at the bottom \of all Irish distress, Irish discontent, and Irish turbulence. The Morning Post thinks that matrimonial matches are as bad as any Lucifers for setting the country in a blaze, and he believes, no doubt, that im- | patience of the conjugal yoke causes the people to call out fora repeal of the Union. Never mind, JENKINS, try again. As a first attempt at | political sagacity the experiment is at least respectable.

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| | | } wenger PUNC H, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL CLOTHES WITHOUT A TAILOR. A Mr. Joun Sayer Ore, who calls himself a preacher—though what he is in the habit of preaching, except sedition, we do not know—is re- ported to have delivered a discourse toa mob on Clerkenwell Green the other evening, for pronouncing which homily he was rewarded by being taken to the station-house. The following is an extract from the reve- rend gentleman’s sermon :— «Ifa man sees another with two coats, has he not a right to take one of them ?” Mr. Orr, like a sound philanthropist, teaches his disciples to relieve their wants by helping themselves. His advice, if followed, would pro- cure, not only a gratuitous garment, but also, probably, free emigration. Mr. Orr should register his coat for the million. It would be the cheapest of all possible wrap-rascals, MILITARY CORRESPONDENCE. HE British Army is in an uproar. From the tallest grenadier to the minutest drum- mer-boy; from the feather- weightiest of light-bobs, to the heaviest of field-officers, we are overwhelmed with remon- strance, repudia- tion,protestation, I), desperation, in- iM dignation, and ) insubordination, } excited by the regulations of In- fantry costume, just issued. Captain Heavy- sipes, of the Queen’s Yellows (for example) writes in these patheticterms:-— has grown . ’ : grey and corpu- lent in the service of his country, I am induced (though all communica- tion through the public Press is unbecoming either Service on ordinary ; occasions) to rush into your columns, with a charge whicb, if justice be equivalent to tripling any given force, as asserted by SHAKSPEARE must be irresistible. Our pay might have been cut down, and | should not have complained—though, what with Mess expenses | which position a full view of the officer’s back is necessar: and Kit, I find it hard to keep out of debt, as it is. Our allowances might have been docked; our feathers snipped; six inches might have been taken off our bearskin shakos; the adjutant’s spurs might have been shortened; a few fathoms less gold lace on our full-fig uniforms I would have tolerated. Parades might have been cut down; marches abbreviated; the term of West India service diminished ; barracks, if possible, made more uncomfortable ; all these loppings and toppings we could have borne—I speak for myself and my brother officers—but we cannot submit, in silence, to the cur-tailing of our coat-tails. A sedentary life, which that of the officers of a marching saginent, must be admitted to be, the absence of occupation, and the calming influence of routine, and country quarters, necessarily tend to the increase of flesh. We are, as a body, stout:—so much so indeed, that the description of us as ‘the stout defenders of our native land,’ must be familiar to all readers of newspapers. Yet our skirts are to be cut off, by an insidious movement of a certain distinguished personage upon our rear. The decent undress blue frock, which lent a grace to portliness, and a concealment to obesity, is to be discontinued, and we are henceforth, when not in full fig, to appear in shell-jackets! Do our readers know what a shell-jacket is? It is a scanty garment, ely reaching the waist! The humiliation it is calculated to produce among officers like myself, weighing fifteen stone, or upwards, is indescribable. As to marching at the head of one’s pono from y com- manded, I apprehend ¢Aaé will, from the date of the execution of this order, be absolutely out of the question. It would be alike impossible - preserve self-respect among the officers, and subordination among the men. “Under these circumstances, I call on you, Sir, as the friend of the soldier, to raise your powerful voice in defence of our tails—for it is in them, as in that of the rattle-snake, that our offensive power at present resides—and to explode this abominable shell-jacket. “T am, Sir, * Your apprehensive and afflicted reader, “'LamMBEeRT HEAvysIDES, * (Capt. Her Masesty’s Yellows.)” “ July 14th, 1848,” THE SHELL-JACKET AND THE ARMY. From LigvTENANT TWENTYSTONE fo Mr. Puncu. “ Canterbury, 25th July. ‘LIEUTENANT AND ADJUTANT TWENTYSTONE (Fighting Onety-oneth), presents compliments to Editor of Punch, and I wish you would say something spicy about the new regulation about those infernal shell jackets which are to be worn by the whole of the British Army; and Iam A much obliged to CartaIN BERNAL OsBorne, for showing them up. Please Mr. Punch, to do likewise, for we regular take in a coppy at our Mess.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 63

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“They say it is to prevent us from being picked off in action by the Hottentots, that the frock-coat is to be abolished ; now I should like to know what reason is there that a black fellow should not pick me off in a shell-jacket as well as the frock, which becomes my /igger pretty well. “Whereas, in them shells, I really am so corpulent that I don’t like to enter, at any rate to go out of,aroom. At mess I sit with my napkin well covering me, and am always the last at table, so that I’m not seen much: but to order me aout the streets in that dress, I say is monstrous, and a swindle, and I shall sell out if persisted in. “Tn the frock-coat I’m still very well. “ And Miss BustiEBury, the Prebend’s daughter at Canterbury, thinks my figger is fine; but how am I to enter her mamma’s drawing- room in a shell-jacket, situated as I am? It’s all very well for the Duke and His Royal Highness, who are light-weights by nature; and I don’t mind exposing myself Jefore the enemy, as 1 showed at Meanee and Maharajpore ; but to be called upon to expose myself in this way is too much for ;, “Your constant reader, ‘* FREDERICK TWENTYSTONE.” *P.S. Suppose the late Gzorcr IV. had been alive— Would he have allowed us to be dressed in this painful manner ? From Lieutenant CAMPBELL LEerrarp ¢o Mr. Puncnu. Dear P., * Canterbury Barracks, 25th July. “T belong to the Onety-oneth, (or anaes own Slashers), and I want you to exercise your powerful influence against the shell- jacket system with which we are threatened. Those shell-jackets, Sir, will burst like bomb-shells on the British Army. “You may have seen us occasionally in the costume; the most hideous, tight, narrow, mean, uncomfortable dress that ever was devised for a soldier. you could see Twentystone of ours in his, you would own how monstrous the dress was, and that it was a shame to pack an English gentleman into such a shrunken rag. But if it is scarcely decent for the fat fellows, I know it is very ridiculous for us thin ones. * Between ourselves, Punch, I am paying my addresses here to Miss BustLeBuRry, Mr. Presenp Bustiesury’s daughter, and the charming 1 has shown no little regard for me, and says that I become the Fock-coat very well. , r

_ “Having it made rather fuller in the skirts than perhaps the regula- tion warrants, and padding the chest a trifle, I pass muster well enough with the girls—with the lovely Betta Bustiesury above all. “ But by Jove, Sir, what am I to do when my coat-tails are razeed by the Horse Guards, and I have to go about in the shell-jacket— dare I present myself before Miss B.?

‘* The very boys in the streets will laugh at me; and as for the girls, I fear there is one who would never recover the shock., Try and put a stop to the nuisance, and believe me, dear P., * Yours, * CAMPBELL LEPPARD.” “PS. I just send a sketch of Lrevrenant Twenrystone of ours, as He appears in his shell-jacket. I just wish you’d put him into Punch, so that Miss BustLeBury might see him, And if you do, I will order siz copies of your perio -

D a My \ ‘Ng <el™=™ “Myx we PSE %

The Weight of Windsor Castle. WE perceive from the reported Parliamentary debates, that CoLonEL Rew the other night presented a Petition from the Mayor, Ald and Burgesses of Windsor, in favour of the Windsor Castle and Town

ermen, | Approaches Bill. We never before completely saw the force of the | topographical fact, that the Castle commands the Town of Windsor.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A RUN FOR CHANGE. OmyipusoLocy has been subjected to many changes lately. It has been spared the dreadful disgrace of the barricades, to which omnibuses in Paris have been obliged to give the weight of their bodies. They have not assisted, as in other capitals, in driving Ministers from the seat of affairs. They have always stood up for everything fair, though it has sometimes been a puzzle for any one who has not regularly followed the ups and downs of the omnibuses to know precisely what the fare was. One week it would be stationary at threepence, another it would run up to 8 Boe occasionally it would drop to twopence, till, with the number of changes the public mind became so agitated, that really we expected nothing less than that Mr. Cocurane would call a public meeting to consider the prepeiety of overthrowing the Government, unless they put the public vehicles on a broader basis. The latest change has been in taking your silver and keeping it; so, if a ‘DE AvOHGS — ee — ti gentleman is left in person wants Change for a Shilling, he is the middle of the road to follow the galloping “ Civility,” if he thinks the pursuit is worth the twopence, or Goeepenes, or whatever the mighty defalcation may be. We advise all overland e poor unhappy old obliged to run a very long way before he can get it. No sooner is the money locked in the Conductor’s hand, than the om- nibus bolts, and the travellers beyond the age of forty, who are easily put out with a trifle, not to leave the steps before they have paid their fare, for it stands to reason that if a gentleman has any difference with an Omnibus Conductor, he must be left far behind him in the mud. Any intrepid sportsman who is fond of a splendid run can have one any day by getting out of an omnibus in the Strand, and giving the man sixpence. It is capital sport, and excessively cheap for the money, as the run takes place in the most crowded parts of the City, On Smithfield Market-day there is nothing like it. IMPROVE YOUR WINES. © Every wine-drinker knows, or pretends to know—which is much the same—that Madeira is always the better for a few voyages to the East Indies. We have fortunately discovered a way of preventing the ruinous expense of these journeys, by merely substituting the words “ Eastern Counties” for “ East Indies;” and we beg to recommend the dispatching half-a-dozen bottles of white ‘wine by the Eastern Counties Railway, to-be forwarded from some station by coach, and we will take a bet that the generous liquor will make. seven or eight gratuitous voyages at least, before it will terminate its itinerant career by delivery into the hands of the individual to whom it is directed. The Ongar coach is a great vehicle for this kind of improvement ; and if anything once finds its way to the boot of that remarkable turn-out, there is an even chance that the article will travel twice a-day between Brentwood and Ongar for at least a fortnight. Wine is happily improvable by this vagabondising career; but unfortunately fish is so completely out Of its element in the front boot of a two-horse coach, that the sojourn of a salmon there for even a couple of days, brings no improvement to the ex-native of the deep; but, on the contrary, militates so much against him, that when weighed in his own scales the deficiency is obvious. We are afraid that “ Full many a salmon is bought to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness in the Ongar boot.” And we have, in fact, known an unfortunate jack to have lain there so long neglected, that he was as dry and as hard asa boot-jack when released from the boot to which the coachman’s oblivion had abandoned him. A very Enotty Point. ‘WE understand that the opinion of the Attorney-General has been required by a celebrated tailor at the East-end, whether, in registering a Paletot, he will experience any difficulty under the Act for the Registration of Arms, supposing the garment offered for registration happen to have arms attached to it. We believe that objections have been made by the authorities at the Paletot Registration Office, on the ground we have stated, and particularly since it has been stated that these articles are intended to have a “ killing effect” when the price reaches thirty shillings. Those Paletots at six-and-twenty are merely “stunners,” but the regular assassinators begin at a sovereign and a half, which is the “ figure” at which a difference is made about the arms being registered, FORTIFIED POLICEMEN. Tue Police have already received staffs; the next weapon put into their hands was a cutlass, and the next, it appears, is to be a sword. They are, also, to be instructed in the gentlemanly art of fencing. Bravo! Our brave Police will in time be made aperfect military force: in the event of a second NapoLeon springing out of the ashes of the last French Revolution (the fortieth already, if we are not wrong), they may be sent abroad to assist at a second Waterloo. They might be called the London Blues. The regiments quartered in the metropolis will find the Police, in time, most dangerous rivals. Their bright cuirass will attract the eyes of many a sensitive cook ; whilst their gay moustache, which is indispensable as a military appendage, will certainly tickle the fancies of all the romantic housemaids. A Field-Marshal will also be wanted at their head. If so, we could point to an exalted personage, whose numerous cam- paigns certainly entitle him to that distin- guished honour. We give the prophetic portrait of a Policeman as he will be armed, cap-a-pié, in a few years’ time. Doesn’t he look ferocious? His very ap- pearance is enough to disperse a mob of ten thousand po and window breakers, and almost sufficient to strike envy, if not awe, into the stalwart hearts of the Special Con- stables. He only wants spurs and an ALBERT Hat to complete his ferocity. ih, * 3 INN a == A LONDON POLICEMAN OF 1850. The Prize Conundrum of the Season. At our own private Conundrum Show, which we hold annually for our own encourage- ment, and for the pocketing of our own prizes by our own pre-eminence over our own efforts, as elicited by our own competition, weawarded, upon our own judgment, our own prize to our own sample of our own facetious ingenuity, which we give in our own words as follows :— Q. What is the greatest abuse of all, that the country contains ? A, Quack medicine. Because it is the most undoubted size-cure / Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke New- F.ederick Mul'ett Evans, of No. 7, Churca Row, Stoke Newington, both n the County of Midd'esex, Printere, at their Office in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of White- friars, in the City of Lendon, and bublisned by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of Londoa. —Sarvuapar, Aueusr 5th, 1318.

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tin- etic ed, ap- ten we, on- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 65 NEWS FOR THE EXCURSIONISTS. WE perceive by the advertisements, that the Excursionists are not to be neglected this year in consequence of the virtual blockade of the Continent against pleasure-seekers; but the steam-packet owners are beginning to “ Survey mankind with comprehensive view, And manage trips to China and Peru ;” which are being announced on a scale of unusual liberality. As our tourists cannot visit France and Italy with much ‘prospect of amuse- ment, it is suggested to convey them to Pekin, the Arctic Circle, and a Qs CEO | eat \ —_ tay WN (a am % =p —) =p” Y = lade hy ‘ » ss N | KY \ ‘ SN V \) iy rm few other distant localities, where it is hoped, instead of proceeding to the Continent, they may go further without faring worse, which is the usual penalty of proceeding to extremities. . There is a plan on foot—not to be carried out on foot, by the way— for chartering a steamer to all the four quarters of the world; and it is understood that half-an-hour will be allowed for landing at each of the four in succession. Refreshments will be ready for the arrival of the steamer, on the principle now adopted at the Railway Stations, and a policeman will be in attendance to preserve order among the natives. SATISFACTORY TAXATION. REALLy some honourable Member of the House of Commons ought to move for a return of the “Conscience Money” received yearly by the CHANCELLOR oF THE ExcnEquer. Scarcely a number of the Zimes has of late appeared that has not contained an acknowledgment from that Minister of the receipt of five, fifteen, or twenty pounds, on ac- count of the income-tax and other taxes. We reckon that these sums amount, on a moderate calculation, to about £10 a day, or £3652 10s. a year—a treasure, one half of which would make many of our wives and children happy. The conscientiousness which can be thus parti- cular in paying its taxes must be something very much more than “* Oriental scrupulosity,” and must be represented, if there is any truth in Phrenology, by bumps as big as apple-dumplings. Such virtue might | serve for a definition of the height of honesty. We are now also | enabled to define the height of generosity. The Zimes lately astounded | us by the following announcement :— | ‘The CHANCELLOR oF THE ExcHEQuer has received from ‘ F.C.’ the half of a note for £100, for the use af Government.” Actually and gratuitously to tip the Government is, we submit, the very perfection of munificence. e wish the CHANCELLOR oF THE Ex- CHEQUER would tell us who F. C. is. We will not insinuate that he is a poses. May he not, however, be adecoy-duck ? Well, be it so. We hope e will induce others to follow his example. Who knows but that Govern- ment is feeling its way towards establishing a great fiscal reform? It has long been desirable to devise a popular mode of raising the revenue. This is precisely what would be found in a system of voluntary taxation. We only want more F.C.’s, and the more, we may justly say, tlic merrier. How infinitely more pleasant it would be to be taxed to the extent of our inclination, than beyond that of our ability! Let Govern- ment, then, throw itself on the bounty of the country—previously lacing itself in a condition to deserve it by a reduction of expenditure. e trust that at last there is “‘a good time coming,” when we shall have the tax-gatherer going round with a hat, and with the gentle solicitation to bestow a trifle on the Exchequer. LORD MORPETH TO HIS LOVE. I wit seek thee, though thou shunn’st me—though thou fliest, I’]] pursue ; If as yet I may not clasp thee, I will keep thee still in view. Yes; my bosom’s cherish’d object, thou unkind one, thou shalt be, Though thy man ma . averted, and thy back be turn’d on me. ra la la! As the wayfarer by night doth chase the wand’ring marshy fire, _ I will follow thee through moisture, [ will follow thee through mire; Thou shalt lead me through the puddle, thou shalt lead me through the pool, But no sludge shall damp my ardour, and no sluice my passion cool. Tra la la! Yes, through court and yard 1’ll course thee; through each alley, lane, and street, I will woo thee till I’ve won thee to become indeed my Swect : | Yes, my Queen of Cities, London, I’ll ne’er cease to sue thee till I’ve embraced thee in a Comprehensive Sanitary Bill. ra la la! | IRISH TACTICS. | Meacuer of the Sword—who is so far akin to the sword that he , knows how to cut away—gave some truly rational advice to the people a week or two ago; for he recommended them to imitate the lads of Limerick, who had first erected barricades and then taken them down again. The mancuvre strongly reminds us of that of the | o six thousand men,” | who, as the poet melodiously tells us, ‘* Marched up the hill and then marched down again.” We can fancy the poor Irish dupes setting to work to construct a barricade, and when it was complete setting to work to take it away, in conformity with the rebellious principle of undoing all that has been done, and setting a thing up for no other purpose than the gratification of knocking it down again. The Limerick Confederates have indeed given an example of sagacity to the rest of their fellow-countrymen, | which Mgacuer of the Sword very naturally asks them to imitate. They have, no doubt, had the same truly Hibernian principle in view, of doing only to undo, when they got up a rebellion merely to get it down, and made an idol of Smita O’Baien simply to dis-idolise him when he required their fidelity. We should not be surprised if, in the event of an outbreak, they | shquid practise on each other’s heads, and act as policemen against themselves, by cracking the skulls of ore another. Military Changes. | Tue present Commander-in-Chief has been ably represented by a | pair of Wellington boots. ‘I'he next, we are told, will be nicely taken | off by a pair of Albert shoes. | DREADFUL SUPERSTITION IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Tere is a Member in the House of Commons who really believes that Mz. Suita O’Brien is in possession of his senses. It is but right to state, however, that the gentleman who nourishes this belief is only a Protectionist. His friends have long been looking after him. VOL, XV. H

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66 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. SKETCHES Microscopic View of Southend. A The five Dwelling-Houses. B The four Bathing-Machines, C The Shrubbery, with a Maze, D Library and Tap. E The Pump. F Traps for Lodgers, not all of them yet laid. G The Post-office. H The Brackish Ocean. I The Pier without an End (the Weturstey Lone Pog of the British Prerage). N.B. It is very curious, but it leads to property in the immediate neighbourhood of that nobleman, K Seats every half-mile, for the repose of exhausted travellers. Cockney tourists must know that Sheerness and Southend are the two pillars of the Thames. Southend is a beautiful downy pillow, lying at the head of a lovely d of oysters, which, with the shrimps, give the lazy incumbents that resort here the most delightful tuck in. Sheerness. and Southend are both at the mouth of the Thames; so that if the mouths of rivers were fur- nished like those of men, Southend would be one of its front teeth. To find it—which is no such easy voyage of discovery —you must start from London Bridge and take the first turning on the left. When you get there, anybody will direct you. There are many peculiarities to be picked up at South- end. Its greatest is its size. It may boast of being not only the first watering-place in point of situation, but the first also in point of littleness ; for, after all, it is very little bigger than a point. No point could be suffi- wey é small to express it on the map. It would be best described by being left out altogether. Its nearest size, I should say, would be that one which we often hear of, but rarely see, popularly called “ next to nothing.” To enjoy the town—to take it all in—you should look at it under a microscope. It would not make a bad subject for the oxyhydrogenic exhibition at the Polytechnic. Persons would be surprised at its magnitude, if it was only magnified about 5,000,000 times. You would scarcely believe it, but it has nearly as many bathing-machines as houses—that is to say, there are four of one, I think, and five of the other. The whole place might be packed comfortably, Library and all, in the Thames Tunnel, and leave room for a Bellevue Cottage and a Mount Pleasant to spare. It is a mere shrimp of a sea-town; Erith is a mighty lobster compared to it. If I had to describe Southend in any Guy’s Geography, I should speak of it as : “A fishing-town of ten souls, almost invisible to the naked eye, but which can be distinguished, on a very clear day, by the aid of one of Dotionn’s strongest telescopes.” I advise all travellers of weak sight, when they land, to call out “ Waiter!” when a gentleman with a napkin will suddenly appear, and conduct them in safety to the Royal Hotel. At night the place is illuminated with a big lamp-post, that is seen for several hundred yards round. This beacon is lighted, regardless of gas, for the assistance of visitors, who otherwise would never be able to find the town again when once they had left it after dark. The postman passes the spot repeatedly without being aware of it, and letters are frequently carried back to London with the libellous inscription, “* No such place to be found.” The inhabitants are so few, that there is a legend, that when they had occasion once to shout for the Queen, they were obliged to send over to Sheerness to “lend them half-a-dozen voices,” before they could raise a single “ Hip—hip—hurrah ! ” The longest peculiarity of Southend is by far its pier. It is a good day’s walk from one extremity to the other. A railway might be laid down, at avery trifling expense, if there was only traffic sufficient to pay for the coals that would necessarily be consumed to work the engines. | IN FRESH AND SALT WATER. BY THE BUOY AT THE NORE. This pier is nearly the length of all the London Bridges put together: even then, I think, it would require the Houses of Parliament, or one of Mr. Anstey’s speeches, to make up the difference. There ought to be a cab-stand at each terminus. Instances daily occur of a husband being at one end and a wife at the other, and their never seeing one another for hours. It may be for this reason that it is so often made a place of appointment with married couples; the distance lending (not the only distance that lending frequently leads to!) probably the greatest enchantment to the view. Woe to the traveller that is five minutes late for the steamboat! Un- less he has the Seven League Boots, he must stop at Southend another day. By-the-bye, they might easily establish an electric telegraph. I really pitied a poor servant, that was sent out **to tell master dinner was ready.” Master, at the time, happened to be at the pier head. It was full two hours before that wearied maid cahenual Couldn’t something be done to reduce this pier a few of its unfair proportions? [I am aware with what reverence a peer is looked upon in England, but still this one might be cut down without going between the wind and anybody’s nobility. It might be constructed on the principle of a telescope, to slide in and out, according as it was high or low water. This would come to the same thing in the end: it would only be several piers merged into one. I hope no one will accuse me of wishing to ~ up or weaken one of the strongest institutions of our beloved country ; for no one in his time has been more indebted to the pierage of England than myself, and the way in which I always cling to them must prove my attachment to such a national stronghold. Their value, I can tell you, is best proved in a storm. Another peculiarity of Southend is its extreme quiet. This may partly arise from there being no one to make a noise; but I half suspect it is strictly forbidden for any one to laugh or cough. I certainly never heard a single sneeze the whole time I lodged there, and, as I missed the steamer exactly seven times, I was at that marine abode of silence exactly a week. I only got away at last by sleeping all night at the top of the pier, with a tarpauline (that had the strongest perfume of pitch I ever inhaled) for my counter- pane, and a carpet-bag (that was full of boots, unfortunately) for my pillow. There is, however, a strong natural sleepiness that hangs over the five houses. The inhabitants, too, seemed as if they were practising to be somnambulists. I never heard them speak— I suppose they do occasionally—but they looked uncommonly like a set of deaf and dumb people that had come out to have a regular good holiday. I had occasion to whistle once, and ten windows were instantly thrown up to see what was the noise. The wind is the only thing that takes the liberty of making itself heard, and then it is only in the softest whispers, When the bells were ringing they reminded me of muffin-bells I have heard off London on a very foggy night. The crier came round; but, poor fellow, he must have had a sore throat, for I couldn’t hear a word he mumbled. I sent him, the next morning, a box of voice lozenges, but in the afternoon he was no better, for he had to announce “A copy of last week’s Times has just arrived,” and it sounded more like the noise of a strong blue-bottle that was knocking his head against the window in the vain endeavour of getting through it, than any thing human or articulate. He tried to speak up when he saw me, but his words, from long habit probably, preferred remaining in his throat, and they certainly did. Not one of them stirred out that day. I doubt if Universal Suffrage even would give that man a voice. There are more peculiarities about Southend. The Shrubbery is one; it is a stupendous maze, and beats Rosherville and Hampton Court hollow. It is constructed apparently to enable nurses to lose the young children in‘rusted to their charge. It may have another view, for I noticed that the bathing-machines were just opposite ; if so, other sea-towns (Ramsgate for one) would preserve the * decencies of life” all the better if they took a leaf or two out of that Shrubbery. Another peculiarity is the salt water; every bucket, I believe, contains’a whole grain of saline matter; but that grain must be a very homceopathic one,—so infinitesimal, that it must be a difficulty to see it, like the grain of sense which people who crowd a thousand in a steam-boat are said to possess. ‘The next

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i a { laughing-stock of the multitude, or the victims of a tastel PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 67 peculiarity is the Library: it is half a conservatory, half a reading- room. It is thrown open for the genial culture of hot plants and novels, Everything in it looked forced—the New Monthly Magazine particularly so. Several leaves fell off as I touched it: the thing was so delicate it was evidently falling to pieces. I asked for Vanity Fair. The pretty attendant coloured, as if blushing for her answer, and stammered out, “‘She was very sorry: the book was objected to.” Fancy Amelia as gr to! Imagine gentle-hearted Dodsin, poor fellow, objected to!! I advise TirmaksH not to land at Southend. He will infallibly be pelted with undated eggs, and the most ancient oranges that can be picked up inthe place. I didn’t ask for another book. I made sure that the best would be “objected to,” and the worst I only read on a railway or a steamboat, when I can get nothing else to read. There is nothing very peculiar or startling about the Reading-Room, excepting that it takes in the Mourning Herald. After this discovery, I hurried away as quick as I could, and ran over the beautiful walks in the neighbourhood. Everything was lovely,—the harvest was going on—little donkey-chaises, filled with grand- mammas and young children, went laughing by—‘he old sun was setting in all his oriental splendour—the birds were sing- ing their evening carols—but still I felt heavy and morose, and in the sort of humour to “object” to the best. of every- thing. This Objective Mood continued the following morn- ing, and after I had breakfasted, I found myself strongly “‘ object- ing” to Southend; though really it is full of the most pleasant peculiarities, and deserves being seen, if it is only for the novelty of the thing. It is the freshest little watering-place I ever ate shrimps at—the very reverse of “fast,”—not a policeman in the place— some first-rate donkeys—and the inhabitants as yet uncontaminated by the marine stores of cheating and stealing. Southend is well worth seeing with a microscope. THE SLANDERED ARMY TAILORS. AFTER all, it appears that the Goose that invented the shell-jacket for officers, was not the Tailor’s. ‘A Military Tailor,” ina letter to the Z'imes, thus vindicates the taste of his fraternity :— * As to the tailors being blameable for the alterations that may occur, I deny the soft impeachment. They are tabooed at the Horse Guards ; and the only trades- man who is ever consulied there, is not a tailor, which perhaps accounts for the incongruities that are committed,” We congratulate our ninth of a military man on the skill with which he plies the needle of sarcasm. We protest that we fear he will cut out our very selves. Ina passage no less admirable for its esthetics than its practicality, he proceeds :— “* Any tailor with correct notions of taste or utility, would not dress a stout man in a short jacket, or send a man of any size to Canada, in one.” This perception of the Fit, in relation te the Fat, and of the Com- fortable in connexion with the Chilly, is worthy of a transcendentalist. Our tailor—for he shall be our tailor—thus concludes, with a dignified burst of professional feeling :— **No, Sir, I flatter myself that when the authorities condescend to consult the tailors and act on their acvice, the officers of the army will no longer be the irr bility.” _ Bravo! We really sympathise with this good Knight of the Thimble in his jealousy for the fame of his Order. We admire his chivalry in defending it. For standing up thus gallantly for his cloth, we give him all credit, and when we employ him, we hope he will reciprocate our liberality, Our Indian Arrivals. By the last mail from India, we had consigned to us a small package of Puns from the Punjaub. We beg to inform the person sending them, that as the carriage is charged by weight, we have refused to receive the puns, which are now upon the hands of Messrs. Pickrorp; and though we understand from our Correspondent, that he has several times had these puns on the tip of his tongue, we do not feel ourselves strong enough to attempt to bear the burden. Apology for Smith O’Brien. THE courage of Mr. Suita O’Barten, in slinking, under the fire of the police at Boulagh Common, among the cabbages in Wipow Cor- MACK’s garden, may be questioned; but it is to be remembered that the hero, if he crept out of the way of the bullets, betrayed no fear of the slugs. CONSOLATION FOR THE LOYAL. N these days of dethronements and discoronation it is really refreshing to be enabled to turn to MapAME Tussaun’s, which is almost the only place in which Royalty can be met with in a satisfactory condition. In Baker Street, at least, the crowned heads of Europe are secure, and allegiance may be paid— together with one shilling, the price of admission—- at the waxen courts of most of the sovereigns. MADAME TUsSAUD has not yet established Repub- licanism in her Bazaar, and we believe she even contemplates offering an asylum to some of the dethroned kings, for whom she will provide crowns and sceptres quite equal to the legitimate insignia, and robes superior to their own, on condition of their holding levees from ten till dusk, and drawing- rooms in the evening, with a military band, which Mapame Tussavp will provide from eight until eleven. The excellent Pore Pius is much firmer on his sacerdotal music-stool in Baker Street, than on his pontifical chair at the Vatican. If there should be an extensive emigration of crowned heads, they will feel themselves thoroughly at home at Mapame Tussaup’s establishment. Smith @'tGrien’s WAar-Song. Come, let’s revolt ! Though fighting may prove folly, boys, We won’t be melancholy, boys, We only have to bolt. Pay back your wrongs— The Saxon’s base barbarity, The insult of his charity— With scythes, and pikes, and prongs. Think on your meed ; Revenge and plunder waiting us, Bloodshed and pillage sating us, If destined to succeed. If we should fail— Though they may overmatch us, boys, Still they will have to catch us, boys, When we have turned the tail. Whate’er betide, Tn case they shall have licked us, lads, What Jury will convict us, lads, Supposing we are tried ? One thing is clear— The drop is out of season now, They ’ll hardiy hang for treason now : Jack Keicu we need not fear. Though the worst come, Thanks to their weak humanity, They will but soothe our vanity With bloodless martyrdom. On, then, brave Pat! Fear not for our security ; If need be, of a surety, We'll take good care of that. Compliment to the Seditionists. Punch is desired by several influential members of the Aristocracy to present their compliments to the Physical Force Chartists, and to thank them for so engrossing the public mind with the fear of revolution, as to distract it from the pursuit of so-called moderate reform; such as any extension of the franchise, revision of taxation, interference with the Game Laws, abolition of sinecures, amendment of the law, reduction of expenditure, adjustment of Church property, or any other alteration in the established order of things. Punch has anything but pleasure in expressing his opinion that the persons in question are thoroughly deserving of the congratulation which he is requested to offer them. “ MURDER MOST FOUL, MOST,” &c. We read of frightful cases of murder by persons who have belonged to Burial Societies. We begin to suspect that our Ministers must belong to some such Burial Institution, from the number of the little — they have done away with this Session. But Whigs have no eelings !

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. = Cm Smith. “Wett, Brown! Tuts Is BETTER THAN BEING STEWED UP IN A Raltway! Eu ?” Brown (faintly). “ On—iM-mMEASURAPLY—SU-PERIOR.” “HOW HAPPY THE SOLDIER!” Tue felicity of the soldier, who, it was alleged, “lived on his pay, and spent half-a-crown out of sixpence a day,” could have been nothing to the truly Elysian happiness of the Ensign in the Army, who, out of a diurnal stipend of five and threepence, manages to expend some six or seven hundred ounds per annum. We dare say it adds greatly to the Seovens of the British soldier to be compelleg to wade | through an expense of many pounds, with such miserable odds in his favour as a few odd shillings. He must be pretty well accustomed to meet the enemy’s charge—we mean his tailor’s billi—with resources utterly unequal to the emer- gency; and in the battle he has to fight with his bills, he leaves them no alternative but to run, while he looks them in the face with marvellous audacity. How highly we ought to think of the Ensign’s boldness when we find him putting his five and threepence a day against such a perfect volley of charges as the following :— a 8. d. Mess Dinner . . e . . 2 6 Breakfast . ° ° . . . . -1 0 Soldier Servant . e . e ° . . e ° - 0 Washing ( ised by the tant buttoning up of the coat) 0 6 Subscription to Band ° ° . ° e ° ° -0 3} Regimentals, Linen, Boots, and General Wardrobe . ° -1 14 5 7 Leaving an excess of 44d. of expenditure over and above his income. A successful game at billiards with a more wealthy brother officer, or a fortunate bet per diem with a non-military friend, will easily supply the 44d. constituting the deficiency in the Ensign’s income ; and there is always whist or ecarté to resort to, for the purpose of obtaining the requisite funds for extra music, alterations in uniform, guests at mess, damask table-cloths, German band-masters, French cooks, and other luxuries that are incidental to % crack regiment. ‘There is nothing like training up our soldiery to face danger, hy putting them in such a position that they are likely to be hardened against the most formid- able of all encounters, the collision with an unsatisfied creditor. Togive them five and three-pence a day, to meet six or seven hundred a year, is the surest method of teaching | character. IRISH MILITARY TACTICS. E are certain the Battle of Boulagh . = x 7 tionof tactics with YS / \ _ whichwe have been é ‘~A>) made acquainted == under the general- ship of Smita} O’Brien. The | magnificent idea of falling back upon a =- cabbage-bed, and =~ covering the re- = tas = the ey. cabbage-leaves, is S ee quite worthy of a Sy Celtic hero, and we ~ only regret the —— were , not upon a more extensive scale, so as to have afforded Situ O'BRIEN a a oppor- tunity for developing his novel system of strategy. We believe that his plan would have embraced the whole resources of the kitchen garden, had he been allowed wider scope for his mancuvres, and had he proceeded beyond the “—e of merely taking care of himself, by giving his companions the benefit of his precautionary measures. His own retreat into the cabbage-bed was understood to have been chiefly dictated by the hope that, having lost heart, he might succeed in finding heart among the vegetables that afforded him such timely shelter. He had purposed intrenching a portion of his followers in the trenches of some celery, and he contemplated planting his cavalry appropriately ina grove of horse-radish. A select cohort of Tipperary boys were to have lain in ambush in some gooseberry-bushes, in order that their courage might have been pricked up, and part of the force was to have bivouacked in oy - VV are = ty or | y's yrated in military AS iT SP ANS! : annals, for the en- ay fh tirely new descrip- {i AZ a comfortable bed of parsley. The Saxon minions on their first approach were to have been surprised from a mignionette-box, in which a few of Smita O’Brien’s immediate followers were to have been concealed, and the drums would have beat from the beet-root bed on the arrival of the enemy. Notwithstanding the failure of these admirable plans, the Retreat of the Kitchen-Garden will always be famous in history, and we should suggest, as a memento of the event, a companion picture to Love among the Roses, in the shape of a grand semi-historical and rm meng tableau, representing SmitH O’Brien as War among tie ages. THE OFFICER’S TEAR. Beronre the glass he stood, To take a last fond view Of his person in his old undress Regimental frock of blue ; He marked how soldier-like The vestment did appear, And this unhappy Officer Could not restrain a tear. * Could any coat on earth,” Said he, “‘look haif so well ? | * Besides, the change will cost Full nigh a quarter’s Pay And the coat that scarce hath ser- vice seen, We shall have to throw away ; Thus, treating us exactly like Light-fingered gentry do, Not only they cut off our tails, But pick our pockets too.” His manly cheek was wet— Must we change this graceful He put his hand behind, uniform And he felt the skirts of his surtout, For the unbecoming shell ? His handkerchief to find. ‘** Ah! where shall I stow this, When they have shorn my rear ?” Exclaimed the mournful Officer, As he wiped away a tear. In that crustaceous garb, Our type will be the snail ; The happier shell-fish weareth not A coat without a tail.” The Indignant Irishman. IntsHMEN! The base Saxon asks in what way he has insulted us? Is it insulted? Hasn’t he exempted us from income-tax, window-tax, carriage-tax, and servant-tax ? Isn’t that as much as to tell us that we have no incomes, windies, carriages, and domistic manials to bless our- selves? Isn’t it tratin us with scorn and contempt, and castin a slur on the respectability and opulence of our iligant nation ? them to battle against odds of the most overwhelming | | | $00} wey [TTY ‘orour Ayuemy £ Wey} 430M 8, 38} ‘Avp v Aju0m3 sty UeUT Ar0A0 [TH OA PHO sny} pus ten osnier ‘mmnouou eerer Satan faamar 6 tram tre ‘azomr £179 M1 aSuaTTen. ‘ TWAT TITS] DINOA OA ‘TTD AA cone scm ae fa feaoricer tae ame (rAASSTERE 2AATARTM Mere Geese |

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yy . J | | \ = nt Y ———————— = — t See i ———— = : = SS ee ee pe : | — = SSS Oo = || _ —-— = =e 6«£ - — —— “x Ss ; THE IRISH BOBADIL. Bobadil (on this occasion) . . By tHe King or M—nst—r. The Gulls By two Nororiovs Ferons aBout Towy. “ The fact is this—that there are at present in occupation of our country some 40,000 armed men in the livery and s ervice of England; and ¢he question is—how best and soonest to kill and capture these 40,000 men.”—Vide “ Times.” “ Bobadil, And how would I doit, think you? Why, thus, Sir. I would select nineteen more to score; twenty score, that’s two hundred; two hundred a-day, five days a thousand: forty thousand ; | myself. . . . This done, say the enemy were 40,000 strong, we twenty would come into the field the forty times five, five times forty, two hundred days kills them all up by computation. And this I will | tenth of March, or thereabouts ; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy ; they could not, in their | venture my poor gentlemanlike carcass to perform, provided there be no treason practised upon us, by | honour, refuse us! Well, we would kill them; challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill | fair and discreet manhood, that is, civilly by the sword.” —Vide ‘‘ Every Man in his Humour.” them ; twenty more, kill them too; and thus would we kill every man his twenty a day, that ’s twenty — Leh eens — ——

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 71 DRAMATIC LIFE INSURANCE OFFICE. WE understand that a party of gentlemen, connected with the business of Dramatic Authorship, have resolved on forming an Association for Insuring the Lives of all New Pieces, and guaranteeing a certain sum of money to those interested in their welfare, in the event of the new pieces becoming prematurely dead by getting unceremoniously damned. The object of the Association will be to protect the owners of this kind of property against loss and ruin, from accident, either by hissing, yawning, or other causes that are likely to prove fatal toa drama; anda graduated scale of premiums, commensurate with the risk incurred, has already been prepared. Translations will be considered doubly hazardous; and it has been determined by the Directors to grant no policy in fayour of any = in which the very dangerous practice of firing is carried on; for the constant fire that must be kept up in order to work this branch of the dramatic business with effect, is believed to be a source of con- tinual danger, by which the whole thing may at any moment explode. It is in contemplation to establish a sort of brigade of clagueurs in con- nection with the Insurance Office, who will be instructed to give the alarm at the first symptom of danger, when all hands will be expected to go to work; and several engines belonging to the press will be attached to the Company, with the view of insuring all pieces insured in the office against untoward accidents. _ In order to meet the views of individual actors or actresses interested in particular parts of a dramatic production, but regardless of its fate as a whole, calculations have been made by which an insurance may be effected on a single scene, or a single part, or in some cases even upon a single speech, if the success of a part may be thought to depend upon it. Blank verse may be insured in quantities of not less than a hundred lines, and in some instances jokes will be accepted for insurance; but the policy will be high in proportion to their age, and nothing more advanced in years than JoE inass can possibly be dealt with. TROOPS AT EVERTON. We have seen with considerable surprise the announcement of the formation of a camp at Everton. Our — ul feelings have experienced a severe shock from this startling intelligence. Everton is associated in our minds with everything sweet, and we shudder at the possibility of the Toffey districts being proclaimed. There has been a rumour of a rising among the hard-bake population, and five hundred bullets, disguised as brandy-bal!s, have been seized by the police, as well as a million squibs, which upon having the outer coating sucked off from them, have turned out to be made of explosive materials. Something has been said about drilling in this quarter, and the forma- tion of squares ; but we have ascertained that the formation of squares is a very harmless practice, with reference to hard-bake, to which the process has been limited. MODEL CLERKS. HE Lawyer’s Crerk enters the office at nine, and leaves at eight. His only holiday is when he is sent into the country to serve a writ. He has a ‘fine bold hand,” and can “‘ fair copy ” two brief sheets an hour. He does not throw up his salary because he is too proud to engross skins of parchment ; on the contrary, he has a pair of false sleeves (like umbrella-cases) for the purpose. He J.aows exactly the legal price of everything, from a savage assault to a breach of PP of marriage. He is not fond of taxing, and is ready to cry if not allowed his “ Letters and Messengers” every Term. His great delight in an action is to “get costs.” He then shows the admirable system of “the office” by proving in how short a time a long bill can be made out, sent in, execution served, with ; the sheriff's sale, if not paid within a fortnight. He has no patience with people who come to beg for time—he is very sorry, he has but one duty to perform. That duty is invariably an appointment with the obsequious Joun Dor, made by Her Gracious Magesty at the Court of Exchequer, or some other place of amusement. He does not read novels during office hours, nor roast chesnuts, nor apples, nor act plays, nor toss for beer, nor learn “ The Wolf,” or any song, comic or dreary, when “the Governor” is out. His soul is in master’s pocket, and he always appeals, or has a rejoinder ready, or a new bill on the file, if the client can only afford it. His cry, like DemostHEnes’, is always “ Action, action, action,” and in his opinion the best reward a good action can have is a Chancery suit. He is cautious as he is zealous—keeps a copy of every letter, almost dislikes saying, “ How d’ye do” without a witness, has a horror of giving promises on paper, and always tries to inflate 6s. 8d into the dimensions of 13s. 4d. He would blush to take any of the office = pe home with him. He understands perfectly when a client bas called to complain of delay; in which case, “Mr. Hooxwam has always just stepped out—he believes it is to move in your very suit.” He takes but half-an-hour for his dinner, and only allows himself ten minutes for his tea. When he serves you with a writ, he hopes “you will not be offended—it is his most painful duty.” The same with a distress: he throws a cloak of politeness over every step that gradually leads a man from a lawyer’s office to the Queen’s Bench. By half-starving, the strongest self-denial, little agencies from friends he has recommended to the office, and the Christmas Boxes of a long range of years, he saves a hundred pounds, and, working upon half salary in lieu of a premium gets articled to his master. However, the County Courts have d a fine profession, and Lorp Brovewam has so cut down the profits of the Law to scarcely a herring a-day, that he is obliged to come back and occupy the same stool he has ae grey upon omg | his clerkhood. He buries all ambition in his “ pad,” takes to copying after office hours, in order to gain a few pounds, when his fingers can no longer hold a pen, and ultimately resigns his desk to some young man, who, like himself, with a strong constitution, and probably a generous heart, sells himself Silings (and “‘a rise”) as to lose both, for the matter of eighteen a LawyYeEr’s CLERK. Tue Ratway Crier dresses smartly. He is a friend of a Director, or the cousin of a large Shareholder. Business with him is quite a secondary consideration. He opens his little trap-door five minutes before the train, and closes it the minute the clock has struck. He will take your money if you want a ticket, but mind, he is not answerable for any mistake. He has no time to count change, or answer questions about trains, or attend to stupid people who come inquiring about the persons who were killed by yesterdav’s accident. It is not his business. He cannot attend to every one at once, and he runs his diamond fingers through his rich, Macassared hair. It’s really no fault of his if you lose the train—you ought to have come sooner; and then he whips off, with a very pretty penknife, a sharp corner that pains the symmetry of one of his filbert nails. What should he know ? about dogs?—you had better inquire at — the luggage train. You can write to the newspapers by all means, if you like: the newspapers don’t pay The parcels are not in his department—the porters perhaps can tell. He is very sorry he has no change for a five Loe note—he has no doubt you can get it round the corner. e yawns all the morning—his eyes are only half open at eight o’clock, and his white waistcoat betrays his dreadful impatience to get to the Opera,'as the {time draws slowly towards the mail train. What he does between the dreary intervals, as we cannot peep over the walls of mahogany into the small circle of his duties, we cannot tell. On a Sunday, however, his usual amiability deserts him. His cambric shirt is beautifully smooth, but his temper is sadly ruffled. The Excursions upset him. The number of absurd questions annoy him. He wonders how people can be so foolish, and at last makes a resolution not to answer any more inquiries; and the Railway Clerk knows his own dignity too well not to keep it. He becomes as silent as a Government Surveyor’s m4 over a “ Dreadful Collision.” He only stares; but occasionally troubles himself to the utmost of his abilities to give a nod that may express ‘‘ Yes” or “ No,” just as the person leases. Beyond this, the Railway Clerk is as obliging as most Clerks, and - has this advantage, that he is very good-looking, and after coming out of an omnibus ona wet day, is quite pleasant to look at. Inthe heat of sum- mer he looks cool—in the depths of winter he always appears warm and comfortable. He is really a pattern of politeness to ladies, and smiles most condescendingly to pretty girls, displaying his gallantry and white teeth in a thousand little ways. He was evidently intended by Nature as an ornament to a tea-party, or born to grace a pic-nic. The only pity is, that his friends ever made him a Raruway CLERK. MENDICANCY IN THE CITY. WE observe that Messrs. Mitts axp BousrFrexp have been elected Sheriffs of London, but have refused to serve. We recommend the ae Shrievalty to the attention of the Mendicity Society, since it goes egging.

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72 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | } i Dy a re rm: i| } tate Ce yanflbie . NI Vij qty if WNT Ai hiTseE days of Romance are certainly as extinct as the deys of Algiers, and even smugglers have degenerated, from the WiLL Watcues of former times, to the lowest of itinerant Israelites. Smuggling has enlarged its area by the adoption of the common herd of area sneaks into its once lant fraternity. Piracy has left the sea, familiarly known as “the blue, the fresh, the ever free,” to settle on the scum of the literary world, and smuggling has been abandoned by the gallant, though lawless, sons of the ocean, to be taken up by the fraudulent crew of pedlars and hawkers, who look down into kitchens and up into attics, for the victims of a misplaced confidence. We recollect the time when a smuggler presented himself to our imagination as a magnificent villain, with black fringe for ringlets, a night-cap slashed with red worsted, like the chimney of the City of Canterbury steamboat, a belt of patent leather ten inches in breadth, a pistol in each hand, a pair in his girdle, and a sword in his mouth—to realise the ferocious allegory of “armed to the teeth”—and a white petticoat sown up the centre, by way of trousers, with a pair of pumps adorned by paste shoe-buckles, and equally adapted for skipping about in terrific combats or naval horn- pipes; for the smuggler was half Tar half Tar-tar in our early days, when T. P. Cooke and Terry were the representatives of the British Navy at the Adelphi, and the Battle of Trafalgar might be seen every night at half-price, including a beautiful tableau of Lorn Netson dying in the arms of three supernumeraries, “expecting every man to do his duty,” and execrating the carpenters, so¢¢o voce, for not letting down the curtain in time to release him from his uncomfortable attitude. The Smuggler is unhappily quite another creature now from what he was then, and his smuggling seems to consist of the very superfluous labour of importing as contraband those goods which are not liable to the smallest amount of duty. He will, for instance, be as mysterious over a palpably British worsted comlorter, value 9d, as if he unrolled it from the throat of an outlandish Muft i, swam with it in his mouth from the Eastern Archipelago to Wapping Old Stairs, and suffo- cated the custom-house officer by cramming it half-way down his throat in order to avoid the payment of duty. If we are to put faith in the hawkers, every one of the craft is a smuggler in disguise, and every article they offer for sale has been landed from some distant port, in defiance of the coast guard, or by the bribery of all the custom-house authorities. The cheroot, cabbaged from an adjacent cabbage-garden, has been conveyed in a pencil-case all the way from Havannah, and the calico at 24d. per yard, was stripped from the back of a dancing dervise, and pocketed by a Carib chief, who gave it to the hawker in exchange for a tenpenny-nail, a glass bead, a bottle of Bass’s ale, and a kitchen-poker. The handkerchief offered at half-a-crown, and perhaps pilfered from some rural hedge, in an adjoining village, is, if we are to believe the Hawker Smuggler, the identical handkerchief thrown last year by the Sultan to his favourite Sultana, and picked up by the party now in possession, who got into the Harem disguised as one of the eunuchs, for no other purpose than to select his stock of Eastern goods, in order to give an extensive choice to his British customers. The splendid shawl at 2s. 9¢. was the turban seized from the head of a turbaned Turk, who had been bonnetted first and robbed afterwards | of his head-gear, when he had become too stupid and confused to rotect himself; and the catskin muff was of course purchased of a ufti, whose appetite for ram-shrub had enabled the hawker to effect an exchange on such terms that the muff might be “put in” at three half-crowns to an English purchaser. We hope that the enlightenment we have given to the world on the subject of the Smuggled Goods Dodge will have its effect, and that the parvenu smugglers will find the police have such an eye to duty, that an effective drawback may be imposed upon the trade in alleged contraband. MORE ARCHAOLOGY. Tue Archeologists are at it again, and have been riding rolling about their barrows, tumbling over their tumuli, and rubbing up their monumental brasses, with more than their usual energy. We last heard of them at Lincoln, where they mounted a dead wall, and, sticking to it like bricks, declared it to be the relic of the “ Old Mint of Lincoln.” It is usually a sign of weakness to fly to the wall; but the Archzologists were in great force, and E. Hawkins, Esq, “ read a ‘paper upon the wall ;” his brother members sitting, of course, upon the wall to support and encourage him. He went into the wall brick by brick ; dwelt forcibly on the buttress ; revelled among the mortar ; and hanging upon the coping with affectionate tenacity. their hobbies, He followed the cement from the lime-kiln to the hod; he handled | cleverly the clay that gave the material for the foundations; and then, | taking a rapid glance at walls in general, he touched lightly on the Great Wall of China; passed gracefully over the walls of the Colosseum, and came playfully down upon Blackwall with a pun that shook the old wall of the Mint of Lincoln with the laughter of his audience. He then proceeded to a digression on wall-fruit, and went cleverly into the peach, which he laid open with such effect, that in his mouth the peach seemed to be a different thing from what it appeared before he set his tongue and his jaw in motion, to show what might be done with it. After the paper on the wall was concluded—a paper by which, if walls have ears, the subject of the discourse must have. been greatly edified—an energetic Archeeologian insisted on reading a paper about “The family of the Dymocks,” which might have been very interest- ing if Mr. and Mrs. Dymock, or any of the little Dymocks, had been there to hear it ; but as this was not the case, the audience stole away by degrees, and the savant was for some time holding forth alone on “The family of the Dymocks,” until a rustic voice, exclaiming, * Holloa! you chap come down off that there wall,” induced him to look around, and led to his discovery of his loneliness. By way of gratifying the Archzologian, who had inquired if there was any barrow in the neighbourhood, he was wheeled home in what was supposed to be his favourite vehicle; and, his remonstrances being set down to the score of modesty, were of course wholly disregarded. A Polite Inquiry. Te Session is fast wearing out. Before it is completely threadbare, may we venture to ask, without wishing to be in the least impertinent, if Lorp Joun intends to do anything? Onur friend, Mrs. Cutck, unites with us in imploring him to “make an effort.” She says she is sure he would soon get over his difficulties “if he, poor fellow, would only make an effort.” We hone he will, but don’t expect it.

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e, it, es re ld _ —& ~~ ts @ er O @ ep || PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 73 te Se. ne THE IRISH ABD-EL-KADER. zt us hope Situ O’Brien will be taken before these remarks fall into the public hands, or rather get into the public eye: for if he is not captured, we shall begin to look upon Smita O’Brien as a sort of Anp-EL-KADER whom everybody sees, but nobody seizes. Every day last week brought accounts of his having walked up to, parleyed with, and walked away from the very persons who were in pursuit of him, and to whom it never occurred that it would have been as well to have collared him at once, instead of indulging in small talk. The whole business has been beautifully Irish; for when SmitH O’Brien and the authorities have met, the latter have usually considered themselves the obliged parties by being allowed _, to go’ about their business; ‘and the former has made quite a merit of civilly permitting them to depart without opposition. He has been walking up to officers and others, with pistols in’ his hand, and walking off again as coolly as possible, while on other occasions he has been equally potent, with no other weapon than a walking-stick. At one place he seems not merely to have deliberately bid his pursuers bye, but to have helped himself to one of their horses in order to accelerate his departure, while the police “y! looked on and allowed him to evaporate. e wonder that the Inspector did not send one of his men to call a cab for Smiru O’Baten, to convey him to the nearest railway station, and enable him to make good his retreat with the utmost speed ; or fetch him a Bradshaw, that he might take his choice of routes, and select the one that would most effectually baffle his pursuers. One would think that the book of etiquette, rather than the Articles of War or the Govern- ment Proclamations, had been the guide adopted by the authorities in their dealings with Mr. Surru O’Brien : it has been a sort of “ how d’ye do,” and “ good bye,” between him and the soldiery, whenever they have come into each other’s presence. A little dialogue has occasionally ensued, in the course of which the officer in command has given his word of honour that he has had no warrant to arrest SMITH O’Brien ; and, after a few further exchanges of courtesies, the interview has usually e by the parties walking off in opposite directions. THE CHEAP SHIRT MARKET. Ir is a golden rule, doubtless, to buy in the cheapest market. But the cheapest market is sometimes a foul place. The cheapest sugar is that, which is slave-grown. e cheapest fire-irons are to be had at the marine store keeper’s. The —- linen is purchased at the slop- shop—at what cost let us see. recent police report in the Zimes informs us that, at Lambeth— “Emma Mounser, a wretched-looking woman, but who, from her manner, had evidentiy seen much better days, was brought up for final examination, before Mr. Norton, on the charge of unlawfully pawning seventeen shirts, the property of Messrs. Moses and Son, Aldgate. . . . The prisoner did not deny pawning the shirts, but said she had been driven to the act by sheer necessity. Her husband, who was a printer, she said was out of employment, as well as her son and her daughter, and al), at this particular time, were dependent on the wretched pittance which she made by shirt-making.” It may seem a difficult task to feed four mouths with a needle, yet that of Emma Movunser might have served as a fork to administer the food which it earned. Mr. Norton inquired of the accused— “* What were you paid for making these shirts ?” “ Prisoner.—2s, 6d. a dozen, your Worship, or 2}d. apiece.” Now, to support herself and family at this rate, Emma Mounser must have possessed the productiveness of a steam-engine, and even then her frame—albeit of iron—would have been overworked. But, the magistrate asking how much she had been able to earn a day at such work— ‘The prisoner replied that the utmost she could do in the day was to make two shirts, and dedccting from th.m the price of the thread, cotton, and needles, all of which she was to find herself, she could not make more than 4d. a day.” She was, then, a to make shirts, and, out of her destitution, to supply the thread. There was a certain monarch who obliged his subjects to make bricks, and gave them no straw. Is it necessary that we should mention this historical fact to Moses? But Mosgs, it must in fairness be remembered, is a seller as well as a buyer in the cheap market. A clerk in the Aldgate establishment was in attendance, and Mr. Norton demanded of him what were the prices of the shirts thus economically produced P— “ The n alluded to said the wholesale price was twelve shillings a dozen, or one apicce.” _So the work of each shirt costs 24d., and the article sells at 1s. ; the difference between which sums is 9}d., subject to a certain deduction for materials. We are left to wonder what stuff such shirts are made of, and till we know we cannot tell what the vender gets, and are unable to say what he deserves. It is not, we are happy to say, our intention to deal with him, but with his customers. The clerk, to his foregoing statement, added that— “‘ The competition in such business was so great that his employers, Messxs, Moss AND Son, could not afford to pay more than the present rate.” It is the purchaser, therefore, rather than the seller of cheap shirts, that is the task-master, the Paaraox, of such as Emma MounseRr. These are the gentlemen who save in linen, to the starvation, demoralisation, and destruction of needle-women. Such trifling considerations cannot be expected to arrest them in soning to the Cheap Clothes Mart. It is, nevertheless, in their power to plunge into a yet lower depth of parsimony. The organisation of stinginess would enable them to procure shirts at -— still more ridiculous. By judicious combination they might grind the shirt-makers without the intervention of a middle-man. There was once a Society called the Dirty Shirt Club. Suppose they form an Association with that truly appropriate epithet. In the mean time, those who would unite comfort—of conscience as well as of back—with economy, will, perhaps, avoid the slop-shop, employ their own workwomen, and pay them decently; their shirts neither pinching them, nor they the shirt-maker. mn oi gp Mr AES ye ue % Y/ eG G T fea ‘| } | IR Wee Tue Lords have been complaining bitterly of having nothing to do in their own House, in consequence of the little work that has been cut out for them this Session by the Commons. Lorp Brovenam done his utmost to find a vent for his superfluous energy, and has been trying Legal Reform as a safety-valve, though without much effect, for he has been almost constantly on the fiz and fume without bein able to go a-head by the aid of his vapour. We recommend their Lord- ships to try emigration, the great remedy of the day, which, during the recess, they might resort to very beneficially. They have been lately merely dummies in the game of life; but if they were to suit themselves with spades, they might turn up regular trumps in some distant colony. We do not recommend permanent expatriation to the peers; but after the ennui of this do-nothing Session, we are sure they might find both health and amusement abroad, in the exercise of a little manual labour. ; APOLOGY FOR THE SHELL-JACKET. Mocz# as the shell-jacket may be objected to as a disfigurement to the British officer, it is, unquestionably, an excellent coat for action; as the wearer will certainly never show the enemy his back.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. | PARIS CLUBS IN LONDON. | ERILY, the Clubs'may be abolished in Paris, but | _) there’s no shutting one’s ears to the fact that | they exist with equal fury in London. They | have taken refuge in the coffee-shops, and the | different restaurateurs about Leicester Square. | Enter any of the cafés, where the long-beards most do congregate, and try to get through a; newspaper. A hundred voices, each shouting its loudest, soon makes nonsense of the very best Leader. The noise completely ruins all attempt at reading. It is a perfect Babel de Paris. It gives you a faint notion what the National Assembly must be. Every’ Frenchman is talking at once.- In: vain is silence implored ; the discussion still continues, and the arguments wax so warm, that you imagine every minute they can only be settled by blows. There is generally a representative of every class of opinion. Henry V. (that never was, and never is to be) finds his champion in some closely- cropped enthusiast, and the réactionaires prophesy all sorts of revolu- tions yet tocome. Royalists, Legitimists, Bonapartists, all contribute , to the din; and they talk so earnestly and confidently, that you are per- | suaded they must be, at least, Guizot, or Louis NaPo.zon, or Jorn- VILLE, in disguise. Communism even has its rabid oracles, and they are generally of the loudest. On one of our visits we heard one prophet declare that “all goods ought to be equally divided ;” and certainly his system had one advantage, for, judging from his appearance, he could not possibly be a great sufferer by it himself. We involuntarily shifted | our quarters to the other end of the room. His denunciations made us tremble for the safety of our breakfast ; for we naturally expected that he would begin sharing our ham and eres, and helping himself to half our tea, as a simple matter of right. He was very mild, however; a} perfect Danton in speech, but a gentle BERANGER in demeanour. He wished the room “ Bon jour,” with all the amiability of a “ don enfant,” and walked out with his own umbrella. | There was one Republican who, we confess, somewhat alarmed us. ' We do not know whether he belonged to the Social Republic, or to the | Democratic, or to the Red or White, Tricolor, Purple, Green, or to} what particular shade of the numerous series of polychromatic Republics. | Suffice it to say, he startled us by loudly asserting that—“ A/Z property | was a theft”? We had a sovereign at the time (we hope no one will | think us proud) in our pocket, and felt very uneasy lest this mad | disciple of Mons. ProupHon should denounce us as a public robber. A certain panic was created, also, in the room. ts were buttoned up, and several of the most timid asked “2 suddenly “ what they had to pay.” We did not linger long. The discussion was very interesting at first, from its peculiarity; but the novelty soon lost its charm when we discovered that two of the apostles entertained such very peculiar opinions. We left the place in safety, though the latter gentleman followed us down stairs, with no other intention, as we! thought, than that of tearing the coat off our back, and carrying off our diamond pin, if only to prove his favourite theory that “ all property was a theft.” We are weak enough to confess we should not like to lodge in the same house with that man! These discussions are continued, it seems, upon une séance permanente. We passed the café at 11 o’clock at night, and they were still speaking all together, in the same loud strain as when they spoilt our breakfast. Now we like to read the morning newspapers quietly by ourselves. It is the enjoyment with which we always open the day; but we defy any one to tell what the Funds are, or to make out a single word of last night’s interesting debate, whilst fifty clamorous Frenchmen are throwing into your ears such horrible truths, as that all “ goods ought to be equally divided,” and that “property is nothing better than a theft.” Admirable laws these, doubtless, for a nation of pickpockets, of which Newgate was the capital, but scarcely adapted for industrious persons, who have yet to learn that meuwm and tuum mean exactly the same thing, whether in French or in English. These wild émtgrés of the Parisian Clubs should have a room to themselves. In the meantime, we ouly say, “ Landlords, look to your spoons.” The King of Munster and the Coal-Hole. THERE is something very remarkable in the affection evinced by Sairu O’Brien for coals and coal-hole:, which have been associated, more or less, with the whole of his political career. If he should ever come to the throne of Munster, and wear the Irish crown, they will assuredly be nothing but black diamonds that will sparkle in his diadem. It would seem as if he was always looking amongst the coal-cellars for fuel to feed the flame of rebellion, from the time when he was let down as a martyr into the coal-hole of the Commons to the present moment, when he is supposed to be sneaking about the coal-pits of Ballingarry, under the protection of the Irish Black-boys. As the would-be suc- cessor of Guy Faux, Smita O’Brien must feel himself at home in the cellar, though he does not much relish the determination of the Government to haul him over the coals. PROSPECTS OF THE HARVEST. WE have seen a great deal in the papers about the Harvest and the Crops ; but, resolved upon using our own eyes and our own ears, without trusting to the ears of barley sent up to us as specimens, or relying on the chaff that reaches us by every post, we repaired to that extensive agricultural district, the Exeter Arcade, whose beadle is one of the | most intelligent of tenant-farmers, and whose stacks raise their heads among the chimneys in the neighbourhood. We are happy to say that we found his crops in admirable order, and by the system of farming very high, which he invariably adopts—for he grows two pots of wheat in his garret window—he gives every possible chance to the style of cultivation in which he is conversant. We found a large portion of his ground laid down with barley, in the proportion of six ds to the stone—we mean the paving-stone—and we understand that the worthy fellow expects to realise such a ~~ as will insure him six successive jugs of barley-water during the whole of the six weeks now ensuing. He has not yet commenced his usual autumnal thrashing, though he has been practising on the backs of the boys, out of whom he manages to thrash all the superfluous chaff with wonderful activity. He has | some idea of converting the centre of his land into a sheep-walk, by ; accommodating one or two lambs with the right of promenade down the middle of his truly Arcadian retreat, where the animals will be allowed | to graze upon the herbage, at the risk of grazing themselves against the , iron gratings that skirt each side of the domain. \- has not yet employed any regular bailiff on the farm, but several bailiffs have operated, from time to time, upon the property. The farmer- beadle was present at the Agricultural Meeting at York, where he excited the utmost admiration by exhibiting the simplest thrashing machine in the world, consisting of a single piece of cane, which can be worked by hand with the utmost facility. The Exeter Arcade beadle is looked upon, by the farmers generally throughout the country, as a great acquisition to their body, and he takes the chair every afternoon at the Catherine Street end of lis property, to preside at any important meeting that may be got up on the spot, when he inculcates the great We believe that he | principles of progress by communicating solemnly the words “ Move , on,” to his various auditors. The great object of his life is to give an impetus to everything, and his favourite phrase of “‘ Now then! Look ; alive! Go-a-head!” is repeated at least a hundred times a day to the numerous wayfarers who loiter about his richly cultivated abode of | agrarian industry. 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, in the Precint of Whitefriare, in the City of London, and Published | by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parisn ef St. Bride, in the City of London—Saruroar, | Aveusr /2th, 1s43.

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ry, 1C- he PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 75 IN THE EAST. uncH has been arraigned in Upper Scinde by Lrevtenant-CotoneL Suaw there commanding, before the Ist Bulotsh \ native battalion. We take the report from the Telegraph and Courier, Bombay paper. ii The Colonel presents new colours to the 4 / Bulotshistan force. Having descanted on PUNCH the “floral insignia” of the colours— (what were the field-of-battle flowers; heart’s-ease or sword-lily?)—he snubs the utilitarian, who would no doubt go to battle with any colours that would wash. “TI readily grant,” says the Colonel, “that a pikestaff and less expensive dra- pery would serve the purpose equally well.” No doubt: but that is no reason that a pocket-handkerchief, printed with the various heroism of Jack the Giant- killer, should take the place of floral insignia, sown with needles in a field of silk. Carry out this miserable, cold economy, and the silver trumpets and drums of the Household troops might be sent to the crucible, and their places filled by tin horns. We are all interested in making the scenery and decorations of glory as fine as possible. The more show, the greater opposition of colour, the better. In fact, we yet hope to see the day—especially when we reflect upon the unceasing labours of His Royat Hicuness Prince ALBERT for the advancement of the Army—when there will be raised a regiment, to be called “The Queen’s Light Harlequins.” The uniform would be a great improvement on the present military “shell,” because with Harlequin there is no saying where the panialoons begin, and the jacket ends. However, this by the way. We are keeping Lirv- TENANT-CoLONEL SHaAw waiting; and—we are sure of it from his address to the Bulotsh battalion—the Colonel is worthy of all courtesy as a gentleman and a soldier. We feel a pleasant flutter of embarrass- ment as we proceed to republish the Colonel’s words: but we are too patriotic to let our own besetting modesty interfere with the perform- ance of a public duty. “One,” says the Colonel— “One whose wit is, to this moment, as brilliant as ever, after having ransacked all things, and used them up; he who is the chief choice spirit of the day, the magician who enchants every class from the noble to the peasant, and charms every age from the urchin to the aged man ; he who, amid all his rich revelry in fun, seems to bear throughout it a charmed existence in the lofty tone of a morality which never falters, but is always sound ; I say this dread potentate has arraigned these cere- monials of presentation at the bar of the age; and has cast upon them the deso- lating lava of his ridicule. But, how! by what keen sleight of sorcery has the mighty wizard achieved his spell? I will tell you; he has conjured up the assump- tion that soldiership and brigandism are mere synonymes; and, with this for his suffi- ciently spacious basis, he fails to see upon what score of propriety lovely woman should grace us with her august presence, and deign with her snow-white hands to commit the banner of war to the brave spirits who defend her in peace and purity!” No, Colonel, no. Let Puach explain. He make true soldiership and brigandism “synonymous!” Never. May his grey goose-quill turn the whitest and most recreant feather, could he defile foolscap with such a thought! Punch takes off his hat, and bows—reverently bows—to the heroism, the endurance of human nature, tested in the terrible crucible of war. Puch honours the valour of the soldier ; but Punch hopes for the day when all men of all nations will denounce Mars as a curse, and not cocker up the bully, dress him, fondle him, and call him all sorts of ive sugared names, to make the Ogre of the world pass for its eneficent guardian spirit. Punch will continually use his ink where- with to water the clive; but whilst he does this, he will give all honour to the men who, in the field of carnage, gather the blood-stained laurel. As for the “snow-white hands ” of woman; bless them, if they must minister to glory, their best employment is to pick lint for the wounded, and not to pat “the dogs of war” to slaughter. If women are to se colours, and say pretty things of blood and rapine, talking of urels, instead of good housewife sage and onions—why should they not serve at once? Why not raise a few battalions of Amazons ? Tek not have a regiment of “Connaught Doves,” or “ Coldstream uCKS! The editor of the Telegraph says, CotoneL Saaw’s “allusion to the satirical comments of Puch upon the presentation of colours, cannot fail to be appreciated.” Verytrue. Puxch appreciates them ; and—we are sure the Colonel will confess as much—has duly chronicled them. Instinct in Grouse. Accounts from the Moors mention a curious phenomenon which has this year been observed among the grouse. The birds are seen every- where continually clapping their wings. It has been suggested that they have been attacked with a disease of the nature of Sr. Virus’s Dance; but the more probable opinion is, that by the singular movement they are expressing their joy at the unusual lateness of the Session. “ WHERE SHALL WE GO FOR THE SUMMER ? ” A Domestic SGelogue. Mamma (/oguitur), Te Opera Subscription is over, To our balls we can scarce find a comer, Tis time we were winging towards Dover— But where shall we start for the summer ? To Paris what lady can go? Not one of my girls, if I know, shall; Democracy ’s shockingly low, And Socialism is so unsocial. Though the Magazin Susse in its place is, With its xouveautés dazzling the eye, And Victorre’s loves of bonnets and laces, Which papas, though they grumble, must buy ; Who’d shop, in one’s bargains to go Snacks with scores, p’rhaps, of Communist holders ? And what zs the use of chapeauz, When one’s head isn’t safe on one’s shoulders ? Then at Baden and Nassau the nation In the mouth of the cannon is runnin’, For the bubble men call Reputation, Not the bubble from out their own Brunnen, Till e’en croupiers, to chorus “ La Gloire,” Leave the waltzes of Strauss and of LANNER, And add gold to their old rouge et noir, To make up the national banner. There ’s Vienna émeutes every day, Till the students find out what their want is ; And Bavaria is in a sad way With the ex-king and Miss Lota Montes ; And, lest Louis should king it again, For its liberties Munich afraid is, What with those that he takes from the men, And those that he takes with the ladies. To the Nile one might dash off full tilt, Tho’ nought of its Hist’ry or Art one knows ; It’s come out like a lion re-gilt, Since ¢hat clever book of Miss MARTINEAU’S. But alas! there’s no hope to awaken One’s romance épropos of King Puaraon, For Cholera the best rooms has taken In every hotel of Grand Cairo ! There’s Rome! It’s quite shocking to think That dear Pore, all “pro publico bono,” If invited to eat or to drink By his clergy, is forced to say “ No, no.” While at Naples, who knows who’s in power— The King or the King’s lazzaroni ? The ferment, they say, has turned sour E’en the paste of their own maccaroni. Should one turn one’s self somewhere near home— For example, by tender Killamey— Thro’ that greenest of green isles to roam, Where they ’ve faith in Confederate blarney ; As you stroll along Dingle’s sweet glade, Or by the broad waters of Shannon, P’rhaps you’re pinked by a Celtic pike-blade, Or picked off by a Sassenach cannon. Bills are bad; barricades, though, are worse, And tho’ Chelt’nham may fleece, it don’t frighten ; It’s a comfort to think that one’s purse _ Is the one thing that bleeds, down at Brighton ; Besides, England’s really pre‘ty, And we are no gadders, as some are, So I think, though I own it’s a pity, | We'll stay quiet at home, dears, this summer. The Weakness of Rebels. NorwItHstaNDING all the pikes and muskets which have been dis- covered in Ireland, the tremendous failure of the rebellion in that country was owing to a deficiency in weapons. “Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just;” and in this triple armoury were the Irish insurgents wanting. They committed the characteristic blunder of attempting to use their pikes without a handle. VOL, XV. I

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“ A SHROUD AS WELL AS A SHIRT.” Messrs. Moses anv Son have disclaimed the disgrace of being the employers of the unfortunate shirt-maker Esmta Mounser, ; We are glad to find that kind-hearted Tuomas Hoop did not write the “Song of the Shirt” altogether in vain, since some of the task- masters of the poor needlewomen are alive to the discredit of paying 24d. for ten hours’ labour. é By the kindness of the pawnbroker we are enabled to furnish a pattern of the “ Twopenny-ha’penny Shirt,” which can_ be had on y (it is to Minories. Taxxine of Emigration, we should first think of supplying our pos- sessions that are nearest home with hard-working labourers and indus- : trious husbandmen, where their example might be of great benefit to the population, and their labour productive of the greatest value to the rich land. Why not, instead of sending our farmers to Australia and | other parts, induce them to emigrate to Ireland, which really has the | greatest need of them? We feel there is a great difficulty to be first surmounted, viz., the inducement; for no man, let him have ever so little to lose, likes naturally being shot! This, however, is the Govern- | ment’s consideration, and not ours. What Ireland wants is a body of men who will work, and to be freed from the burden of those who will | not work. We propose, therefore, that for every Englishman who, by | some inducement, is imported into Ireland, that two Irishmen, by the | same potent charm, be exported. By this exchange the country would | | IRISH EMIGRATION SOCIETY. | } in time have a new population, and would eventually be happy. How- ever, if our plan be adopted, we must stipulate that the Irishmen are | not brought iato England; for though we are very anxious to benefit them, still we are even more anxious not to injure ourselves. If there | is the smallest difficulty about it, we prefer remaining as we are. THE MONSTER SESSION. Many of the short-hand writers are beginning to suffer dreadfully from the nausea consequent upon attending this Long Session. ‘The Times says it never had such a cruel time of it; the Chronicle declares it would not go through it again for anything; the Hera/d asserts that it is fairly knocked up; the Post only wishes that every Member may be subjected for once in his life to the same torture, and then they will know what it is; the Daily News has heard of the Inquisition, but doubts if it was ever so bad as the House of Commons; and the Morning Advertiser questions seriously if a night cabman’s existence is not a much happier one than a reporter’s. We feel for all these poor fellows who work when we are comfort- ably in bed, in order to provide us with a paper the first thing in the morning, and hope that, with the help of a good holiday, they will soon recover from the fatigues and the injuries of this enervating Session. If ever men deserved pensions of their country, the Parliamentary Reporters of this year certainly merit that poor distinction, for no heroes can possibly have fought harder for one. Lorp Jon should, if he wishes to show the least sympathy for patient toil and suffering talent, present them each with £200 a year; only we fear there is very little hope for them unless they are related to one of the 1000 Greys, or happen to know the butler of the Duke or BEprForp, or can prove they have done nothing, and are fit for nothing; in which case, if there is a Lord or a Viscount amongst them, he will probably be sent as an Ambassador somewhere, at a handsome salary. ‘This is all the best man can expect under a Whig Government—Nobility first—Ability last. 76 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. he hoped) of Messrs. Henry EKpwarp and Morris Mosts of the | Wouses Carefully Removed in Town or Country. (Zo the Editor of Punch.) EAR Sir, * Belgravia, August 4th, 1848. “T see by the Illustrated News—which I take in for the dear children, they are so fond of pictures— that it is possible to move a house—an entire house— at once. I am so glad of this, because it will save us the trouble of packing up this year when we go out of town. You must know, Sir, the trouble, the care, the anxiety there is, about August, in every household, previous to running down to Brighton, or going up the Rhine, or going to lovely Naples. There is seeing the chandeliers sewn up in muslin bags; there is looking to the gold frames being carefully silver-papered; there is covering the chairs; there are the fire-grates, the door-handles, the plate, the crockery, the bed-curtains, a thousand little domestic things, all of which have to be stowed away or protected before you can leave your house in peace and quietness. Now I am so charmed, so delighted, I cannot tell you, with this new invention, which takes your domicile clean up by the kitchen, and transports it, servants’ bedrooms and all, to any spot you please. By this means you have the benefit of the sea air and the comforts of your own home at the same time; and you know, Sir, as the Poet says, ‘there is no place like home.’ ** Our drawing-room cost us at least £2000—green damask with gold fringe, and marqueterie tables—and the furniture of the lodging-houses is so very so-so, that I am always afraid to sit down ona sofa for fear of spoiling my dress. The only thing we shall have to do, will be to give the order over night, and by the morning we shall be on the way to Brighton—in fact, I suppose if we took post horses, we should get there in time for breakfast. How nice! and there would be none of the apprehension of sleeping the first night in damp sheets, because we should occupy the same Arabian bedstead (ours is pink and satin with white lace) we reposed in the night previous. I will certainly do this— | | | - | take my servants, cook, dishes, chimneys and all—only I am puzzled about one thing : I don’t know the address of the man who contracts for this sort of thing, and the darling J//ustrated News has forgotten to supply it, though I must say its picture of the removal is particularly pretty and interesting, and shows at one view how easy the thing is to do. “ T do not like asking for favours much, but if you could oblige me with the address of the Company which moves houses in town or country, I should esteem it a very great obligation; and if you could do it directly, you would oblige me still more, as I expect in a few days my uncle to come and visit us; and (entre nous) he is a very cor- pulent gentleman, and always brings his four daughters, lady’s-maid, valet, and servant. You will feel, therefore, the additional weight of what I say. 7 “T remain, dear Sir, with the greatest gratitude for your charming petite publication, your constant reader—(whenever my husband brings a copy home.) ** ARABELLA BOLDER (aée SMITH).” SIBTHORP SERIOUS. | Norutne less than Kerrey in Romeo, Compton in Hamlet, Beprorp in Mark Antony, or Wricut in the melancholy Jacques, can bear con.- parison wi'h the strange reality of Sisruorpr doing a bit of sentiment. Nevertheless, the thing has positively occurred, and the gallant son of Momts was caught in apiece of pa‘ hos, a few nights ago, on the subject of his bones, and their future resting-place. He expressed his deter- | mination, in the most solemn way, to deposit his rediguie with those of his ancestors; and he declared in effect, that where the remains of his forefathers may have been piled up into a venerable Pelion, his humble | Ossa should be piled on the top of them. Though there are many |changes to which the gallant Sistuorr is indifferent, the receptacle |for his bones is one of the few things he cannot persuade himself to make no bones about. We trust it may be long before SisrHorp, who is always a source of pleasantry, shall degenerate into the very dry subject to which he must: be reduced, before his dona notabilia can give rise to the discussion he has thought proper to originate. Jenny Lind’s Hospital. Tue seraphic Jenny has given—the receipts of her concert—the sum of £1776 15s. to the Committee of the Brompton Hospital, for the extension of the building. If the Committee do not call the Hospital after JENNY Livxp’s entire name, they cannot refuse to denominate the new part of the building—The Nightingale’s Wing. DENMARK AND THE DUCHIES. WE regret to observe that GeneRAL WRANGEL is recommencing hostilities in Schleswig-Holstein. The General’s name is ominous, | We hope this General WranGEL will not prove the precursor of a | European row. |

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ere | | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 17 | | French pieces, —_ ag be age to be ro in the oe of a most impassioned scene, between a Countess and a sentimental barber’s THE DEPUTATION MANIA. boy, poten 2 to give a date, or to hand over the office copy of some dreary Tue Deputation Mania is on the increase, and the Ministers are | document. Hasn’t he to keep himself clean too, all the while? for, call being continually pestered with little parties of delegates who come to! when you will, you always find the poor fellow busily employed in washing inquire why this, that, and the other, are not done or undone, to please | his hands, or combing his hair, or dusting his boots, or mending his nails. certain parishes who think their will ought to be paramount. The | Before we laugh, we should really pause to consider whether there is increased efficiency of the Police Force has roused the slumbering lions any one who could do as many things so well in the same short space of of the Marylebone and other metropolitan vestries with remonstrances | time, as the GovERNMENT CLERK, and demonstrations of various kinds, enlivened by occasional badgerings | i oetenene aes and bickerings at the Home Office. These gentlemen manage to mix | up the Constitution, somehow or other, with every private grievance of GOOSEY, GOOSEY, GANDER. their own; and they cannot see the addition of a halfpenny to their ? Police-rate without apprehending that the downfal of public liberty | THERE has been a good deal of surprise expressed that Mr. CuIsHoLm will be the consequence of the extra coppers for which they will be | 4NsTEY should have found his way into Parliament; but the mystery | called upon. | was solved a few evenings ago by Mx. Wa. Brown, who informed the | The Home Secretary having failed to see any danger to the Crown | House of Commons that the voters of Youghal always look ont for a or Constitution in the additional halfpenny, the delegates have vented | “00d fat goose ” at every election; and the conclusion is, that in Mr. their indignation on their own representatives, and in the excess of ,CHIsHoLM Anstey they found the very thing they are in the habit of their ire, have threatened the Home Secretary that they will tell the | !ookingfor. If they required the “foolish bird” for its cackling qualities, Premier ; aud one irate gentleman wanted to tell the House of Commons | We must confess the Youghal electors have had nothing to complain of at once, instead of telling the Minister in the first instance. In the|im their new representative, who has kept up an almost uninterrupted meantime, the Governnient will, we hope, do what is right, with the cackle throughout the session. His goose-like attributes have also | assurance that so long as they do not attempt what is wrong, there will developed themselves in a propensity for sitting continually upon mare’s- be no reason to apprehend the fumes and threats of a party of parochial | ests, and taking tha’ odd bird Unquuant under his wing, with a per- blusterers, who happen to be patriots on this occasion, because they happen to be rate-payers. tinacity worthy of a better object. They have been egging each other on, from first to last, like a brace of rare aves—which, for the credit of Parliament, we are glad to say they have shown themselves. THERE IS NOTHING IMPOSSIBLE. We long to see the picture of the Happy Family realised, viz., a HE GoveRNMENT CLERK is the | Scotchman, Welshman, Englishman, and Irishman, all living comfortably most refined specimen. Hej and quietly in the same cage together. The thing is to be done—in has grown so mild by practice, | fact, has almost been done before, only the Irishman will occasionally that he never loses his temper. | disturb the domestic peace, aud insist upon being let out. The foolish He knows his station better | fellow only knocks his head against the bars, and then he raises a wild than to argue, or dispute, or | Cry about being an injured person, it never entering into his broken contradict, or differ in opinion | head that he has been the principal cause of the injury himself. How- with anyone. He has a sove- | €Ver, we suppose he will get. tame in time, and that before long we shall reign remedy that protects | See the Englishman and the Irishman sitting on the same — together, him from all ‘complaints, mild | °F Playing, like kittens, with one another, whilst the Welshman and the or virulent, and that is, deaf-| Scotchman look on with brotherly tears in their eyes. ness. Do what he will, he| ,We would walk any day to Trafalgar Square to see this phenomenon canuot hear. It isa great im-|0f the Happy Family. Lt will be the greatest curiosity in London, pediment that has never been and will even throw a grace round the National Gallery. It will be a cured, though very often tried. | beautiful sight—the first Wonder of the World. We only hope we You must speak two or three | May live long enough to see it. times, and very loudly, too, tenet te 2 before you can make him hear asingle word. He has thena The Head of the British Army. very indistinct notion of what} Many regiments have animals that walk always at their head. The you want, and must read the account of last night’s farce deliberately | Fusiliers has a beautiful Welsh goat; another regiment has a mag- through, and look at himself in the glass, before he can arrive to a} nificent Indian elephant ; and we forget the others, Might we suggest, perfect comprehension that you are in want of anything. It is} to parade at the head of Priyce ALBert’s Own, an animal that has | In fact in the art of putting a person off, that the Government | lately presided over the changes and movements of the British Army— | will be with you in one instant; res | into the next room to give audience to one of his tailors. ‘‘ He shall Clerk is especially clever, He does this so politely, that, though | we mean “Tue Taitor’s Goose?” In fact, a couple might he quartered cffended, you are yet afraid to give explosion to your anger. “ He] at the Horse Guards, under the arches, always kept ready for the heat ” and he retires with a new coat | of action. be happy to attend upon you directly ;” and he finishes to his fellow- PARLIAMENTARY MOTION. clerks a most curious incident that occurred to him last night at the] MpR.——— fo move for “a return of all the useless, idle, imper- | Polish Ball. “ Will you be kind enough to take a chair?” whilst he per-| tinent, and ridiculous speeches made during the present Session of | fects a Sweep for the next St. Leger. You cannot possibly be rude with] Parliament, with the names of the speakers affixed.” Should this one whois so polite. At three o’clock he locks his desk, and commences | return be granted, it is supposed that the document will be the most | his toilet. After that hour every one is most blandly requested to take | voluminous upon record. the trouble to call again the following day. At four o’clock, as soonas the amare oom — it ~ he Fae be poe on a or in eee A Joke for the End of the Season. ‘ark, or on the top of an omnibus, so neatly attired, you never would Iri cas , i F rc : t is not at all surprising that the Grand Opera of MEYERBEER aie. rod jag Nay wy = J Fawn pet ae. me ha ant oe should have made such a hit at, Covent Garden; for it stands to reason, tifully written; or the happy Iittle bits of literature he has knocked | °° i other words, it is as plain as the nose upon our — ~ _ off for Punch, or Blackwood’s Magazine; or the numbers of “ Don’t the Hnge-nose (Huguenots) should bo the greatest feature of the love * end “ Do love,” he has aoe together for gorgeous illumi- season. Since the davs of Oviprus Naso, or Ovip with the Nose, nated songs, if BALFE only likes to have them ; or the quires of paper | “© have met with no Opera equal to the Opera we have named, in he has riculy cartooned; or the endless quills he has cut into tooth- picks, or the countless variety of things, all requiring time, and a Sranee of ab lity, ae Government Clerk is expected to do when Family Quarrels. Se ae aan a gnanty romhe ey cy wt | Inuzax tes us ao ing the. Profan Som of Baglnd,alwar Sometimes, also, he is a Dramatic author, that is to say, he translates #78 astray, then coming back, repenting, and being forgiven. Joux - > - , ~2 . = title of the Hugue-nols. _ [* Expianation Cravse.—Be it Hinderstoov, That whenever a Government Clerk = fellow cs “ ” pe yo mpwedy we - ry ieceers is mentioued the words do not apply to those Gentlemen who get the least pay, GFawn In this way. Yhen W elan e€ a goo Oy, and iearn to but do all the work.J—P, remain quiet at home ? aptitude for leading the public by the facial prominence implied in the | BuLt may occasionally have been a harsh parent, but we are sure the |

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| from the Zimes :— 78 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Lover. “ Sweet GIRL—LET ME, HERE—AWAY FROM THE BUSY THAT PASSION WHICH—WHICH—” Lady. “ Tuere! FOR GOODNESS SAKE GET UP, Mr. TomMKINs, FROM THE ParapE!!” HUM OF MEN-—AND WHERE NO MORTAL EYE CAN SEE US—DECLARE AND DON’T BE RIDICULOUS—JUST CONSIDER ALL THE TELESCOPES SISTERS OF MISERY. Tue attention of Nursery Governesses is requested to the subjoined, WANTED. in a Gentleman’s family, a Lady, who can be well recommended as NURSERY GOVERNESS. She must be fond of children, clever with her needie, active, intelligent, and good-tempered in the discharge of her duties. No salary will be given. Travelling expenses and washing paid, with every domestic | comfort. Address, stating age, to R. L., Mr. , Dundee. Punch herewith proposes himself as private secretary to all Sisters of Misery ; being desirous of writing for them a form of reply to all invi- tations animated by the like spirit that crawls in the above. (Copy of Answer.) _“Srr,—Having a comfortable patrimony, and acknowledging that high and elevating necessity of our nature, that compels the heart to love something, I should feel myself selected by the happiest fortune, did you think me worthy of fulfilling the serious, and no less delicious duties of Nursery Governess to your interesting children (number no consequence}. “Tf I have any emotion in excess, it is that of the love of children ; a quality, perhaps, only second to that of plain and ornamental needle- work. My activity never permits me to have a moment’s leisure; and my ued temper, from the time of my infancy, has passed into a family proverb. _“ You state, Sir, and I admire the frankness—that ‘no salary will be given.’ I can fully understand, Sir, that the delightful privilege of dwelling under your roof, and enjoying the pure moral atmosphere of your hearth, must far exceed any value to be awarded by the coined dross of this selfish world. How happy am I that, possessing a suffi- cient competence of my own, I may give myself up heart, and soul, and pocket, to the formation of the minds of your children, and to the daily execution of your needlework. Deign, Sir, to consider my application with the most favourable grace ; and, supplicating an answer, “T remain your obedient and anxious servant. _ “P.S. Pray do not pay the postage of your letter. I shall esteem it as a touching earnest of your friendship, if you will allow me to pay | the twopence.” SELF-GOVERNMENT. Once on a time a fire broke out at the end of a long street, and crept up—up—up, eating away the houses as none but such a devouring element would have had the impudence to do. There was a cry of “ Send for the engines!” But the occupier of the middle house was a great opponent of Centralisation, and he stood on his threshold with a bucket in one hand, and a garden squirt in the other, and he exclaimed— * Send for the engines! No such thing. All the engines come from the Central Station; and Centralisation is a great mischief. man get his bucket and squirt, and put out the fire for himself. That’s Self-Government !” And so he was burnt to death, manfully squirting to the last moment. _ Once ona time there was a man ina fever, and in his delirium he insisted on having a bottle of port per diem. The doctor said it would Let every | finish him ; but his nurse was an advocate for Self-Government, and she | pooh-poohed the doctor, and the patient crept to the cellaret and got | his bottle of rough old port, and uncorked it with his trembling hands, and set it to his mouth and floored it manfully, and died an hour after- | wards ; and his nurse glorified Self-Government exceedingly, as she tied his chin up. Once on atime Cholera rose from his marsh-bed in the East, and stalked westwards, killing his thousands and tens of thousands as he passed along. The feast was spread for him in stagnant ditches, and reeking cesspools, and filthy dwellings, and wherever these were, he fared abundantly ; but where these were not, he starved. And wise men who saw this, said “Let us not spread the table for Cholera amongst us. Let us drain, and cleanse, and sweep, an whitewash.” But the people, who did not see it, grumbled at this, and would not set hand to the work. And certain wiseacres stood by and aid, “ Nay, we know a spell to keep off Cholera;” and they spelled their spell, and it was, to repeat many times over “Self-Government, Self-Government, Self-Government!” And Cholera chuckled when he heard the spell—for he knew those wiseacres of old. j IT quem 4.u0p om ‘YQ *(sumph) “yf ‘PT ¢ WUOWOAOUT UNIOJN ALOU OY} JNOge WY A, *pgoD “7 ] ONVATTNI 10 aire ( “spurl oye aq “m9 Ut Suryjou §, 9191, J, | plmoys om *pIp om JT ‘ou 9.10q We ‘DT Tun woop Surnnon tm "rf TIT Ant AiAporyr en eases

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Mr. P. Really, my Lord, you ought to make an effort, and do something for Ireland, which is in a very unsatisfactory state. Ld. J. R. Oh, there ’s nothing in it. Mr. P. You should try a modification of the Church, colonisation, or cultivation of the waste lands. Ld, J, R. There’s nothing in them. USED UP uF ° Ld. G. B. What will you do for the West Indian distress? Id. J. R. There’s nothing in it. Sir R. Ing. You should drop the diplomatic relations with Rome. Id. J. R. A bugbear. There’s nothing in it. Mr. Cobd, What about the new Reform movement ? Ld. J. R. (yawns). Oh, we don’t want it! If we did, we should OO | a wt have it. Besides, I know how such cries are raised: I have do myself. A few gentlemen meet; talk a little; pass resolutions the thing is got up. I can assure you there's nothing in it. Mr. P. But what do you think of the Session for 1848 ? Ld. J. R. Oh! decidedly nothing in it. Leave me alone. bore me. ne it and

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| is Sf ow | \| S38 83H ws As OREM S FS BS er a eS Se

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———— THE BATTLE OF THE OYSTERS. Wuew the little boys poke an oyster-shell under our noses, with a re- quest that we will shell out, and a plea that it is only once a-year, we little think how important it is that Oyster-day in London should be only an annual. We have heard of the Battle of the Constitution being fought in the Registration Courts, but it is mere child’s play compared with the Battle of the Oysters, as fought on the 4th of August at Billingsgate There is nothing in the history of the onslaughts made upon the indi- genous tribes by foreign invaders that is half so fierce as the attack upon the natives on the anniversary of Oyster-day. The superstition prevailing in London, that nobody can be lucky all the year unless he devours a dozen or so of the favourite crustacea on the first day of their coming in, necessitates the supply of some millions of the case-hardened fish; and as they can only be bought in one contracted spot, no wonder that the contest is one of inveterate bitterness and desperate ferocity. The simultaneous rush of fishmongers’ carts towards the om whence the spoil must be taken, resembles the rapid whirling of the Roman war-chariots, which ApaMs, in his Antiquities, and Barry, in his Circus, have combined to impress upon our memories. Every fishmonger in London sends a vehicle to the scene; and as the horses are driven furiously to the attack, the approach of the cavalry affords a magnificent spectacle of equestrian eagerness, stimulated by human energy. Every combatant seems to reverse the view of ancient Pistot, who looked upon the world as his oyster, and to see in every oyster a world for which everything must be jeopardised. When we witness in the evening the mountains of shells reared into grottoes, or strewed along the thoroughfares, turning every street, for the time being, into a sort of sea-shore, without any sea; when we witness this peaceful sight, we little think of the fearful encounters amid which these oysters have been sacked. We, at an awful sacrifice, paraphrase the words of the poet :— « Fish on whom the town has fed, Oysters o’er whose gory bed Many a British nose hath bled, Hit by one, two, three, Who would for an oyster—spread Butter fresh and fancy bread, Run the risk of broken head ? Why! the more fool he!” Mercy among the fishmongering tribes is a quality utterly unknown; and it has been well remarked by Smitu, in his Joca Seria sine Punctu, (a work at present unpublished), that the Shellfish dealers are imbued hoes the ou Shellfishness that their calling is likely to generate in eir minds. THE BREAK-DOWN ON THE BALLOT. To Lorp Jonn RussExt. My pear Lorp, In the debate on Mr. H. Berke ey’s resolution in favour of a Ballot, you are reported thus to have expressed yourself in opposition 0 1t :— **T can understand, indeed, that an argument might be used, running somewhat in this manner—and if you introduce your principle of secrecy into the right of | voting, I do not know but such an argument might have its force and effect—that | it would be better that juries should not be subject to intimidation in the discharge of their duties ; that the judge, to give the full opportunity for deciding justly and impartially, should not become obnoxious to public censure, and therefore trial at law should be secret.” Very well, my Lord. And if juries, in their vocation as grocers or | cheesemongers, were actually exposed to loss of customers, and if judges | did really lose their employment by giving verdicts and passing sentences according to their consciences, then, doubtless, trial at law should be secret. Do you mean to say that such is the fact as regards them? Do you mean to say that such is not the fact as regards voters ? Will you pretend that the cases are similar? Excuse me, my dear Lord, but I really must beg you to take your choice between the bouncer and oe oe. Which will you admit that you have outraged—truth or logic Next, dear Lorp Joun, I find you represented as objecting to the proposal of the Ballot, for being unaccompanied by a plan for the Extension of the Suffrage, and as saying :— “ So this one-seventh of the adult male population of the kingdom is to be endowed | with what the constitution of Venice enjoyed, a secret and despotic power over all the affairs of the realm.” But, my good Finality Lory Joun, whose fault is it, I beseech you, that no scheme has been proposed for the Extension of the Suffrage—| h that the constituency of the kingdom includes but one-seventh of adult Englishmen? Does this sin lie at Mr. BerKerey’s door, or at the hy the Treasury, and at the portal of a certain domicile in Richmond ark ? Lastly, after having objected to the Ballot on the score of secrecy, I am informed that you assert :— ‘*T believe that if persons took the pains to find out the vote that was given, it PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 81 would always be discovered, and that it never could be disguised ; and therefore there would be always some kind of influence used at elections.” So you maintain the Ballot to be mischievous on account of its secrecy, and useless because that secrecy is impossible. You support your point by a mis-statement and a false analogy, and clench your reasoning by a contradiction in terms. Your fallacies remind me of Puaraon’s kine ; for your lean arguments eat up your plump assertions. No wonder the House affirmed the principle of the Ballot, after hearing your objections to it. Congratulating you on having thus attained your minority, ‘ F I remain, your sincere well-wisher, PUNCH. THE PARLIAMENTARY HARVEST OF ONE SHEAF. Mr. Bull. © Weir, Joun, wnat or THE Harvest?” John. “ On, Mr. BULL, WE’VE AN AVERAGE CROP.” CONSCIENCE MONEY. WE are happy to see the practice of sending sums anonymously, in the shape of Conscience Money, becoming somewhat general. The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER is continually getting the half of a bank-note from some penitent, who, in his day, has done—what England expects every man to do now and then—the Duty. We shall be glad to find this system applied more generally, and it would give us unalloyed pleasure to hear of cash pens into the public coffers from the overburdened consciences and plethoric purses of some of the holders of snug sinecures. Unfortunately the consciences of people of this class are not very troublesome, and we hardly know how to work upon them, unless the Treasury were allowed to put into com- mission a few ghosts, regularly rigged out in sheets and stilts, to inter- cept the sinecurists on their way home after receiving their un-earned pe at Something of the kind might answer very well behind the door of the Court of Chancery, to alarm the scruples of the door-keeper ; but unfortunately the keeper never goes near the door, and therefore is never in a position to be pounced upon. As a proof of something like returning conscience among certain literary depredators, we may mention the fact that we have received several hundred ideas, jokes, and articles of a miscellaneous description, forwarded to us by persons who had tried to convert them to their own use by pilfering and slightly disguising them, but who had disgracefully failed in the experiment. Some curious instances of Conscience Money, returned in the shape of fees disgorged by attorneys, and sent back to their victimised clients, ave also been reported to us; but these cases are of such an apocryphal nature that we cannot believe them until we have had experience of their reality. When Mr. Brirr.ess sends us back the guinea we gave him for the opinion that has been overruled twice, at a cost of 240 guineas, and established three times, at an expense of £570 14s. 2d, and “a friendly suit” that amicably eased us of £86 18s., we shall begin to put some faith in the rumour that conscience is beginning to find its way at last into the forensic profession,

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82 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A LETTER FROM A SLEEPY MEMBER. * Mr. Puncn, * Bellamy’s, Friday, August 11 th, 1848. “ Sir, I rise—I mean sit—to address you, Sir, on a subject involving, in a great degree, the comfort and happiness of a considerable ortion of that Honourable House, of which I have the honour to be a Member; need | say, I refer to the House of Commons? Sir, when 1 tell you that it is my custom, as it is also the custom of many other gen- tlemen in that Honourable House, to take a few glasses of wine at dinner—I say, Sir, when I state that fact to you, 1am sure you will not be surprised, nor will your numerous readers be surprised to hear, that not unfrequently during the speeches of Mr. Anstey and other Senile | and long-wordiness render them the terror of Her Masesty’s faithful Commons in Parliament assembled— I say, Sir, that you will not be sur- I to hear that not unfrequently of that Honourable House also find, it impossible to keep our eyes and ears open, and that we sometimes detect ourselves in the arms of Mr. Morpuevs, which is synonymous to finding ourselves in the hands of Mr. Anstey. (Hear, hear, and a ! Jaugh). Now, Sir, as sleeping upon benches is highly conducive to | cramp, rheumatism, and pins-and-needles, what I desire is, to obtain | leave to bring in a Bill to enable Members of Parliament to pro- | vide their own seats ix the House as well as ou¢ of it (Hear! and a | very small laugh). I have, Sir, at great personal trouble, and I will say, at great pecuniary sacrifice, constructed, by the aid of my upholsterer, a machine, which, | after much mental | anxiety, both upon | my own part and on the part of my up- holsterer, I have de- termined to desig- nate, ‘Tue Som- NOLIFIER; or, THE Howse or Commons MADE EASY. By the sketches, Sir, which accompany | this bill—I mean | this letter—you will ; perceive how admi- | rably ‘The Somno- | lifier’ is calculated | for the purposes for | . ; which | (and in jastice I will add), my upholsterer designed it. “ Lend, Sir, your powerful aid—powerful because deserved— deserved | because—because ; (Here the Honourable Member becomes illegible\— | lend that aid to support a measure and a machine so conducive to the | ease of the Members of that Honourable House, of which I have the | honour to form an integral but an unworthy part. | “ Then may we exclaim, Sir, in the words of Srr Ropext Perr— ‘** Tityre, tu patu!e recubans sub tegmine fagi.’ | ** | have the honour to be, Sir, “ Your obedient Servant, “A SLEEPY MemBer.” | THE SOMNOLIFIER IN THE MORNING. THE SOMNOLIFIER IN THE EVENING, COURT-MARTIAL. Tue soldier’s frock-coat has been called up before a Court-martial, presided over by Ligur.-CotoneL Sturrz, assisted by GrNERAL Doupney, Enstcn Moses, and several other distinguished officers. The offence the frock-coat has given is not distinctly known, but it was stated that an example was wanted to strike terror into the British Army, and accordingly, the coat was sentenced to receive a dozen rounds. The culprit was instantly tied up by the arms to the Alberts. When he was cut down the rounds had been given with such precision, that the poor coat was wasted away almost to a mere jacket, and presented so sad a spectacle that it made the stoutest turn and tremble. He was immediately carried to the tailors’ board, and restoratives applied, but it is not expected that he will survive much longer. He has evidently been cut off in his prime, and will be universally regretted, as he was a very great favourite amongst all bodies, wherever a military coat was seen. Gentlemen, whose long-windedness | - — find, as other Honourable Members | | tt ——— i! wt, yl | NN i f| ATI Hi A i) | ii) | | = | | | Sv THE LADY CORONETS OF WESTMINSTER. ~_ HE days of chivalry are gone; and Mr. H. Berxetry may be said to have spoken the funeral oration of the deceased. His assault upon the female Coronets ~ (Coronets are of both sexes) of Westminster in his that makes Punch blush for the gallantry of the Commons. To think that an M.P., in human shape, should speak thus of woman ; lovely, gentle, darling woman !— ** In the course of the day before the election tix carriages drew up ».: this trades- man’s door, each with a coronet on the panels. From these carriages descended parties of ladies, and there was no cajolery or artifice to which they did not resort in order to induce him to vote for Captain Rous, In conclusion, they worried the poor | man so much—” | In short, they left the man no voice, driving off with his plumper as | banditti would ride off with a traveller’s portmanteau. Such, at least, |is the ungallant inference of Mr. BerkeLEy; and we very much regret, for the honour of Parliament assembled, that no Member had the chivalry to question it. “ Cajolery,” “artifice,” applied to female Coronets! Endeavouring fo speak in the injured spirit |of the accused, “ We should very much like to know what the |honourable gentleman means? It’s like his impudence! A lady |can’t shake hands with a butcher, or kiss his baby, or declare | what a dear good-looking woman his wife is, or merely give her private opinion that Caprarn Rous is a darling of a sailor, and one who shall never send in another farthing’s-worth of goods; no, not if there innocent motives, can only just hint so much as this, for the good of the country, assailed as it is in Church and State—as the dear Bishop |of Canaan says, with tears in his eyes—a lady, making an effort with herself to protect our Institutions, has only to smile, or laugh, or frown, or scold a wretch of avoter, as the case may be, and up gets a gentleman in the House of Commons—(and what that House of Commons can be made of, to sit quiet and listen to such things, it’s more than she can tel])—and talks of ‘cajolery,’ and ‘artifice,’ and ‘worrying!’ Well, shenever! ‘The lady only wishes she was a man— that’s all |”? For our own part, we think it would have been more straightforward in Mr. BerKELEyY to have brought ina Bill making it felony for any lady to canvas a voter, unless the said lady should—as in the days of our great-grandimothers—wear a mask and register herself as not being under two-and-forty. ‘This, we take it, would have put down the abuse once and for ever. Tue Man or tue Sworp.—Many people have inquired, What is Mr. MeaGuer of the Sword? We answer, that he is the Flat of the Sword. ought to be voted for, and if he isn’t, that the tradesman refusing | was not another butcher in all Westminster: a lady, for the most | Ballot resolution, was distinguished by a fierceness | nrormedenwmwadt we a I ie ak

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LORD JOHN RUSSELL’S LAMENT; OR, PUTTING THE BILLS TO BED. Batow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep, ; Though Cospen chafe, and Bricut upbraid O’er measures marred, and men o’erpaid ; Though Borough bribery grow apace, And Ireland bare rebellion’s face. Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. When out of office, I began To play the part of “ Coming Man ;” I told the glorious bead-roll o’er Of Radical Reforms in store; But now I see, if they ’re to be, *Tis thanks to some one else, not me. Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. Lie still, my Poor Law Bills, awhile On BuLLeR’s amply furnished file, Nor get us, as your elders did, Into a fix—nay, Fate forbid; But yet I fear, another year Will find our paupers still as dear. Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. We haven’t pass’d—but soon we wil’, I hope, our Navigation Bill; The Colonies are in a fume, And sore I’m work’d by JosepH Hume ; But if he knew all I’ve to do, He’d wonder any work’s got through. Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. And Public Health Bill, Morretn’s care, Tis true ye ’re somewhat thin and bare ; But none can say ye didn’t show Our wish to please both friend and foe; And after all, it doth befall That we ’ve pleased nobody at all. Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. Farewell, farewell, thou sorest year That ever bored a Ministere ! Too well, from all around I see What my short epitaph would be, (If I should walk my official chalk) — * Too little Work and too much Talk!” Balow my Bills, lie still and sleep ; Until next Session ye must keep. Suspension Acts. It was a question in the Assemblée Nationale whether Mr. Provp- HON’s speech should be reported. By this it would seem that the suppression of a Member’s speech is evidently a great punishment. It would have a great effect in the House of Commons, we think, if several Members were punished in this way. We should like it to be applied to Mr. ANstrEY—for hitherto only the House and the nation have been punished with his speeches. By the bye, if Lorp Jonny were to suspend the printing of the debates, it is a question whether more business would not be transacted? The Habeas Corpus Act should be enforced against the body of reporters. As yet, so little has been done, that we think this Session might with justice be called the “ SusrEn- sion Session.” The North-Western Engine-Drivers. THERE is a little disagreement between these useful functionaries and their employers, the latter charging the former with a desire to drive a very hard bargain as well as a tender, and the former implying that the latter are illustrating the old saying with reference to a certain old gentleman driving when needs must, which is alleged to be the case in consequence of the resignation of the experienced servants. Considering the very powerful engine both parties have in their hands, we hope the will have the good sense to prevent any further collision; and though we cannot recommend, in railway matters, the system of meeting each other half-way, we hope that they will lose as little time as possible in getting into a train of settlement. SINGULAR OCCURRENCE. A FEW evenings ago, as a gentleman named Joun RUSSELL was quietly seated on his bench—thinking of nothing—he was assaulted by a person named BERKELEY, who, with others, carried him off his feet, and—as GULLIVER was jammed into a marrow-bone—stuck him hard and fast in a ballot-box. Happily, no injury was committed upon the worthy gentleman; but there is every reason to believe that his assailants, animated by their late success, contemplate a renewal of th eir violence. JACK IN THE (BALLOT) BOX. IMPROMPTU IMMORTALITY. Tue Widow Cormack must, in future, take her place by the side of Lorp Byron, and exclaim, with the poet peer, or peerless poet—“ awoke one morning, and found myself famous.” The gentleman jumping up into the air with the explosive force of a quack pill, and shrieking out convulsively, “Ha! ha! ha! cured in an instant!” undergoes a tedious process compared to the celerity with which the Widow Cormack attained a sudden renown, that would justify the frantic shout of, “Ho! ho! he! he! he! immortal in a twinkling.” She went to bed one night, and waking, found herself in the pages of history, the police in her cupboards, and SmitH O’Brien in her cabbage-bed. She had retired with her children into the arms of Morpuevs, and tumbled directly into the hands of the Constabulary; while the King of Munster had dropped in among some of the growin greens of Green Erin, in the Widow’s kitclen-garden. She who ha been nothing but “a poor lone widow” over night, found herself at such a premium in the morning, that her cabbages were being cabbaged by the crowd as curiosities, and she got a letter by an early post, from a theatrical manager, offering her her own terms, for herself and family to appear between the first-and second pieces, with a bunch of the original cabbages in their hands, as a sample of the King of Munster’s hiding-place. Notoriety was never before achieved at such short notice, for the mantle of Fame has fallen upon the Widow Cormack and her family, as rapidly as if Fame kept a lot of mantles on hand, ready made, after the manner of the dealers in the tribe of paletots which fit everybody by fitting nobody, and hang as loosely on the natural shape, as any /vsus nature that modern tastelessness has been permitted to thrust upon society.

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Cheap Noise for the Navy. Mr. Hume, the other evening, in the House of Commons, gave notice of his intention to EXTREME DELICACY. well ly Ss psi \\ \, ¥/ : " | / 4 84 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. . i mT Pt | h pe ss! i Mi | 7 AML 7 aaa 77 | naa Wy Y/ mill Sg 3 = = ' ! f L - . i | blow the money of the nation away into ex- winds. The cash of the country ought not : LU . . . |to be converted into fulminating gold and 4 sions. We do grudge an outlay of the {making a noise in honour of illustrious equally well by sheet-iron, the material for producing mock-thunder not to be distin- guished from real. This would be din enough | for any manifestation of respect or loyalty; and therefore we suggest that, as a substi- tute for powder, mimic thunder should be added to the rattlins of the Royal Navy. The Ne Puff Ultra. some weeks past, with the startling catch-line of “ Brie! Brre! Brie!” A mad wag of our acquaintance, who has two Commissions of Lunacy out against him on two separate puns, has just been found guilty of a third, in the shape of a declaration, that on seeing the words “Brite! Brie! Bre!” intruded upon the public gaze, he felt his blood “ Bie, Exquisite in Cab. © AW—BE KIND ENOUGH, IF YOU PLEASE, TO FETCH—AW—AN—AW—UM-BRELLAW Brie, Brive” in the most tumultuous and AND HOLD IT OV-AW ME WHILE I—aw—GET ovv.” extraordinary manner.” SHAKSPEARE BIRCHED. “WHAT’S IN A NAME?” An unfortunate individual, who thus writes himself down, “W.J.! We have received two or three letters from some unreasonable Third Brrcu, M. A., New Inn Hall, Oxon,” has been guilty of begetting a! Class People, complaining that at the London and North Western book called An Inquiry into the Philosophy and Religion of Shakspeare.| Railway “their friends were excluded from the platform, whilst those This benighted Brrcu calls up SHAKSPEARE, and accuses him of In-|of the First and Second Class Passengers were allowed to remain.’’ fidelity. He had not the proper notions of immortality, says Brrcn;| Quite right! If Third Class Passengers were not rendered as uncom- and—to the great delight of his own charitable soul—he proves, at | fortable as possible, there is no knowing what would be the consequence least in the belief of the possessors, the existence of no such for other | to the receipts of the Company. If a Third Class Carriage was not people. Mar ow is at once written down an Atheist; and, indeed, | made to be “replete with every inconvenience,” who would ride in a one of his old gloves. Several of our contemporaries have abused | Brrcu at length; the more simple they. We should as soon think of | arguing with a reasoner who, for fault of human wit, used ancient eggs. other Feeme folks are turned inside out, as Bircn would turn out | Second Class Carriage, which is very little better ? We think the Directors are perfectly right in maintaining the exclusive system; but to silence the grumblers, we would advise them to adopt the annexed A Brrcu, however, insults SHAKSPEARE ; we would punish him, and in | Newgate. this fashion :—We would turn him adrift in a washing-tub upon the Avon; and whereas Brrcu has thrown his dirt at the Swan, he should be piloted by congenial geese. After this, we would have it most sig- nificantly proved to Bircu that he deserved nothing short of himself. Work and Wages for Parliament. Lorp Joun Russet, in spite of the lamentations of Cotonet | SrsrHorr at losing his holiday, has induced the House of Commons to | resolve to sit on Wednesdays. We do not wish to interfere with the business of Mr. CanTexo, but we would suggest that the cushions of | the Members should be stuffed with eggs, so that something might be hatched with all this sitting. It is clear that if there were less standing | and talking in the House, there would not be so much sitting and doing | nothing. We are fast veering round to that point of the Charter which | requires the payment of Members of Parliament; only, to insure the | | work for the wages, we would have them paid by the job or the} measure, | PROPOSED WAITING-ROOM FOR THIRD CLASS PASSENGERS. | As Good as a Play. Tue Morning Post, reporting a “marriage in high life,’ which took | . “ Brac’s a Goop Sorprer.”—Officers have generally been in the prac- place last week at St. George’s, Hanover Square, informs us, after | tice of bragging about their cloth. If they keep cutting it down into describing the bride’s clothes, that “the ceremony was beautifully per- | shell-jackets, they will soon have very little cloth left to brag about. JSormed by the Rev. Mr. Campsett.” Good gracious! what does our | — ~~ —— a ———————= i ? ; ; 7} } Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newi , and Frederick Mullett Evans, fashionable contemporary mean ? Does he consider the Marriage-service | Priie'y William Braibury of No.6, York Place, Stoke, Newington, and Prederis Mallet Ory ot to be a tragedy or a melodrama? or does he look upon it in the light of Office in Lombari Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Pablish ed b) by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, ia the Parish of St. Bride,in the City of London.—Sarvuap ar, a genteel comedy } Aveusr, 19th, 1848. ask the Government for an account of the | expenses of gunpowder used for Salutes. To | |pansive gases, is literally to fling it to the | silver. We therefore coincide with Mr. | Hume in objecting to these expensive explo- | | precious metals for the mere purpose of | personages. ‘That end would be answered | A FORMIDABLE placard, in letters long | enough to show the lengtn to which puffing | may go, has been paraded round London for | plan of an iron grating, which was suggested to us by a visit to |

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aw FV eT eee wef . Vw eecrwo sr 6 Se ' ° “eR? || | Tam struck by a great contrast. You may congratulate yourselves on having abundance of work cut out for the year. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. OUR PROROGATION SPEECH. HEN Parliament opens, it is gene- rally witha Speech trom the QueEN; it ought to close with a Speech from Punch. There would be a Preeney about this arrangement. t would be pleasantly typical of the Royal Promise and Ridiculous Performance of the present Minis- try. So to our Speech :— My Lorps anp GENTLEMEN, You assembled on Thursday the 19th of November; you are about to separate this present Saturday, the 19th of August. You perteive this gives nine months of work—that is, talk. In eight of these nine months you have passed twenty-six Acts, of which all but nine were Acts of course, To bring about these nine Acts you have . talked 4810 pages of Hansarp. About twice that quantity of talk has escaped unprinted. The Country appreciates your services. She acknowledges your readiness to devote your last breaths to her advantage. All she asks is the halfpennyworth of work to this intolerable quantity of words. GENTLEMEN OF THE House or Commons, You met early; you are separating late. You were called together mainly for three objects. Measures were to be recommended to your consideration for advancing the social condition of Ireland; for modifying the Navigation Laws; and improving the Public Health. Towards the first of these objects you have contributed an Arms Bill, a Crown and Government Security Bill, and a Bill for suspending Habeas | Corpus; towards the second you have contributed nothing; towards the third, not exactly nothing, but next to it. You have, besides this, | passed a Sugar Bill, which has the great merit of dissatisfying every- body ; you have thrown away a million and a half in the shape of a loan to Irish landlords, and a half-million in that of an advance to West India Planters. You have also emasculated the Public Health Bill, and passed a measure on the subject which cannot do much harm, and may do a little good. : hen I turn from what you have done, to what you have left undone, I have given directions that Estimates of all that is to be done “ next Session” should be made out, and laid before Ministers. I expect that it will astonish them. I remark with pain, that you have got into a habit of laughing at very serious things; such as Chartism and Irish Rebellion. I am desirous that you should leave this to me. J will find out the absurdities of | both: you have to deal with the serious side of these facts. FEaRGUs | O’Connor may be a very absurd person, and Smitn O’Brien very contemptible; but Chartism is, nevertheless, rife among English working men, and disaffection among the peasantry of Ireland. I look with confidence to see you grave on both these subjects for the future. I am preparing measures for limiting the speeches of honourable Members; I trust that the time is not far distant when honourable Members who have nothing to say, will not think it necessary to take up so much time in saying it. Gentlemen, your Session has extended over a time marked by marvellous events, and full of great suffering on the part of the Working Classes of the Empire. You do not seem to have appreciated | the one, and you have done nothing to alleviate the other. It is aj gratifying proof of the stability of our Institutions that they have resisted convulsions without any help from Her Masegsty’s Ministers, who have tested the Consti'ution, as railway bridges are tested, by putting on it a much heavier weight of incapacity than it is ever likely to be required to bear on ordinary occasions. RATHER UNSATISFACTORY. THE Court Circular is certainly not the place in which we are in the habit of looking for our light reading, nor do we expect to find it in any of those moving accidents by flood and field which form the elements of romance; but we do occasionally get hold of a paragraph in it that (as the Reviewers have it when their amiable criticism is charged as an advertisement) “ will repay perusal.” We found in Wednesday’s Number of that water-gruelly work a few lines that raised smile, and as we estimate every smile at threepence—we will pay that price to any one who can — to call up a risible illumination into our counte- nance—we may allow that the Court Circular has for once “repaid perusal.” The following is the paragraph, whose value as a ludicrous Irritant may not at first sight appear :— “Captain Denuam, R.N., F.R.S., had interviews at the Board of Trade and Admiralty yesterday with his reports and diagrams respecting the recent ateam- vessel accidents in the Irish Sea and Gulf of Finland.” A closer examination of the sentence will, however, show its purport to be that Caprarn DEnHA« has had an interview with his own reports and diagrams. Why he should have made the Admiralty the place of rendezvous between himself and his own productions does not appear, and the thing is almost as absurd as an amateur punster making an appointment with one of his own jokes to meet him at the Punch Office, or CoLoneL SreTHorP arranging an interview with himself on Water- loo Bridge. Captain Denuam’s ¢ée-a-téte with his own diagrams at the Boards of Trade and Admiralty must have been one of the dullest and most unsatisfactory rencontres that ever comenee, or the wag who writes the Court Circular must have come to the fearful determination of “having his joke.” If this is really the case, the thing must be stopped at once; for though we can talerate mere imbecility, its union with attempted facetiousness is too terrible to allow us to see it realised. The Centaur is not a more frightful combination than the junction of waggery with the solemn dulness of the Court Circular, and we have determined therefore not to tolerate the attempt of our contemporary to place upon the body of the donkey the head of the buffoon. The Rural Grumbler. ZrE here what comes o’ your Vree Trade In cattle voreigneerin ! Them Garman sheep there, I’m afraid, Wun’t pay me for the shearin. They ’ve got the zmall-pox, all the vlock, And arter that who’ll ate ’em? And I, to zave my ’tother stock, Must go and vac-ci-nate ’em. Ah! these baint like the good old times When we enjoyed Purtection ; Now beasties vetch’d from voreign climes Brings over here infection. . Great cry did Brigut and CoBDEN raise, We countryfolk to put on: Here’s precious little wool, I zays, And terrible bad mutton. But there—’tis true things might be wuss— Misfortuns will befall us ; And voreigners—for all the fuss We made—don’t quite forestall us. And corn and cattle, arter all, In price don’t greatly tumble ; Zo p’raps youll zay we han’t no call Zo very much to grumble. Shocking Accident to Mr. Urquhart. We are sorry to record a terrific accident which has befallen Mr. Urquuart, M.P. On Wednesday !ast week, in the House of My Lorps ayp GENTLEMEN, Allow me to bid you all good bye, on the conclusion of a) Session unexampled for the greatness of its promise and the smallness E of its performance—the Spanish Giant of Sessions, as far as words go; and their Tom THumMs, as far as work. The Value of Ridicule. Ir the Irish Rebellion had only broken out six months ago, what a deal of bloodshed might have been saved! for there is no doubt the result would have cast such intense ridicule upon the very name of Revolution, that no State would have had the courage to attempt one alter the Hibernian failure. Commons, the Honourable Member attempted to move a heavy reso- lution, condemnatory of the anti-slave trade policy of Ministers in the Jast. This incautious movement brought down upon him Lorp Pat- MERSTON, who, falling upon him with tremendous weight, literally crushed him to atoms. We cannot say that the unfortunate gentleman lies in a dangerous state, for he is yay aoe | smashed, and the vital spark being politically extinct, he is incapable of doing mischief to anybody. THE HORSE FOR OUR MONEY. In the list of the horses at Egham races, we observed a steed named “ Death’s Antagonist.” ‘This is just the animal on which a man would choose to ride for his life. VOL, XV. K

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86 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PHCEBUS AT HIDE AND SEEK. It is notorious that during the whole of last week the Sun was keeping out of the way, and we have at length discovered the cause of this alarming act of Solar bankruptcy. The truth is, that the celebrated firm of Paa@sus and Sun was quite unable to answer the demands we hear have lately been made upon it in Paris to take Photographic Portraits of the 900 Members of the National Assembly. There is something awful in the task of running through 900 noses, filling in 1800 eyes—some of the noses are of course hooks, to match the eyes— and biting in some 32,400 teeth, belonging to the Members of the National Assembly. We do not wonder at the Sun having proved zon est inventus for the past week, when such were the labours assigned to it. Even the greatest of all luminaries, ourselves, would feel a little put out if such a task as this were to be imposed upon us. Imagine the horror of having to take the impression of all the miscellaneous snubs, pugs, and other proboscal prominences of 900 Republican representatives, to say nothing of the other features that diverge from the 900 great scenters that the Sun is Hope for the Potatoes. Tue Manchester Courier says that a potato-grower near Warrington, on examining his crop a short time ago, “ found it in every direction seriously affected; ten days afterwards, on examining it, all trace of the disease had disappeared, and the plants were looking healthy.” We are glad to find the potato disease mani- festing itself ina milder form. It thus appears, that when potatoes are out of sorts they may be suffering merely froma slight cold—caught, perhaps, from lying in a damp bed— or some other temporary in- to have the handling of. We could scarcely expect our old friend really execute the awful duty said to be imposed upon him at Paris. » 60 4 Ok Bs werk ’ “s 149 ‘ MW 9, Hila Ph, disposition. When, therefore, those valuable tubers chance to look poorly, we trust that they will not in all cases be given up in despair. Puesus ever to shine again if he should ApnorismM FOR PaRtia- MENT.—Miscellaneous Esti- mates engender desultory ob- servations. Punch’s Popular Phrases and Sapings. Tue English language is known to be a delicious jumble of some half-dozen tongues, of which, like the tongue of the half-boot, the tongue of the buffalo, or the tongue of the British female, it is difficult to get at the end. Language has been called the criterion of a nation’s health—though we don’t see why—and it may therefore be said that a country, like a patient, has only to put the tongue out to enable us to judge of the condition of either. It is true that there is much power in Gates and, though DemosTHENEs failed in his celebrated boxing- match with the Grecian prize-fighter, the orator used to say, ‘‘ Wouldn’t I have given him a licking though, if I had depended on my tongue!” The English tongue is very ancient; and we think we may hazard the observation, that the tongue of every country, though not of such | remote extraction, must always be a little older than its teeth. With | these preliminary sentences, we proceed to consider some of those old phrases which time has rendered familiar; and without going back to WyNKYN DE Worn, whose wordiness always sets us winking, we will look at the original meaning of some of those sayings, our familiarity with which has almost degenerated into contempt. rather appropriately, by seizing the bullock by his capital excrescences, 5 I.—Taking the Bull by the Horns. This operation enjoys a much larger reputation for wisdom than it deserves, inasmuch as it is very doubtful policy to attempt to bully a bull, by treating him in this unceremonious manner. IT.—He put his Nose out of Joint. This saying is about as absurd as the other; for everybody knows that everybody’s nose is utterly without joints, and cannot therefore be put out of a condition it has never enjoyed. IIT.—Money makes the Mare to go. There is a semblance of truth in this observation, if we may be allowed to sacrifice its orthography; for money may be said to make the Mayor to go, to a certain extent, by keeping things going at the Man- sion House. In an equestrian sense, the saying is perfectly monstrous, for there are some mares that will not go for any money, if you put them up to auction, on the one hand, or put them into harness on the other. These afford only a small specimen of the nonsense inscribed in old sayings ; but ex ¢ribus disce omnes, is the reply we make to those who would ask for a more extensive sample. A Hint from Houdin. WE understand that Lorp Jonn Russe. applied to the celebrated | Hovpin for the loan of the empty bottle out of which he so miraculously extracts all sorts of good things, in order that the Whig Premier may take a lesson in the art of ob’aining a constant surplus from a perpetual deficiency. Monsieur Hovupin obligingly submitted the bottle to the Premier’s inspection, who saw, as usual, “ nothing in it.” We will commence, | THE CHARTIST HEROES. | Owe of the vagabonds who was concerned ‘in the late scheme to | blow out all the gas-lights in London at a single gust, and empty the | Thames, the New River, and every other source from which London is | supplied with water, by merely boring a hole in the main—one of | these scoundrels was discovered to have an old coal-scuttle round him | in the place of a shirt, by way of armour. Another scamp had got |a couple of coffee-pots, by way of greaves for his legs; a third had | got a pair of pepper-boxes for gauntlets. Another of the asinine villains | had got a dripping-pan by way of waistcoat; and we only wish he | had got the benefit of a thorough basting from the appropriate spoon. One of the delegates was found with his head entangled in a potato- strainer that he had been trying on as a helmet. The precipitancy of the Chartists in arming themselves with tin- kettles a little too early, has sent them all to pot, rather before their time. The individual who sported a tea-kettle for a stomacher, had a | natural tendency to spout; and when he declared his blood was boiling, | he was no doubt thinking of his own hard case. | rer | Arson Extraordinary. |. We are sorry to have to record an alarming and rather atrocious instance of arson, committed by a contemporary whom we have hitherto been in the habit of regarding as decidedly respectable. The case to which we allude is the entire burning of the city of Milan by the Daily | News. This fearful conflagration occurred at the commencement of | last week, and appears to have originated in the folly of some wickedly- | disposed individual, who threw up a lighted straw for the purpose of seeing which way the wind blew. Happily, some dampers were speedily applied, in the shape of wet blankets, from the printing-presses of some | other Journals, and the fire was extinguished, but not until Milan had been in ashes for at least half-an-hour, when the conflagration turned | out to be nothing more than a column of the ordinary newspaper smoke. The Heavy Blow, and Great Discouragement. | PARLIAMENT is still in the hands of the ventilator and the architect, | and it seems likely to deserve at last the title of “The House that braved, a thousand years, The Baggy and the breeze.” Joun Butt may certainly say of the money granted for Dr. RED’s experiments, as Ofiello did ot “all his tond love ” for Desdemona, **T give it to the winds—’tis gone.” Arms Found Here. Some Irish patriots intend convening a public meeting to take into | consideration the propriety of immediately changing the Irish emblem. Out of compliment to their leader, the national insignia are for the future to be, “The Rose, the Thistle, and the CaBBaceE.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 87 ONTINENT. OME days ago the follow- ing letter was sent. to us by Mr. ALDERMAN SwIL- BY, whose son, Mr. GuTTLeR SwitsBy, is travelling on the Conti- //(\, nent with his tutor, the iz Rev. J. Corker, chaplain = to the Alderman when Lord Mayor. It contains ei} the latest continental = news, and does credit to a young gentleman who => is only eighteen years of age, as a fond parent says, and already weighs eighteen stone. “ Frankfort, Aug. 9, 1848. “My pear Papa, * Agreeable to the wishes of yourself and dear Mamma, I take : up my pen to give you some idear of my travels on the Continent, as far as I have yet been. “The little baskit of Ham-sangwidges and Sherry was a great comfut to me on the journey to Dover. They served to console me after taking leave of my dear Mar, and kep my sperrits up very well. We arrived without accident at the Shipp Inn in time for sup LATEST FROM THE C —_—— 8. | the Rooms, but there was no supper, and I didn’t care for staying dawdling about and seeing the stupid dancing. “T had a shy at the famous gambling tables: and neither lost nor won. As my dear Par gives me as much money as ever I want, what do I care about winning anybody else’s? It was much better surely to come home to a quiet supper than to bother yourself at that stupid or gambling. at I have particularly remarked on the Continent is there capital way of doing potatoes—sometimes brown—sometimes in white sauce— sometimes in sallid which is capitle. I’ll dress one when I come home for my dear sisters and Ma. “ The railroads has tunnels just like ours: and in every train there ’s a carriage express for smoaking—with little tin-boxes to put your cigar- ashes into, and every think convenient. There is plenty of what they call restorations at the stations, by which they mean places where you may lunch and have refreshment. I will say for eating and drinking these Germans are people after my own heart. * As there was a steamer to Coblence setting off just after the rail, we only drove through the town of Cologne, and that was quite enough, for it is an ugly old-fashioned place: and got on board a the three o’clock boat. * Would you believe they had all dined already on board the boat? which disappointed both me aud Mr. C. very much, for there is no place where you can see the manners and customs of a people so well as where they are dining, and we were forced to put up with just a beef- steak—(it’s not. a reglar beefsteak on the Continent such as you git at dear Joz’s—only the undercut of the sirloin) and made out a wretched disappointing dinner as best we could. It was rather showary, and so we played at chess, and had a nap in the eabbin, and reached Coblence at ten at night—time for supper though, trust your Sam for that. Wild bore very good. Trouts ditto; eall them Forellens here. Rudesheimer rather sower, must take something to correct it afterwards. r. “ Mr. Brrmincuam has some of the best Meteria ever drank in my life; if you come this way for the ollidays, ask for it, and thank your dear Sam for pointing you ont a good thing, Mr. Corker liked it too | very much, and we wiled away the hours till bedd-time drinking it, and | to the health of my dearest parents. “The packit sett of so dewsid erly there was no time to ave anythink | comfortable for breakfast ; we therefore only ad some coffy and biskits, | and went on board the Ostend boat. “Tt blew very fresh, and Mr. C. was quite overcome. But the sea hair gives me always an appatite, and I had a good foring breakfast of ham and eggs, and a glass of Coniac, which kep me all right; and I didn’t wake until we were in Ostend Arbour, by which time Mr. C. began too to look up. “This town is very ugly to look at, but strongly fortafied, and has oysters all the year round. Aving to wait for the train, I thought our best amusement would be to try a few dozen of their f/wmous natives, which we did so. But law bless you Pa, there no such great things after all. Many and many time after the play have we ad tushels of as good fish, as well as to lunch, in my dear native city of London. Porter they charge 1s. 8d. per bottle, which you must allow is rather heavy. “The country all the way to Brussells is as flat and green as our billiard- table at Camberwe!l—the towns quite old and ugly. They sell fruit along the road ; we ad some—plumbs sower, cherries ditto, aypricots so so, cost one frank. At all the Stations they were drinking beer which I had some, but o lor! Pa! such sower stuff! Why they wouldn’t drink it in our servant’s hall! ** Brussells is a clean town. We got in just in time for dinner at the Hotel de Suede—as handsome, comfortable, well kep an Inn as ever you saw. Dinner not like us, but famous, all except the soup, which is very shy, and made me think of my dearest Ma and the Shipp and Turtle with tears in my eyes. “Fish is served after roast meat in this Popish country; and Puddn comes in the middle of dinner, about the fourteenth dish; which sur- prized and disappointed me a good deal, for I wished twice of it, and was obliged to go on agin quite fresh at the remaining things. 1 had twenty-nine different things: Mr. C. was obliged to cry pickayvy at the twenty-third or so—and he did look so red! We went and took something warm at a caffy near the Opera, where we went afterwards, and fell asleep with the fateagues of the day. I never much cared about that singing. “Next day we set off for a watering-place called Spa, pronounced Spore here—a little bit of a quiet place, where there’s what they call mineral springs. But the best thing I found here was some little cray- fish, that ain’t much bigger than a good Brighton prawn, but they are full of flaviour and you can eat no end of ’em. I wish I could see dear Ma with a plateful before her. They certainly are both crisp and juicy. “ We were at a most comfortable Inn, the Hotel de Paybaw as it is pronounced. I remarked the ladies at the ¢able d’/éte used their knives to their vedgetables and things, and I like the practice very much. “ Ax-la-Chapelle is another bath or bang where the dinners are by no means bad. Game is here in plenty: and if you go to the Grand ous Ham comes from. Couldn’t sleep all night though: beds small: people walking about. When we got on board took coffy, and went and had a good snooze in the cabbin again. Didn’t wake till ten, when, as I heard, we had passed all the pretty part of the Rhine, and it couldn’t be helped, (and as for me, give me a@ good sleep before all your lanskips). We had a meat and egg breakfast, and got to Mayence at one o'clock. “ They kep us waiting at the train two hours, and then we came on to Frankfort to our Correspondent, Mr, ScuitpKrot, who had a handsome dinner ready to receive * Your affectionate Son, “ SamuEL GuTTLER SWILBY.” UNDER THE ROSE; or, BRITANNIA TO THE POPE. (Supposed to be sung by Sin Rozert Inets.) Come to the garden bower, Come where the violet blows, | And honeysuckle grows, With every pretty flower: There will I treat with thee, All so clandestinely, Under the Rose. There will we plight our troth, | } | | i Of Irish schools and sees, And little things like those, Where the carnation glows We'll sit and talk at ease; Among the pinks and cloves, O’er which the brisk bee roves, Under the Rose. That I ignore thy power The world must needs suppose; And we must pass for foes: Yet will we, many an hour, Among the tulip beds Toge' her Jay our heads, Under the Rose. Our mutual minds disclose, As everybody knows Is needful to us both; Though for appearance sake, We must arrangements make, Under the Rose. The Late Weather. “T HAVE no coppers, my good man,” said a gentleman, “but I’ll remember you, one of these fine days.”— Long life to your honour ! ” exclaimed the crossing-sweeper. “Sure envugh, L’m eternally indebted to you.” The gentleman was so well pleased with this answer, that he tried the same promise at the next crossing he came to. “One of these fine days, mon!” repeated the crossing-sweeper, who happened to be a Scotchman. “ Weel, I dinna mind, if you’ll allow me interest.” Female Poltroonery. WE perceive that at the late Meeting of the British Association at Swansea, a Dr. Epwarp Suunck read a report on colouring matters, the length of which drove most of the ladies away. We were aware of the proneness of ladies to timidity; but, judging from their partiality Monarch Inn you will get there a kind of Sallat, which, upon my con- science, is the best thing I ever ate in that way. We went toa ball at for gay ribbons and smart bonnets, we were not prepared to expect that | they would have thus deserted their colours. “Up in the morning at, five, and off per boat to Mayence, where the | | |

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88 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Zs Ly WPzg Master of the House-— Now, PRAY WHAT IS IT YOU COMPLAIN OF ? FLUNKEIANA. Za ZZ ZZ ZZ, Vly . tp \ '(b % b ae Is NOT A ROAST LEG OF MUTTON, WITH PLENTY OF PUDDING, VEGETABLES, AND BEER, A SUESTANTIAL DINNER ENOUGH FOR you ? ” Flunkey—“* Ou! SUBSTANTIAL ENOUGH, NO DOUBT, SIR; BUT IT REALLY IS A @QUIZZEEN THAT—AW—ME AND THE OTHER GENTLEMEN HAS NOT BIN ACCUSTOMED TO, | THE BRITISH ARCHAOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION. ONCFIVE what a matter of pain it is to us that we cannot devote one whole Number, at least, to a report of the doings of this itimerant body! Perhaps Antiquity never went upon the tramp for so useful an end; so many of the members “rubbing” up their brass to glisten in the eyes of an illuminated generation. Per- haps the luncheons—for it would seem that avtiquarians ate by double-entry, taking two luncheons where com- mon ignorance is content with one—were among the most useful additions to the science of Antiquarianism. The Cheshire cheese produced on these occasions, was very old indeed ; one distinguished Archeologist proved the descent, in a right curl, of the mites from the mites of the “toasted cheese” celebrated in song as the cheese that made the Welshman’s mouth like unto a mouse-trap. The beeswing in the port was shown—by means of a microscope—to have belonged to the bees of Hybla; one Professor boldly buzzing the bottle in proof of it. The ham-sandwiches were descended from the Plantagenet boar; and a noble round of corned beef claimed for its ancestor the first bull of Porpz Innocent. We merely allude to these matters, as showing that even in the leisure of refection, the members by no means forgot what was due to science. Did we pretend to give any kind of description of all the papers, how gladly would we linger on “The Chalk Deposit that Sccred the first Figures of the National Debt!” How dally with Mr. PLancnt’s contribution “On the Early Knee-buckles of the Primitive High- landers!” But we must not expatiate; no, we can only give a few brief notes from Mr. ARpEN’s Paper on the “ Mummy of an Egyptian Cat,” exhumed for the occasion from the mummy pits of Thebes. When we reflect that the Association—national in its objects—travelled to Worcester to instruct the natives in the antiquarian wealth of the locality, we may ask, why travel with a Cat from Kygpt? But we put no such query. And for this reason: let our Archeologist do what he my ee can be no doubt he can advance an excellent argument or it. It’s VERY CORSE—VERY CORSE INDEED, Sin!!” Mr. ARDEN unrolled the Cat, to the breathless attention of a crowded room. The most ancient inhabitant of Worcester does not recollect so many old women brought together upon any one occasion. “ Egypt,” said the learned Professor, “might be called the Paradise of Cats. It was well known that the Egyptians held the Cow in reverence: and for this reason, for the milk which the animals supplied to the Cats. Above the great Cat-mummy-pit of Thebes was written in the picture language of the olden time, this sentence—‘ Egypt expects every Cat to catch her mouse;’ a sentence,”—said the learned Professor— not that he wished to allude to politics—a sentence that might be transferred even to the offices of Downing Street. He, however, would not. be led from Science by party. It was plain—from indisputable marks known to the Professor—that the stock of the Cat before them had come in with the Shepherd Kings; that it passed from the hands of Isis to the lap of Osrris; then appeared in Heliopolis, passed on to El- Karnac, came down the Cydnus with CLeopatra in her barge, and on her death, the individual specimen that the Professor had had the honour of unrolling before the assembled intelligence of Worcester, had become the property of a fortune-teller in Thebes, and died in | her service. There could be no doubt that from the Cat in question descended Puss-in-Boots and Puss-in-the-Corner.” Several hearty rounds of applause rewarded the research of the lecturer; every-hody | feeling that a mummy from Egypt was a subject quite at home in the county of Worcestershire. The Association next day proceeded to Malvern for a practical | inquiry into the antiquity of the springs that supply the lymph for the cold-water cure. several Professors were left in a sitz-bath, and swathed in one of Doctor GuLty’s wet sheets. Mr. ARDEN himself PAYNE’S POST-PRESERVER. Mr. Payne has invented a valuable process for the preservation of wood from fire, insects, and decay. Woop will feel additionally grateful to Mr. Payne if he will devise any means of preserving him in the post of Chancellor of the Exchequer. When our reporter quitted, the President and |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 91 SKETCHES IN FRESH AND SALT WATER. BY THE BUOY AT THE NORE. EFORE landing at Ramsgate it will do your heart good—(if the weather has not been too rough)—to look up at the long line of happy faces that is drawn a the pier, purposely to see you come in. They are all smiling ; some are welcoming friends, some are recognising old acquaintances, whilst here and there a young wife is flourishing a ® cambric handkerchief, which a gentleman @ on board returns with a most excited stick. It is easy to see he is the husband, for the young lady takes a live baby from the arms of a fat nurse, and holds it up to him. The delight of the gentleman knows no bounds. — _ He makes all sorts of ugly faces, claps his hands, smacks his lips, as if he longed to kiss something, and indulges in a variety of chuckles pronounceable only by frantic papas. The baby, however, is very ungrateful, for it does nothing but scream, and has to be carried away, at last, by the fat nurse. The scene is very different in the morning. The bustle is sometimes amusing ; a band-box thrown from the pier occasionally creates a laugh when a wig flies out of it, but the faces of those both going and remaining seem much more likely to cry than to laugh. The husband goes away quite sullen, kisses his darling “‘ Ducky,” as if he were about to be launched into eternity instead of the Duchess of Kent, scarcely notices the baby, and bas to jump on the paddle-box to save his aS: age How different his sensations when he arrived, even though e had the week’s housekeeping money in his cheque-book ! In walking through the bow-windowed streets of Ramsgate, nothing strikes a person so much as the open-door and open-window life the inhabitants—I mean the lodgers—lead. Any one could walk into the passage and help himself to whichever hat or coat he pleased, or elope with the best hoop, or spade, or trap, his juvenile fancy chose to play with. Families pick their shrimps and mend their stockings in public, uite unabashed M the public eye, and seem quite proud to lay before the noses of the hungry multitude every dish of their three courses and dessert. The sight is agreeable enough before dinner—for English- men never look so pleasant as when ny are eating and drinking— but it has its inconveniences when one has already dined; and you wonder, on glancing at a plate almost breaking with the load of meat, currant-jelly, and vegetables, “how persons can eat so.” The hospitality, too, 1am ashamed to say, exists all inside. I was never once asked to step in and takea snack, or even as muchas stopped with the inquiry if I would have a glass of wine? How the poor beggars endure it, | don’t know. The torture of TanTaLvus must be a feast to it. Talking of beggars, Ramsgate is surely their Paradise. The numbers that have embarked in the trade quite beggars belief. The item of ‘* Charities,” every week, in the domestic bills, must be something fearful. It really says a great deal for the ladies, but a great deal more for their husbands; for it is evident that every penny that comes out of the lady’s reticule, is at least twopence out of the gentleman’s pocket. These beggars are not restricted to Englishmen, but take in every shade of foreigners, from the German who looks as if he came from Saffron Hill, down to the Italian boys, those young imps of darkness, who seem as if they washed in blacking, and who, since WarREN is in my mouth, cannot circulate less, | am sure, than Ten Thousand a Fear. Perhaps, however, the musicians beat the beggars in numbers. Never was hurdy-gurdyism carried to such a loud extent. You are pulled up at every corner by a wandering band, who immediately commence an overture for a penny; and sometimes you are stopped short in the middle of a narrow street, and obliged to stop till the trombone has pulled in “its linked sweetness long drawn out,” before you are able to pass. You certainly have too much bad music at Ramsgate, and not | of the good. ‘This superabundance of discord may account for the “Green-baize Band” being so little supported that, when it performs on the parade, it is obliged to write upon its music-stand, “Supported by woe contributions.” This is most beggarly for the rich Isle of anet. The street cries, also, are another crying evil, which, if it only cried half so loudly for redress as it does for “‘ Muffins,” would not be tolerated a single minute. They begin crying at eight o’clock. It is then “Live Mackerel!” At nine it is “ Fresh H-eels!” At noon you are surfeited for hours with “ Plum, Seed, and Pound-cake.” After that comes the “ Sweet-stuff,” which, at the sound of a bell, you are told ** Only one penny an ounce is the price, If you taste them but once, you’ll want more, they ’re so nice.” After the “ Sweet-stuff ” come the “ Fine Fresh Shrimps” which were not sold yesterday; and these are succeeded by a round of “Nice Muffins,” with which crisis you are sent to bed, to sleep if you can. The only escape from these continual cries is a bathing-machine. For myself, I am naturally very fond of bathing, but I must oe; do not like it under a powerful array of telescopes. Now the bathing at Ramsgate is on the sands. The ladies congregate there of a morning, and there is generally a band of music. The scene is very pretty; an really, if the sea was not there, and the band would play a little better, you might fancy yourself in Kensington Gardens. To complete the delusion, dirty chairs are let out at a penny a-piece. The ladies generally have a penn’orth, and the result is, that the whole surface of the beach is covered with the most lovely bonnets and parasols. There they sit till luncheon calls them away, or some Cockney horseman puts them suddenly to flight. Some have a game at needlework, others at Berlin wool, a few perform Canute in defiance of wet feet, and the remainder hold the last fashionable novel in their hands, but still every one of them are looking intently at the sea, and several of them—it’s the naked truth—looking through telescopes! I wished to bathe, but I had not the courage—I mean the impudence. The next morning the concourse was even greater. I threw up the seain despair. Imagine a wide amphitheatre of chairs—a group of bathing-machines right opposite—and not more than four yards of water to divide the two— imagine this, and you have the delicacy of ae brought at one view before you, I quite admired one old lady, who used to turn her back every morning upon the sea, and all that was in it. The sand, I need not tell you, ‘is very soft. It is curious to notice how the weight of people acts upon the legs of the different chairs. One corpulent gentleman kept sinking and sinking, till his knees were far above his head, and he would have sunk altogether perhaps, if he bed act heme = : cated in time; for the old fellow was so fat | that he could not rise | without the assistance oftwo people. —s_ | I send youacurious | eartoon I found on the | eal £ Pe sands. It is a very | | 4. good specimen of the | drawing about these | parts. I was told that | it was the production | of a young lady only | eight years old. saw sucha picture | of a selfish man at | Ramsgate! He was | sitting on the trunk of : . a tree, eating a pine-apple, all by himself! Some five or six little boys were grouped round him, staring with eyes that plainly said, “ Oh! give us a Bit.” Slice after slice disappeared, they still kept watching, but not a bit. did he give to any one of them. That man ate a whole pine— no, I make a mistake, he threw away the stalk. The Marquee is a large tent on a mound one foot high. Occasionally a big wave rushes in, and carries off a newspaper to the Goodwin Sands. It is worth while being in the Marquee, not when the ocean enters, but when the newsman bursts in with the morning papers. The whole room immediately rushes at him, and if he did not throw the papers into | the middle of the room, and guickly run away, he would infallibly be torn to pieces. It is a tragedy in half a minute. The most curious thing to be seen at Ramsgate is the Gothic house on the Parade, It belongs, I was informed, to Mr. Puctn, the architect. Report speaks most highly of the courtesy of this gentleman in showing his rooms to strangers, and speaks still more highly of the perfect taste with which every article of domestic use has been bent, kitchen pokers included, to the caprices of Gothic ornament. I had a private view through one of the windows, which happened, in accordance with the law of this place, to be open. It was the Study, and such a study for a gentleman, so handsome, and yet so comfortable, I never before beheld. Kverything, of course, was Gothic, and 1 was quite surprised at the luxurious, rich effect. A person was sitting inside: I expected to see him Gothic also, but he was dressed like any other gentleman. I could not help noticing, whilst prosecuting my Paul Pry view, (which I hope Mr. Puern, in the same friendly view, will overlook,) that the Gothic paper and curtains bore the motto “ €n abant.” Now, situated as the House is, not more than six small fect from the sea, it will never do for the walls to be moved with this spirit, for if they do attempt to go “ €n abant,” the house most assuredly goes over the Cliff. By the bye, does the motto quite keep pace with the style of archi- tecture the house is evidently built to revive? It strikes me that in running after the Gothic, the motto ought rather to be “ @n arriere.” However, I hope the house will neither go backwards nor forwards, but will always maintain just the same place in the estimation of those who are lucky enough to see it,—even if, like myself, it is only through an open window. A great number of people visit Ramsgate for its beautiful sea, its sn ooth sands (when weeded of the bathing-machines), and its quiet wa'ks, and stroll about, not so much for amusement as for health.

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i i 92 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. proof of this may be seen in the long row of easy chairs that are drawn out, like a cabstand—only the horses are men—on the cliff near the Wy 2 —_— - Clifton Baths, all waiting for a fare. On a warm day (when there is | one) there is not a chair left. ! The great attraction is the Library, where hundreds resort of an evening to hear “ One, two, three, four, five, six,” shuffled about in all manner of ways, to induce young people to invest their shillings in sweepstakes. The noise of the dice is accompanied by the perpetual grumbling of a du!l piano, which is stopt every now and then for the humming of a love-song. One singer, “ from the Nobility’s Concerts,” (that great Conservatory for all musical plants,) was very popular, for he was encored, sometimes twice, sometimes three times. as it his voice? It could not be, for directly he mounted the platform, the ladies | would exclaim, “ There’s ¢ha¢ horrid Mr. Jones again!” Was it his | When the gas is turned on, and there is “a light in every laughing” | style of singing? I doubt it, for the young men would only laugh during an interminable roulade, and cry out “ Beautiful!” and “ Bravo!” in the most good-humoured manner. However, Jones’s popularity and his encores went on increasing every night, till the Librarian called aside the recognised leader at Ramsgate of the young gents’ fashions (he is in the Guards), and said to him imploringly, “ My dear Sir, pray do not applaud and encore Mr. JonEs so, every evening. I cannot tell you how conceited he has grown. It was only this morning he insisted upon an increase of salary; besides, I cannot tell you, my dear Sir, how ¢he encores interfere with the raffling.? The applause suddenly ceased that evening, and the next day JonEs was told that “‘ his services were no longer required.” Poor Jones! He would have been singing “ Those lovely eyes” now, if he bad never been encored. He fell a victim to the fun of the Guards. 1 wish him better luck—that is to say, less of it—elsewhere. Ramsgate lights up beautifully. Seen from the water it is like a little Vauxhal!, without any of the rain. From the Sion Hill the town looks like one of the views that “cover an area of 10,000 square yards of canvas,” which we have so often admired at the Surrey Zoological. } \ } fr) seiae rane HT lh Nadie wn} HN TS ere eer redler ery z= ih | i if mt aa eae) 8 ww Ha) 0 10 wo m A Phe enn an vu ee § r | Y A DESIGN FOR THE NEXT YEAR’S EXHIBITION AT THE SURREY ZOOLOGICAL’ | window and lamp, the illusion is perfect. You expect every minute to see the fireworks spring up into the air, and make sure that the Genius of Britannia, holding a medallion of the Royal Family on the tip of her trident, will presently advance out of the harbour, and splutter its | rockets about in all directions, whilst Junin, seated on Kinc GezorGe’s Column, directs an explosive crash of music that subsides as soon as the Roman candles are nearly burnt out, into a cry of “ Hats off,” and a soft bar of ‘God Save the Queen.” Then comes the silence and the darkness; and now, after giving one loud “ Va-ri-e-ty,” as is always customary when the fireworks are over, I wish Ramsgate “avery good night,” and will run home, as it is high time, I am sure, for all litle Buoys to be in bed. “ Go wHERE GLORY watts THEE.”—The bed of glory in Ireland is a cabbage-bed.—Zhe Cove of Uork. A Special Irish Jury. We find it related among the Irish intelligence in the Times, that on i the late trial of Joun Martin, the Jury put a question to the Court, | commencing with the following curious hypothesis :— | ** Suppose that the prisoner had no criminal intent when he committed the crime y | felony, either on the 24th of June or the 21st of July.” As if any man could commit a ciime without a criminal intent! | Surely no importation of cattle from Ireland ever included so mag- nificent a bull as this! | } The Great Tom (Noddy) of Lincoln. FORCE OF STATISTICS. Our old friends of the British Association for the Advancement of Science are at it again, and the Statistical Section is coming out with unusual strength, to an extent that would induce us to believe of some of the members, that «« They lisped in numbers, for the numbers came,” It is astonishing what Statistics may be made to do by a judicious and artist-like grouping of the figures; for though they appear to begin with a limited application to one subject, there is no end to the mass of topics that may be dragged in collaterally on all sides. A few facts on mendicancy, introduced by one of the members, became the cue for an elaborate calculation of how many meals had been given to Irish beggars in the last twenty years; and this was very near leading to a division of the meals into mouthfuls, with a table showing the number of teeth, subtracting the molars and taking out the canine, employed in | the mastication of these twenty years’ returns of meals. Returns were also threatened of the whole number of mealy-mouthed Irish mendicants within the same period; and an analytical catalogue, distinguishing mere gruel from grub in its ordinary acceptation, and showing the numbers of those who had wanted grub merely to assist them in the process of grubbing on. This led to an elaborate disquisition on potatoes, in which the parings were compared on the principle of pares paribus, and the result showed that when two potatoes had been stripped of their jackets, they were so very unlike each other, that they could only be said to be pared but not matched. rs The great utility of this kind of research and calculation is so very obvious, that we need not point out the value of the labours of our scientific friends, whose large returns have been ill-naturedly said to be productive of very small profits indeed. for Grouse, by watching the House of Commons. You may be sure, | the.very moment Parliament closes, that the Game’s up. Important To Youne SportsMEN.—You will learn the best period |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 93 A HANDSOME OFFER TO LORD JOHN. My pear RvssE 1, 85, Fleet Street, Aug. 22. ; I percerve that Lorp Minto, your estimable father-in-law, has brought in his bill of travelling expenses to Rome, Naples, and Sicily—(a journey patriotically undertaken for the abiding good of the empire)—a little bill to the amount of £2000. The sum, even for a nobleman and a Min7o, is rather large; but then, possibly his Lordship—for the better dignity of the English name—was very liberal to boots and waiters. Now, my dear Lord, your guide, philosopher, and friend, Punch, feels that he has some private business to transact somewhere upon the continent. And being desirous of com- bining public 0 with personal affairs— he, Punch, will have no objection to undertake any li'tle mission for the Whig Government, by which he may be enabled to lessen—or rather entirely to cover— the travelling expenses of himself, Mas. Juptrua Puncu, and family. Be it understood, my Lord, Punch places himself entirely in your hands. So that you send him asufficient letter of credit, you may send him to any part of Europe—(Russia always excepted, Punch having no desire to catch weasels in Siberia)—any part in which the affairs of this country may be a little out of order, ding a delicate hand in the | ‘| diplomatic art of dove-tailing. y dear Lord, let us take a glance at the map of Europe. I do feel | that I might do something in Paris—(Jupirua, who has never been | there, and is at this moment at my side, sewing on a shirt-button, says | * she is sure of it”)—I do think that the country would feel the benefit of any dinner I might be empowered to give to Citizen CavaIGNac | at the Trois Fréres. It is my opinion that I could employ, say a couple of hours after dimmer, in a manner that would serve the interest of England—at least in my own m—in the article of French wines. | And then for our iron; I do think that, sheathing the sword, I could induce the French Ministry to take a knife and fork. Leaving Paris, it strikes me that something very beneficial to our | interests might be effected in Belgium. At all events I feel that I could pass, say three days, very well at the Court of Leorotp. With our present prospect of a limited harvest, is it wise, is it politic, to leave the question of the tariff unsettled in the matter of Brussels sprouts ? I am told that the oan of the railway service throughout Prussia and Austria is worthy the attention of an observing mind, with a view to a probable improvement of the railways of England. It may not be generally known to the people of Great Britain, that—in Germany—the trains start to the sound of a trumpet, and not to the ring of abell. Now, my dear Lord, as I have no objection to take a few of the German cities—(JupiTHA will zow consent to visit Vienna, “the dear Emperor,” as she says—poor woman !—“ having gone back to make it respectable,”)—as I have no objection to Frankfort, Berlin, Dresden, and so forth, I think a settlement—once and for ever—of the Bell and Trumpet Question, would be a considerable boon to the Railway interest—(and you know its strength in the House)—bringing a harvest of gratitude to po! Minister. However, should your Lordship see nothing to be done in Germany, | surely myself and family may be made very useful in Italy. I shall be very happy to go into the thick of the Austrian garrison (my wife and daughters are delighted at the notion) in Milan or elsewhere. Again, an advantageous visit might be made to Genoa—(JupiTHA having resolved -“ a plum-coloured velvet for next winter)—for it is now aged well known that Mr. ABercromsre has lamentably failed. [mate advice therefore is very brief—Try Punch. eaving Milan and Genoa, I feel that the country could lose nothing were I to put up for a fortnight or so at Florence. I have no douht that I might pick up something useful in the galleries there, for our National Wigwam in Trafalgar Square. However, should it be thought otherwise, I will push on for Testes; and (having taken a bath of rose- water before and after the interview) confer with his Perjury the King. | It must, however, be distinctly understood, my Lord, that, on no account, I am to be expected to dine with him. In the present feverish state of our lucifer trade, I may venture to suggest a visit to Sicily, with the view of taking stock of the sulphur of Etna. My daughter JupirHa (a promising but timid artist) is = prepared to illustrate her papa’s report with a water-colour of the | crater. Rome, of course, we must see. It is not for me to brag of the private friendship of His Holiness the Pore; but if Mrvto has failed (and, | indeed, my Lord, such is the general impression), it is only that Punch — triumph. Pro Nono has a yearning love for my Italian origin, and will not consent to take the hand of Sir Roserr [ye ts but from | the hand of Punch. To serve my country, I should have had no objec- | tion to become resident Ambassador at Rome. But, alas! what would Fleet Street do without me? | And now, my Lord, as I must leave England for a few weeks—(for here we are upon the threshold of Septemhber)—dispose of myself and family as you will. I don’t know that I should even object to Turkey ; ea JUDITHA insists, for safety sake, on lodgings at the British mbassy. M Lord, I am aware that—in this application—I suffer under disadvantages. I am not in the Peerage; my name is neither Howarp nor StANLEY—names expressly made to denote a race of politicians— it is simply Punch. I have, nevertheless, one recommendation— I’|l go very cheap; [ll travel at “an alarming sacrifice.’ Munro sends ina bill for £2000. Puncn will go for half the sum. Yes; for £1000 Punch feels that—for a month, say a month—he can, in himself and family, support the credit of England abroad, and smuggle a few things to cut a dash with at home. ‘ I remain, my Lord, yours with esteem (and carpet-bag). PUNCH. P.S. Please send an early answer. Because, in the unlooked-for event of Government refusing to pay my expenses to Rome, I shall be compelled to go at my own cost to Herne Bay. A Simile. Lepro Rottin, defending his conduct in the Chamber of Representatives, said, — * Je monte sur le Calvaire, pour sauver la République.” We read, Leprv, that there were three Who perished upon Calvary. The one—but stay, that Name Divine Thou wouldst not couple, sure, with thine; And convict knaves the other two— Blasphemer, which of these are you ? THE “ UNITY OF RACE ” MOVEMENT. To Mr. Punch. “T wisi you would do something to put a stop to that ridiculous movement tow: “Unity of Race,” wherein half the people of Europe are going to loggerheads. In Schleswig-Holstein there are the Scan- dinavian and Teutonic elements of the population, as they are called, a and cutting each others’ throats. In another direction, the clavonie breed is longing to be at the Teutons. The Austrian and Italian folks are at variance, and even the Neapolitans must needs fall out with the Sicilians. It is unnecessary to mention the wrong-headed Celts in Ireland, burning with envy, and hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness towards the Saxons. By and bye, I suppose the fingers of Highland and Lowland Scotch will itch for internecine war. Why can’t they fuse? Why can’t they mingle? Why can’t they put their horses together? I declare, Mr. Punch, that this mania for asserting Unity of Race puts me in bodily fear. When I examine the composition of my own anatomy, what do I find? Why, that I am — Ancient Briton, with a cross of the Roman, a good deal of the axon, a spice of the Dane, a bit of the Norman, and a touch of the | Lombard and the Fleming into the bargain. “Tf this madness should prove contagious, who knows but that a squabble will arise between my constituent atoms? The Belgian, Lombard, and Danish particles of my blood will separate from each other; my Saxon muscles will detach themselves from my Norman bones; and there will be a breach between my ancient British forehead and my Roman nose. The consequence will be, that I shall go to pieces, or fall a victim to spontaneous combustion. Pray arrest this nonsensical Unity of Race movement if you can, If you cannot, at least endeavour to give it a right direction. Just remind the contending nations of the fact that they are all descended from Apam; and per- suade them to amalgamate in one common stock on the strength of it. ** Your constant reader, * Joun Butt.” MURAL CONTRAST. Tue two placards last week of the Ladies’ Newspaper and the Sunday Times \ooked very oddly side by side on the walls :— BEAUTIFUL DESIGNS | HORRIBLE DESIGNS BY } OF COUNT D’ORSAY. THE CHARTISTS. As we prefer the Beautiful at all times te the Horrible, we must say the Count’s Designs are very far superior of the two. Horses ». Men.—The “Stable Mind” never was so strong (and let us hope never will be again) as when a sum of £70,000 was voted for the QuEEN’s Stables.

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. there would be something ' the bore of a very tiresome | annually obliged | of Commons limited to the 94 TALKING BY TELEGRAPH. Nor content with the wonders the Electric Telegraph performs —not satisfied with its facility in announcing outbreaks—aye, and making them also, now and then—it has been pro- posed to apply its powers to the operations of every-day life, and to carry on ordinary conversation by means of the Electric Telegraph. We have heard of a singer’s voice being rather wiry at times; but there will be something very trying in the perpetual twang of the new mode of small-talk that PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. steel, and throw the inkstand over, among the relics of the past that modern ingenuity repudiates. We hope that our novelists will not begin the practice of writing by this process, for their descriptions do not need the addition of the telegraphic wire to add to their usually wire-drawn character. DIGNITY AND IMPUDENCE. Vid is recommended to us. The coffee- houses have, we are told, in many instances superseded the old bells by the new apparatus ; and instead of the cries down the spout, of “Two of greens,” of capers,” “Three of boiled beef—no fat,” “Six small muttons—two under-done—three, no gravy—one knuckle,” the orders are commu- nicated by the more elegant medium of the Electric Telegraph. We should not be surprised to hear of Her Magesty having resolved to deliver her Speech by Electric “l'elegraph, in order to spare herself the trouble of a personal inter- view with her Parliament; and though the dial-plate of the machine would not be such a pleasing object as that disc of sunshine, the coun- tenance of Royalty, we think gained in sparing the QUEEN ceremony, in which she is nn to par- ticipate. We should be glad to see the speakers in the House use of the machine, which would prevent the other Members from being overwhelmed by the drowsiness which the soporific qualities of tone and style will induce, while at all events there would be something electric in the affair to compensate for the absence of the feu sacré that poets celebrate. ie It has been suggested, also, that this new method of being able to * Give your orders, gentlemen,” when it does not happen that the waiter’s in the room,” will enable “nervons men who dislike servants ” to do without these necessary evils. We have heard of old women so nervous they might be “knocked down with a feather,” but we never yet saw an individual of the male sex, whose sensitiveness threw him into alarm at the sight of a housemaid, or who became aspen-like in his i . . bearing in the presence of a cook, a nurse, or any other female appendage ; it will be convenient to trouble a friend with a few to our domestic establishments. It may be all very well to call for what you want by Electric Teles graph, but we are puzzled to know how the articles are to be conveyed by nt or mechanical means, so as to dispense with the presence ol meniais, Correspondence by Electric Telegraph will be a ry no doubt, and ull be D i ; ines by simply putting in motion the lines of wire which are to supersede the pens of * One | Horse-Guard. “ Now, you Boy! YOU MUSTN'T HANG ABOUT HERE.” Boy. “ Ow! yes, Mr. Hancasour. I suppose I may ser my Watcu BY YOUR CLOCK, AS WELL AS ANY OTHER GENT.” | CRUEL IMPOSITION. E have received a Round Robin from several § distinguished members of the canine species. They complain, and we think somewhat justly, of a most decided cheat that has been practised upon their faithful body for years. We should advise them to put their com- plaints into the shape of a petition, and get it presented to the Clerk of the Weather by the talented Member for Berkshire. We cannot extract their communication at full length, but the following is the principal growl contained in it :— “We, the undersigned, do raise our heads and voices against the insult, respectable body by the old proverb that says, ‘ Every dog has his day :’ We maintain that, for the last three or four summers, not a single one of us has had anvthing like a day, which, by the warmest imagi- nation, could be called a ‘dog-day.? The so-called ‘dog-days’ have just expired, and it would puzzle the most cunning dog to decide, whether more rain has not fallen during that short period than ever since Vauxhall opened its dripping doors for the benefit of |umbrella-makers. It must be sensible to any one who puts his hand out of window, that the fine weather, during which the above saying |first grew and was gathered into a proverb, has long since left the | English barometer, and that the dog-days, like the days of chivalry, and ithe Deys of Algiers, and several other days, have irretrievably gone— ‘and no one knows where. In justice to us, the best friends of man, it \is but fair, since the weather is so foul, that the above proverb should be altered into ‘No dog has his day, excepting it be a wet one.’ ” (Here follow the signatures, or rather scratches of every kind of dog, though we miss the friendly paw of the Newfoundland ; but this may be from his well-known partiality to “take the water” at all times. We hope the poor dogs will be allowed a fine day or two some time between this and Christmas. ] Primed by Wiliam Sradoury, of Ne 6, Yor Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7. Church Kow, Stoke Newington, botn in the County of Middiesex, Printers, at their Office, tn Lombara Street, iv the Precinct of Whitefriars,in the City of Londen. and Published be them at No. 8 , Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarunpar, Ave. 26th, 184%. and evident absurdity, and gross libel, thrown, like a big stone, at our |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 95." | LETTERS TO A NOBLEMAN VISITING IRELAND. Y the time this affectionate letter reaches _ Lordship, you will have had an opportunity of per- sonally inspecting that beautiful Island of Ireland, which occu- pies us so much, and which we all love so. I also have had the good fortune to see it, and have my Own sentiments regarding it, sentiments which I will gladly confide to your Lordship’s private ear, and which I have no doubt will become general in England before long, how- > ever unpopular they may at present be. ** However, you are at head quarters, and can get at the S 4) S W Sie SS Wii r SSS eile BNE actual truth about Ireland from the people themselves. Indeed, I don’t PAY hi ' > know anything so easy to get at in Ireland. 1 should say if there was | any one virtue which characterised the people, a love of truth was that merit. You may, if you like, rely upon every single word that every single Irishman tells you, and placing implicit credit in their statements, the task of governing them will become both easy and pleasant. It was by a steady perseverance in the truth, and a skilful arrangement of facts, that the great O’CoNnNELL attained his influence over his enlightened | countrymen. But whyenlarge on this? You yourself, my Lord, knew, and were fond of that great man. You gave his sons places, made | himself offers of preferment ; and when by a combination of misfortunes : for straightforwardness and candour. he was locked up in gaol, your party nobly aided in letting him out of prison. “You will find the respected Roman Catholic clergymen distinguished ; Their conduct throughout the late disturbances has been frank and manly: I protest, for instance, I know nothing more amiable than the interposition of the Tuam clergy apropos of the late great rebellion. Modesty, Truth, and Charity figure in every line of their composition. “** Rest assured, the heart of Ireland is sound and true towards your Gracious Majesty—hence we implore, we intreat, nay, we most humbly beg—‘ no blood ;’ and as ministers of religion, whose sacred duty it is to ioculcate peace and good will amongst men, we further beg to assure your Majesty that the concession of the prayer of this our pe ition shall be an additional s:imuiant to us to uphold the laws, and to secure, even at the sacrifice of our lives, the stability of that ‘throne which is so happily occupied by your Most Gracious Majesty.’ “No, no, ‘no blood;’ their Reverences can’t bear it; and our govern- ment must forego its known desire for shedding it. No, ‘no blood ;’ let those good folks rescue the Jambs from the butcher. ‘ Even at the sacrifice of their lives’ they will be loyal. See with what generous openness they speak—without arriére-pensée. They will be loyal, what- | ever youcan do. Though you were to shoot half of them (and you know | protect his property, at Thurles, | fired upon those honest fellows at Boulagh Common. | ought to be given to the innocent victims who fell there. you have some notion of the kind), the rest would sing ‘ Domine salvum,’ No, no blood; restrain your appetite for it, too truculent and sanguinary statesman ! “T would suggest, a little more than a mere forbearance of revenge—I would conciliate. I would have the officer broke, for example, of whom Mr. Mauer complained for having drilled in his grounds, and dared to 1 would have the policemen shot who Compensations And some- | thing handsome should be done for the leaders, under whom the people | ‘declined to act.’ Send the young gentlemen of Pim’s out of gaol, with ' Jeave to wear their uniforms behind the counter; let the colonels and | field-officers of the (so called) rebel army retire on half-pay—but no ' blood. Odds butchers and shambles! No blood. If we English have | a fault, it is that love of murder—and on whom do we practise it? On a most innocent, simple, loyal, jury-loving, truth-telling, pike-hating, pistol-loathing, blunderbuss-dreading people, that never harboured a thought of evil. “1 propose that the Irish Chartists, who are doing us the favour to assist our native-bred patriots with their counsels and their valour, should also be handsomely provided for. By heavens, Sir, 1 see no end to the benefits which a union with them confers upon our country ! “ During your visit, and as there is no food, in Ireland to last the people beyond January, I hope you will call the Irish gentry together, and get from them a round statement of the sum which they would like us to pay for the next year’s maintenance of their people. There is nothing like having a fair statement of accounts. Let it be well under- stood in England that we are to support the Irish for the next ten, twenty, hundred years, (for indeed there is no end to the prospect), because then we shall know how to cut our coa's according to our cloths, and apportion our rations to the number of feeders. It for the rest ot my working days I am to have the inestimable pleasure of receiving a grateful and agreeable Irishman every day at my dinner, let me know, so that means may be got ready to accommodate this charming boarder. ** Repeal the Union, indeed! Restore the Heptarchy! Let it be well understood that we will never part from the Irish, and that we are prepared to feed them for ever and ever. No, Sir; we won’t part with the Emerald Gem of _the Western Wave, which now forms the brightest Jewel of the British Crown. ‘By the way, in personally inspecting it, your Lordship will remember how, eighty years since, Lorp CuaTHam declared the North American Colonies to be the most elegant ornaments of the diadem in question; and that our utter national smash and annihilation would ensue, if we lost those appendages. * Now it is certain that in spite of the above prophecy, the English empire is not a bit the less handsome, splendid, or valuable, although these Colonies are taken from it : that it is athousand times more pleasant and profitable to us to trade with the United States, than to bully the North American Provinces; and that if we had thrashed Mr. Wasu- INGTON utterly, as any general of common brains might have done a score of times, hanged him and Mr. Frank.1n, and kept the other brightest jewel to the present day, we should have been by no me-nr so | well off as we are at this moment. of time. ‘Suppose anybody were to offer us back Normandy and Pie y, | which undoubtedly were ours once, and which, with the whole of Frauce indeed, belonged to HER Masegsty’s grandfather, as we read upon the | coins of the first forty years of his reign—would we take them as presents? Wehadrather not. It would be thank you for nothing—a gift of bawling republicans, pauper peasants, desert towns trees of liberty, and the like, would be of no earthly use to our Sovereign or her dominions. We can get as much good from the French people as ever we got from them, and can Jand from steamers and barter for brandy, &c., | without having a Union Jack floating from Calais steeple. ‘If it should appear to your Lordship that the country you are visiting is likewise a foreign nation, (and some think that Lorp Lynpuurst, when he said as much, never said a truer word in his life), you will possibly calculate the value of the province, and make your own | reflections regarding it. Could we buy corn or beasts, with Her Magesty’s Irish Parliament sitting in College Green? Would we buy igs out of a ship with a green flag at her stern? Do we want more in any man than leave to trade with him fairly? Suppose us admi- | nistratively out of Ireland—does anybody still advance that frantic assertion, viz., that some other nation would join with it P Would any | nation want to take that place? get any strength or good out of it? go partnership with that bankrupt? If the French wanted to invade us, | it is not for want of men that they don’t do so. They have men enough. Boulogne is nearer to England than Kingstown. But the | world begins to know the vulgar truth, that trading is better than fighting, and that the plunder of all England would not be so good asthe | leaving it alone. You might cook the British goose, and get one juicy | meal trom it; but it is better to let it lay eggs. ‘This bugaboo of barbaric | conspiracy surely may be scouted now-a-days. Nobody wants to invade | us. Only savages practise that kind of intercourse; and why speculate | upon such projects on the part of our neighbours? Fie! it is a want | of confidence in an enlightened people, and an intelligent and benevolent priest hood. : ; “| wish the Irishman every possible freedom and prosperity. I will give him sixpence with all the pleasure in life; but in exchange for a jair sixpennyworth of wheat, pork or but‘er. Last year 1 gave him money out of my pocket, and was cursed for my pains. I will do so no | more: never more. I prefer a quiet life, and have my own kindred to help out of my superfluity. I say, in these hard times you have no right to say to us, ‘Keep your house, your servants, your family, and your Irishman.’ Why am | to keep an Irishman? He threatens me as he clutches my bread; he hates and insults me as I try to do him good. Isn’t work scarce enough and life hard, but that every Englishman, in addition to his own burthens, is to have this howling, cursing Irish beggar on his back? What has reduced him to this state is not the question: what fault of ours or of his own, what clumsy tyranny of the State, what stealthy priestly inquisition, what coarse cruelty and insolence of landlords, what native failings—virtues even (for 1+ seems to me as if the Irish virtues are, like their faults, quite d fferent to ours)—have helped the degradation of this fatal people, what faults of | our fathers’ or theirs, have produced this wolul state, is not the question. But there it is. There is your Irishnan as you have made him under English laws, English landlords, Knglish juries, English press, English Parliaments. His English landlord is beggared ; he uses your English press as an incentive to rebellion, and as a means for teaching the pike and vitriol exercise; he adulterates your English jury- box with perjury; he evades your Knglish laws with lies, or combats them with nurder. Do you intend to alter our English institutions for his benefit, or to continue the zo¢-governing him under ourown? Are we | to go on for ever in our present condition, we paying and grumbling, he | cursing and starving? Have any laws, opinions, conquests, bargains | of our forefathers a right to bind us to this monstrous calamity? As | weil say that we had no right to repeal the Test Acts or to change the | representation of the country. Fancy our system going on for ever VOL, XV. L

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96 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. as it now is. Fancy our possting in governing Celts by Saxon laws, and that horrible figure of Irish beggary and ruin follows the march of our history into the future, hangs on in piteous chains and rags, pre- venting our progress—it is frightful to look at. Ab, Sir, the Whigs are enlightened statesmen, and Mr. Fox was a great man—but you who have got the Whig recipes and medicine-box, and are Doctor-in- Chief of the three kingdoms, say, on your honour and conscience, is Coe ae drug, pill, or compound which can set your Irish patient right? “Your Lordship’s very humble Servant, “ HiBeRNis HIBERNIOR.” OUT FOR A DAY AND IN FOR A NIGHT. ni | | We have heard a good deal of the beauty of the Blenheim breed ; ; but we cannot say much for the Blenheim breeding, if we are to judge of it from the specimen exhibited by that surly dog, the Cerberus of the establishment. A correspondent of the Zimes has given a striking picture of his escape from imprisonment, which he ran the risk of encountering upon his refusal to pay the demand that was made upon | him by that insatiable Ogre in plush breeches. It will be desirable never | to go unaccompanied to tbis abode of flunkeyian extortion and insolence ; | for if the black-mail of half-a-crown per head is not paid, incarceration— | perha s solitary incarceration—will be the doom of the unhappy traveller. | If this should occur, the fate of the unfortunate will resemble that | of the banished noble in the melodrama, who is “discovered” as the | curtain goes up, sitting in a complete suit of fetters, with a jug on one side, and a canvas loaf on the other, declaring that for fourteen long years, “these”—meaning the pitcher and the tea-cake—“ have been his only friends—his only sustenance.” We hope that when the | subject of imprisonment comes before Parliament, some attention will | be paid to the question whether imprisonment by the Blenheim porter | should be retained in our list of punishments. One Shower’s Enough at a Time. again, yet we have seen just as great an absurdity in the streets of multitudinous cats and dogs, were quietly going up and principal thorougbfares. i rate! The gutters were working double tides. We think the English watering-carts beat the French ditches in absurdity, hollow. CURE FOR INDIGESTION. On the Committee of Supply there was passed a vote of £3400 for the expenses of the Commissioners for Digesting the Criminal Law. We hope that so costly a specific will be found to have effectually aided the Commissioners’ digestion. We laughed at the French for making ditches merely to fill them up | London. Ail last week, watering-carts, when it was pouring the most down our | The more it rained, the more industrious | tlemen, wake up!” they were. Never before was the water laid on London at such an awful | THE SALE OF THE SEASON. ‘ AORESEEN as well as unforeseen causes have led to the sale of the Duxe or BuckineHaw’s effects at Stowe. It is not == generally known that Mr. Dunvp has been compelled to stow it, and endure the humiliation of asale by auction on his premises. It is sad to reflect that a number of — a objects, brought a with the greatest ingenuity —for how he got the tradespeople to send the articles in is really surprising—should be in a few days disseised, and that the hammer should scatter abroad what the ninny-hammers—we mean the creditors —have contributed. The sale has, however, excited the greatest interest, and we will briefly mention a few of the lots that were the subjects of the most active competition. Lor 9. Five pots of antico giallo, or ancient jelly, which has been reserved from—or rather over—the kitchen-fire, in the year 1842. his lot was eagerly sought for until it was ultimately knocked down by the negligence of one of the porters. Lot 14. Mr. Dunur’s shaving tazza, representing Prince ALBERT in tiv, with the alphabet in relief all round his hat, and a similar tazza to match, representing Her Magezsry in the same precious metal, with the figures from 1 to 10 surrounding her head by way of a diadem. This lot was bought for a celebrated hard-bake house in the City. Lor 26. A rare old MS., consisting of a promissory note for six pounds ten shillings, which, according to a tradition of rather doubtful authority, had actually been paid on the day it was due, by an ancestor of Mr. Dunur. This lot was purchased for eighteenpence, by the Trustees of the Houndsditch Museum. Lor 80. One of the identical Italian-irons that the Italians, when they threw off their irons, were supposed to have got rid of. was purchased for the Pope, by Porg, the Kensington carrier, at the rate of ninepence a hundred weight. Lor 94. Mr. Dunur’s favourite horse, upon which he used to give an airing to all his linen. This lot was nearly the cause of bringing the sale to a stand-still, for the horse could not be got to go at any price. Lot 98. An easy chair, used by Mr. Dunup when in easy circum- stances, but subsequently in the possession of the Sheriff of Middlesex. This lot | This lot, which was ultimately purchased for amere song by acelebrated | vocalist, concluded the day’s proceedings. The following Conditions of Sale were attached to the printed Catalogue, and we add them as a curiosity, almost equal in value to some of the odjets included among Mr. Dunur’s property. Canvitions of Sale. Ist. Every purchaser to become the buyer, and the Auctioneer to do every bidder's bidding. 2nd. Ifa dispute should arise between two or more bidders, and before the Lot is knocked down, one of them should knock the other down, the property will be withdrawn from competition. Every Lot to be taken as it stands, unless it be a chair or table without legs, when it must be taken notwithstanding. If after an article has been sold, it should be found that there is no such article in the Sale, half the Deposit will be returned to the purchaser, after deducting from the other half the Auctioneer’s Com- 3rd. 4th. mission, amounting to 40 per cent., and 60 per cent. for preliminary, | intermediate, aud subsequent expenses. . The Lots must be cleared by the purchasers, but if the Lots cannot be found, and confusion should arise, the room will be cleared by the police, in a summary manner, MORPHEUS AMONG THE MEMBERS. In vain does the House of Commons attempt to turn night into day. Exhausted Nature asserts herself, and when debates are protracted till past midnight, honourable gentlemen fall asleep. We expect ere long to read in the reports that— ‘*‘ Mg. ANSTEY would appeal to the Noble Lor4, the Member for London. ** Lonp Joun RussEt. begged the honourab'e gentieman’s pardon. What did he say? He was very sorry—he really couldn’t help it—but the fact was, he had been fast asleep.” And then we shall have the Speaker calling, “Come, wake up, gen- and Mr. BrotHERTON observing that the Dustman has come, or Mr. DisraE i parodying SHAKSPEARE, and crying ‘* Members to bed ; ’tis almost fairy time.” Such will be the unseemly results that will necessarily ensue from our senators persevering in their dissipated determination that “ they won’t go home till morning.’ | A Hanuurss Brave.—Of what use has Mr. Meacuer’s sword been |to him? He seems to have done nothing with it but—cut his stick. | | { t | |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARILI. 97 FLUNKEIANA., ' \ NI \) : Ai SAH SUN Klaukey. ““ Viow vary you uxiInG ME A STEEL Fork, Sint 4 “ MILKING THE BULL.” wis is generally considered to be a hopeless process, a synonym, in fact, for labour in vain. But there is one Bull, Jon Butt, who can be milked without trouble, and his well-stored udder. the quantity this patient animal produces of that cream ‘cf tue milk of human —, which mantles in the pale of society— | calves to suck this great, good-humoured Bull. we mean money—and of the odd ways in which the nutritious product is distributed. There is hardly a country in Europe but furnishes its The distressed Poles ' drain to the tune of an annual £10,000. St. Domingo sufferers, and Corsican emigrants (Who the deuce can they be?) absorb their driblet _ of £4400. The Kine or THE Bexerans is “a regular suck” to the | amount of we don’t know how many hundieds or thousands, for travel- | ling expenses. | to gaddin This item accounts for the extraordinary propensity about which we have noticed in this monarch, who ought to contest the title of Kailway King with Mr. Hupson. It turns out that Joun Butt pays his fares: it appears to 1s that he ought to go further and fare worse, before we pay another farthing for his railway | and steamboat tickets. - comfort, in the shape of £400 for presents, this year. Besides, there is the King of Abyssinia, who comes in for a drop of This zs too bad! As if Jonn Butt had not already European pulls enough on him, they ' must go to the interior of Africa for black leeches to bleed the poor overwrought old fellow with. The worst of it is, that this poor dear old Bull, with a!l his stupidity, is the best tempered of horned cattle. | He would willingly meet all the demands upon him from calves of his own seed, breed, and generation. ‘These surround bis pen, meagre and | melancholious, their bones showing through their hides, lowing for the milk that they see carted off by pailfuls to feed Polish, and Belgian, and Corsican, and Abyssinian, and—ARRowsMITH only knows what outlandish cattle! JouN Butt won’t stand it any longer. If he is to be milked, let it be to fatten the fruit of his own goodly loins. to the _o profit of all who like to apply themselves to| == The Committee of Supply brings out curious evidence of | “DEEP REGRET” OF THE “MORNING POST.” ry ue Morning Post is the conscience-keeper of high life. «*S—- — Jt is the happy privilege of that journal to feel with = the acutest sensibility any domestic accident that may occur at the West-End. Its heart-strings are bound up with the heart of the Aau¢ ton, and if a Duke has the vapours, JENKINS, in sympathetic duty bound, is terribly out of sorts. We all remember the agony of the Pos¢ upon a certain runaway ma‘ch. It felt the indiscretion as something personal. As Barry CoRNWALL some- | where says :— es that single fault Went blushing down a line of Posts!” | We never expected our contemporary to hold up his powdered head again; but, he took heart! the match was pardoned by the parties in- terested, and the Post did not go into mourning. However, a few days since, the Post was again plunged into grief by a “painful occurrence” | in high life :— “* We hear, with deep regret that a lady of high rank, both by birth and marriage, has within the last few days mysteriously absented herself from the residence of her noble husband, in consequence, as it is supposed, of distressing domestic disagree- ments. A variety of details have reached us, but, in deference to the feelings of ali eon- cerned, we refrain from mentioning them in the pres.nt state of the unfortunate circumstances.” | The deference is very touching—extremely delicate. JENKINS pokes | his nose into a family circle, proclaims to the world—“Oh yes, oh yes! | a domestic disagreement—lady ahsente. herself from her husband— | variety of details—feelings,” &c. &c., and then, with the resolution of | a me resolves that, for the present, not another word shall escape | him. e think it impossible for even Jenxins—(for Pan is no¢ dead) | —to maintain a more dignified politeness. IRISH UNANIMITY, Unantmiry in Ireland seems to consist in differing. This should be taken into account when a jury returns averdict ; and when the foreman | states that the jury cannot agree, the judge should take it for granted | that they are perfectly unanimous, and convict or acquit the prisoner | | accordingly.

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“RIGHT ABOUT” Close your Session—and a pretty one you ’ve passed ! Vanish! Toddle! There’s the door !—what you should have done before, Go about your business, Gentlemen, at last. Stop though—ere you disappear, it is well that you should hear Just a word or two that I have got to say. As the spokesman of the nation, of intense disapprobation Of the mode in which you’ve thrown your time away. You a house of legislators? Bah! a pack of idle praters, Do you call yourselves a Parliament? What, you : You a Parliament? A flam, a deceit, imposture, sham, An unqualified unmitigated “do!” After full nine months’ gestation, in the way of legislation, Is there any thing to which you’ve given birth ? Yes—the Sanitary Act—mutilated, clipp’d, and hack’d, Nothing else of any consequence on Earth. Ah! you well may feel ashamed of that measure mauled and maimed, Of that inefficient, miserable Bill, Which has left its work half undone in permitting noisome London, Filthy City, to continue filthy still. Scarce one movement of progression have you made this blessed Session, _Scarce a single pledge or promise have you kept; Not one expectation answer’d, and for all I find in Hansarp, It appears ‘that you might just as well have slept. Your attention, ’twas expected, would be first of all directed To the question of the Currency, for one ; You referr’d it to Committee, which concluded—’twas a pity, But unfortunately nothing could be done. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ‘ G RT you gone! Turn out! Depart! Go alongwith you! Tramp! Start! | Then your next great end of meeting was some remedy for treating | And your course has been reversion to the system of coercion,

ST. STEPHEN’S! Treland’s complicated evils to invent ; Of repressing, not removing, discontent. After Ireland and its shindies came the state of the West Indies, Where our colonists are likely to go smash ; ; ; It was trusted that your cares would have settled their affairs ; I believe you ’ve settled nothing but their hash, Your interminable jaws on the Navigation Laws, Which I understood that you were to amend, | Are postponed, and I may say, that’s the Irish kind of way That your sage deliberations mostly end. What’s the reason? Talk and chatter, always foreign to the matter, Recrimination, disputation loose, ' Whilst irrelevant discussion, upon Eastern or on Russian Questions, UnquHaRt and his Anstey introduce. Talk of gagging Chartist spouters! Gag your own—those out-and-outers ho five mortal hours stand raving at a pull ; . What you want ’s another Burke, to stop mouths that hinder work, To the detriment and damage of Jonn But. Well, your palaver’s finish’d, with taxation undiminish’d, On the other hand you’ve added to the Debt: | Now, when you have ponder’d duly on the question, tell me, truly, Don’t you think you are a very pretty set ? But enough! Decamp! Be quick, ere I help you with a kick ! Take away that bauble, yonder, of amace! _ Since old Nout compelled the Rump with indignity to stump, Never Senate was dismissed with such disgrace.

PLAYHOUSE PROSPECTS. INGULAR reports are j flying about the draw- ing-rooms of England that the English Drama ) is to rise refreshed and strengthened for a long | run. The QUEEN her- self proposes to take ‘ === Swaxspeare by the ‘< ~~ hand, and lift him on : his legs again. This is very commendable ; and the noble influence of high example will of course be felt through- out high places. Not that we should despair of the vitality of the Drama, even were it not nursed—as Baron said—on the one of Royalty, and fed with daintiest patronage in Windsor Castle. Never- theless, that the QueEN, even at a somewhat late hour, should order a theatre to be built in her palace, that she may hold a review of the players, is a very grateful self-assertion, on her part, against the folks who accuse the House of Hanover of a coldness of the heart towards the Drama and letters in general. We understand that levies are to be made upon the various theatres, that they may send their best tragedy, their Pest light comedy, their best broad farce; in fact, a sample of every quality. Thus, it is not improbable that even the acknowledged heroine of Domestic Tragedy may spasmodically twirl her mop in the countenance of Royalty! The stage-management devolves upon Mr. Cartes Kean, who, it is whispered, will be knighted (for six nights only) for the occasion. The audience will, of course, be very select, very distinguished, though orders (especially of the Garter, Bath, and Thistle) will be admitted. Having spoken of the Theatre Royal Windsor Castle, let us descend to the regular houses. The Haymarket—the Adelphi Inimitables having withdrawn—is to be thoroughly trimmed up and burnished. It has, however, been suggested that, just to sweeten the house from!such nastiness as the burlesque of Norma, it would be as well to burn two or three copies of The Critic and the Beggar’s Opera, to cleanse the boards from the contagious properties that may o'herwise hang about them. Mr. Paut Beprorp’s white gown we would have burnt in the Old Bailey, as some expiation for the offence committed upon the gentle creatures born to petticoats. There are, it is said, to be new artistic cevelopments and new faces at the Haymarket, with new plays (not from Jerrs’ of the Burlington). Mr. CHarves AN is to make a dash at Comedy, and has been already measured for a pair of handsome socks. Mrs. C. Kean, who sheds grace and gentleness upon merest common-place, will, it is whispered, now and then play in little pieces. Miss Appison—the Sabrina fair of the New River—will hold up her

* pearled wrists” alike in serious Play and Comedy. James WALLACK has expressly laid in a lasting stock of good health and spirits wherewith | to act and “ manage.” FarReEN retires for a while to Madeira, where, it is said, he has purchased a magnificent orangery and vineyards ; (at least, this is the report, though only our friend the Odserver knows if it be really true or not). We have not heard whether the Lyceum is to be newly decorated. We should think not. They will not attempt to paint the lily. And for pieces, in our worst greediness we can only hope for as good fare as we | had last year; better (of its kind) it cannot be. The Princess’s—there is circumstantial evidence of the fact—will open with new decorative splendour, and with pieces of alarming interest. For we have it upon the best authority that, only last week, Q\bs. of rose-pink, and one whole book of Dutch metal, were sent in to the painting-room, and a bundle of French plays from Mr. Jers, to the private sanctuary of the “spirited and indefatigable proprietor.” There are fitful whisperings of the proposed doings of a distinguished Bard at Covent Garden; but we will not blow the trumpet of idle rumour. We must, however, take prop°r notice of a cruel expression of barbarity, employed by the creature in human form who drew up the last annual Drury Lane Report. Poor JuLLIEN (flayed and bleeding from the Philistines) has left the Court of Bankruptcy with nothing but honour. And what is the aspiration of the Committee? Listen— “ The Committee expresses a hope that M. Joxiren will persevere in his endea- | vours to render Drury Lane a means by which the Drama may once more be | restored to it.” H Now, this properly translated, rans as follows :—“‘ The Committee express a hope that as soon as M. JuLLIEN shall be covered with a new | skin, he will persevere in his endeavours to be once more flayed alive.” |

Take Care of your Pockets. } We take the following from the papers :— “ The rumour that Stowe will be boucht for the Prince or WALEs gains ground, The Inspector of Palaces has made a minute examination of the Mansion.” Well, we cen only end as we began—“ Take Care of your Pockets.” NEW SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Tre Zodiac may be improved. The Gemini should be represented henceforth by those Siamese twins, Mrssrs. ANsTEY and UxQuHART. Taurus, too, might be the Pope’s Bull, which has frightened the Gemini so much lately. We hope these corrections will be made in the next year’s lease of the Zodiac. Punch’s Conundrum. (Dedicated to the Honourable House of Commons.) Why is Mr. Anstey in debate like a cameleon on the look-out for a dinner? Because, with the longest of tongues, he takes the least by his motion.

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CHARTIST ARMING FOR THE FIGHT. A PHYSICAL FORCE

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a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 103 THE MODEL WAITER. §})\ VERY Model Waiter is single, of course. What time has he to make love, excepting to the cook, and she is hot-tempered and cross, as all tavern- cocks are; and he has far too many spoons to look after, to think of increasing his responsibilities with a family of children. He is always “Coming! coming!” but rather, like the auctioneer, he is always “‘ Going! going! gone!” for he no sooner jerks out “Coming!” than he bolts out of the room. Ask him for his name. It is “ Bos,” or “CHARRRLES.” Waiter never hasa surname. He takes his dinner how he can, off the sideboard, or a chair in the passage. If he is very busy, he has no dinner at all. He approaches his plate to steal a mouthful, when fifty shouts of ** Waitar /” call him away. Of many contending cries, he attends to that of “‘ Money,” first. The Mopet Walter never says J. He is quite editorial, and always says We—as, “‘ We’re very full at present, Sir. We had two hundred dinners yesterday, Sir, and three hundred and thirty-five suppers. We consume one hundred and sixty-nine rabbits regularly every night, Sir.” He puts a“ Sir” on to everything, and an odd penny, if the same comes to an exact shilling. “Chop? yes, Sir, sixpence. Potatoes? yes, Sir, tuppence. Beer? exactly Sir, tuppence; and Bread? yes, Sir, makes tenpence ; and tuppence makes thirteenpence—precisely one and a penny, Sir.’ His favourite word is “ nice.’ He recommends “a nice chop with a xice glass of half-and-half ;” or he says, “ You’ll find that a nice glass of port, Sir;” or, “ It’s the nicest breast he ever saw.” He can unravel the mysteries of Bradshaw, without turning over every one of the tables two or three times; and he knows all the playbills of the evening by heart. He never calls a slice of Stilton “a cheese.” He is impartial in the distribution of the “ gave and gives the middle sheet invariably to him who has eaten the most dinners in the house. He shows no favour, either, with the evening papers, but awards them first to those who are drinking wine, to the spirits next, whilst to the beer he gives the Supplement of yesterday’s Times, His shoes are perfect fellows, with upright heels, and the strings are carefully tied ; and his handkerchief so white, it would do credit to a pet parson in the heart of Belgravia. He has “everything in the house” till you cross-examine him, when the “everything” sinks down to a “nice chop or tender steak, Sir.” The joint is always in “‘ very good cut,” and He only been up these two minutes. He is mute for a penny, says “Thank ye, Sir,” for twopence, and helps on your coat for every- thing above it. Politics have no charm for him, and he never looks at a paper, excepting when he is waiting for the last customer, and is tired of killing flies. The only news that interest him are the “ Want Places,” and the pictures. He is good-humoured, and laughs at any joke, even those of a Fast Man. A stranger in his vocabulary is a “party.” He talks of persons according to the boxes they sit in, and cuts down all gentlemen to “gents.” He is not mean with his mustard or the vinegar cruets, and does not hide them in a dark corner. He carries a lofty pillar, quite a falling-tower, of plates, without dropping anything out of them, and does not spill the gravy down an old gentle- man’s neck. If anything is done to rags, or to a cinder, or under-done, or not done at all—if the punch is as weak as water, or there’s too much sugar in it, or it’s as sour as a pew-opener, he bears it all with unruffled meekness, and only begins wiping down the table with his napkin. If the wine is too old, or too young, or too fruity, or too tawny, his waiter’s fine instinct tells him at once what the gentleman will like, and he rushes out furiously in a waiter’s gallop to get it, and returns with something that elicits “Ah! that’s just the thing.’ However, as a general rule, the port has never been less than ten years in bottle. The cigars, too, are imported direct from the Havannah, and cost us full 32s. a pound, Sir. We do not clear a farthing by them, Sir. _ The Move. Warrer very seldom has a holiday. If he does, it is to see some other waiter, or to help at the Freemasons’, or to assist a friend at some grand dinner in a nobleman’s family. His life vibrates between the kitchen and the parlour, and he never sits down from morning till long past midnight. He attempts to doze sometimes, but the loud chorus of “ We won’t go home till morning! ” wakes him up, and he execrates in his heart the monster who ever composed that song; it must have been some wretch, he is sure, who owed a long score to an unfortunate waiter, who had sued him for it. He makes a faint effort to turn off the gas, but is repulsed with an unanimous call for “more kidneys.” It is not wonderful, therefore, if in the morning he yawns over the knives and forks, and drops several involuntary tears whilst replenishing the mustard-pot. After wearing out innumerable pairs of shoes, a Testimonial is got up for the Model Waiter by the “Gents of his Room,” and they present him with a full-length portrait of himself, “as a slight token of their warm appreciation of his unfailing civility, cheerful demeanour, and uniform attention during a term of forty years.” ‘This testimonial represents him in the act of drawing the cork of one of the ten years’ The|s§ bottles of port for a party of gentlemen who are sittting in a box in the corner of the picture, and who are portraits of Mxssrs. Brown, Rosrnson, and Smiru, three of the oldest chop-eaters of the house! It is hung in a glittering frame over the mantelpiece of the room, in and out of which he has been running for the last forty years, and becomes the property of the establishment, there being a special clause let in the frame, that it is never to be removed from the room. The Mope. Waiter, however, has been saving a little fortune of pennies during his long career of chops and steaks—his only extravagances having been the washing of his white handkerchiefs and Berlin gloves every now and then on state occasions—and he purchases, in his grey old age, the business of his landlord, takes unto himself the pretty barmaid as his wife, and dies without having once been fined for keeping open half a minute after twelve on a Saturday night, or serving a pint of beer on undays during the hours of divine service. His portrait still hangs over the mantelpiece as a moral public-house sign to all future waiters, os. to become landlords, they have only to keep in view the MoprE. AITER, Go Fenny Lind. After LozD Bynon’s Lines to Toomas Moose. My shirts are pack’d and pinn’d Within my sac de nuit ; But before I go, Miss Linn, Here ’s a double health to thee. Here’s my cap for show’ry weather, And my hat for sunshine gay, And my collars altogether, Making one for every day. Though the steam shall roar around me That to Boulogne bears me on, Thy voice, whose spell hath bound me, Shall haunt me when I’m gone. Were’t the last pound in my purse, And I stood on ruin’s brink, For thee I’d all disburse, Nor mourn its parting chink. Had I a ten-pound note, I'd give it to the wind, For an air from out thy throat : Here’s a health to thee, J. Linp. SIBTHORP’S SPEECHES. EALLY in a Session like the past, so full of talk and so empty of wit, it is, after all, very cheering to select one man who keeps up the old eloquence of St. Stephen’s; one man who is a sort of vestal Colonel, charge with the sacred fire. Of course we allude to CoLoNnEL Lk’) SrstHorr. We write this with all that great man’s Wo speeches before us; and they are worthy to be tolled by the tongue of his own native Tom, church orator of Lincoln! We have gone through a// the speeches, and we are enabled to give their quintessential properties in the following sparkling syllables :— Cotonet SretHorr would not believe the present Ministers on their oaths. (Laughter.) Coronet SretHorp thought Lorp Jonn RvssELt’s answer most contemptible. (Much laughter.) Cotonet Sretuorp said (on the Intramural Burial Clause, in the Sanitary Bill) he opposed the whole thing. Like Rurtu, where his father lay, he would lie. He would; for he felt that he was the last man to be offensive, dead or alive. (Shouts of laughter.) CoLonEL SretHorP (on the Corrupt Practices at Elections Bill) said he knew what a goose was. (Hear/) Had, moreover, some experience of what a donkey was. He could lay hi: hand upon his heart, and say that, (Loud cheers.) But the wretches opposite—not that he wished to be personal—the wretches opposite were the greatest of geese, and the hugest of donkeys. (Screams of laughter.) The Bill was a low sneaking, paltry, contemptible measure. For his own part, he should continue to give away blankets like a man—to broach his ale like a Christian—and to buy kittens of his constituents like a legislator. (Loud and continued cheering.) As many of the gallant Colonel’s constituents may desire to possess the essence of their representative’s wisdom for the session, we have been at the og of distilling it for their service. It must be very precious to the intellectuality of Cathedral Lincoln.

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| found fully developed in A-wkIsToTLE, A-wRISTIDEs, | perfection, it will be easy to detect an “itching palm,” 104 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HANDY. PHRENOLOGY. NEW LOT OF PHRENOLOG:CAL CASTS. A Boox recently advertised, called ‘“‘ The Hand, Phrenologically Considered,” developes a new mode of ascertaining character, by getting it at our fingers’ | fyyil Dy = VV HE A ny \ ~ 2 et lll | res) anRahie 1} LN | ends; though, as for ourselves, we are not going to have humbug palmed upon us in this very off-hand N| BI TH aA eect 4 manner. We shall of course be having a quantity of plaster-casts, handing down to us the hands of illus- — trious men, whose length of finger will be said to — indicate the grasp of ther intellect. We dare say the hand of Wertuer will be distinguished by its Werts; and we can imagine that the wrist will be Plait tcind dep and the rest of the a-wristocracy of genius that the world has contained. We shall in future be ashamed rather than proud of our delicately and proverbially white hand, lest it may be thought to show a phre- nological affinity with the light-fingered tribe ; but we shall look with interest to a fellow-creature’s knuckle, regarding it as a sort of knuckle-us of all his mental qualities. We have long been familiar with the hand- organ, yet we were never aware of the existence of the peculiar organs of the hand,until this new system was propounded. If the science should be carried to A CONSULTATION. and the hand that would be ready to serve another at a pinch, might be discovered by the way in which snuff is taken. OUR RELATIONS WITH ROME. (Str Joun TyRRewt presents his compliments to Punch, and begs he will insert the subjoined in his cosmopolitan columns. Sir. J. intended to read it in the House of Commons, but had left it at home in another pocket. As Srr J. does not live (like a certain noble Lord) at Richmond, convenient to town, and as he cannot wait another day for the House, he thinks it best to send the warning where it may most | universally apply. The letter is evidently written by one of the very industrious classes; one of those | deserving people who sit up all night, and then get up early in the morning to pursue their honest labour.) “ 7o Str JonHN TYRRELL, “REsPECTABLE Srr Joun, “Is it true, Sir, that whether or no, every one of us is to be made to have Relations at Rome? I, too, Sir, who have kept a lodging-house for twenty years (wife and widow) and never advertised for a housemaid, that I didn’t put at the end in big letters, ‘No Irish need apply?’ And why? Because, Sir, it is my solemn belief, like yours, that no boards can be scrubbed—that no fire-irons can be made to look decent—no furniture dusted, and no potato biled by anybody as harbours the Catholic Religion. And that’s why, Sir Jonny. “And now for an Act of Parliament to make honest housekeepers have Relations at Rome! (But, as my poor dead husband used to say, it’s just like the Whigs). To compel people whether they will or no— and against all their argiments of flesh and blood—to have Relations that they never heard of afore, and if they did, always despised ’em as heartily as if they’d been the poorest relations that ever worried people well-to-do! But I, and all my street, defy the Government. I’Il have no relations, as Mas. Mac THIsTLz, my neighbour, says, sitting on the ven Hills. No; I won’t be made— no, not by the best Act of Parliament that ever trod—I won’t be made not so much as a cousin-german to that Creature in Scarlet; and so don’t let the Whigs for a’ minute believe it. “My good Sir Jonny, in these awful times respectable lodging- house keepers can only depend upon people like you. Can’t you make a short law to tear up, root and branch, all the Irish priests? It would make so many respectable people so comfortable. Cuan’t you go in a ship off Ireland, and inweigle all the wretches aboard, and take ’em out to sea; and when in deep water, couldn’t you cut a hole in the bottom of the ship, and so give peace and quietness to England and Ireland, besides lightening the taxes and curing the potatoes? Do think of it. ** But as for our having Relations at Rome—we defy ’em, and disown ’em. It’s all very well to say ‘at Rome,’ but don’t we know that if we once acknowledge ’em as Rela- tions, though ever so distant, they ’IL soon be Relations of the nearest sort, depend upon it. * Your Obedient Servant, * Jang Nox.” “P.S. I dare say, Sir, you ’ve heard of a tin shop, called the Little Dust-Pan. Well, Sir, I’ve just heard that within these two days | they’ve opened an ironmonger’s at Smithfield, and what do you think | they’ve called that ?—Why, the Little Gridiron! Mercy on us! Doesn’t that look like Relations at Rome?” Our Gallant Tailors. Tue next Commander-in-Chief will be invested with a new and higher rank. He will be called, in all despatches, “The Commander- and-Tailor-in-Chief of the British Army.” At Woolwich there will be a new department, to be called *‘ The Ordnance and Breeches Office.” It was reported that the new shell-jackets were cut out after the pattern of Earu Spencer. [bis has been indignantly termed by bis Lordship a “ sheer inven- tion,” and a wicked attempt to pin a malicious libel on to the back of the Spencers. Here’s an Honour! Our amusing Beli’s Life, talking of the “ Man- chester and Salford Regatta,” says, “The Ear. oF ELLESMERE honoured the river with his presence on board the steamer,” &c. We wonder if the river was sensible of the honour ! They do say it has grown so proud since, that it will not bear anything ander a Duke now. A party of merchants ventured out last Satur- day, and were only saved from drowning by there being the son of a Baronet in the boat. contemporary, |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 105

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AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. I. a» <i =4 AES SaaS L% = LS a = —_ ——) ) - "WS

DUALITY OF THE CRITICAL MIND. We have heard of such exploits as riding upon two horses at once, and we have been ourselves on speaking terms with a gallant steam-boat tar, who“ did bestride ” that little “ world,” his steam-boat, “like a Colossus,” with a leg upon each paddle- box; but we never met with such a wonderful instance of the | duality of mindas the critic of the Daily News has just afforded by including in a single critique a couple of performances, on | the same night, at the two Ftalian Operas. It has been said that a Reviewer, in the discharge of his duties, should look | neither to the right nor to the left; but here is an instance of | a gentleman who must have taken a terrific squint from Covent Garden to the Haymarket. He must have carried Jenny Linp in one eye, and wrapped up ALBon!I in the other, or he must have continued running backwards and forwards all night between the two Operas, like a melo-dramatic connoisseur whom we once knew, that was accustomed to oscillate for a whole evening between the Surrey and the Victoria, for the purpose of weighing the respective merits of Ix (Anglicé, Hicks) and Savitie. Often, after seeing Miss Vincent rescued from unmerited persecution by the knocking down of a nobleman in ducks, berlins, and the other accessories of minor dramatic aristocracy, he has rushed into the Surrey in time to see a murder prevented by a British Tar, who celebrates the triumph of innocence over guilt by darting off into a naval hornpipe. The daily critic whose duality we have noticed must have been a — of this pendulum-like description, for otherwise he could not possibly have favoured us with his remarks on two erformances going on simultaneously at two different estab- ishments. How he managed to hear God Save the Queen, like a bidding at an auction, “in two places,” is more than we can comprehend, unless his ears combine asinine length with

| \),

Early Closing Movement. Tue friends of the Early Closing Movement will doubt- | lessly be pleased to learn that the Oysters, wishing to set a | PERHAPS YOU FLATTER YOURSELF THAT YOU HAVE MADE AN ImpREssION ON Miss | good example to all persons ee ln the shop-keeping line, FLANNIGAN, (AT WORTHING,) AND YOU FIND HER ASLEEP OVER YOUR FAVOURITE | have come to the determination of shutting up their shells one | NuMBER. | caoutchouchian elasticity. | \ | |

hour earlier than usual.

PUNCH’S LITTLE BIRD. THE “CREED OF CASH.” UR astonishment cannot be greater than the reader’s, when we tell him that Mr. ReyNnoips said, a few nights since, that he had never heard a creed ascribed to cash. He did not think that pounds, shillings, and pence were Protestant or Catholic. These were Mr. REYNOLDs’s sayings on the [Irish Education Debate; sayings in , condemnation of a phrase of Mr. HaMILTON’s. We much regret Mr. Reyno.ps’s state of darkness: it is plain he knows nothing of the condition of money. Why, pounds, shillings, and pence are the Pucks, the Arie/s, the Familiars of mankind. They have feelings, emotions, opinions—yes, religions. Sir J. TyRRELL if he would give half-a-crown to one of the race of Catholic Priests, who “ought to be exterminated.” No. And wherefore? Because the half-crown so devoted would become a wicked Catholic half-crown, doing Catholic service. Now, the half-crown in Sim Jony’s breeches pocket is a sound Church and State half-crown, (what a full, mellow ring there is in it !)—a two-and-sixpenny worth of true religion. f In our condition of society what so truly represents the feeling of men as their money? Is the shilling jingled in the plate at Exeter Hall, for the conversion of the Jews, the same as the shilling dropt in the Poor’s-box of Duke’s Place? Money is the working servant of man, and, doing bis orders, carrying out his wishes, bears with it for a time the character of its once possessor, What is a RoruscHiLp? Why, nobody, if not represented by a million or so of guineas: and, while he has them, i! are Hebrew gold; making him mighty in his nation. The Grand Turk borrows them the better to make war upon Greece. Directly, the golden pieces are as so many Mahometan scimitars, smiting the foes of the Prophet. True it is, money is of all religions ; a daily apostate, passing from hand to hand; nevertheless, it is of one religion in its hours of employment,—though now a Jew, now a Turk, and now a Hindoo. With this truth, let every man make his shillings Christian shillings; and this he can best do, when he makes

{them minister to the wants of all. As the debate arose upon a “ Pro-

testant Hospital,” we can say this much :—We never heard of creeds of disease: we believe there is no difference between a Roman Catholic aneurism and an aneurism of the Protestant Church. Is there, Sir JOHN TYRRELL ?

i C7 oar wpe % a RASS oe

Exultation of the “Constant Reader” at the Cessation of the Parliamentary Debates.

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106 PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARLI. BEAUTIES AND BEASTS. From the Bengal Tiger, Surrey Gardens, to the Pike and Tow-Ball Chartists. omE time ago, my dear friends, it was settled among us Beasts of the Gardens to open a communication with the Beauties outside. For though in captivity, we nevertheless hear all the news through the bars, and according to our feelings and dispositions sympa- thise with the two-legged people of the world without. So to speak it, every Beast, from the Lion to the Marmoset, has his human Beauty, in whose sayings and doings he takes a peculiar interest and pleasure. You would be surprised did you know with what | deep attention the Parliamentary Debates are attended to—(they are always read by one of the keepers)—would wonder did }ou listen to the | loud laughter of the Hyena, and the ‘hear! hear!’ of the Wild Ass. Let this much suffice to convince you that, Beasts as we are, we have our Beauties—our two-legged pets. “ When the news of the fresh tyranny that has fallen upon you was spread among us, I do assure you that your misfortunes caused the deepest emotion among all the Carnivora. Perhaps I ought to except the Lion; but then you know his narrow, monarchical prejudices : he has been so long mixed up with the Royal Arnis that all freshness of feeling has left him. He has stared so long upon the crown jewels, that he | turns up his whiskers at mere flesh-and-blood with thorough contempt. The Leopards, too, give themselves airs, and call themselves a part of the monarchy; but, my dear friends, you have the Hyenas, and the Panthers, and the Tigers with you to a hair. “ And you are quite worthy of us. You are, indeed. I felt my eyes turned with admiration to burning topazes when | heard of your plans. Could I have been changed into human shape, retaining my Tiger heart with the added gifts of man, it is exactly what 1 should have done. steal out to kill at night! The very thought of it made my heart jump up again. How I drew my whiskers stiff as wire, and scented my bloody prey, as the midnight wind sighed through the jungle! tancy, | paced with you down the silent street, the thoughts of human flesh warming my heart! Now crouching, noiseless—and now with fangs and teeth (that is, pike and cutlass) in the yelling prey! With one bound to leap to rapine and revenge—to maim and rend in the dark! My mouth waters at the thought; and here a cloud falls upon me, for I feel, I know, that it was not to be. “ Nevertheless, it is something to dream of what success might have compassed. Nor, because | am myself constitutionally afraid of fire, can | suppress my admiration of those magnificent tow-balls! I believe they are not of purely English invention; nevertheless, it is something to have introduced the exotics. I endeavour to suppress my timidity whilst I strive to imagine their glorious effect in the midnight streets of London. Whizz they fly in at the windows, together with the packages of hob-nails and gunpowder ! like a kindled cane-brake! How the wretches fast asleep in their ill- gotten feather-beds are roused to be roasted! Or if half naked, they make ‘or the street—pat, we have them! But alas! this was not to be. Still, as I say, it is pleasant to dream of rapine and slaughter; it somewhat delights my Tiger’s spirit to find that there are men with whom Tigers can sympathise ; that there are patriots, resolved to make the most of society, even as once upon a time my honoured father made the ost of a woman and two children. ** Nevertheless, most puissant Beauties, every Tiger, every Hyena, every wild, flesh-eating Beast, is bound to acknowledge the excellence of your intentions. What though you tailed ?—you hoped to succeed. It is not your fault that the combustibles did not explode; it is not your fault that houses were not turned into cinder-heaps; it is not your fault that your pikes and cutlasses did not do gallant work. | will not stay to describe it. No, brave Beauties; you meant well. But it was ever thus! That prying, eaves-dropping police wi// turn heroes into felons. It was a noble cause, but—as peed said—it was not to be. * And yet, it does soothe the spirit even to call up a vision of success. How beautitul! Whole streets burnt down! Every man his own land- lord, his own banker, bis own monatch—that is, if he would so far domeen his nature as to govern himself, Alas! Why—why was it not 0 ber “What have we—the ravenous Carnivora—not lost by the failure of the plot! For, carry out to the full the principles pointed and contained in pikes and tow-balls, and every city would return to its primitive con- dition, before flag-stones, squared by slaves, oppressed the earth, and filthy coal-gas tainted the air of heaven. “This very country, this enslaved, degraded England, has been wrested from its original possessors. ‘I'here was a time when here the Wolf and the Wild Boar held their lordly sway—before their dens and forests were invaded by the Saxon. I have heard, too—bvt I will not be too remote in my statements—that skeletons of the Elephant and Rhinoceros have been found in certain caves; no doubt infamously murdered, and secretly buried by the Whigs and Tories of a distant | Soyer has been created a K.C. B.—Kettle Cook of the Broth. To | How, in my | How the upper rooms blaze | day. Well, then, it is plain by the natural rights of quadrupeds, that as we were the first possessors of the soil, so ought we to have returned to us our original goods. “And, my Beauties, your intentions carried ont to the full, would go far to give us back our own again. Your policy is the policy of Tigers; your courage the courage of the Pard. It is therefore we, the |defeat; it is therefore that you will ever remain Beauties to your admiring Beasts. * (Signed, on their part) A Bencat Ticer.” “PS. LI understand that the Blue-faced Monkey is in high dudgeon, that he was not permitted to address you; for he declares that, you belong more to him than to your’s, again, ae SF “PONS ASINORUM.” rom Waterloo Bridge,” say the Time-tables of the Southampton Railway, “the Trains now start ;’ but mind, they do not say how far from Waterloo Bridge. That person who takes his time in crossing over, and hangs on the parapets to admire the tre- mendous feats of rowing on the river, will be rather disappointed when he reaches the opposite side, and does not see or hear any symptoms of the promised Railway. He had better walk on as fast as he can, or else, as sure as his name is SmiTH, he will miss the — train. He has a good day’s exercise befure him, The terminus is as near to the bridge almost, as the old Nine Elms. The prudent traveller will take a cab. Really the distance is quite enough to license an omnibus expressly for the traffic. It should be stationed at the toll-gate, and would be an immense boon to persons distressed with corns, bundles, children, or any other impediments against quick walking. At all events guices |should be in readiness at the foot of the Bridge, for the consternation of a person when he looks }about and sees no Railway, |is most agonising; and it is | quite painful to observe how |he scampers up and down those terrifically steep stair- ‘cases that are on each side of the pavement, fancying tnat the Station may he secre‘ed in some coalshed in ithe York Road, or that the | tickets are probably taken down one of the areas in Canterbury Street. The Directors might, with almost as niuch ground for truth, have said the Railway will start from London Bridge, or Chelsea Pier, or St. Paul’s Churchyard. As for ourselves, we walked a long way down the | Road, went past the Victoria Theatre, and then gave up the chase in |cespair. We were told it was somewhere in that direction, but shall |not believe it till we see it with our own eyes and spectacles. We intend to make another venture next week, and then, if it. does not rain, | and we have any time left after our long walk—two very great improba- bilities—we shall take a trip on the new line to Nine Elms, and make our report upon the surrounding scenery, and the state of the Lambeth crops. in the meantime, any little enterprising boy may pick up a wonderful heap of halfpence by conducting the persons who rush over this “Pons Asinorum” to the invisible station. He shall certainly | have our halfpenny when we reach the end of our journey. THE WATERLOO STATION? Jf, amie. | | | YOU THE WAY TO THE STATION, SIR?” Soyer Rewarded. TREVELYAN to the proposed grant of money for overlooking Irish supplies of oatmeal and potatoes. The gallant Colonel wished to know why “M. Soyer, of the Reform Club,” had not been rewarded for Ais commissariat services. The hint has not been lost upon Ministers. Carnivora (always excepting the Lion), sympathise with you, even in | | CotoneEL Dunne very significantly questioned the right of Sir C. —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 107 | without locks, and old rusty weapons, relics of former wars. The pikes LETTERS TO A NOBLEMAN VISITING IRELAND. HE potato-crop be- ing in a perilous con- dition, the Revolu- tion adjourned; and the money to feed the people, not forth- coming, it is satis- factory to find that some Irish Repeal Members are dis- ees to = off po- itical iscussions for the present ; and it is pleasant to listen to the Irish Clergy raising up an affecting chorus of loyalty and devotion to the QurEn, of which — everybody will appreciate the candour. “The great point now is, to begin granting money as quickly as possible, so as to enable our friends to carry on the yearcomfortably. Your Lordship is pledged to this in _ some manner; and certain it is, that the Irish of all classes are in need of that sort of relief. There’s Tim has not been able to earn anything in England this harvest, being engaged in honour to stop at home and liberate his country in the ‘War.’ There’s Pat has sunk all his capital in the purchase of a ‘dainty rifle ;’ and though T'Hapy has got his commission as Lieutenant in the Brian-Boroo Body-guard, yet pay-day hasn’t come round, and it stands to reason that he must be fed somehow. There’s Farner Tom has had no fees, what with the bad times, and the War expenses of his congregation; there’s the landlord has got in no rents; and he with bills out, mortgages to pay on, house and hounds to keep, besides his four sons hunters, the left wing of the house to finish, and all the estate to drain. How can the country get on without a loan? | and whose duty is it, but that of Government, to come down with the money for poor, suffering, bleeding, oppressed Ireland? _ “Go and stay at Castle Crazy, and then say if this picture of a THE IRISH REAPING-HOOK, country’s desolation is overcharged. As you look on the town through the beautiful cracked French windows of the drawing-room, you will | see the Park swarming with ragged cloaks and frieze coats. You will | see three or four old crones squatted in the Hall porch, for whom the | Masther has a joke and, very rarely now, a sixpence; as you go out of the lodge-gate (which to be sure won’t open unless they come lift it), more will start out to let you pass through; if you go with the Masther to look at the nags in the stable, a score of tattered horseboys will be there to show you the way. They will show you Mastner Micx’s grey horse that ran for the Curragh Cup, or Mastuer Jack’s bee meer that ran second in the hurdle race, and Miss Brppy’s chestnut filly, &c., &c.; but all the people you see, from the! Masther down to poor half-witted Joz in the chimney-corner, with his feet in the turf, are in want of money, and look to you quite naturally to supply it. Don’t talk about refusal. Are not the English gorged with lrish beef and corn? Who provides your pork, who wins your victories, but the Irish? If it is their right, they take it and thank you for nothing; if you refuse, you are tyrants and oppressors. Those are to be the terms of the bargain; at least if words go for anything ; if Old Ireland and | Young Ireland are to be believed, and if O’ConneLL and MitcueL represent any opinions at all. “ And while you are arranging your plans for the relief of this fine peasantry, which is now pretty quiet, being about to ask you for money, you will remember that their beautiful pikes, scythes, and dainty rifles, (delicate instruments, with which they proposed to reap the present harvest) are all comfortably hidden away within call. I say it behoves an English statesman to remember that Pappy has a weapon somewhere at hand, with which he propuses to ‘rise in the might of his freedom’ some day, or in other words, to cut your throat. Where are all the lopped forests of ash-poles which the patriots cut down before harvest, and the bushels and cartloads of pikes which the blacksmiths flung off in such a heat and ardour of insurrection? The police, with all their vigilance, have not pounced on twenty pounds worth of old iron, the people laugh in their ragged sleeves as they give them up old muskets are only thrust away into the hedge or the bog; and so the animus to use them is merely laid aside convanient. “ I don’t say this is particularly blameworthy on the part of our Irish brethren. I don’t say that they can do otherwise—miserable as they are, and instructed as they have been—but that you are bound to take account of it—and to remember that the person whom you persist in keeping in your house has been, from some cause or other, worked up to a state of mad ferocity against you, and that he has a knife concealed about his person somewhere, which he will use on your’s whenever he can attack you at an advantage, “Tf this is the fact: if the people hates you, and you have no means to pacify it, why should not the Irish gentlemen try their hand to settle their own affairs in their own city of Dublin? How would their palavers hurt us? or how would our strength be injured by leaving them to arrange their own difficulties, and provide for their own poor? : “‘ And what if the orderly and sensible portion of the Irish are at this minute actually prevented by you from keeping order in their country ? —if the house is on fire and we keep the keys of the engine ? “ Why, Sir, I say, are we to turn out and work the pump for the Irish conflagration, and not allow them to put out their own flames with their own buckets? Why shouldn’t the Irish have a Council House or an Administrative Assembly of their own? You never condescend to give reasons or entertain the question. And yet there are only phrases against it. Mr. Cannine says, ‘Restore the Heptarchy!’ Mr. Mac- AULAY says, ‘Let the whole Empire go down together, rather than a separation ensue ;’ Mr, Carty ep says, ‘The British Lion will squelch the Irish Rat, but separation must not be.’ I hope to see a great party in England before long, which shall say, ‘Why not?’ At any rate, that it shall be a question open to fair debate; and that, when our Irish friends bawl out ‘ Repeal,’ some people will answer ‘ With all our hearts!’ from this country too. **Gentlemen,’ (that band of simple-minded patriots will exclaim) ‘ we get no good out of you. We pay you for your pigs and oats, that you are always bragging about. As for an army, it 1s not for love that you shoulder the musket, but for money; and to say that we are to keep a nation of eight millions, in order that we may get forty or fifty thousand men out of it, is as if you were to tell us to burn a house down in order to roast a pig. We are tired of your brawling, your bawling, your bullying, your bragging, your begging. You stop our kindness with your curses, our pity with your ludicrous menacing and boasting; you render our confidence impossible with your double dealing. We may part from you, and yet survive, without a restored Heptarchy. We won’t go down, even though we have the pleasure of your company in the ship. As for ‘ squeiching,’ that is out of the question. The British Lion has much better occupation ; the business would fatigue him. The dog Billy can do it infinitely better. We believe that we shall be better without you than with your company; and finally, if you want Repeal, we will do our utmost efforts not to balk you.’ “ Sentiments of this nature simply put forward, and conveyed to the leaders ecclesiastical and occult of the Irish party, I believe would go farther to stop the Repeal movements on the other side, than any efforts of conciliation; and I think we should begin to show that we are in earnest, and to prepare our Irish friends for the change they look for, by stopping the subsidies which they have been in the habit of | drawing from this country. *Hipernis HIBeRNior.” MR. ANSTEY’S REMORSE. (A la MacsBeru.) Mertuovcnt I heard a voice ery, Talk no more ! Anstey does murder time, the priceless time ; Time, that knits up the ravell’d hose of BuL1 ; Time, that abuses might have rectified, Served for reduc'ion of expenditure, And progress of reform. Still it cried, Talk no more! to all the House; Youeua. hath murdered time, and therefore CuIsHoLM Shall talk no more, ANsTEY shall talk no more ! Naval Intelligence. Portsmouth, Sept. 6th—A Notice was this morning received, ap- pointing Freperick Jerome as First Class Midshipman on board Her Maszsty’s Ship the Queen. We hail this fact as a delightful evidence that plebeian merit is not henceforth—as Napier observed—condemned to wither in the “cold shade of aristocracy,” but is to be rated at its own intrinsic greatness. Mx. Jerome will, of course, rise in the scale of promotion as rapidly as the rules of the service will permit. The Queen has already sent him gold for his purse: a few years, and as post-captain, he may wear the precious metal in epaulettes. It is by such fostering care as this, that Barrannia makes herself beloved by all her salt-water children. VOL, XV. M

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108 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. A VACANCY IN THE PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS. Ir has long been a matter of surprise with us, that a celebrated character has not been included amongst the i//ustrissimi of Baker Street. He has for years been a public favourite—has won more battles than the luckiest general—has corrected more abuses than the greatest reformer—has put down more quackeries, nuisances, and delusions, than the mighty Sir PereR—and has made more people laugh than SiptHOR?P or GRIMALDI. We flatter ourselves we know this honourable individual—and a better and a truer creature never existed. Who so welcome at every one’s fireside? Who mixes more with every grade of society, ‘rom the palace to the skittle-ground, and is more generally liked? Who is there that possesses the same chance of turning his enemies—if in any odd corner of the globe there now lurks one—into bosom friends ? He is the Poor Man’s Friend, ard the Rich Man’s Best Companion. We say all this confidently; for we know this honest fellow almost as well as we know ourselves ; and can say from our hearts, that the more we know him, the better we love him. It is, therefore, with this profour.d conviction of his merits, that we are astonished he has not yet been allowed the very foremost rank at Mapsme Tvssavp’s popular Walhalla of waxen heroes. We hope this accidental omission, however, will soon be repaired, and that we shall shortly read on the placards of the Metropolis, the following announcement, now long due :— Not a “Common” Compliment. THE Committee of the Underwriters’ Rooms of Liverpool have, in grateful acknowledgment, granted the freedom of their establishment to ADMIRAL GRENFELL, to Thomas LittLepate, Esq., and to CapTain LisBoA, in consequence of “their meritorious exertions” at the burring wreck of the Ocean Monarch. The reporter adds, this compliment “is no common one.” ‘This is evident; otherwise it would have been awarded tothe heroic Freperick JERomr, a “common” sailor. WHAT IS ONE MAN’S MEAT IS ANOTHER MAN’S POISON. TREVELYAN, fee’d, and K.C.B.’d, No maudlin feeling shamming ; } Whilst Paddies droop, and beg for soup, He thrives upon a famine! The People’s “ Sweeps.” Tue Attorney-General has given timely warning to newspaper pro- prietors that, if they continue to advertise public-house “ Sweeps” he will proceed against the offenders for penalties. Lorp GrorcEe BrEn- TINCK boldly stood up for the “Sweeps” of the masses. Why, he inquired, should gambling be allowed at the Clubs, and not at the Bag-o’-Nails and Goat-in-Boots? Very proper; it is too bad that the little “Sweeps” should be persecuted in public-houses, whilst big “ Black-legs ” still swagger on ‘he turf, AN AUDACIOUS BOY. rom the public papers we learn that a shameless varlet, aged 14, was a few days since brought before “4, Mr. Comse (Clerkenwell), charged with an unblush- o.9 ing attempt to sell vegetables from a stall he had - boldly erected in Leather Lane, Holborn. He and his vegetables had been taken into custody by a policeman, on the complaint of a most punctilious and particularly respectable tradesman. “ The shopkeeper said that he was constantly annoyed by the prisoner and other venders of fruit and vegetables standing before his door selling their goods, and he called upon the bench to punish the prisoner.—Mx. Compe: Pray what for ?— Shopkeeper : For causing an annoyance & standing with his articles opposite my door.—Mr. Compe : Nonsense ; poor per- sons like this boy must get a living by some means or other, Was he standing on the footway wih his property ?— Constable: No; on the carriage-way, your Worship.” | The end of this was—Mr. Compe discharged the boy, thus—there | can be no doubt of it—giving an encouragement to all boys desirous of obtaining their livelihood by selling goods from stalls, when not rich enough to take shops. We can feel for the complaining shopkeeper. There was great au- dacity in the boy attempting to set up for himself upon the naked flags, jand under nothing more respectable than the roof of the sky. And this, too, when there was another obvious course open to the little trader. For instance, at the very time he was selling his penn’orths of onions and Jettuces, and thereby annoying a worthy shopkeeper,—at the very time, how many individuals were perambulating the streets of London, with pocket-handkerchiefs about them that—carefully ab- stracted—would, any two or three of them, return more to the boy than the wretched profits of a day’s dealing in beans and cabbages! To be sure, the boy would have to run the risk of Newgate; but what of respect to the dignity of—rent and taxes? THE CHEAP ARMY CLOTHIER. AFTER dinner, at all public banquets, or most, It is usual the “ Army” to give as a toast ; And no doubt there can be that the custom is right, T'o drink health to the brave for their country who fight. Then allow me the “ Army’s” good health to propose; And now, if you please, just a word on their clothes. All soldiers, of course, must dress natty and smart, Or they never will conquer the feminine heart ; And a regiment should always appear on parade, In a uniform, credit which does to the Trade. Now cheapness with elegance must be combined, Satisfaction to give to the national mind. Joun Butt likes Her Masesty’s troops to look nice; But he wishes them clothed at a moderate price. And you’ll own, of all people the Colonel ’s the man Who would rig out his regiment as cheap as he can. For the Colonel receives, as ’tis right you should know, So much money to furnish his soldiers with clo’. At the lowest of figures he does every suit, As the difference goes into his pocket, for boot. Then go to your Colonel, ye children of Mars, Ye spirited Lancers, and dashing Hussars ; Ye gallant Life-Guardsmen, and Troops of the Line, For the cheapest of clothes—if they ’re not superfine. To your Colonel repair, horse and foot, rank and file, He’\l equip you in most economical style ; Each Squadron, Battalion, Detachment, Brigade, Seek your Colcnel’s deydt to be cheaply array’d ; Divisions, and regiments of all sorts of hues, Ye Lights and ye Heavies, ye Greys, Buffs and Blues, Ye Sappers and Miners, ye tall Grenadiers, Artillerymen, Rifles, and Scots Fusiliers, To your Colonel apply, for by him you may count Upon being supplied at the smallest amount ; For a profit, you see, he obtains on your dress, So that no other tradesman can find it for less. To your Colonel’s Emporium you therefore should run, E’en more cheap than the Mart of LoxenosEs anp Son. ’ A GREAT SIMILARITY. O whatever the Irish rebel lcaders may be accused, they certainly | manifest great consistency, for there 1s as much difficulty in the appre- hension of their speeches as of their persons. that? Better dare the hulks than by “ standing with articles” opposite | his door, excite the ire of a respectable shopkeeper. Is there to be zo |

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Se ores OS oF eno PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. . 109 OUR RAILWAYS AND OUR RESPECTABILITY. THE cloven foot, or rather, the claw, is beginning to peep out among | | the Railway Directors, who, having secured a monopoly, and beaten off | compere, by that convenient bugbear, “the badness of the times,” | remote than Boulogne, as “ our own Correspondent” had not yet | Railway Directors evincing this anxiety to uphold the respectability of | second-class passenger. ' ascertaining the amount of Income Tax could: be introduced beneficially are that people are riding by the third-class, who, from their position in life, ought to take a better position in the train; and, to guard against this tendency to self-abasement, the publie will in future be deprived of the power of riding by third-class trains more than once in the day, which the Act of Parliament expressly requires. It is delightful to see the their fellow men, by preventing them from having the opportunity of lowering themselves, and by affording them ample means of keeping up ont ree for their dignity. In TuurrTe.t’s days respectability con- sl in keeping a gig, but in our own times it is im riding by a first- class carriage that true respectability is to be accomplished. We do not exactly know how the means and position in life ‘of travellers by Railway can be, or have been, ascertained; but perhaps the Directors intend to insist upon every passenger making a return of his income before he can be permitted to take a ticket as a third or even a| e think some of the. machinery employed in | at every station, and exemp‘ions from the necessity of paying first or | | second class should be distributed to all who. could: show themselves not | | | } | ' | | of invective as an extract froma speech lately made.at a public assembly possessed of at least two or three hundred pounds per annum. A Polite Speaker for Parliament. Tus Times correspondent at Cheltenham gives. the following specimen by the HonounaBie CRAVEN BERKELEY :— “Sm Witiiam Cuay, the Member for the Tower Hamlets, was an empty-headed fop, possessing the very best opinion of himself; or, to use a common-place expres- sion, any one who would purchase him at his own valuation of himseif, and then sell him at his own intrinsic worth, would be very much the loser. The next Member, Mr. RounDELL Palmer, the Member for Plymouth, is a Puseyite lawyer of questionable reputation, who has bolstered up that reputation by some luck in one or two suits in the Court of Chancery, but who is perfectly ignorant in the Law of Evidence, and of the Common Law of the land.” | The honourable orator is at present without a seat in Parliament. | We propose that a new metropolitan borough should be created expressly for him. If a constituency ought to be heard through its representative, he would be just the very Member for Billingsgate. A Great Commercial Question. A TRADESMAN is curious to know whether the fact of a gentleman having No Tin may not have something to do with the answer he invariably gives of Nor Ly, when any one calls upon him with a bill ? A LITTLE SUM FOR MR. HUME OR THE ACCOUNTANT-GENERAL. Ir the announcement of the CuanceLLor or THE ExcHequer to fund two millions of Exchequer Bills caused a fall of 2 per cent. in the | Stocks—equal to six millions reduction upon the whole debt—What amount of funding should be announced to reduce the total National Debt to Zero? | Coining through Thick and Thin. Prince AtBert has been graciously pleased to call the new double shilling a “Florin.” With all due deference to the noble F. M. who, as a German, has a perfect right to do what he likes with English money, we would suggest that this new shilling should be called, from its thick- ness, Bos-Masor. This would distinguish i from the ordinary shilling, which has generally passed current under the simple name of Bob. | | FINE SUMMER CABBAGES. Tue doughty Smitu O’Brtes be not hard on, For skulking in the widow’s cabbage-garden ; Nor let his prudence be for fear mistaken— He used the widow’s greens fo save his Lacon ! | Whitebait Outdone. WE understand that, although the Ministers expressed themselves well satisfied with the whitebait at their late dinner, they all of them | agreed that it was not half such a PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH as that | which they have had (and have still) to settle in the affairs of the | nation. | THE STATE OF FRANCE. (From our own Correspondent.) Our French express brings us nothing at present from a spot more eginning to raise the fares, and to reduce the amount of third-class | yentured beyond that point at the date of our last advice, and our last accommodation as much as possible. They have made the discovery | advice to him was to make the best of ss 1 his way home again. Boulogne remains perfectly tranquil, nothing having been knocked down but the price of apartments, and there having been no rising, except in the fruit, which is somewhat higher than it used to be. The old blind organ player on the pier has had O Richard, O mon Roi! taken off his instrument, and Mourir pour la patrie put in its place; but this tergiversation seems to excite little sympat/y, or rather, it is responded to by a general tergiversation on the part of his hearers, who usually turn their backs upon him, He has simply converted his organ into an organ of republicanism; but it is.to.be observed that he suspends his desire to Mourtr pour la patrie until he hears a footstep approaching, when he “ turns, and turns, and turns again, and still goes on” with the sick- ening refrain which everybody is now compelled to listen to. The Tree of Liberty in the Tintelleries looks as if it would shor‘ly pack up |its trunk, make its bough, and retire, though it will go without even French leave, for there.is. hardly a leafto.be seen on any of its branches. Large placards on the: walls announce a series of féles to be given at Calais and af Dun- kerque on the opening of the Paris railroad. Such a whirl of excitement as Calais, is to be thrown into, seems. some- thing perfectly intoxicating; for the day is to begin, by a general ringing of . and after that the twe, bands that will be in attendance— one a military, and the other a green-baize — are to contend for a médaille en vermetl, which is to be given to the one that shall succeed in playing the air le plus pompeur on their respective instruments. This frantic hilarity is to be fol- lowed up by a procession of Direc’ ors, a race between two men in sacks, and the day’s delightful doings are to ter- minate with an illumination, = at which the inhabitants are requested to assist with as many chandelles as the jeu vaut intheirenlightened estimation. We should imagine that the ‘ General Steam Navigation Company will put on three or four extra boats at least for Calais, to enable the English to be present in shoals upon this very joyous occasion. FAILURE OF THE TRBE OF LIBERTY CROP IN FRANCE. “ THREE CHEERS”—FOR WHAT? Lovis-Puintpre and family went a few days since to see the Chinese Junk. We are aff-cted to learn, that— ‘“‘ Three cheers being given on the party leaving the Brunswick Pier in one of the Woolwich Company’s boats, the Counr Nevuitiy rose, took off his hat, and repeatedly bowed, aud thanked the spectators in the most cordial manner.” We are well aware that, with the ex-king, at the present time, the smallest cheer must be thankfully received. Nevertheless, we would have cheering, under certain circumstances, made a police offence. Folks are fined for drunkenness; why not for making an unnecessary noise? Unless a man could give a satisfactory, a wise reason for his “cheer,” we would have him considered drunk, and fined accordingly. Under which regulation, how many of the bellowers of the Brunswick Pier would have been severally mulc‘ed in the sum of | five shillings! Jurors in Jeopardy. A contemporary states that in Ireland “no fewer than forty-six jurors submitted to the penalty of £50, rather than attend the late trials.’ We do not wonder at this, considering the peculiar mode of challenging jurymen which prevails in the sister island. A Suaxsprarean Saw ror Sr. Srepuen’s.—Ii, for all the Shallows in the House of Commons we had as many Si/ences, what a very great blessing it would be!

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uk ith | Sl NU ( \ a A HUN —— THE INCONVENIENCE OF BRINGING ONE’S HAT INTO A CROWDED PARTY. FLOWERS “OUT OF PLACE.” We take the subjoined from the Leicester Mercury. It isa case tried at the Leicester Borough Court, a Mr. Hitpyarp, Recorder and Judge :— * Liggins v. J. Shaw.—Claim £1 15s., for garden crop. Defendant said he had entered into plaintiff's service, and in addition to his wages was to have the use of a piece of garden ground. In June last, when he had got the ground into good order, and had well stocked it with vegetables, he was suddenly dismissed — de- fendant telling him to get the garden-stuff valued, and he would pay forit. This was accordingly done, and the value put on was the amount sued for, which defendant refused te pay. Defendant now said plain- tiff might have the vegetables ; but it appearing he had formerly refused this proposition, the Court made an order for £1 13s., deducting 2s. for flowers, which it considered out of place in a cottager’s garden,” Somebody has somewhere called flowers the luxury of the poor. Mr. Hitpyarp, no doubt, is of this opinion; and therefore punishes poverty for contracting expensive habits. What, indeed, has a cottager to do with flowers? Why was Eden decked with roses? For this sole reason, Mr. Hitpyarp; that, in length of days, they might be made to give up their essence, distilled, for people who could afford to buy rose-water. Why should Lavender cumber the earth, if not to scent “fine linen?” It was never made for a mere cottager’s garden, thence, perhaps, to be gathered and consigned to old worm-eaten walnut-tree drawers, to give an odour to the holiday neckerchief or the Sunday shirt. We should as soon allow pearls to the cottager’s wife, as Snowdrops to the cottager’s border. How can a mere rustic for a moment dare to think of Heart’s- ease? What has he to do with Stocks, unless to sit inthem? For the cottager, Balm of Gilead is surely “out of place;” and, we ask it, was the a of Bethlehem ever intended to shine upon the gardens of the poor Again, there may be democratic thoughts wafted even to the dull brain of the cottager from Lilies. For consider—(but you Aave con- sidered)—Mr. Hitpyarp, is it not said of the Lilies—by One who cannot be too much in the thoughts of a Judge—“ They toil not, neither do they spin!” Now, we know how and to whom the Chartists apply these words ; hence, Lilies in acottager’s garden may, in fact, be just so many floral Curreys, breathing discontent and disaffection towards the cottager’s garden are “out of place.” They are best at home in the button-holes of the respectable. Mr. Hitpyarp should get returned to Parliament. Following up the sound wisdom delivered at Leicester, we might reasonably expect him to bring in a “ Bill for the Repeal of Buttercups and Daisies.” For in fields and on commons trod by cottagers, such flowers must surely be alarmingly “out of place.” HONOUR TO JOINVILLE! You’Re a noble fellow, JomInvILLE, you’re a seaman true and brave As ever bearded Davy Jonezs upon the stormy wave ; Never hero did more gallantly the work of bloody strife, Than you have done humanity’s in boldly saving lif % There are chiefs at Glory’s summons who all dangers can defy, And risk their precious carcases, prepared to do or die, Who have gone through fire and water at the trumpet-call of Fame; You, at the signal of distress, have braved the flood and flame. As a fire-eater I’ve laughed at you—prophetic was the joke! It only shows how true a word in jest is often spoke; . Had you burnt the British Navy, your renown could not be higher Than what you ’ve gained already by your conduct under fire. Your deportment in an action I have oft desired to see’; I’ve had my wish, and own that better bearing could not be. With the Ocean Monarch, Joinvi1z, to your chivalrous affair There is not a naval action that I know of, to compare. You have had a golden medal for the deed that you have done, Just to match with the opinions that your gallantry has won; But no kind of testimonial we could possibly invent, Though as big as a dessert plate, your desert would represent. You have earn’d a name of honour—for to all the fact is known, That he who saves his fellows’ lives at hazard of his own, With our native sons of Neptune is establish’d on a par, And decidedly entitled to be call’d a British Tar. May your timbers ne’er be shiver’d, then; your braces ever taut, Your topsail, gallant, royal, exactly what they ought. upper classes. Mr. Hitpyarp no doubt saw all this. Flowers in a So we hail you, JoInviLLE, heartily. Yoho, there! Jacx, ahoy! Three cheers for you, my heart of oak—good luck to you, my boy!

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— —_— a ae —— THE PARLIAMENTARY TOOTS. Mrs. Blimber (D'Is-r-li). “1 think it convenient, Toots, to say to you, | this, I will conclude by observing, Toors—you know my classical taste—that before the young gentlemen disperse, that you appear to me to have reached the | I think if I could have seen Cicero, that pure Caucasian, in his retirement low-water mark of general contempt, and that there is not the least probability | at Tusculum—beau-ti-ful Tusculum !—I could now die as contented as I am of your ever gaining another inch towards flood-tide again. All your friends | ever likely to be.” are ashamed of you; all your enemies rejoice over you; everybody is tired of | Toots (R-ss-ll) confused. “It’s of no consequence, thank you. It’s ail right. you. In fact, Toots, you are, if I may express myself plainly, an unmitigated | It’s not of the least consequence in the world, Nothing 7s of any consequence, humbug, and a hoax. And now that I have relieved my mind by mentioning | anywhere; I’m much obliged to you.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. SKETCHES IN SALT AND FRESH WATER. BY THE BUOY AT THE NORE. Ir watering-places were ar ranged like the divisions of a theatre, Margate would be the pit, and Ramsgate the dress circle. The two places of amusement almost touch one another, and yet how wide apart are the people who frequent them in their manners, appearance, and notions of enjoyment! A erson in the pit—I mean argate—laughs outright, = and is quite indifferent about his dress. In fact he would - as soon take off his coat, and sit in his shirt sleeves, as look at you. He generally takes his provisions with him too; and, when he is thirsty. pulls out a stone jug, an applies it to his lips in the faces of all the company. Far from being abashed, he passes it to his wife, and holds the cork, turning away his head, whilst his good lady drinks. He does not mind what people say. He has come out to enjoy himself, and he is determined to do it. ; How different is the company in the dress circle! I am speaking now of Ramsgate. The ladies are dressed very prettily ; the gentlemen have most superior gloves; and altogether the coats, gowns, opera and eye-glasses, and jewellery are selected with the most fastidious taste. It is impossible for people to be more genteel; but gentility, I am afraid, must be dull work. They all seem afraid to enjoy themselves. They smile occasionally, and simper with the best grace, but appear about as lively as if they were sitting for their portraits. They never laugh—at least heartily. When a good roar wekes them up, they look down with supreme contempt upon the pit below, and wonder how people can be so vulgar ? I have now mixed in both circles, and have arrived at the following pleasant conclusions :— 1st, That Ramsgate is very genteel; 2nd, That Margate is very vulgar. This means that the latterenjoys itself unreservedly, not caring ¢wopence (which is the amount at which po it seems, estimate the world’s opinion) ‘or what people think ; and that the former is afraid to appear in public and follow its impulses, for fear of being considered vulgar. If the two towns could be made to amalga- mate, the junction would probably be one of the pleasantest watering-places in England. The starchness of the one would soon be taken out of it by the freedom of the other. As for myself, I would sooner live in Mar- gate than Ramsgate—and for this reason, that I would sooner walk in pattens than / strut about on stilts any day ; but, mind you, » 1 am not fond of either. ¥ It is a curious fact that no lady is com- plete at a watering-place without a watch. : At Margate the watches grow to a very large Pon ag size. At Ramsgate, however, the gentility is g,uscare. apparent again on the face of them. They are rarely bigger than fourpenny pieces. They are so small that you imagine they must be sold, like shrimps, by the pint. I should say, thirty Ramsgate watches make one Margate ditto, . Margate is populated with Bazaars. They drive a rattling trade, if I may judge from the dice-boxes. I was passing by one, when a gentle- man rushed out and exclaimed up and down the street, “Only one wanted for sixpence.” This was at noon. As I passed the same Bazaar at ten o’clock at night, the same individual was at the door, bawling out the same demand for the same amount of money. Good gracious! Could he have been wanting one for ten long hours, and that one had not re- lieved his want yet? One felt ashamed of oneself! I gave him the sixpence, and slept that night the sleep of the blessed! Margate, I am afraid, is avery dissipated place, since the raffling begins at twelve o’clock in the day; though the smallness of the stakes ss atone for the continued extravagance. improvement, however, has been introduced into that exciting A LADY 8S WATCH AT MARGATE, ame. Ladies’ dresses are now put up as some of the prizes. This is etter than the old match-cases and card-holders; though, if I had won a bombasine, or a visite, I confess I should have been puzzled rather what to do with it. Gentlemen’s clothing should also be admitted into the raffling, or at all events legs of mutton with trimmings, or a barrel of oysters, or acod’s head and shoulders, should occasionally be thrown stare at them, will stand perfectly still for days; or, if you have another hankering after the beautiful, you may amuse yourself by admiring 7 =a THE OPPOSITE COAST OF “ LA BELLE FRANCE,” when you will be surprised how Frenchmen can make Revolutions, and cut each other’s throats, in the name of Fraternité, for so ee | little. The touting for baths near the harbour is really as bad as the touting | for bonnets used to be, I recollect, in Cranbourne Alley, before I went |to sea. You are pulled in, and almost have your clothes pulled off your back, and thrown into a shower-bath, before you can persuade the ‘touters you did not come to Margate to be shocked all day. Margate i must be very full. I sawa placard hanging on a bathing-machine with | the tempting inscription, “Ong Bep to Let.” oe he native produce of Margate is the bellman, who, with his bell, seems to be a perpetual wag, and goes down with the visitors as much 'as Copp’s Ale. There are likewise the portraits taken in shells, much better adapted, I should say, to show off the strong points of a Mussul- | man, than to delight the cockles of Englishmen. I send you two choice specimens, the best I could pick up. They are faithful likenesses of aly MESES \\ v1 ¢) ) wv al } - > ' MITE B = Si aS Oe UU UANIOSNITNT ULL CU THE QUEEN AND PRINCE ALBERT. i_ The great feature about Margate is the Jetty. The Pier is pleasant to walk on, with its two stories—the ground-floor is gratis, the first floor, one penny; but it sinks to nothing by the side of that long wooden gridiron, on which innocent visitors are boiled or broiled, according to the weather, at one single turn. Ladies cannot be too careful. It isa perfect trap to catch little ducks with spray feet, As the water dashes = up through theopen a a lines, it leaves no i Pee ae other impression on > AY your trowsers and \ your mind than that it must have been built originally to \Y S23 rule the waves. This’ looks all smooth and easy enough when the broa ocean is far away; —~ but when the tide X brings up the large volume of water, it is soon proved that ee if the WAS _ the sea governs. The wind, too, carries hats, bonnets, and everything before it, and gives many a young man alift inthe world that he little expected to’ come from such a quarter. It is a continual game between Neptune and etty rules, | into the stakes, and then there would be something to please all tastes. | One of the amusements at Margate is looking through the telescope. | The ships in the Downs, far from moving on, like many people, if you | sheet of the |

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Jarvis’ Jetty, as to who shall have the upper hand. The contest is renewed every day, and when one goes down the other comes up, and vice versa. It is most amusing to watch the ladies when the packets come in. They draw themselves up on the end of the Jetty, opposite to one another, as if they were going to dance Sir Roger de Coverley ; the passengers pass down the double line, like so many convicts. Each man is closely surveyed—no disguise can’ possibly avail him—and as soon as his wife detects him, let him be ever so disfigured by nautical causes, she pounces upon him, and carries him off in triumph. This arrangement must have been made for the express gratification of the Mrs. Caudles of England, and is much more stringent than all the passports on the Continent. Can a gendarme’s eye compete in vigilance with a wife’s ? Some ladies, however, are a little too precipitate. One beauty (the shadow of Mrs. ArmiTaGe) threw her arms around me, crying “ My dearest Cuartes.” Before she had discovered her mistake, I was nearly smothered. I advise all persons with wooden legs not to land on the Jetty. The reason must be open to the blindest imagination, Mrs. Fudgetts (screaming). “My Cuitp ! My Cuitp !” Mr. Fydgetts. “ Wuat’s THE; USE OF MAKING THAT NOISE? CAn’T you BE quiet?” | Mrs. F. “ You’re a Brute, Sir.” Mr. F. “1 wisn I were; For THEN [ SHOULD BE ABLE TO SWIM.” Mrs. F. “Mr. Fypcetrs! Arn’r you a-COMING TO HELP ME?” | Mr. F. “No! It SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR BRINGING ME DOWN TO| THIS STUPID PLACE.” Mrs. F. “ I, 1npgeep. Wuy, I wantep To Go TO BRIGHTON AND YOU WOULD COME TO MarGATE—YoOU SAID IT WAS CHEAPER.” 114 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Visitors are not aware that the middle of the Jetty is covered with water long before the lower end. From the frequent accidents, it would seem as if the Jetty was wickedly bent on mischief, in order to throw customers into the watermen’s boats. The visitor perseveres with his “ Fatal Error,” when all of a sudden he feels his feet rather wet; he looks up from his novel and sees that, like Soyer’s Irish Soup, he is surrounded with nothing but water. The Jetty is impassable. He cannot swim. What shall he do? He has not made his will! He thinks of the dinner waiting for him at home, and the water comes into his mouth. At last a boat nears him. A voice hails him. “Do you want a boat?” Why, of course he does. “ What will you give?” He offers half-a-sovereign—no answer; a sovereign—no reply; the water rises higher—anything you like, and he is heiped off just as a rude wave knocks off his hat. What the price of his ransom is I cannot tell, but judg- ing from his person the watermen must have carried off something heavy. Never shall I forget the awful position of Mr. and Mrs. Fypcerts when they were surprised in a similar manner. I was in the water at the time, and overheard their conversation, carried on under the folfowing difficulties. ‘ wll 4 he ein’ ye iw Mr. F. “It’s Fatse; I SAID NO SUCH THING. Mrs. F. “ You pip, you pip !” Mr. F. “0, Woman! Woman! WHERE DO You EXPECT TO GO TO?” Mrs. F. “To THE BOTTOM ; UNLESS YOU COME AND HELP ME!” ; Mr. F. “Hetpe yourserr. I’M s-I-N-K-I-I-N-G "— Mrs. F. “ My Cuitp! My Cuitp!” Mr. F. (rising from the water). “ Be quiet, can’t rou! Woo-o-m- (the rest is inaudible, but the watery pair are saved just in time, and renew their dispute in the boat as soon as they are rescued from their perilous position. AWFUL GREENNESS OF PERSONS BATHING IN THE SERPENTINE. At the last meeting of the British Association, Mr. Bear stated, as an interesting illustration of the fact that the Daguerreotype would not copy anything coloured green, that he had in vain attempted to take the likeness of a young gentleman who had been bathing in the Serpentine. Cause and Effect. _Mr. Disrartr last week delivered himself of a speech on the hindrance of public business in Parliament. A verbatim report of it occupied eight columns of a newspaper. Mr. DisRAzELI unquestionably | has succeeded to admiration in showing what is the cause of the evil. “Please Turn Over.” Tue Directors of the North Western Railway present their com- pliments to Mr. Punch, and beg to know if he does not consider it very unreasonable of people to grumble at the awkward accidents on their line, when they must know that all the engineers that have been lately left to work the engines were only “ Left Hands,” A BLACKENED NAME, M. Louis Branc comes so very black out of the wy md respectin the late insurrectionary movements at Paris, that Punch feels compelle to authorise him to exchange his name for that of Louis Norr.

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oe Pers PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BEAUTIES AND BEASTS. From the Beaver of the Surrey Zoological Gardens, to Lovis-Buanc, late of Paris. ND so, C1TIzEN Banc, you have discovered that men are neither bees nor beavers. You have failed to turn France into a hive or a beaver-house. The CONSCIENCE-MONEY FROM GOVERNMENT. THERE are certain gentlemen, remarkable for tender conscience, if not for a more general softness of character, whose remittances to the CHANCELLOR OF THE ExcHEQueR “on account of Income-Tax,” fur- nish at least one daily paragraph for the Zimes. It is to be wished that Srr CuarLes Woop would open his mind to the advantages of the Organisation of Labour is yet to be carried out among the human species. Among men there will still be task-masters and idlers. As yet, they will | not be instructed. Beavers are at least for awhile | to remain superior to bipeds. Nevertheless, Citizen, | you meant well. I feel assured that it was the honesty | of your heart to elevate the condition of Man to that of the family of the Castor : your fault has been the fault of too sanguine hope, and not the wickedness of a Cebauched egotism. And therefore, C1t1IzEN Buanc, you are welcome to England; though you have described it as the prison-house of the world, you are nevertheless welcome to a corner in it; though you have painted Englishmen as soulless slaves to a money- box ; as forcats soem of their gold and silver chains, and exulting in the Mint-mark that brands them—nevertheless, they will forget and forgive all such misused ink, and give you cordial greeting. And for this reason, Citizen Biaxc—you meant well. hereupon, in your | good ‘all on the side of the tax-payers. We should be glad to see the | his Income-Tax. | reciprocity system, and be guided by that truly sound maxim, that one turn deserves another. At present it appears that conscience is | Government making restitution occasionally, as well as the defaulters. It would gratify us to find it announced in the newspapers, that the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, in consequence of A. B.’s calamitous fire, or D. E. F.’s bankruptey, had begged to return him the amount of But the Government, we suppose, like Dr. Patey, cannot afford to keep a conscience. On the contrary, they seem to act |on the principle expressed at the foot of the play-bills, of “No Money Returned, Vivat Regina!” AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. I. exile, let your dwelling-place (whether a whole suite of rooms, or a modest two-pair back)—let your dwelling-place be honoured far above the palace of Claremont. “The human family—especially that portion of the family dwelling in | France—is at present too ignorant to be taught your elevating lessons. | Frenchmen will consume, from time to time—as the gift is vouchsafed | and wasted upon them—half-a-dozen Buancs, ere Labour will be Organised as it is with us, the superior Beavers. But what makes our superiority to Man? Why, our equality among ourselves. Form all men equal, and you elevate them to Beavers. Were we, of the streams, and lakes, and rivers, made with different powers, I fear that our | Organisation of Labour—an Organisation perfected on the banks of the rivers ~ girdled Paradise— would full soon lapse into confusion. For | e:— exam | 7 pt is a Beaver who, by the adroit use of his teeth, can cut | through a whole tree while another Beaver is nibbling off a branch. | Well, the better Beaver will build the better house ; and, having built it, will prefer that his own Mrs. Beaver and the little Beavers shall have | | the said house; he will not consent to make it part of a common |} _ through. barrack for the whole family of Castors, many of whom are too lazy or | too ignorant to make the best use of their incisors. “ Another Beaver has a better eye, a better brain for building. He | is the happier judge of the exact place to be chiselled in the trunk of | the tree to be flung down. The architect Beaver hereupon makes his notch, his cut, in the bark of the tree; ard labourer Beavers bite i “ Another Beaver is a superior engineer. Ata glance he can tell | where the river-dam is to be built, and at what exact curve best to | oppose the stream. He defines the curve by swimming it; and the | dam is built by a crowd of mud-layers. Now, Louis, it is not to be| | expected that Engineer Beaver—the wiser Castor—will take up the | , the same judgment to form a river-dam. The family of Castor can live mud and rubbish in his fore-paws, working with the crowd of mud- | layers. Certainly not. When Sm CuristopHeR WREN designed | St. Paul’s Cathedral, it was no business, no duty of his, to carry a hod of mortar. “ Now, Lovis-Bianc, I take it that social equality can only result from equality of mind and bodily powers. One Beaver is as good as another, only because they are both equal. Kvery Beaver brings into the world the same incisors, the same eye for the tree to be levelled, upon the happiest equality, for they have equal abilities. But, depend upon it, Lovis-BLanc—if one Beaver excelled in chiselling, another in levelling trees, another in building dams, and so forth, throughout the whole social polity of Beaver life—depend upon it then there would be a very different Organisation of Labour to that prevailing on the banks of the Ohio and Mississippi. “When every man is in himself a SHaxKspEARE, a NEWTON, a MicHaEL ANGELO, a WreN, a Watt, and so forth—each man con- taining in his common self all the genius and all the wisdom now vouch- safed to units out of millions—why, then, there will be less than ever a need of an Organisation of Labour, for the duties of existence will then be made as the motions of angels. ** Mind—I do not say because all men, even the poorest and weakest, | are not Beavers, that they are not to have full bellies and warm houses ; all I say is, the bellies can’t be filled with the same sort of food, and the houses built of the same sort of materials. You think it should be otherwise; and there, Louis, your mistake; and there the mischief you have done. Nevertheless, again I say, you meant well; so well, that—both of you exiles, one in a palace and one, it may be, in a garret —who would rather be Louis-Puitipre than Louts-Bianc? * Your’s respectfully, (but not fraternal!y), Tne Braver.” i l , As you aRE conpucTinG Lapy GoTOBED TO HER ’CARRIAGETFROM LaDy | Hicusink’s “ NCBLE PARTY,’ AND FANCYING YOURSELF A MAN OF FASHION, | YOU HEAR THE SERVANTS IN THE HALL SAYING ONE TO ANOTHER, “THAT’Ss HIM—THAT’s Pooncy !” THE PUBLIC SERVICE—THREE COURSES AND A DESSERT Tue Session generally opers with a d Ministerial Dinner, and gencrally ends with one, This is the only way in which the Whigs can manage to make “both ends meat.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PUNCH’S PRIZES FOR THE SESSION. Mr. Puncn’s Sessional Examination of his young and old friends of the St. Stephen’s School, Westminster, which is breaking up for the holidays, took place this oa the presence of a numerous and dis- tinguished audience of the Nobility, Gentry, and Public in general. Mr. Punch has much pleasure in furnishing the following list of prizes | bestowed on the occasion :— To Master Jonun Russet, the head boy of the establishment, the | first Prize, for General Inefficiency ; and an_extra Prize (a medal, with | the motto, “‘ Vox et preterea nihil”) for an Essay, illustrated with prac- | tical examples, “On the Art of doing the Least Possible Work in the Greatest Possible Time.” For this last prize there were a great many competitors, but Master RussEi’s Essay was by much the most successful. To Master Georce Bentinck, the first prize for Arithmetic and Artificial Memory. This young gentleman exhibited the most extra- | ordinary feats in Mnemonics, committing to memory, within an incredibly | short time, long tables of figures and statistical returns upon every subject, and repeating them without any regard to order or natural arrangement. In order fully to test his powers, subjects were purposely chosen on which he possessed no previous knowledge whatever. To Master Bensamin Disrak1t, the first prize for Elocution, with | extra prizes for an Essay “On the Use and Abuse of Words,” and a disquisition ‘On the Caucasian Theory of Civilization,” which showed much ingenuity in contradicting all the theories of Kthnographers on European languages and races. ; ; To Master CuisHo~m AnsTEY, Prizes for some remarkable pieces of WANTED, A JUDGE. We have read in the papers the particulars of a very odd freak, attributed to Curer Justice Witpeg, who, it is declared, refuses most. positively to sit at Chambers. We know from experience that “sitting at roe, Ba ” is rather a dull sort of occupation; but perhaps some- thing may be done to enliven the matter, for the sake of Str Tuomas | Wixpe, whose spirits we presume would sink under the horror of being | boxed up in Sergeant’s Inn, after having been accustomed to the greater variety and freedom of a Judge’s life in London and the Proviners. If we may be allowed to interfere as amicus curi@, we should propose that | the court in which the ;Judge’s Chambers are situated should have a carriage-way made through it, and that an omnibus should be engaged to gallop round and round, for the purpose of enlivening the scene, and | enabling Str THomas WItpeE to bear the confinement of sitting at | = Chambers, which the dulness of the spot has evidently rendered un- endurable. Possibly a limited number of organ-boys might be permitted to play ——— == ing Popular Assemblages.” To Master Urquyast, a Certificate of Honour, for a Fixed Idea, manufactured entirely by himself in his leisure hours, and an amusing comic recitation with Master ANSTEY, called “ The Impeachment.” To Master BroraErtoy, a Prize for an Essay “On the Advantage of Early Hours,” and general regularity. To Master Bownktne, a Certificate for procuring the greatest number of useless returns. ; To Master Morpeth, a Prize for Good Temper, and obliging readi- ness to give way to everybody in everything, with marks for his diligence in undoing his own work. Prizes were also awarded to Master WItsoy, for unremitting atten- tion in the discharge of his duties to himself. Yo Masters SiptHorp and TyRRettL, for grinning through horse- collars, and generally promoting the amusements of the young gentlemen. To Master Hume, for Essays “On Economy in the use of Pocket- and dots over i’s are entirely got rid of.” | water on all occasions. under difficulties. Crotchet Work, and an Essay on “The Art of Unpopularity in Address- | money,” and “A Cheap Method of Writing, by which crosses on t’s | To Master Patmerston, for his intrepidity in jumping into hot To Master CuarLes Woon, for his pursuit of financial knowledge | And to the [rish Class, in a body, for their ingenious definitions of | of Property,” and “Justice to Ireland.” formance once a day before Sir Tuomas Wipe, if it will have the Chambers. The Nice Young Man for a Small Party. upon last week. This brief, like most documents of the same interesting nature, was of a most tremendous length. After all, it might have been rolled into one line, for it was proved at the end that the brief was nothing more than a common motion of course, “ Ex-Party Mr. Ben- JAMIN DISRAELI.” 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, in the Precint of Whitefriars,in the City of Lordon, and Published Serremseae 9th, 1848. the following words—“ Treason,” “‘ Saxon Oppression,” “‘ Job,” “‘ Duties | by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarugpar, | | | beneath the windows of the learned Judge; or, we ‘shall be happy to | allow a company of our own itinerant ae to go through a per- | effect of inducing him to withdraw_his threat that he will not sit at | Mr. Disrae xt held a brief against the Government, which he pleaded | i ¥

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 117

| GBAhpy not write Children’s Wooks for Children ? OF all literature none has advanced less than Children’s Literature. It began childish, and continues childish. Now, the child may be father to the man; but that is no reason why he should be treated with literature which is only fit for a father. What can your son possibly know or care, when he is in pinafores, about Kings and Queens, Triumvirs, Druids, Heptarchies, Bourbons, Massacres, and/| Plagues? His notions of royalty are derived | from gingerbread—it comes to him in a nice! ae le shape, and he devours it eagerly. | hy couldn’t history be instilled into him! in the same way? We would feed his young | mind and body with our greatest men and | deeds, sweetened to his recollection through | the medium of plum-buns and short-cake, and | make him learn the use of the globes through a bull’s-eye. The schoolmaster should sit on port or THe xestozation. thestool of the pastry-cook ; and if his Battles | were light and the paste of his Rebels not too heavy, we are sure it would be less injurious than the “cramming ” system at ne so popular in many public schools. If, however, it was found too expensive to let a young man eat his way through | his primer up to the fine arts and sciences, you might turn his appetite to another ad- y vantage. Every ¢) | that although it already holds many news- grandest flights of description about Agincourt and the “ invincible prowess of the English arms.” Ir battles are fought before children, they should be fought with tin soldiers, or else they interest him no more than would the Parliamentary debates upon the Sugar Bill, if read out to him, though a child has a great innate liking for sugar. Study should be made a good romp, learning turned into a game, and children then would run into the school-room with the same eagerness as they rush now into the play-ground. They read a great deal about Dr. JouNnson; but that great man hangs no more round their recollections than the VENERABLE Bene; whereas, if he were made visible in a bag- wig, playing at hoop, there is not one that would not rush after him, and follow him up and down Bolt Court, and every passage in his chequered life, as if they were playing at a game of “Follow my leader.” These little details, which we look down upon with supreme indifference, are circled round the ju- venile affections; and we are confident if teaching were only made a toy, that children would learn the faster, and that it would be an amusing race between master and pupil as to who should get on the quickest. We leave this important subject, with which we have rather toyed, but which affects the future happiness of Young England more deeply than any other, in the hands of Mrs. CuILp, and Messrs. Grantand Grirritus, those juvenile successors to the husband | of our beloved Mrs. Harris, who, it is now proved, lived at the corner of St. Paul’s Churchyard. |

CAVAIGNAC’S FILE FOR FRENCH NEWSPAPERS. | Genera CavaicNac has recently taken | out a patent for an improved File to hold (very fast) French newspapers. We are enabled, by the courtesy of the gallant patentee, to give a faithful engraving of the instrument. It will be observed, papers, there is ample room for many more. Indeed, it may be made to file every newspaper throughout France.

The French Press in Arms. Tue Minister of War has made to GeneRaL Cavaicnac the following return of soldiers, ball, bullets, and cartridges, obtained for the service of the state, from the various offices of the suppressed newspapers :— “* Editors, sub-Editors, Readers, Compositors and Pr , one th d able men-at-arms, “From Printing-Presses, Chases, &c., &c., 50,000 cwt. of furty-two pound ball; from Printing-type, 1,000,000 bullets. “From copies of seized Newspapers, 2,000,000 cartridges.”

Generac CavaicnNac has ordered the men to be enrolled in a regiment, to be called the Nozparetl, Upon which the regiment is to be allowed the full use of the above iron, lead, and paper, in the service of the Republic.

THE ONLY THING THAT HAS BEEN NI GAINED BY THE Frexcu Revo.utTion.— The admission of Puxch into France.

| | | |

IRISH SPORTS. P . We see Ministers and Members are going this year to Ireland | instead of Scotland. Can it be on account of the superior shooting? « |

VOL. XV. N

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118 Two .DESYNES FOR Y*§ NEW HOVSES FOR TAPYST RIE OF PARLAMEN T ; BEGYNNYNG OF Ye SESSION AND Ye E NDE. S HEWING .® DYFFERANCE BETWEENE Y# aS | (: } ¥ BYSSYNESSE OF ve HOVSE. YE F'YSHE DYNNERE THE HAUNTED PILLOW OF PARLIAMENT. (To Mr, Punch.) iid “* Now that the horrid Parliament—thank goodness !—is over, do pray, Mr. Punch, endeavour, during the vacation, to persuade those Ministers to manage better for the future; so that the next Session shall not be so dreadfully long as this has been. Such another will be the death of Mr. Bureess, and if there is any fear of it, I shall insist on his resigning Mudborough, accepting what he calls the Chiltern Hundreds, and retiring into the bosom of his family. “ Here, ever since November last, he has been out nearly every day, attending those plaguy Committees by day, and those tiresome debates at night; and has scarcely ever come home till two or three in the morning. ‘This is enough to ruin the constitution of | gentleman, and to destroy the domestic happiness of any lady whose husband goes on in that manner. “When he had got away from that odious House, and all those eternal stupid discussions, we were settled in our quiet country seat, 1 was in hopes that change of air, relaxation, and his gun and dogs, and other amusements, would have recruited his shattered nerves, and made hira himself again. But no; his mind has become seriously affected, and is in a state which it will take him a long time to recover from. He is absent all day whenever he is spoken to, and he passes such frightful nights that | can get no rest for him. “No sooner has he fallen asleep than I hear him groaning and erying ‘Oh, oh!’ When I shake him, he calls out ‘Order!’ Some- times he shouts ‘Hear, hear!’ at others ‘Question!’ and occa- sionally mutters ‘I move that this House do now adjourn.’ Very often he starts up and utters a cheer, and more than once I have heard | him hoot like an owl, and crow like a barn-door fowl; nay, I have even known him positively to bray, and it has surprised me to think that he could be such a donkey. ** Now and then, whilst he is rambling in his sleep, he declares that he is upon his legs, although of course he is really on his back, or side. He keeps running on all manner of nonsense about miscellaneous estimates, notices of motion, orders of the day, and committees. At times he counts one, two, three, and so on; but never gets farther than forty. In the meanwhile he frequently bursts out laughing; and on awakening tells me that he has dreamt that he was listening to COLONEL Srstuorr. He is also apt to be seized with fits of moaning and gasping for breath, which frighten me extremely; and then it turns out that he has had the night-mare, and has imagined himself to have been | hearing Mr. ANsTEY. * Now, Mr. Punch, as you are the advocate of early closing for the advantage of shopmen and people of that sort, I do hope that you will be as considerate towards Members of Parliament, and get the Govern- ment, if you can, to close the next Session earlier. If one’s husband is to be worked and worried out of his mind, and his pillow to be haunted in this way, a lady might as well be married to a night patrol or a poor- law surgeon as be Tye Wire or A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT.” THE SMITHFIELD NUISANCE “ENLARGED.” WE have great pleasure—on the faith of the public papers—to record a new triumph of the bestial spirit that presides over the destinies of Smithfield. “This market,” say the journals, “is about to be enlarged by the removal of the entire clump of buildings,” &c. result of the zo Sanitary Bill for the City? Is this the first fling at Lokp Morpera for his doings in other parts of the metropolis? His Lordship may invade the cesspools of Westminster, and thrust his Is this the first | meddling fingers in the dunghills of Middlesex; but Smithfield is | tabooed. It is written up, “No Health admitted here.’ We under- stand that the Lorp Mayor and Corporation intend to honour the opening of the “ new space,” by partaking of a banquet of beef-steaks from oxen solemnly slaughtered on the spot; the steaks to be cooked —for the better conservative gusto—on the legendary gridirons of the place. It has been said of an Act of Parliament, that a coach-and- four may be driven through it. The Mayor and Corporation improve upon the feat, and through Morreru’s Act drive any number of sheep and oxen. Radetzky Decorated. Tue Emperor NichoLas—with a fine vulture scent for carcases— has snuffed the battle-field merits of old Rapetzky, and has thereupon sent him the insignia of— ** The First Class of the Order of the Holy Grand Martyr and giver of victories— GEORGE.” When “ Grorce” gives such victories, it is only right that “ Nick” should reward them.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 119 THE BALMORAL GAZETTE. E are very glad to see that | a Highland Littérateur of celebrity is going to set up the Bulmoral Gazette, for the purpose of chronicling the actions of Her Masesty and her Royal Consort and Court while enjoying retire- ment after the Session. the Highland Littérateur will swap his paper against Mr. Punch’s, Mr. Punch will be happy to enter into an ar- rangement for exchange. In fact, we have been for all our lives so accustomed to read a Court Cireular every morning for breakfast, that we can’t do without it mow: and it is absolutely as necessary to us to know what Prince ALFRED did yesterday, and whether the Prmcess Auice rode out in a pony chaise, as it is to know the price of the Fands, or who spoke in Parliament, and what was the division. Nobody has a right to take away all our sources of pleasurable excite- ment at once. Here is Parliament over—but the Court is still the Court. Where the Sovereign is, at Windsor Castle, at. Pimlieo, at the Isle of Wight, on a Scotch mountain, or where you will—loyal subjects rally in spirit. If the Court were up a tree, as in Cuaruzs II.’s time, everybody would like to be informed of its sylvan retreat, and a Court Newsman should be perched on a bough somewhere, to scribble down a “cre of the Sovereign and the other branches of the Royal ‘amily. Teo the Globe newspaper is an excellent print, and always remark- able for its loyalty: whereas avery contrary charge has been whispered (by calumniators) against this present journal, which they have accused of turning august things into ridicule, and speaking disrespectfully of regal institutions, beef-eaters, gold-sticks, and what not: and yet it pains us to see a venerable contemporary speaking in what we must call a flippant vulgarity of tone, which is highly reprehensible, of the above- named loyal Highland Newspaper. “We really had imagined,” says the G/ode, “that nothing remained to be adventured in penny-a-lining; that the capacities of outrage on illustrious privacy had been already strained to the utmost; that immo- rality or Ba/morality (mark the wag’s wicked play upon the words) had been carried to the utmost. But we were mistaken.” Yes: for once the Globe was mistaken ; and it owns to the appearance of an advertisement which states that, “In order to afford DAILY details to the public of Her Magsesty’s movements and the festivities at Balmoral, it is intended to publish a DIURNAL print, entirely devoted to those subjects. The Balmoral Gazette will be edited by a distinguished Highland Lir- TERATEUR, conversant with the country, and all that renders it so attractive to the tourist ; and, besides containing unusually copious details of what news respecting the Royal movements can interest the loyal public, if will contain accounts, historical, descriptive, topo- graphical, and antiquarian, of Her Masesty’s Higutanp House, and of the wild, romantic, and magnificent scenery with which it is every- where enlivened.” _ For this announcement—which is a perfectly loyal, honest, decent, intelligible placard—what does the Glode propose for to go for to do? Why, to TAR AND FEATHER the poor Balmoralist, the worthy, pemene Highland Litéérateur against whom our Cockney brother as some prejudice, and utters some dark hints, because our Celtic contemporary wears no breeches. But, in the name of common decency and brotherhood, why this pother? It is not the custom to wear that portion of dress in the Highlands. When his late Majesty Georce IV. went to Scotland—even to Edinburgh—he royally came forth without the garments in question. Six Witt1am Curtis wore no breeches on some occasions in Scotland—we have his late R. H. the Duxe oF) SussEx painted in a philibeg, kilt, and snuff-mull, with nothing on but | the ordinary costume of the Scottish Highlanders. If Princes and Aldermen turned out in kilts, who the deuce is to quarrel with a High- | land Littérateur for wearing his national raiment? We say no to the | Tar-brush. The Lit¢érateur has no right to be tarred and decorated with non usitatis pennis, any more than any other inhabitant of his mountainous district. Again, to hold him up to ridicule because he intrudes upon “ illus- trious privacy” at Balmoral is a monstrous instance of envious perse- cution. Why are we not to know what Her Masesty and Paince ALBeErt do at Balmoral as well as at Windsor? We are told by the Court eaves-dropper how his Royal Highness wore a blue frock-coat and white hat, and looked remarkably well as he crossed from Ryde to Portsmouth: why are we to be prevented from knowing that the Prince took an airing in a philibeg at Balmoral, and looked remarkably well too 7 This is all nonsense, persecution, and stupid jealousy—the Lit¢é- rateur has as good a right to his Gazette as the Glode to his own. We want to know, for our parts, what our Princes and our Sovereigns do. We are not like other people in Europe (who, very likely from having no Court Circular, have been taking sad liberties with their monarchs); we are accustomed to know the Royal where and what- abouts. Why, we spend eighteen thousand a-year in mere salutes and gunpowder for the Royal Family; and what is a salvo of twenty-one guns from all round a fleet, but an immense roaring Court Circular? We read all Her Masesty does; all the Prince does; when His Royal Highness rides, who rides with him, and when he comes back to luncheon; who takes out the children on the ponies; who “attends” and who “accompanies” them, &c. We get these news from HER Masrsty’s own people, chamberlains, pink-sticks in waiting, or other flunkeys. If it was not good for us, it would not be told to us. If the Sovereign did not think fit to graciously authorise the publication of the account of the royal venerated movements, we should never know them at all. Jonrs has lived next to us for twenty years, for instance, and we have not the slightest notion when he goes out or comes in; what he has for dinner; who dines with him; whether he has children or no, and so forth. But about Royalty it is different. It is beneficial for us | to know, therefore we know; and hence it is‘elear that Scotland or | Pimlico both equally administer to our benefit, and increase our store of knowledge. We ray to the Highland Littérateur, “Go on and prosper, my boy. Never mind the Glode jeering at you because you have no breeches; or threatening you with a tarring and feathering. are doimg your duty to us and the Sovereign, and a little abuse need mot deter you.” | What? Squeamish about disturbing illustrious privacy at Balmoral ? Highty-tighty! Mr. Globe—are you to have it all your own way in the Strand? You take your fill of it. Yow are loyal enough. ‘So are we all—all loyal hearts—gallant, freeborn souls: we like to read of christening of infants; the progress of babies in donkey-carts; the movements of Princes. When we read about them, our hearts boom out a salute, as it were, and man yards as they do at Spithead; and, while we have a Court Circular, shall our partially-clothed friend, the Highland Littérateur, be denied one? For shame, Glody/ for shame ! OBITUARY. Diep last week, the Atmospheric Railway. Its death is supposed to ' have been hastened by the want of breath. When the tube was opened, it was found quite gone. Its loss is deeply regretted by a large circle of India-rubber buffers. A stone will be erected to mark the melancholy fact, with the following epitaph :— The earth hath bubbles, and this is one of them.” Died this week, the Wood Pavement in Oxford Street. Its remains have been looked after by the ///ustrated News, whose quick expression of sympathy does the greatest honour to its head. Six engravers watch over the surviving chips of the old blocks night and day. Died of extreme attenuation, after lingering ten months, the Long Session. It is not regretted by a single person. It has left behind it a large family of little Bills, several of which are so weak, that they have been ordered to lie upon the table. In answer to our last inquiries, they were as bad as could be expected. Mr. AnstEy treats them as one of his own, and talks to them for hours; but, strange to say, they do not rally, and one or two of them have since died of lockjaw. ors F TOYOUGHAL i if di Ng eS if MR. ANSTEY TAKING HIS LITTLE BILLS OUT FOR AN AIRING,

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i | | Wl eh Hy i} | IRISH NEWS FOR AMERICAN READERS. Bapressiy Written for the ‘‘ Tribune,” New York Paper. You have, ere this, expected extraordinary intelligence of the glorious rebellion in Ireland, and I should be unworthy of the cause if [ could disappoint you! The chain-cable that formed the corroding Union is chopped in two—Ireland isa Republic. At this moment the national flag, a Golden Harp in a green field, waves above Dublin Castle; and Lorp Ciargnpon—in the very van that conveyed MitcHet to his dungeon (there’s retribution for you!)—has been rattled to the rail- way station. He has been allowed to take with him only one carpet- bag to England; the rest of his wardrobe being untbetel to the poor of Dublin. Smita O’Brien has been voted President for the term of his natural life; with permission to name his successor. My former Jetter must have informed you of the escape of the Presi- dent from the dungeon of the Saxon. He was confined at the extreme top of the prison, and supped every night upon bread-and-milk. There Was a mighty good reason for this. Thirty fathoms of silk cord—twisted by the Lady Repealers of the Four-Leaved Shamrock Club—were con- veyed to the illustrious captive in a milk-pail, concealed beneath the lacteal fluid. At midnight, the Liberator of himself and country let himself from the roof—“ the cord gliding swiftly through his glowing hands ’—perpendicularly down, as the blessing of chance would have it, upon the head of the sentry. The man fell stunned to the earth; when O’Brien seized the musket, and discharging it, and giving three cheers for Repeal, was joined by some say a thousand, but it is certain not less than fifty, patriots. It would be tedious to detail the victories of the night, they trod so close upon the heels of one another. I have only time to say, that before two in the morning Lorp CLARENDON was a prisoner—he was taken in his bed, in his first sleep—and the Liberator and President of Ireland had quaffed a bumper of claret, calling upon Mr. Meacuer, (who was of course one of the party) to give them, on the festive occasion, “ Who fears to speak of ’98?” Lorp Joun Russet escaped somehow. There are many reports as to the manner of his evasion. But the story most generally credited is, that he was carried on board the packet by his faithful valet in a fiddle-case. I believe the President is, after all, not sorry for this, as it relieves him of a difficulty. The populace have been greatly excited by the clemency of the President; who—in opposition to the advice of a majority of his council—has come to terms with the English Army, permitting them to quit Ireland with their arms, stores, and honours of war. The national heart has been acutely touched by the loss of so many bayonets. I ought not to omit a circumstance that, after all, speaks very favour- ably for the chivalrous bearing of the Saxon. Prince GrorcE and Gengrat Macponatp both dined with the President, ere their depar- ture, and in the handsomest manner drank the immortality of the Irish Republic. : RA In order to wipe into oblivion every obligation to the Saxon, it is the intention of the President to send by an early post to the English Government, an 1.0.U. for the eight millions voted in the time of famine by the British House of Commons, ; The receipt of the Queen or Eneianp will—when obtaincd—be worked in the flag of the Republic! SUBJECTS FOR THE EASEL. UR artists are evidently at a loss for subjects worthy of their paint-pots, their pencils, and their palettes, and we therefore take pity on their poverty of idea by recommending a few subjects to their attention. ‘‘ Catch a weasel asleep” is looked upon as a direction not to be complied with, but to “Catch an easel asleep” would be accomplished very easely, for nothing can be more sombre than most of the productions of Art that are to be met with on our modern canvass. There is, perhaps, a dearth of subjects, for history and fiction have been long ago almost exhausted, and the supplies of fancy have been always of a rather limited order, so that there is scarcely anything left for the painter to fall back upon. We have, however, set our own ingenuity to work for a new batch of subjects worthy of the artists of our native land, and we beg to suggest the following :— . The Egyptian giving the Handkerchief to the Mother of O¢hel/o. . The Hatband of the Nurse of Ju/ie¢ in one of his merry moods. . The malignant Turk beating a Venetian and traducing the State. . The Dogs barking at Richard the Third as he halted by em. } . The Baker baking the meats for Hamlet's Father’s funeral. CU OS 8D More Arrests. WE understand that anew writ has been issued and placed in the hands of a well-known Sheriff's Officer whose quickness is at variance with the slowness indicated in his name, and who has received instruc- tions to lose no time in arresting the potato disease. Should he succeed in arresting this enemy to the prosperity of the country, he will earn not only the gratitude of all classes, but half-a-guinea in addition, by way of fee, on the arrest being made.

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UME LEIA / ) ee 7 PED 1 AQELMTH rm — > ht

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ALFRED THE SMALL, | DISGUISED AS A LITTLE WARBLER, VISITING THE IRISH CAMP; | BEING A GRAND HISTORICAL PARODY UPON ALF—D THE GR—AT VISITING THE DANISH DITTO; And Intended for a Fresco in the New Houses of Parliament.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 123 A prolix Orator meeteth a stout gentleman going about his busi- ness, and de- taineth him. The stout gentle- man is fasci- nated by the eye of the unconsci- onable bore, and is constrained to endure his ora- tory. The Orator talk- eth his hearers out of patience. The stout gentle- man’s affairs call for his at- tention, but the Orator per- sisteth notwith. standing. The Orator keep- eth on talking for five weeks, The stout gentle- man doth ana- thematise the prolix Orator. THE PROLIX ORATOR. Ir is a prolix Orator, And he stoppeth one J. B. " 7 thy strange long beard and vacant eye, ow wherefore stopp’st thou me? “My business calls, I’ve work to do Which I would fain begin ; My House is met, a question set That I’ve an interest in.” He holds him with his eager hand: “*T rise to move,” quoth he— “Move off! unhand me, long-beard loon !” Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his vacant eye, Spell-bound Jon» But stands still, And listens like a gaping child: The Orator hath his will. The victim, Buxt, sat helpless down; He could not ’seape the bore ; And then on ran that prolix man, That tedious Orator. With speech uncheer’d, to benches clear’d, Without a pause or sto He raved away, though all did pray He would the subject drop. Joun Butt’s affairs and weighty cares Are crying for debate ; Yet must he hear, by doom severe, That man’s eternal prate. “T fear thee, prolix Orator, In mercy cease, I beg; By all that’s good I think yon could Talk off a dog’s hind-leg.” But ne’ertheless for Buu's distress, The Orator ran on; And while he speaks, full five good weeks Of public time are gone. * Now drat thee, prolix Orator, Thou chattering empty daw, For measures stay’d and bills delay’d By useless idle jaw.” Wonderful Attraction. = | gives the firm, may make their own terms with a t Wuew Lorp Joun visited the Zoological Gardens at Dublin the rice was raised to half-a-crown.' The usu mission is sixpence. his was a great compliment undoubtedly; but we think Lorp Joun would have appreciated it all the more if it had occurred anywhere else than at the Zoological Gardens. TO SPECULATORS, CAPITALISTS, PUBLIC COMPANIES, &c. At a time when the public attention is strongly excited on the subject of Colonisa- tion, and numerous cargoes of emigrants are daily leaving our principal ports, Ms. RUSSELL, GREY, HAWES, & Co., of Downing Street, and St. Stephen’s, Westminster, who are declining their Emigration and Colonial line of business, beg to call the attention of the above to their extensive stock of Crown Lands, unoccupied British Possessions, &c., &c., in various parts of the world, and of the finest qualities ; for the disposal of which, in consequence of the unexampled pressure of the times and the difficulties of the firm, arising from circumstances over which they have no control, Messrs. R., G@., H. & Co. would be happy to treat on even the most disadvantageous terms. heir list comprises Wood-lande, Mineral Soile, Coast-lines with Harbours, Alluvial Plains, and other descriptions of territory, most inviting to the Capitalist and best fitted for Emigrants, with many spots likely hereafter to be of great value to the public as naval and steam-boat stations. C: would find this an excellent opportunity of acquiring immense tracts for comparatively nothing, which might afterwards be re-sold in small lots, at high prices, to Emigrants. No questions will be asked, and no inconvenient conditions attached to the property, which will be disposed of without any (but the usual official) reserve. Companies formed for hunting or fur-trading purposes will find this an opportunity never before offered (and not likely to be offered again) of securing: to their game and fur-bearing animals uninterrupted possession of fine and fertile tracts of country. The abo- rigines, in all cases, will be thrown in with the land, without any extra charge, and will become the absolute property of purchasers. Emigration Societies, by availing themselves of the peculiar facilities which the position of Mrsszs. R., G., H. & Co. ants, and secure an enormous profit, which their other numerous avocations entirely prevent Messrs. R., G., H. & Co. from even attempting to realise. Messrs. R., G., H. & Co. are kindly permitted a reference to the Hudson’s Bay Company, who have just concluded with them a most advantageous bargain for Vancouver's Island. Secrecy and strict honour may be relied on. No Member of the House of Commons can be treated with, and no Irishman (without capital) need apply. The present time is particularly well suited to Colonial enterprise, as the Stocks, Plants, Machinery, &c. of West Indian, Mauritius, and other proprietors, who are retiring from business, ewing to ruin and other causes, may be had on the most reasonable terms. N.B.—Great reduction to persons taking a quantity. As Messrs. R., G., H., & Co. are anxious to get their entire stock off their hands with the least possible delay, no offer will be refused. MILK-SOP HEROES. & Tne papers inform us that the Lord Lieutenant has ordered the State prisoners to be supplied, in addition to prison fare, with plenty of sweet milk. Really his Lordship must be full of the very essence of milk himself—we mean, the cream of human kindness—to treat these rebellious innocents like so many sucking doves. His kindness will never stop at milk. Surely he will let these gentle agitators have a drop of rum in their milk, or at least he will order them fish, or a few devilled bones for breakfast, and something warm for supper? He will likewise give them due notice when he intends to give them a little treat, by ordering the jailor to go round the cells, and write over the mantel-pieces—“ Venison to-morrow.” We are no advocates for harshness. It only hardens criminals; sending them away from a prison much worse than when they entered it. Therefore, the Lord Lieutenant may be right in just trying kind- ness asaremedy. He may believe that the best way to cure a rebel, is to steep him in milk. This is nota bad method, outeiany, of bringin him within the pale of society, but then all prisoners should be allowe the benefit of the same immersion; otherwise the prisoners of a lower grade will be justified in calling out every morning and afternoon, when the pail is being carried up to the rebels, “ Milk below !” THE ENGLISH PAINTED BY THE FRENCH. HE Morning Chronicle—in an article which we might have mistaken for one of our own, it was so funny and yet so sensible—informs us. of discovery of a monster mare’s-nest which has been made at Paris. by the Con- corde newspaper. The profound knowledge which French writers generally have of England, and everything relating to England is ludicrous enough; but this mare’s-nest goes even beyond the usual boundary of Anglophobian absurdities, Bui —e we let the corre- spondent of the Concorde speak for himself. We quote from memory, only regretting that we have not the identical paper before us, as the reality, in these matters, is always so much r than the. cleverest imitation :— To the Editor of the “‘ Concorde.” “ Srr,—Perfide Albion, jealous of the rising importance of the Re- public, and trembling already for the safety of its crumbling institutions, is plotting in the dark against the Government of the Barricades. I warn F'rance, before it is too late, against the insidious treachery of its rival. A terrible conspiracy is going on, which is ripening every day, and must soon come to hg rang Bs Be prepared to receive the poisonous fruit in your lap when it falls, lest, dropping on the head of our infant

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124 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Republic, the awful weight should crush it at once intoa premature grave. I send you facts, which I have seen with my own eyes. “ You know, of course, that England is at present the hotbed of constitutional exiles. This was enough to excite my worst apprehensions, for where there are exiles, I said, plots cannot be far distant. ' I heard, moreover, there was to be a Cabinet Council at Osborne | House. This was more than sufficient to convince me something was | going on. I rose very early, and got into an omnibus to reach in time the Isle of Wight. Going through St. Giles’s, which is the Faubourg St. Germain of London, where all the Legitimists hatch their vile designs, I recognised at a window a well-known face that was yawning. I looked four times in order to be right, and the fifth time it yawned I became confident it was Montemo.in. He was not shaved. My suspi- cions were at once excited. He got into my omnibus. Soon after this we passed the Turkish Ambas- sador. As he looked into our windows, he stroked his beard. The sign, though very hasty, did not escape me. I got next to the door, determined to see the end of this drama. I was intensely excited, as you may imagine. It was not yet day- break, but luckily I had brought my spectacles. I did not lose a single wink, MonteMotin evidently did not like my staring at him, for he moved his place three or four times. 1 followed him each movemen:. He got outside—so did I. It was here I heard a horse in the distance. I kept both my ears open, It was but a moment—he and, as I suspected, a rider flew by us. was mounted on a brewer’s horse (the most rapid steeds in England) ; but my practised eye had already detected Prince Lours-NApoteon. I held my breath, and looked at the Spanish Pretender by my side. He could not meet my gaze, and coughed. It was quite enough. The next moment another cough was re- turned. Could I doubt such unerring proofs? I went on—but we were drawing near the end of our journey. Crossing Batter- sea Fields an old man was seen hobbling before us. There was something about him which I did not like. He wore a cocked hat. He put his hand before his face, but in vain; at one glance I had traced through his fingers the features of—who do you think ? my pen shudders as it writes the name of—Merrersicu!! Good gracious! Here was adiscovery! I was half afraid to persevere; but, braving the worst, I did. We reached Osborne House about nine o’clock. MontTEmo.in got down: I followed him, He evidently did not like it—I need not tell you this did not influence me in the least. He went into a beer-shop; mind you, it was the Crown and Sceptre—MetTTERNICH soon joined him. They had ‘ sixpenn’orth ‘ Oo dog’s-nose’ between them. ‘Ihere was clearly something at the bottom of this; but I leave it to you to find out. Louis-Napoueon and the Turkish Ambassador rew up soon afterwards. Twey all left arm-in-arm together. I followed at a short distance, for Monremouin in the meantime had borrowed a stick. I did not tread too closely on their steps, for if I ventured too near, it struck me my position might involve serious consequences, probably plunging Europe into a war. But I kept my eyes upon them. They went into the Palace, the Ambassador stroking his beard as before. I climbed over the wall; a shutter attracted my notice. I peeped through a crevice. Heavens! it was a cellar; but so dark, I could hardly see anything: a light was brought in. It was the Turkish Ambassador; the monster, I observed, was stroking his beard once more. There was something in the wind, for the candle that moment went out ; but Mzrreryica brought in a dark lantern (fit emblem of his policy), and he was succeeded by Monte- MOLIN with his stick, and the other two. After them came Guizor and NesseLRope, the Editor of the Times, Lovis-Puttierz, Ducwatet, the Baron Natuan, the Comte pg Panis, attended by his nurse, and the last arrival was the Queen!!! My eyesight here failed me. The excitement had been too much for me; but I had seen enough to leave it beyond the shadow of a doubt that I had been led by the most miraculous chain of accidents to be a spectator of a Tervent CABINET COUNCIL AT OSBORNE HOUSE. _ “Keep this matter dark at present. The horrible conspiracy must soon come to light ; but to reveal it at present would only cause the head of your correspondent to be rolling the next minute down the yawning precipice of Holhorn Hill.” We do not say that the above is literally the article in the Concorde, but it gives the substance of it, only not half 30 absurdly expressed. Really, there should be a College at Paris for French writers, to instruct them upon the most common English subjects. It might be called the ““CoLLEGE DES GOBEMOUCHES.” HOW TO MAKE PARLIAMENT PROFITABLE. A PtaNn has been hit upon in Paris for making the sittings of the National Assembly a source of profit, and we mention it in order that our own | House of Commons may take a hint for converting such a protracted Session | as the last into a regular branch of Revenue. The nine hundred represen- tatives of the French people, or at least those acting under their autho- rity, charge sums, varying from 10 to 12 and 15 franes, for the privilege of entrée to their unique performances. We don’t know whe' her the receipts go towards paying the Members their pound each per day, or whether the sum charged for admission is a perqui- site of the door-keepers, the ministers, or any other portion of the great fra- ternal family now quarrelling and starving in France; but there is cer- tainly a good deal of money being made by somebody out of the attrac- tion which the National Assembly holds out to foreigners and sight-seers. We understand that for 5 francs extra, any of the Members will attend at a private house, and make a speech, either legitimist or communist, at the option of the hearer ; or, if particularly desired, a Member will bring with him a representative whose opinions are opposite to his own, so that a debate, or even a personal altercation —either with or without blows—may be provided at an hour’s notice. It is expected that this will ulti- mately become the most profitable portion of the labours of the Assembly, which has done little as yet, beyond proposing 500 amendments to the new Constitution, and voting itself —as well as its salary of a pound per head every day—en permanence, Legislation is now almost the only thing that pays in France; for a Legislator may positively not only live, which few people in the Land of Liberty, Equality, and Fiaternity can do, but may actually save monev, which nobody in the land aforesaid thinks about. Some of the Members have been trying to push their trade beyond its legitimate limits; and, among others, one M. Leroux has been trying to get off the unsold copies of an old pamphlet, by speaking the whole of it as a speech, and letting it be known that the production could 'he had for a few sous, in the lobby. This advertising trick was discovered and exposed by a rival; but ingenuity > | will no doubt find other modes of turning a seat in the National Assem- bly to pecuniary account, the only account in which it appears to be held by many of those who have arrived at the dignity. THE REAL SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. Mr. CuisHotm AnsTEY.

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re ww F VY aw 7, = © at Rd eer eaanarm rr Riv 1 OH e@ oar=xaowr n OF PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 125 BEAUTIES AND BEASTS. From the Zebra, Surrey Zoological Gardens, to Sir Peter Laurie, Alderman of the City of London. HE sneering paupers of this world, my dear Six PETER, may, if they will, call a Zebra nothing more at the best than a Donkey in luck, a Jackass in| | a fine coat. Ha, Sir Peter! How many folks there are whose brayings would never be listened to if not uttered in the finery of office and fine the poor Donkey-devil that drags the water-barrel? ‘Take the gown from many a man of place, and what is there that is not common between him and the forlornest of vagrants? Hence, as Zebras are only Asses with silk coats, so, indeed, may the best of Aldermen be only the commonest of folks in minever gowns. In this world, outside does so much, Sir Peter. Here how many human Donkeys only become Zebras by the fine clothes that Fortune, in her blindness, wraps ’em in! “*T am not aware that this reflection has anything to do with the purpose of my letter. It, however, came into my head, whilst I was chewing my artichoke (for they don’t give Zebras thistles here, like the asinine poor), and I thought I might as well get clean rid of it. If, as Alderman and Middlesex magistrate, Governor of Bedlam, and Cu: hwarden, it can be of any service to you, pray make use of it. been an admirer of your moral self-elevation. you, it is almost impossible for human weakness to catch your eye. You do not believe in the possibility of a converted thief. Before Laurie, the fallen man can never get up again. The sinner, once sinning, is tattooed with crime; no penitentiary soap, with parson superintending the ablution, can wash him clean again. ‘The wretch is branded for his first offence. He has picked a pocket; and his fingers are feloniously crooked by Fate for the rest of his days. Repentance is a fine word in three syllables; but it never enters the | | heart of a rogue. “ A day or two ago, at the meeting of the Middlesex Magistrates, there was a Mr. Arm- sTRONG—butter-hearted gentleman !—who wanted to have instituted a house of industry, wherein “ discharged prisoners might resort for instruction in some useful employment, handi- craft, or trade’? Whereupon you, Sir Peter, turned over the whole scheme as gallantly as a beadle with his best leg would turn over a stall of lollipops. What did you say? Why, you called the supporters of such a scheme ‘ visionary philanthropists!’ (Upon the word of a Zebra, Sir Peter, I responded to that sentiment three times, in three separate brayings). | And then you said :— “ € As to reforming a thief, it was quite out of the question. Indeed, he would at any time go twenty miles to see a reformed convict.’ “Tt would be a beautiful journey, Str Peter; especially on foot, with a little Balm of Gilead, or other Samaritan ointment between your hose and soles; for who would not grieve were such a curious pilgrim to be chafed ? “ And yet, with so wise a man as yourself, the City—nay, the whole country—persists upon continuing the absurd expense of prison parsons and prison schoolmasters. You know it’s money thrown away ; you know it is impossible to teach the thief the difference of ‘ mine’ and ‘thine;’ you know that Nature has made the felon—has hewn him for his place in the world, like a Newgate stone—and it is only flying in the face of Fate (to the awful waste of much siller)}—to turn him into ‘ the corner of the building.’ “Tt is grievous to think of the time and pains cast away by ‘visionary philanthropists.’ Was there not one Howarp, who (poor creature!) had a foolish belief in the divine nature of man? Who thought that however the jewel might have been defiled, it was still worth the trial to cleanse and wash it from abomination? And was there not one ExizaBern Fry, who went about visiting gaols to reform criminals; when, no doubt, she would have been better employed superintending her pickles and her jams at home? It is terrible— (looking at the thief through your strong spectacles, Sir Peter)—to consider the awful amount of time thrown away upon him by ‘ visionary philanthropists!’ What their ‘visions’ in their labour of love must have been, I know not ; nor you either, I’ll be sworn, Sir Pever. “Why don’t you get into Parliament, and save honest people’s money? Why throw away parsons and schoolmasters upon thieves? You can’t make a bad shilling a good one, by passing it from hand to hand: no; the safest way is to nail it to the counter at once. Now, once a thief, always a thief,—never let him have a second chance. for, as you say, neither parson nor schoolmaster will take the brass out, and put the true silver into him. He’ll never have an honest ring; so nail him—nail him, Sir Peter, for his natural days. “* However, in another part of your speech you say— “¢ Then he [Sir Peter] found from the Australian papers that convict servants were most eagerly sought after by the residents, and that 95 out of every 100 had turned out well. All the settlers said let them have a convict and not an emigrant for a servant, for the one would work whilst the other was on the look-out for comfort and luxury.’ “This ‘95 per cent.’ of repentance is a little at odds, Srr Perer, with your grand axiom of non-reformation, and were you in Australia might cause you many a ‘twenty miles’ walk ; but I suppose you can account for this: no doubt, you’ll say, there’s something in geography. “And still, Srr Peter, it is a fine creed this of yours, to have no belief in the possibility of repentance. Do try and make converts of everybody: for the less that’s paid to try to reform thieves, the more shillings people will be able to afford to come and see “Your obedient Servant and Admirer, “Tre ZEBRA.” “PS. I have no other way of showing my respect for your wisdom than this—if, next oe Mayor 8 Day, you would like to ride me through the City, I shall be happy to give you a lift. trappings! Deprive me of my skin, and what am I in any part other than | | ** Bred in Africa—where I have seen something of vagabonds—I have always | | You look so loftily about |! Nail him for {life ; | ae ee a ee VBR stands for AnstEy, who talks the House blind; is a Bentinck, so stable of mind; is Dick Coppen, who “worked the automaton ;” is Disrarii, who always tries sum/’at on; stands for Evans, who lately has sold ’em; is a Fox, the staunch Member for Oldham ; is a GRAHAM, who open’d our notes ; is Joz Hume, for retrenchment who votes ; is old Inexts, the Protestant brick ; stands for JoceLyy, who’s rather a Stick; is a Krocu, who wants calling to order ; is a Law, the famed City-Re- corder ; is a Morretn, the scourer of cities ; is a Newprcate, good on Com- mittees ; is O’Brien, who was nabbed at the station ; is Bos Pret, famed for tergiver- sation; ’s Quintin Dick, who just occu- pies space ; is Joun RussE xt, too small for his place ; is old Sts, who’ll, be buried at ome; is a TyRRELL, in terror of Rome; stands for UrquHart, the Eastern intriguer ; is a VILLIERS, eaguer ; is Cuartes Woop, who heaped budget on budget ; the Xchequer, from which he should trudge it ; is Young England, so youthful and green; is the Zany—ne’er mind who I mean. Thus ends the song which I, Purch, dedicate Unto the Session eighteen forty- eight. the veteran A Hint to the Mendicity Society. THe CHANCELLOR OF THE ExcHEQUER is going about the City, Jeremy Diddler tashion, saying, “ You haven’t such a thing as a couple of million about you?” The Whigs have long accustomed us to these expeditions with the hat; but really the mendicancy has become such a cool matter of business, that we think it is high time that Joun Butt kicked all the Whigs out, and for the remainder of their lives sent them begging. As Doctor Jounson would say, “ Your Whig, Sir, is a very bad statesman, but a capital beggar.

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125 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL | A Handsome Exchange. WE see that Russia, among other things, has just sent to the English market “15 barrels of |tongues.” Punch suggests, as @ liberal return, | and still keeping the balance in our favour, that | we should send to Russia, in two separate barrels, | “One AnstEy,” and “One UrquHart.”

FLUNKEIANA. Nos ~ = Xs ~~ Wann SS > Sq SQ SS

The Modest Wish of a Worn-out M. P. “Mr, Puncu,—There was a Scotch Queen, | | who, escaping from her castle, threw the keys | \into the lake. Oh, that our English Queen, on ||| | her escape from St. Stephen’s, had thrown the keys into the River ! “Yours, exhausted, “On! On!” a | Sle 4 ae oe he MH, A. Vth Gy TA

Vf Yyff il | ( “ yor IRISH JURYMEN.—JURY-BOX BOOTS. t Patgicx O’SHAuGcHnessy presents bis rispictful com- R pliments to the Boot-Eaters of Ireland, and begs to certify | that he has on his hands every variety of Boots (bating =A SENZA EV wd 7 a ‘ << Bk | r : MN | the blackguard Wellington) for trials for High Treason, | ji a Py Sedition, or Misdemainour. The aforesaid Boots look like wil I j his Hyg “4 / 7 —/\ | leather, but the divil a bit. They are composed of con- | WN) | gailed turtle, and blacked with liquorish ; so that any A indepindant Juryman may dine off the upper leathers, sup \) | off the soles, and take a breakfast off the heels in the 4) |morning. They are spicialiy made and mainfactured for | the Jury-box ; to the intint that every Juryman may defeat | , | the Saxon, quitting the box with clane hands and naked R= | feet. | « Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not Who would be free, themselves should ate their boots ?” | IK i WIEF : IMPORTANT TO THOSE WHO WISH TO BE “Up | anv Risinc.”—A Market-Gardener on the Ham- | mersmith Road has stuck over a large field of |cabbages the following placard :— BEDS WELL Serious Flunkey. “1 sHoucp Require, Mapam, Forty Pounps a YesR, Two Suits or CLotues, | AIRED FOR IrisH Patriots.” Strange to_ say, Two Ars, Meat anp HaLe THREE TIMES A Day, anp Piety HINDISPENSABLE.” | he has not had a single lodger yet ! CSo

DREADFUL ASSAULT, AND MIRACULOUS ESCAPE. A RESPECTABLE Englishman nearly lost his life last week on the shores of France. He was rash enough to land at Boulogne, when he had no sooner put foot on the French soil, than twenty hungry-looking Commissionaires set upon him and disputed possession of his body. His coat was instantly torn into innumerable strips. His neck-hand- kerchief was violently pulled off, in the hopes of seducing him into the Hotel d’Angleterre, whilst, horrible to relate, his false collar shared the same fate as he ran by the Hé’el de France. He was pursued through the town by the wild gang, and many of the shopkeepers, carried away with the excitement of seeing an Englishman, joined in the pursuit. Nothing was heard through the town but the joyful cry of “ Un Anglais!” and the bells, by order of the Mayor, were immediately set ringing; though rather prematurely, for the Englishman escaped, and it is not known at present where he is concealed. His flight is all the more wonderful, as many of the hotel-keepers were after him, and it cannot be imagined how he got. away so cheaply out of their clutches. The Hotel du Nord has exhibited one of his coat-tails in the window, with the promise that “it shall be restored to the owner upon application ; ” but the unhappy fugitive has not yet fallen intothe alluring snare. The pier-head il'uminated in the evening; but alas! it was nothing better than an optical delusion, for the greatest depression and emptiness only reigns at present in Boulogne. The destitution can easily be imagined, when we state positively that there are none but Frenchmen in the town. ‘This state of things is evidently too horrible to last !

THE TWO LOUIS; OR, THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE. Tue market price of Zouts has come down; ‘The Sov’reign now won’t pass for half-a-crown : The other Zouis—who’s surnamed the Blanc— He too’s in England, value half-a-franc.

Though in life’s lottery each once held a prize, Their sad reverses none will much surprise; "Tis but a sample of Dame Fortune's pranks, Pappy BETWEEN THE MINISTER THAT IS AND THE MINISTER That both their prizes should have turn’d out Blanks. THAT IS TO BE.

Primed ‘by Wiltiam Bradbury, of Ne 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, nod in! ike . 7. ’ News . both in the County of Middlesex, Prin at their Office, [ How To Get A Goop Fat Goose.—Change /ey in‘o er, and, like the of He. 7. Chased Row, Stoke Rowingten. tess fn the Conney of Meee ae Youghal constituency, you’ve got your Aaser. No. 8. Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London.—Sarunpar, Sur. 16th, 1843.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 127

AUTHORS’ MISERIES.

‘ iN

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HAVING CORRESPONDED WITH Miss RupGE, THE GIFTED PoETEss (AUTHORESS OF “ Fiorantue,” © Tue Lovetock oF Montrose,’ “ Moans or THE Heart- STRINGS.” &C.), AND EXCHANGED PoRTRAITS AND YOUR OWN POEMS WITH HER, YOU MEET AT LAST. You ARE DISAPPOINTED IN HER APPEARANCE, AND FIND HER ABOUT Forty YEARS OLDER THAN HER PICTURE; PERHAPS YOU, TOO, HAVE GROWN RATHER FAT AND SEEDY SINCE YOURS WAS TAKEN IN THE YEAR 1817.

SANITARIANISM AND INSANITARIANISM. GENTLEMAN with a wild air, wearing a white hat, and holding a copy of the Zimes newspaper in his hand, paid a halfpenny by way of toll at Hungerford Bridge last Friday, and saying he was ** pressed,” begged the toll-keeper to send the accompanying note to our office. His letter bears marks of an almost maniacal excite- ment, and we deeply grieve to say that the toll-keeper has not heard of the gentleman since. Which way he passed over the bridge it is not for us to say. But the most painful conjectures have heen hazarded, and there is little doubt that if he did not cross over to the Waterloo Station or elsewhere, or take a steamer from the bridge, he must have jumped over it, and so put a period to an existence, which the present prevailing terror had rendered unbearable. * POISON ! POISON! POISON! “Mr. Puncn, P **T am a family man, and a coal-merchant by profession. My place of business is at the Diamond Wharf (where I shall be me during the feeble remnant of my existence, to serve you with the Wallsends, and where my father and grandfather carried on before me), and my private residence is in Bayswater, whither I came because I was told the suburb was not only genteel but healthy. “‘ My father and grandfather died at upwards of threescore and ten, living in

the City, by the river, and I had hoped our change of residence would not hurt our condition. My wife takes a drive in the Brougham every day by the Serpentine, and fancies herself in the fashion, and my children go out in the Park and Kensing- ton Gardens every day, and I thought they looked pretty — 7 My little boy got leave to fish in the Serpentine—it was Mrs. Jonzs’s pleasure to watch him as she wr there, and we used to sit down to the gudgeons which he caught, with no particular relish. “T say used, Sir, because all that sort of folly is passed now, and I am come toa sense of my real condition. I know that that Serpentine is a pool of death, and only wonder that people don’t drop in as they fish there. Who knows how many do? It was v yesterday that I saw in the papers that the gudgeon (Faugh! the nasty little abominable beasts !) ought to be combed and washed before being served at table; and I think it is in your own columns I have read that people who bathe there are taken out, of a livid green colour, by the Humane Society’s hooks. “So much for the Serpentine. Its neighbourhood ought, by rights, to poison the air, to lower the rents in Bayswater, to kill away the pope who frequent the Drive, and to turn the swans green. | shudder, Sir, as I think of mephitic ducks feebly flapping about in an Acheron, and Newfoundland dogs jumping after sticks into a river of that name. “Of my own Thames I hear no better a report. The Zimes tells me (in terms of the most amiable pleasantry, it is true, and with a playful mournfulness which only renders the death-grin infinitely more ghastly) that ‘the whole atmosphere of the whole City is perpetually poisoned, from one year’s end to another, by the effluvium of this enormous sewer’ And thousands of us are going up and down by penny boats; hundreds of thousands go to Gravesend, for what they imagine to be fresh shrimps and fresh air; Ministers and persons of repute go and dine at Greenwich, and partake of water-souchee and whitebait— s a picture of them in your journal of last week. Ah, ir! table, and that Lorp Morpertn is represented as withdrawn from it altogether, and looking uncommonly queer! What are we todo? Whither are we to fly? I want to know to what place of comparative safety I may take myself, Mrs. Jones, and our family? Where can I get a wholesome diet and an unpolluted air? “TI know very well, ever since Accum’s time, indeed, that Death lurks in my pot at home, and taints the very springs and sources of existence. My water is poisoned—lI correct it, or drink other liquids, but what are they? If I drink wine, what am I sure of? acids, sloe juices, logwood, liquorice, and incon- ceivable combinations of pollution. If I take brandy-and-water, I know that every sort of Cognac, except the patent British, is a poisonous mixture, and the British, in spite of the recom- mendations of the faculty, I cannot bring myself to like. Gin, Sir! what is gin? turpentine, and I have no doubt arsenic and Prussic acid in equal portions. Bitter ale? aloes and gamboge, to say the best of it. Porter? treacle, quassia, senna, black dose, the deuce knows what infernal medley of horrible drugs, which must pull me down gradually to the grave. The Bottle is sheer poison, as I know from Mr. CrvuiksHAnx’s excellent work: but, ah me! the cistern is poisoned too; the air is poisoned ; life is poisoned; business is poisoned; pleasure is poisoned; dinner is poisoned; tea, coffee, and muffins are poisoned: and we are only lingering over them, knowing the end. It is like Seneca stepping into a hot bath, or Socrates being served with a cup of warm drink. We take them; but we know how they are to end—in death, death, death! “T need scarcely say that the tea which I am in the habit of drinking with my wife and unsuspecting family, is a poison of the most atrocious and deadly character. Its green hue (for I take my poison mixed) is occasioned by the sheets of copper upon which it is grilled before I use it, and the pungency of its flavour is mainly to be attributed to verdigris. “The quantity of white-lead which I imbibe in my milk is tearing my intestines to pieces, aud likewise ruining the health of Mrs. Jones and my daughters. They often take tea in the middle of the day, by way of lunch, for which meal I don’t care, so that they poison themselves rather more than I do. Good Heavens! is it possible that I shal! survive Mas. J., and that she prefers her, Bohea to her husband ? — J “My butter, I know, is mixed up with poisoned lard, and my bread is compounded with flour, alum, a most corrosive and dreadful poison, and the bones of animals. What do I say —of animals?—of men possibly, who in life, owing to the deleterious nature of their air and food, were in a highly diseased state, and whose ‘bones we grind to make our bread.’ Gracious Powers! I shudder when I see my daughters

VOL. XV. oO

No wonder that Lorp Joun makes a wry face at the |

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128 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. with their mouths full of bread-ard-butter, and think that I am bringing up nine little ogresses, However, they are poisoning themselves, and ean’t live Jong. “As for my coffee, which I have been taking after dinner for years, I find that it is impregnated with the sulphurous and noxious fumes of coke, with which it is roasted, and which penetrate into the iron cylinder in which that operation is performed. As soon as I have my coffee in my cylinder it begins to give off a gallic and malic acid, which coming into contact with the iron, form gallates and malates of that metal—([ feel inward agonies as I write)—and this vapour, Sir—this infernal vapour—is again vapourised, and is assisted in its destroying | work ay one of the most powerful acids known—namely, pyroligenous acid, which is given off by the coffee most freely (and be hanged to it). The action of this pyroligneous acid upon an iron cylinder is to create acompound eminently disgusting to the taste; while, if I prefer a cylinder of copper, I simply generate poison. One of these two things I have been making and drinking through the course of a miserable life. | “Now | certainly may purchase at FAKIN’S, NUMBER ONE} THOUSAND, St. Paul’s Church Yard, a coffee prepared in his Patent Sutver Cyiinpers, which is not only cones to the taste, but is attested ng the most eminent physicians. But gracious Goodness! Mr. Punch, what is the use of taking so much trouble? If my milk is poisoned, my tea poisoned, my bread ditto, the air which I breathe poisoned, my Serpentine poisoned (an Avernus, the Times says, over which even the kites of little boys drop down dead in their flight), if my Thames is a regular Lethe, in which every eel is a mortal writhing serpent, and every white bait a small dose of death, what is the odds of taking a little more or less pyroligenous acid in my coffee ? * * *” * * * *« * “Welcome then, thou dark stream; let me quaff thee, thou deadly draught of Lethe. I may as well finish now perhaps, as drag on this poisoned existence much longer—I can’t bear to think of the premature death of my children, and of Mrs. Jones perishing before my eyes a victim of a pestiferous T'wankay. Good bye, my dear Punch. If any thing happens to me, it is you, and the Zimes, and Lonp Morretn, and Faxin have done it. I was happy until I knew I was so miserable. And I know I’m poisoned now, and don’t think I can survive it.” JOHN BULL’S LAST BARGAIN.—PRICE £1,100,000! = 4a = =. S . > wi’? ae: WE may treat ourselves to a tremendous flourish of the trump of glory. We have added another sprig of laurel to our plantation; a sprig cut by British sword from the Bush. We have—let the world ring with the glad tidings!—we have beaten the Kaffirs. But you | cannot break even such miserable bits of human pottery without gold | and silver. They can only be hammered to bits by £ s.d. There is| still the bill to pay for the damages. The head of the interesting person that decorates these triumphant | lines is the faithful portrait (see Doctor Prircnarp) of a Kaflir | biped. There is no doubt that such an individual—though not exactly | the person we would invite to share with us our muffin and a hand |millions; and more than half the money is thrown away upon powder at whist—is of touching interest at Exeter Hall. Nevertheless, we fear that the uncultivated reader will hold that any number of such heads (with even the most liberal allowance for taking a quantity) ot | dear at the price of one million, one hundred thousand pounds! Nevertheless, such is the sum to be paid by Joun Butt for thrashing the Kaffirs; for making them promise to be loyal subjects to QUEEN Victoria, until they shall deem it profitable again to rebel! We wound up the late Session of Parliament with an increased debt of two and shot wherewith to kill and subdue a horde of savages. Let it not be forgotten that henceforth we pay an annual interest of thirty-seven thousand pounds for the chains of the Kaffirs. Thirty-seven thousand pounds a year! The schoolmaster, says the proverb, is abroad. Well, then, Punch pro- poses to set him the following sum :—“ If it takes thirty-seven thousand a-year to kill and conquer a certain number of Kaffirs, how much less than the same sum will educate the like number of destitute British children?” Surely one little English boy at school, is worth twenty Kaffirs in the Bush. THE MODEL FAST LADY. THERE cannot be the most vulgar fraction of a doubt that the great attribute of the present age is Fast—very Fast. Too many of us are trained as if we were to form part of “Joun Scor’s Lot.” It is | as clear as the course, the minute before | the Derby, that the quicker our pace in | this world, the surer we are to win. | The race of life is only to the Fastest. If | FRf£xELoN were asked to-morrow what | were the great requisites for a young person to get on in the world, he would | infallibly answer, “Only three: the first is, Be Fast; the second, Keep Fast ; and the third, Hold Fast. THe Mone. Fast Lapy acts as if she had received this golden, or rather, brazen, advice. Riding is one of her-great hobbies. Walk- ing is far too slow for her. A smart gallop does her such a world of good. ‘T’o be in “at the death” is a triumph for a week. You could almost swear that the “ brush ”’ is displayed on. her toilet-table. She delights in dogs; not King Charles’s, but big dogs that live in kennels. She takes them into the drawing-reom, and makes them leap over the chairs. Her mare, too, is never out of her mouth. The incredible things she has done with that dear creature—the tremendous fences that she has taken, and the five-barred gates—you would scarcely believe. It must have been born in Leap Year. If she is intimate with you, she will call you “ my dear fellow ;” and if she takes a fancy to you, you will be addressed the first time by your Christian name, familiarised very shortly from Henry into Harry. Her father is_ hailed as “Governor.” Her speech, in fact, is a little masculine. If your eyes were shut, you would fancy it was a “Fast Man” speaking, so quick do the “‘ snobs,” and “ nobs,” and “chaps,” and “ dowdies,” “‘ gawkies,” *spoonies,” “ brats,” and other cherished members of the Fast Human Family run through her loud conversation. Occasionally, too, a “ Deuce take it,” vigorously thrown in, or a “ Drat it,” peculiarly emphasised, will startle you; but they are only used as interjections, and mean nothing but “ Alas!” or “ Dear me!” or, at the most, ‘‘ How pro- voking!” One of her favourite words is “ Bother,” so you had better be careful, and not “ bother” her too much, or else she will be sure to tell you, and that very plainly too. THe Move Fast Lapy is not particularly attached to dancing. If she does not admire your appearance, “she was out with the hounds | this morning, and is too tired for that sort of thing.’ When she does dance, however, large officers, or colossal huntsmen are generally her partners. Her pride then is to pass everybody. She waltzes as if she had made a wager to go round the room one hundred and fifty times in five minutes-and-a-quarter. If any one is pushed over by the rapidity of her Olga revolutions, she does not stop, but merely laughs, and * hopes no limbs are broken.” By the bye, if she has a weakness, it is on the score—rather a long one—of wagers. She is always betting. If you happen by some odd accident to say, “I think it will rain,” the chances are, she will imme- diately say, “L’ll bet you 5 to 1 it doesn’t.” She keeps a little pocket- book to register her bets. Towards Epsom and Ascot it is almost bursting with the odds; and she rushes about asking everybody “to |lay her something.” She will take the field, or hedge, or back the | winner, or scratch, or do anything to oblige you. It must be mentioned, however, that: she is most honourable in the payment of her debts. | She would sell her Black Bess sooner than levant. Tne Move Fast Lapy has, at best, but a superficial knowledge of |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 129 the art of flirting. Compliments, she calls “stuff;” and sentiment, ““namby-pamby nonsense.” She likes persons to be sensible; and has no idea of being made a fool of. Come, don’t flatter her; just help her to a little bit more mutton, and look alive. At a picnic she is invaluable. When your tumbler is empty, she’!l take Champagne with you—that is to say, if you ’re not too proud. You may as well fill her glass; she has no notion of being cheated. Here ’s better luck to you! and to enforce it, she runs the point of her parasol into your side. In laying the déjeiner, or “snack,” as she terms it—(she is very abstemious of foreign phrases)—she arranges the knives and forks, and plates; mixes the salad, and at an emergency can supply a corkscrew —it belongs to her ney a She orders all the young men about as if they had been hired for the day, and speaks almost as familiarly to the servants. Returning home she steers, and has been seen, on two or three occa- sions, rowing. She dislike smoking? not she indeed, she’s ra‘her fond of it. In fact, she likes a “weed” herself occasionally, and to convince you will take a whiff or two. When pressed to sing, she does not warble 1’d be a Butterfly, but bursts into a Southerly Wind and a Cloudy Sky. Her fore finger is not muth needle-marked, and she laughs at Berlin wool and all such fiddle faddle. If she makes a present to some young gentleman of a pair of handsome emblazoned braces, she buys | them ready-made. She declares she will never marry unless her hasband | is a good needle-woman. She’ has a pianoforte; but really she has) no patience to practise. She cam play a short tune on the cornet- a-piston, Literature is a sealed’pleasure to her, though it is bat fair to stateshe | reads Bell's Life, and has a few volumes’ in | her bedroom of the Sporting Magazine. She | knows there was a horse of the: name of Byron. | She plays at cards—not for love, but | money; but before beginning, she is honest | enough to give warning that she always | cheats; and if detected, only says, “ Well, [| told you so.” She has no great yearning for canaries, or any birds, excepting in their gravy and bread-sauee state. She went out shooting | once, but gave it up, “the boobies laughed | and stared so.” Fishing is a different thing, | but it’s stupidly slow; she would as soon | mend stockings any day. The Fast Lavy rather avoids children. If a baby is put into her| hands, she says, “ Pray, somebody, come and take this thing, I’m afraid | of dropping it.” She prefers the society of men, too, to that of her own | panecive from the date of this epistle; but although I do not trouble who stand the highest in the pulpits of society, would preach none. the less effectively if they had only as good a heart—even with the trumpery straw in which, like a rich fruit, it is enveloped—as the MopzL Fast ADY. THE NATIONAL ANTHEM OUT OF TUNE. EIN Herr Poncu, “ Blysian Fields, Sept. 14, 1848. “© What,’ I believe one of your English proverbs asks, ‘does‘it matter’ provided you are in a state of feli- city?’ That such is my agreeable condition you will myself with the affairs of your world, I have not ceased to take a kindly interest im them. 1 now regard with a lofty compassion the servility whieh my bile so long as I had any. hilst upon earth, there was nothing that I despised amd detested more than flunkeyism. At present, I only look with pity on that thorough- base element inthe ‘still sad music of humanity.’ It was merely with this mild feeting that I read a statement—which I shall presently subjoin—in the Zimes this morning at breakfast —for the news- papers (especially Puch) are a portion of our beatitudes, and form a regular addition to our matutinal nectar and ambrosia. I perceive that yesterday a symphony c! wine was performed at the Norwich — Festival, and that your Duke or CaMBRIDGE went to hear it. nd that— * The symphony had already begun, the first movement indeed was over, and the intermezzo in process of performance, but at the entrance of the illustrious visitor, M. Benepict stopped the band, and the National Anthem was immediately begun.’ ** Now, I am far above being personally off-nded at the interruption of my symphony in order to compliment a Duke; but I must, quite sex. After dinner she is very quiet, turns over in silence the engravings | dispassionately, remark that the barbarity was gross, and the motive of some picture-book, but directly the gentlemen enter the drawing-| contemptible. It is merely with the abstract low-mindedness of the room she is chatty again, and “begs to return thanks for the honour | proceeding that Iam disgusted. I assure you am not at all indig- which the gentlemen have done the ladies in drinking their very good | nant—only seandalised. I feel justified—not proud—in asserting healths. ; ; ; | that I am any nobleman’s betters. Royal Dukes used to take off their Her costume is not regulated much by the Fashions, and she is always hats tome, and very properly. Kings have stopped to speak to me. the first to come down when the ladies have gone be stairs to change | Genius is more worthy of honour than rank, their dress. Gay colours please her the most, and she succeeds, gene-| ‘‘ Observe, that I care for nothing but the principle. To me, had rally, in attracting notice by some peculiarity; either, on an evening, | the symphony been Mozart's, or MENDELSSOHN’S, it would have been by the largeness of her bouquet, or little marabout feathers trussed all} allone. If it is unmannerly to interrupt any man while he is speaking, about her hair, or, when out walking, having an ugly monster of a dog | what a rudeness it must be to arrest the effusion of a master spirit, following her, or a big footman walking after her with a basket full of | discoursing sublime music! Besides, any well-constituted mind— kittens; or else she will promenade the streets in a riding-habit, and | speak it net vainly, but philosophically—would have been so absorbed the people will stare about in all directions, to see what has become of | the horse ; and all this passes to her infinite amusement. Her greatest accomplishment is to drive. With the whip in one hand, and the reins in the other, and a key-bugle behind, she would not exchange places with the Queen herself. It is rumoured, also, that she can swim, but there is no authentic proof of this. With all these peculiarities and manly addictions, however, the Fast Lapx is good-hearted, very good natured, and never guilty of what she would call “‘a dirty action.” Her generosity, too, must be included amongst her other faults, for she gives to all, and increases the gift by sympathy. She is always in good humour, and, like gentle dulness, dearly loves a joke. She is an excellent daughter, and her father doats on her, and lets her do what she likes, for “he knows she will never do anything wrong, though she is a strange girl.” In the country she is greatly beloved. The poor people call her “a dear good Miss,” and present their petitions, and unfold all their little griefs to her. She is continually having more presents of pups sent to her than she knows what to do with. The farmers too gonsult her about their cows and pigs, and she is the godmother to half the children in the parish. Her deficiencies, after all, are more those of manner than of feeling. She may be too largely gifted with the male virtues, but then she has a very sparing collection of the female vices; that is to say, she has no taste for ill-natured scandal, is not given to novels, flirting, or jilting, and is no more a coquette than the Lady in the lobster,—that great model of the female sex. Nature may be to blame for having made her one of the weaker vessels, but imperfect and manly as she is, she still retains the inward gentleness of the woman, and many fine ladies, in my harmonies, as not to have observed the entrance even of a monarch. But to proeeed :-— * The Duke was loudly cheered on his entry, and after'the Anthem, and acknow- ledged the compliment by repeated salutations. He then’ took his place on a chair of state made for this special ion, and the perf was r d from the point at which it had been interrupted.” “The National Anthem is all very well in its anya place, as for instance in such a medley as the Battle of Prague, but what business— with all seraphic calmness let me ask—had it in my symphony? The honour intended to be done to the Duke or CamBripGEe would have been rendered more effectually by giving him credit for having so much good taste as to be unwilling to he noticed till my piece was over. The performance, of course, was spoiled. That is no annoyance to me, who ean no longer suffer from being murdered, but it must have greatly vexed all those present possessed of any soul for music. It would be awful to think of the state of M. Benepror’s—if the atrocity lay at his door, and not at that of the Directors. Otherwise I should be obliged to express the hope that in future he would take a higher tone in conducting himself, and any composition by, Your humble Servant, “'L. von BEETHOVEN.” “ P.S. You have heard of ‘tears such as angels weep’ at anything that is very melancholy. You will now have an opportunity of seeing what they are; for I have been crying profusely over this letter, and. it is quite saturated with them. + hi %-B

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130 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON. CHARIVARI. IMITATION. Ye \ i, ‘ud ) iA\\) GN i t ee : AMI \ Ne, it ‘ WT Tiki is h \ Y aR iN P VK THE QUEEN IN SCOTLAND. By our own Halfpenny-a-liner. ~. ARRIVED at Aberdeen only just in time to witness the arrival of Her Magesty, who has taken us all by surprise by getting here twelve hours before we expected her. Fortunately Mr. ABER- NeTHY happened to be at the dock as the royal yacht hove to, when he, with great presence of mind, though unpre 1 with 7 other refreshment, offered the QuEEN an Abernethy biscuit, which was graciously declined. No sooner was the intelligence made known, than the inhabitants were thrown into the greatest excitement. The Lorp Provost perched himself on the end of the Jetty, surrounded by the Corporation, and after sitting there some hours, moved off on the assurance that the QuzEN had no intention of landing there until the next morning. Being desirous of presenting an address, the Lorp Provost and party drove down in the Captain’s gig, and being hauled on to the deck, were introduced to the QuEEN, whose attention was called to that extra- ordinary animal of the human species, a city baillie. Several specimens of the tribe were shown to Her Maszsty, who expressed her pleasure at witnessing the curiosity, which had hitherto only fallen under her notice in WaureR Scott's novels. Though I had not the impertinence to remark particularly Hex Masesrty’s dress, I learnt from one of my fellow-reporters, who was on duty, with his eye-glass and sketch-book, for an Iilustrated Newspaper, that the QuEEN wore a simple straw bonnet, a Paisley shawl, a dress of Orleans cloth, kid gloves, leather shoes, silk l, and muslin mittens. The youthful Prince or Waxes was dressed after your celebrated picture of him, where he is mes handing a glass of grog toa tar to drink his mamma’s health. The landing of the royal pair was a magnificent sight, and I have looked through the dictionary in vain to find words capable of describing it. Mn. Aseanetuy, supported by two of his own biscuits, which he had taken for luncheon, led off. The scene altogether was most bril- liant ; and as the pensioners, drawn up in single files—including the old married files—hobbled along with their silver hair sparkling in the sup, the effect was truly pdm om | bs * ” - Our reporter goes on at considerable length ; but we are so disgusted with his vulgar and inquisitive intrusion upon the leisure and amuse- ment of yop that we omit the remainder of his account, and request that he will send us no more of his impertinence. A REPUBLICAN MYTH. We take the following from the French newspapers :— ** A young ourang-outang hae lately been brought to the Garden of Plants, and is the object of almost universal curiosity. The animal is only six months old, but has all the appearance of a child aged three yeurs, of 4 grave and reflecting character. He is at the same time very affectionate, shaking bands kindly, but with a certain Arabian solemnity, with the keepers, He feeds delicately, taking 1:oast meat, wine, chocolate, and even liqueurs. Being very susceptible of the cold, he sleeps between a large cat and a rough-coated dog, and wraps them both, as well as himself, in a blanket, In the daytime he is dressed in a red-coloured blouse and white pantaloons.” The above is a very fair specimen of the political satire of our neigh- bours. It is, however, so delicate that—without the aid of Punch—the hasty reader may fail to see the deep meaning enshrined init. Punch will endeavour to pluck out the heart of the mystery. The ourang- outang then—it cannot be doubted—is Lovis-NAPoLEon: he is a very young republican, scarcely six months old; but has the “ appearance ” of a “ grave reflecting ” politician of maturer time. He is “very affec- tionate, shaking hands kindly” with the Communists. “He feeds delicately” and takes wine. His cupboard and cellar, when he sailed to invade Boulogne, leave no doubt of the circumstance. Being susceptible of cold, he seeks for a warm place between a cat andadog. In other words, Louis-Napo.zon, for a snug berth, is willing to avail himself of extreme parties. The red-coloured blouse is, of course, a significant compliment to the République Rouge. RAPID IMPROVEMENT OF MACHINERY. Last year we had the Talking Machine. This year we have had Mr. CuisHoLtm ANSTEY. Gracious Goodness! what shall we have next year? The Pilot that does not Weather the Storm. Lorp Joxn is averse to deputations. You may write, you may send in petitions, you may memorialise, but you must not annoy him with questions. It is with the vessel of the State seemingly - - other vessels: “ No one is allowed to speak to the Man at the Helm.’

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GROSS OUTRAGE;

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 133 OUR COMMITTEE ON THE PUBLIC BUSINESS Tne House of Commons appointed, in the course of the Session, its Committee to con- sider the best means of promoting the despatch of public business. As the fourth Great Estate of the Realm, we, by request of the Public, some time since constituted ourselves and 7oly a Committee for the same purpose, and we now beg to present the following Report to the Sovereign Public :-— Your Committee first proceeded to make itself comfortable. It then attempted to discover the | | amount of business, public and private, which the collective wisdom of the 658 gentlemen of the Commons had managed to get through in ten months, allowing six days to the week, and six hours to the day. For this purpose it first attempted to read the debates in the Zimes newspaper, but finding this quite impossible, great confusion of mind being produced after the first month’s reading, and symptoms of decided imbecility arising during the second, your Committee proceeded to measure the said debates. They find that they extend over a space of 17,684 yards, or something above ten | miles, of newspaper type, Zimes column. Your Committee then proceeded to sift the said ten miles of chaff in search of results and ideas. But the quantity of both discovered was so far inappreciable as to defy representation in any figures or symbols with which your Com- mittee is familiar, Your Committee next made a summary of the number, character, and labours of the various Committees, pone and private, of the Session. They are glad to report that the incubations or sittings of these Committees have been as close as those of the most affectionate and devoted hen on record, their united length amounting to 1648 hours. . Your Committee then proceeded to examine the results of these extraordinary incubations, but cannot discover that anything has been hatched, beyond half-a-dozen Reports, more or less unreadable. Whether this melancholy con- trast between the sedentariness and the success of honourable gentlemen proceeds from their brains having been addled, your Committee cannot take uponitself tosay. Your Committee would suggest an application of Mr. CanTELOo’s steam-hatching apparatus to Parliamentary Committees. Your Committee were anxious to have | weighed the 18,450 petitions presented during | the Session, but found that no weight whatever | been given them in the House. ouse Your Committee notice with alarm that the | talk of the House seems continually on the | increase. The characteristic of the present Session has been the number of persons who, | having nothing to say on any subject, have rsisted, at great length, in saying it on all. t is unfortunate that this tendency should have been in some degree encouraged by Her Ma- sEsTY’s Ministers, who, by doing nothing | through the year, left the more time for talking. | In fact, there being no Acts worth mentioning, | the time of the Session has necessarily been | devoted to words. : To assist these inquiries your Committee sought counsel of everybody but the Speaker, as the mischief seemed to originate in there being too many Speakers already. They have received 400 distinct plans for improving the business arrangements of the House of Com- mons, including six from Lorp Brovenam, each contradicting the other. All these plans, however dissimilar, concur in certain sugges- tions, VIZ.:-- 1. That a Gagging Bill be passed expressly for Messrs. CHISHOLM AnsTEY and URQUHART, who are to be thereby declared silent ex perma- nence, and not to be allowed to address the House, except in writing, and then only in short-hand. 2. That Ministers, before they bring in a bill, | know their own minds, if they have any; and if | not, say so to the House at once. | 3. That Lonp Morperu be squeezed before |coming into the House, in order to save the time of the House, now regularly devoted to | that process. 4. That Lorp Grorce Bentinck be totally | debarred all access to Trade Circulars, Ready Reckoners, Statistical Compilations, and gene- rally all figures, except Figures of Speech, which he is to be allowed to cull where he likes, except in Billingsgate. 5. That Srk Cuartes Woop be instructed jin the method of book-keeping by single and | double entry, and the rules of arithmetic up to | Vulgar Fractions, the expense of such instruc- | tion to be defrayed out of the Consolidated Fund. This, it is hoped, will save the time now con- sumed by the House in exposing and correcting the Right Honourable Gentleman’s arithmetical blunders. 6. That Mr. Punch be allowed to put a stop to a debate at any moment, subject to the ‘obligation of justifying himself to the public for exercising this absolute power of /a c/oture. After as full a deliberation as circumstances ' would permit, Mr. Punch being extremely IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. anxious to be off to the Moors, your Committee agreed unanimously to the following recom- mendations :— That, when the order of the day is moved, the disorder of the night shall at once be put a stop to. That Members snoring so loud on the back benches, or in the galleries, as to interrupt the speech of any Honourable Member, be imme- diately awakened by the Serjeant-at-arms, and sentenced to remain awake through such a number of the heaviest class of speeches as the Speaker may think fit to appoint. That before a Bill is discussed in Committee, Honourable Members shall make themselves acquainted with its contents. ‘hat no allusion to “ self-government” or * centralisation” be allowed in any debate, on any pretext whatever. That Honourable Members be allowed a cer- tain time for speaking, proportioned to the ideas they may have to convey; as, five minutes for a speaker with one idea, ten for one with two, and so on. It is supposed that, practically, this will come to the same thing as the American one-hour rule, as it is not conceived that any speech was ever made in the House containing more than one dozen ideas. That, for enforcing the above rule, the Speaker be furnished with an hour-glass, and a list of ap supplied by each gentleman on catching is eye. It 7 worthy of consideration, whether the shutting up of Brttamy’s and the tearoom might not operate yy in shortening the sittings of the House. The practice of denying the necessaries of life to Jurymen is found to stimulate them very much to that unanimity which is required by the law in their decisions. . ; But your Committee wish to say, in conclu- sion, that they cannot much rely on any restric- tive rules for the prompt and efficient discharge of public business. They would suggest that, after all, the country has the matter in its own hands. If the present public servants cannot or will not do its work, it must find others that will. Perhaps this would be the most certain and shortest way to bring about the result, for the forwarding of which your Committee was appointed. Signed - sh haaeee A FRIEND INDEED. Somesopy—by whom we mean a sort of nobody—has advertised his possession of a secret the knowledge of which will supersede the neces- | sity for shaving, and do away-with all occasion for the use of the razor. This must indeed be a secret worth knowing, for we ourselves invariably get into asad serape every morning with our beard, and we often wish that razors could be manufactured out of “man’s ingratitude,” which is, aceording to SHAKSPEARE, the sharpest thing that has yet been dis- | covered. We never look at our own shaving implements without thinking ‘of some of those “ wise saws” that the Bard of Avon alludes to, and of which our toilet tackle presents a set of “ modern instances.” [PEAe NEPTUNE.—Why don’t you come home? It is time you gave over your ekylarks, and became fixed. you became a wanderer on the face of the Heavens. " present vagabond career, every House in the Zodiac will be closed against you, and you will die without a sign. consolate parent, LavERRIER.—N. B, The situation is still kept open for you. I have not closed my eyes since If you persevere in your Pause before it is too late, and return to your dis-

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134 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. When the occasion is ar operatic one, the distant P ae ae a * castle forms an admirable subject for something f i —~ pp wo ~. Ff Qi —s \,, like the following— \\ ————— ' Wi\ Qc y }\ RECITATIVE. a ! y \\ « , Long cherished pile—home of my ancient sires, , \ » Your aspect kindles all my youthful fires ; \ . | { ' Vials) fey \ And when your sainted towers salute mine eyes, | & i t{i4 = | | ae Within my breast revengeful feelings rise. | |. Every playgoer is familiar with the “ mossy , ‘4 ') |bank” of dramatic rural scenery, with one end RR” slightly elevated for the head of the weary way- wg farer or benighted traveller, and a bit of an old Ss, | bolster craftily crammed underneath the canvas \\e. | to complete the mossiness of the contrivance. ; The town scenery of the stage is not less pecu- | liar than its landscapes, and the exteriors are particularly adapted for teaching “‘ what to avoid ” to the youthful architect. If young Dashington | calls upon Lord Toplofty, the latter lounges lazily "a . ‘ = }/ ' ¢ “Dear Mr. Puncu, “ R—msg—te S—nds. “TI CAN BEAR IT NO LONGER—I SAY THEY HAVE NO BUSINESS TO WEAR THEM. WHuy, THEY MAKE THEIR DEAR BEAUTIFUL HEADS LOOK LIKE COWLS ON CHIMNEY-POTS, OR THE HOODS OF BATHING-MACHINES ; OR, WHAT IS WORSE, THEY SUGGEST THE IDEA OF SORE EYES—AND ALL | FOR WHAT? TO SAVE THEIR COMPLEXIONS, FORSOOTH—STUFF! Pray, DEAR PUNCH, PUT THEM DOWN—OR RATHER, PUT THEM UP—OR RATHER, DESTROY THEM ALTOGETHER, YOU WILL SEE wuat I ALLUDE TO FROM THE ACCOMPANYING SKETCH, DONE BY OUR FRIEND—YOU KNOW WHO— 6 Yours, A MOST EXTRAORDINARY AND ENTHUSIASTIC ADMIRER OF LOVELY WOMAN | , e ° . } ‘ lout of the first-floor French window, in which | “Tue Buoy at tHe Nore.” |) i.’ head and shoulders are a pretty tight fit, | | while the former bears about the same proportion | | to the house that the peasant bears to the cot- SCENERY AND COSTUME OF THE STAGE. | tage we have already been speaking of. It isa | : ° _ | singular fact that the inside of any one room is no THERE is something very peculiar | sooner represented to us, than we find it to be in the rural landscapes and the | much larger than the whole house when judged town residences inhabited by the | by its external appearance; and though the man- dramatic population, if we are to| sion itself may be only ten feet high from the judge of the haunts of their rustics | basement to the tip of the topmost chimney-pot, and the dwelling-places of their | the smallest apartment is found to be as wide as citizens by the representations of|the wings are apart, and as lofty as the pro- | these places which we see upon | scenium. | the British stage. The dramatic! In costume, the stage presents some really idea of the country consists usually astounding phenomena; of aseries of set pieces, backed by and we have often been a six-inch deal bridge, surmount- struck by the similarity of | ing a two-foot waterfall, and the dresses worn by the | leading to a profile cottage of such retainers of every country, diminutive dimensions that when every age, and indeed of | the feet of any one entering it are almost every family. One on the basement, his head soars would think that the word into the second story, and he can- retainer referred to the not, without doubling himself com- 1 fact of the same habili- pletely up, go either in or out of } ments being always re- the door. In some cases the} tained under all circum- ’ a ° cottages have no pretension to| stances, whether the habitable qualities, but are simply “ made out” of a single piece of canvas, on which a clearly | — i as, wearer happens to be a “impracticable” window is painted, and which the business of the scene does not require to SVEN = creature of the house of ) opened, the cottage being only needed as the cue for some song or sentiment, such as; —=—\FW/=—— Hapsburgh, a vassal of a “Ah! that humble cot—how its aspect makes me sigh for Home, Sweet Home!” or, “The | Norman noble, or a mem- sight of that iowly roof makes me feel no envy for pampered pride in its palace, or venal villany z 3 ber of a bellowing band of in its vila; for I am convinced more and more of the beautiful truth, that it is in the Swiss patriots, shouting comaee a omy oy oy can a P a anit ott mahal such choruses as the following :— ometimes there is, by way 0 -ground, a castle, frightfully foreshortened, with its battle- 3 : ments half-a-yard high, and its towers towering among the sky-borders, while its foundations ee 4 Tae food enn rest on a rock no higher than the top of the low comedian’s hat; but the structure is | No longer we need ’em ; We'll freely let flow. sufficient to admit of its being apostrophised by some young gentleman in hessians and a}, Let’s join in the ry ,Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! chocolate surtout, as “ Deserted halls of my ancestors, whose pavements have rung to the clang tie an ale i | ay —— of the usurper’s hoof, and whose donjon-keep has echoed to the noisy revels of a stranger band.” | Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! Oh! oh! oh! oh! "y ra ty heed

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 135 The same “singleness of purpose” which is observable in the ward- robe of the retainer, whatever may be the era, the clime, or the interest, in which we find him, may be noticed also in the dramatic old man, the dramatic soldier, and the dramatic nobleman. Senility knows no other distinction than a coachman’s wig, black satin breeches, a laced coat, and high- lows with steel buckles in them, and a huge walking-stick, to mark the testiness of age by repeated raps on the floor; and the stage. sol- diery, whether fighting for King GEORGE or K1ne Louis, in the days of the League, in the time of the Crusades, or at the era of the French Revolution, are allto be seen in the same coat, the same cap, and with the same cartridge-box, upon every occasion, and under every Government. The Theatrical Marquis is also an animal sus generis, with his cotton-velvet doublet, his goose-quill feather, and his seedy satin | trunks, which characterise the stage noble- man of every state and of every period. | Usurper or no usurper, rightful heir or wrongful heir, legitimate prince or pretender, whether given to tyranny | ¥, fu? or banquets, distributing purses or curses, signing pardons or death- | (¢)S t warrants, reigning in Naples or Nova Scotia, Civita Vecchia or Chelsea, | ¥ it is all the same; a Dramatic Marquis may be always known by his | ¥ ’ velvet cloak, his silk creased calves, his cockatoo-plumed eap, his attitude, and his beer-choked utterance. Wanted, a Librarian—with no Prospects. Tue National Advertiser (Glasgow) of the 6th inst. was enriched with these golden lines, set forth as tidings of peculiar promise to students knowing in Hebrew, Greek, and German :— Wwa NTED, a LIBRARIAN for LIBRARY, who will be required to give his whole time and attention to the Business of the Library. None need apply whose present intentions or prospects are towards any profession or business that may lead them to retire from the situation at a future period. Preference will be given to a Candidate who can read the Hebrew, Greek, and German characters. The emoluments will be about £60 per annum. Security for intromissions to the amount of £200 will be required. Applications, under sealed covers, addressed to ‘‘ The Lord Provost, President of | ’s Library,” must be left at the City Chamberlain’s Office, on or before Twelve o’clock of Monday the 25th instant. ’s Library Hall, Sept. 6, 1848. Seldom is it, in this world of money-bags, that the student and philo-| ore paste about him than any other pretender. sopher, who must eat, has proffered to him such a retreat from the noise and contention of the earth. Here is a bower offered him—a bower planted from slips of the “groves of Academe.” Here may the scholar give his whole time, every waking thought, to the delights of a Library. He may—nay, he must—spend his every day beneath the tree of knowledge, rustling its leaves, and now and then taking a bite of the fruit. And then, how sagacious, how provident of the patron or patrons | Kensington, has just taken place, and the usual clamour was got up to do the best to insure to the Librarian a life-long employment! The) for the working of the line. Not satisfied with the Great Western 18 Kind . . He leaves Hope at the threshold: | haying bought it, the shareholders eall upon that Company to work it. there it is, with the dirt from his shoes, on the door-mat. He is tO but Messrs. Giyy, Brunet, and Saunpers, think they have done have no |“ prospect toward “any. profession or business!” His quite enough in setting a couple of creepers to run upon the Line. future” is 3 dead-wall; and on it written “£60 per annum—no! We think so too; for we do not quite see the use of re-establishing the thoroughfare!” He knowsat once the worst of life and—best. Thus, | communication between the Scrubs of Wormwood, and the shrubs of future is kindly taken from him. insured from the vexatious, tantalizing emotions that busy and divert the energy of man from the time present, luring him, Jack-o’-lantern-| backwards and forwards between Shepherd’s Bush and the Hand and like, to the distant, the Librarian with his £60 per annum may exclaim | Power, bringing nothing but misery in th-ir train. with Wolsey— **Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!” existence ! shop like a squirrel in its prison—now and then gathers himself up for Hebrew, Greek, and German. Happy man! if he may have no ye a in this world, he has eomforting glances at the past. For ebrew takes him back among the Shepherd-kings; he hears their very words; and his spirit—playing truant from ——’s Library Hall, Glasgow—takes a delicious draught of the original at Resecca’s Well. Banc, “it would have such a sight of ‘ Blanc-Mange.’” /or make all right with the gauche, but you must buy up all the bill- . , , or ‘ one of the stations, who has been sending forth several new branches In the quarterly or half-yearly receipt for his wages is his written | from his trunk line. We believe the Electric Telegraph is let out for abdication from all the luxuries and many of the comforts of his vain | the purpose of drying clothes; and an Act will be applied for, to give eer , , : the concern the name of the Great Kensington Clothes Line, in the Thus chastened by salary, our Librarian—his soul going round in the | next Session of Parliament. Greek introduces him to the best intimacy with Piato; and he is, when he will, one of his bright Republicans. In lighter, gayer moments German makes him the rollicking co-mate of Faust or Wallenstein. And this, too, for life ! FRENCHMEN WHO STICK UP FOR EVERYTHING, AND STICK AT NOTHING. Tue Battle of the Constitution seems to be fought in France upon the dead walls. Their Registrars are bill-stickers. Sometimes they come into collision, when the rival battalions stick it into one another in a style that cannot be pleasant, excepting to those who are in the habit of meeting and taking up bills. One day Lovis-NavoLeon is in the ascendant ; the next, he is pasted over with Cavaicnac. In the morning Paris is stained with the sheets of the Red Republic; and in the evening it is completely riddled with the fiery broadsides of the rapacious Communists, who, it is to be hoped, will always be sent to the wall, and always kept there, since their aim is to board everything. ii y [A BAS] S| V1 wil Diy ayia M) Enis PERE a i re ve Pe | sll / i ie $ Y ih These battles, however, are rarely attended with any other loss than that of a smart brush or two, and the combatants, who are generally great sticklers for outward forms, do not break the laws of Convention ' more than pulling down everything which they are not paid to main- tain. With them, “a bas Henri V./” and “a bas” this, that, and the other, and everybody, is not only a cry, but a fact, which they proceed vigorously to carry out, unless they have received some very weighty reasons to support the Hero of the Hour in the temporary elevation which they may have given him. If you want to reign over Paris, and to have your name become a household word, you must not disaffect the army, or bribe the “incorruptibles,” or undermine the “‘ Montagne,” stickers. The throne of France (if there is to be had such an article at any /rippier’s) is to be gained, not by a coup de main, but by a bold stroke of the paste-brush. Lovis-NApoLeoy, it is said, has the greatest chance, owing to the fact, of which he is very tenacious, that there is OUR OWN LITTLE RAILWAY ONCE MORE! Tue half-yearly meeting of shareholders in our pet Railway at Warwick Square, or sending a lot of guards and policemen_rattling We understood that there was some talk of an extension branch ; but we found on inquiry, that the rumour arose from the old elder at LES “SWEETS” D'UNE REVOLUTION. A Pasrry-Cook says it is a pity the dinner never was given to Louis

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

FLUNKEIANA.

Old Gent. “ Tuomas, I HAVE ALWAYS PLACED THE GREATEST CONFIDENCE IN YOU. THoMas, HOW IS IT THAT MY ButTcHER’s BILIs ARE ‘SO LARGE, AND THAT I ALWAYS HAVE SUCH BAD Dinners ?” Thomas. “ Reatty, Sir, I pon’r KNOW, FOR I aM SURE WE NEVER KITCHEN THAT WE DON’T ALWAYS SEND SOME OF IT UP INTO THE PaRLouR !”

ODE ON THE THAMES. For Classteal Music. Arr.— Violoncello obligato. BENEATH the City’s thousand sewers x Old Thames runs to and fro; SS This way and that its filth he pours, SSS As his tide doth ebb and flow ; WN And foul Mephitis ever soars Ni From the _—_ that swags below. AL ! oh! Ni This thing ought not to be so ; N No! no! no! “a . INS Chorus of Aldermen. Handelian fugue. S: Full Orchestra, Oh! cease your idle clatter, Since to us it is no matter, Tho’ the Thames grow thick as batter; And for all you say, Though Miasma play the devil, Yet while fluids find their level, We will wallow, roll, and revel In our mud for aye! Yes, in every kind of fecula, In sempiterna secula, In secula, in fecula, In fecula and secula Hooray ! hooray ! —~ Tain i ‘tiny wih British Manufactures, Tere is a Hospital at Westminster, that, determined to uphold the principle of Peronising none but British productions, as issued a placard, in which they dis- tinctly state, they will take in no other cases of Cholera but what are proved to be thoroughly British. A CONUNDRUM FROM THE “ STABLE MIND.” Way is the St. Leger like the Irish Re- bellion ? fh Because it is the great Donkey-stir (Don- caster). Now TELL ME, HAVE ANYTHING NICE IN THE

RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY. EALLY Lorp JoHN ‘has had a narrow escape. He has been to the Zoological Gardens, Dublin, and avoided the trap that was laid for him. A cage was already prepared. The Premier was to have been caught, and exhibited be- hind some“ iron bars. However, the conspirac was betrayed, as Iris conspiracies invariably are, and his Lordship escaped being shown at sixpence a head, The ay are said, this year, to be very shy. Now ee — should reco ect that what is game to us is death to =, ion I hardly expec e partridges to come and be shot, as if it was a pleasure for which they were dying. If this

were the case, they would not fail, as well-bred birds, to bring their own bread-sauce with them. Talking of birds, we know of one at Boulogne that is so extremely — shy, that nothing will induce him to come across the water, unless he sees that the coast is perfectly clear. The shyness of this bird is attributed to a deal of shot which, it is said, he has left behind him in the hands of several persons, who would be too happy to get a dis- charge, if they could only catch an opportunity of firing into him. OVERDOING IT AT BOULOGNE. Tue Boulogne authorities, after inviting a lot of National Guards to an entertainment, made the unpleasant discovery that all the money having been spent in preparation, there was nothing left for the entertainment itself. Having consumed the best part of the ready cash in bill-sticking and knocking up a platform in the Tintilleries, it is found that there is scarcely a franc remaining to provide the invited guests with some- thing to amuse them and something to eat. The banquet was therefore of necessity made up for the most part of papier maché properties, lent by the manager of the Theatre, with a sprinkling of real filberts, and here and there a loaf of bread. - It was intended to offer the visiters a glass each of vin d’honneur, but the assets being insufficient, the inhabi- | tants were entreated to furnish a supply, and the result was the collection of some red and white wine, there being just six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. as ; ; However, a deficiency of the substantials is easily made up for in France by plenty of hollow sound, and the drummers have been rehearsing from morning until night, with such vigour that even when off duty they rash about the town in a state of frantic practice, and there is one enthusiast at his tambour work, who climbs to the top of the piles in the port for the sake of indulging in an uninterrupted rataplan out of the reach of the jeers of the bystanders, and the mud and orange-peel of the gamins. If the National Guard — a dearth of better provisions—if there were no tit-bits‘in the shape of breasts or wings, there were, at all events, the drum-sticks to fall back upon. Nobody need go among the Caribs for the parpose of getting a regular tattooing, for if any one will only land at Boulogne, we will answer for his being most thoroughly tattooed. Arcapes Amso.—A respectable Beadle calls the Thames Tunnel “ the Exeter Change Arcade seen under the water.” Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 7, Church Row, 8 Office. in by them, at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish ef St. Bride, in the Surremore 23rd, 1848.

of No. 6, York Place, Stoke N < and Fr Mullett Evans, itoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Priaters, at their treet, in the Precint of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published \ i ty of London.—Saruavar,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI 137

PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. INTRODUCTION, HE British Constitution is one of those magnificent mixtures,' for which the recipe has long been lost, and of which every one acknow- ledges the merit, though none can say what are the ingredients. The British Constitution, like the Scotch Ale, the London Porter, and the Irish Whisky, has a reputation, no one knows why, for no one knows .,, What; but it shares with the articles ¢.'\ mentioned the character of being ;\\ the very best of its kind, and the | very highest of its order. As in the ! case of the Ale, the Porter, and the Whisky, it is doubtful whether the peculiar virtue resides in the quality of the water used for the first, the quantity of Spanish liquorice . : stirred up with the second, or the precise amount of smoke mingled with the malt in the third, so it is impossible to say in what especial attribute the great strength of the British Constitution resides. England’s Palladium, like its plum- pudding, is a m cent hodge-podge that every one admits the grandeur of ; but when we come to analyse either—to separate the hodge from the podge, and reduce it to its component parts—we feel that we are dealing, as it were, with Humpty-Dumpty after his fall from the wall, and that if we once take the British Constitution to pieces, not ** All the QuEEn’s horses, And all the QuEEN’s men,”

could make “the mixture as before,” or render the British Constitu- tion, like Richard IIL, itself again. It has been wisely said by one of our modern historians,* that England must have the Constitution of a horse; and the proud manner in which if is now rearing its head, while other countries are riding their wretched hobbies and cutting the most miserable capers, may be regarded as an apt illustration of the peculiarly happy simile. A nation, like a | quadruped, can no sooner throw off the reins of all power than it soon

finds itself without a bit in its mouth, in more ways than one, and it oes off, too frequently, in a headlong course of ruin and anarchy. hile, however, we are prepared to acknowledge our own Constitution as the best in the world, we are not going to pin our faith implicitly to the tail of the British Lion, nor, hang up our judgment on the hat-peg which the Unicorn wears in place of a hat; but we shall examine the whole fabric with a critical eye, and shall, without ceremony, knock off much of that plastering which the trowel of flattery has laid far too meme fe for the purpose of onasthing over many of the defects and irre ties that exist in the really noble structure. The preceding remarks are intended merely as an introduction of our subject to the reader; but lest our intention may have been smothered in our words, like arabbit in its attendant onions, we beg leave to complete the ceremony in due form; and therefore, with the simple observation—“ The Reader, the British Constitution; the British Constitution, the Reader—you really ought to know each other,”— we proceed to our important task. CHAPTER THE FIRST. FIRST CAUSES OF THE LIBERTY OF THE ENGLISH NATION. s)E should very properly expect to be rebuked for 4 our impertinence, by the very youngest of our Y readers, and our conscience would certainly pinch J us for our staie news, if we were to announce > as a new fact, that Great Britain was abandoned by the Romans, when they found it necessary to i > SBA |_ look at home, and desist—as Sretman, the great SANial Ves some J of spelling, says—from “ Romeing

a It is, however, undoubtedly true that the origin of our becoming our own masters, was our not being worth the trouble of keeping; and our first freedom came to us in the shape of a kick, which sent us about our business, to get on as we could by ourselves. No sooner were we abandoned by the Romans as mere leavings, than there came from the shores of the Baltic small picnic parties, to avail themselves | of the nice pickings we might still present ; and, having destroyed the

* The Comic History of land. We are unable to remember the page, the | chapter, the book, or the volume, but these points may all be ascertained, and the idea referred to may be found, by a perusal of the entire work. ancient inhabitants or earliest pot-wallopers, these gentlemen began wallopping each other, because it was the only occupation—except the occupation of the place itself—which the island seemed to afford. After a good deal of Baltic sound and fury, signifying nothing, and after the establishment of a set of small sovereignties, which, under the name of the Hep- ca ° re tarchy, kept the place in a state of sevens— if not of sixes also— for many years, the whole southern part of the island was united under that il- lustrious seven in one, the renowned EcBErt. He accepted the alle- giance of those most acute of angles, the East Angles, who . : knew their own interest too well to resist. He reduced Mercia without mercy; deputed his son to ravage Kent, whose people were soon led a pretty dance among their native hops; while the same bold youth was despatched to Essex, whose inhabitants were pillaged of their herds until they had not a leg to stand upon, and were deprived even of their exceedingly popular calves. Northumberland, in the midst of a civil commotion, very civilly offered Ecpert the somewhat shaky throne, which no other upholsterer, whether royal or otherwise, seemed so likely as himself to be able to uphold. Making short work of further opposition, and in no quarter doing anything by halves, he managed to achieve the extra- iT | : ordinary feat of sitting, not, simply upon sais two, but upon no less than seven stools, without falling to the ground. Our Constitution had not advanced very far in its formation at this early period; and as to our liberties, we had little to boast of under that head, unless they could have been beaten into us by the series of drubbings we received. The grand principle of Government appears to have consisted in the right of some powerful personage to do what he liked with our ancestors’ own, until the Anglo-Saxon princes licked us a little into shape, after the various unprofitable lickings we had endured. ALFRED THE GREAT, who was less happy at cooking a cake than concocting a code, was the most illustrious of this line, and

JF Wa ALFRED t. ‘) wy Qi

Epwarp THE Conressor, who seldom {*AYKYNGE. SF i kept himself out of a hobble, was exactly BX Y AS} ML what nature fitted him to be—the last of HYS W NZ his race. He had, however, in violation * v S of the strict principles of copyright, — compiled a body of laws out of those framed by his predecessors, and he dis- _ honestly put his own name on the title. } _<° e age of the piratical work. Little is “GW Ses of our Constitution under this successional crop of early Royals, until that Pink of invaders, known familiarly as Sweet WitLiaM THE ConQuERER, shot up on our soil. ~ There had previously been a King and a Nobility; but Sm Witt1aM TemMPLe, who gives us this information, might fairly take for his motto— **T tell thee all, I can no more— Though poor the offering be ;” for poor, indeed, is this contribution of Sir WiLLIam’s to our early Constitutional history. It is from the Conquest we are told to date the real commencement of our freedom; and it is a remarkable illustration of the wisdom of the maxim, “Spare the rod, spoil the child,” that the more we have been thrashed, the stronger our liberties have grown, as if, like an old carpet, we wanted a good beating to show us in our true colours. WILLIAM or Normanby turned his sword at once into a carving-knife, with which he sliced up our native land, and divided the bits among his followers. He treated Old England like its own immortal roast beef, and finding it in capital cut, he, without making any bones about it, roceeded to serve it out, by distributing large helpings of it among his hungry retinue. In his large interpretation of the word meum, he altogether lost sight of its ordinary companion ¢uwm, and he appropri- ated the land so extensively that he left no other possession but self- possession to its former owners. He handed over the soil to his creatures, who held it subject to Witttam’s will, and thus what is termed the Feudal,* System was established in England. * We do not mean to go into the depths of ty | as to the derivation of the 0! word feudal from feud, feudum, fides, fief, or fife; for, as SPELMAN says, “‘ that fife has been already too much played upon.”

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138 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Wiu1am evinced all the carving qualities of a Vauxhall waiter; for, as that expert practitioner has been known to cut up a single ham into fourteen hundred shilling platefuls, with a surplusage of several six- nny sandwiches, so WILLIAM THE ConQuEROR is said to have divided ngland into sixteen thousand two hundred and fifteen military fiefs. To pursue the figure of the ham—it will be remembered, by the way, that W1i11aM landed at Sandwich—those soldiers, who knew on which side their bread wes buttered, accepted with eagerness the slice that | was proffered to them, with all the conditions annexed. The recipients | of these fiefs were to take up arms when called upon, and it was death | to write upon their doors “ Not at home,—return in an hour,” when this call was made. The Forest Laws were also enacted, which limited to WrttiaM the exclusive privilege of killing game,

Kae dy f : 7 Apa u-a—"— a privilege he guarded even to the oD —~ > <_ turn of a hare: he imposed taxes “SYR SS —_.. * ad libitum, and decided upon their | VIDS Stee De justice in his 4ula Regis, a snug | ———" . N,, little Temple of ‘Themis, which — -“Qeor y - LycEnceD to Ku) had started for the express purpose ‘* yr GaAme of keeping the administration of | the law entirely in his own hands. | He was his own judge, his own jury, bis own counsel, occasionally | his own witness ; and, in fact, the whole affair was a sort of At-Home, | after the manner of the late Mr. Marruews, or Mr, Yares, the whole of the charaeters being sustained by our old friend the Conqueror. | The reader may, by this time, have begun to wonder what the pranks of Writiam can have to do with the birth of Liberty; but as our predecessor, De Lome, has it, “The seed, though it seemed to be smothered, was imbibing nourishment for future sap ” amid the sappies | of the period. The truth is, that the Barons had nothing else to talk about but their wrongs, until at last one noble Spooney, who was rather | more shrewd than the rest, suggested the possibility of one man being | resisted by a thousand, instead of the thousand being domineered | over by one,—a state of things which they had all been consenting to. | The Barons, however, from whom it is thought in these days so great | a glory to be descended, were still as funky as a boy when he first | “knuckles down” at marbles, and the whole number of aristocratic souls, still shaking in twice the number of shoes, were glad to get the people to join in a confederacy for setting bounds to the royal authority, or in other words preventing the Norman Wit from too arbitrary exercise. The people, on their side, believed that what would be sauce | for the baronial goose must be also sauce for the plebeian gander; and “hence,” says SpeLMan, “we come to the true source of our consti- tutional freedom.” The Commons stipulated fora little liberty on their own account, as the price of theiz assistance to the Lords; “for why should we bear all the kicks and cuffs,” exclaimed the Currey of his day, “if we are not to be allowed a share of the halfpence?” We shall trace, in future chapters, the operation of this sage remark upon the character and condition of our countrymen, and we shall see how the incident of the balfpenny—which occurred as a mere toss-up at a/ meeting of the period—opened the eyes of the English people to the | fact that “heads you lose, tails we win” was the game that the Barons would have been happy to play with them.

A Nice Calculation. Tue Health of Towns Magazine says :— ‘The amount of hard cash paid for intoxicating drinks in the Metropolis alone is three millions sterling per annum. This sum, if spent in sewers, would afford up- wards of seventeen hundred miles at 6s. 8d. per foot run, and of ample capacity for the largest thoroughfare, if the supply of water were good.” Now, take it that every Alderman of the City of London consumes, at the Mansion House and Guildhall, say £10 in wine per annum ;—this sum, devoted to drainage, would, at the above computation, give to every said Alderman the delightful satisfac'ion of having every year thirty feet in the sewers. ‘I'hirty feet! This is tremendous; when, at the best, in any sewer, a rat has only four.

| | Chamberlain’s Office, Sep. 27th. | AVILION, BRIGHTON.—If one Grorce tue Fourtn, who some years ago left several ARTICLES OF FURNITURE at the Brighton Pavilion, does not | cause them to be removed without delay, they will be svld to help to pay the expenses, It is the more necessary that the said effects be removed with a!l despatch, as within the last ten years they have cost for warehouse-room (isid out upon repairs of the said Pavilion) eighteen thousand, seven hundred aud nineteen pounds, of the coin (of the pockets of the people) of this realm. | BREADALBANE, Chamberlain. A STATESMAN’S LAST “ RESOURCE.” E1rHer Prince JoInviLie, pen in hand, has drawn at once avery sharp and very delicate likeness of his father, or the name of the Prince has been subscribed to the pen-and-ink sketch of another artist. Cer- tainly the production reaches the French newspapers a little circuitously, being first despatched from the Tuilleries (where the letter “ was found on February 24'h”’) to Algiers, to be printed in the Akbar. True or spurious, the letter is very good; indeed, as an evidence of its astounding ability, the Post assures the world that the missive might have been written for its own columns ! There is, however, one little sentence that makes us suspect the

imputed authorship of the letter. The writer touches upon the self- | destruction of Bresson :— ‘* People will not fail to repeat, and will enlarge upon what I consider as dangerous —viz., the action which he (le pére) exercises over everything. | This intiexible | action, when a statesman compromised with us caunot vanquish it, leaves no other | resource than suicide!” So when a statesman is snubbed by a King, he has “‘no other resource ” than rope, poison, steel, or lead. A Monarch is pig-headed, and in the self-devotion of bis sorrow, his Minister must cease to be! Let this be received as a political axiom, and an appointment to place may be thus gazetted :—“ To-day, Moxsteur —— received the portfolio for Foreign Affairs and— Prussic Acid ; ” in order that when His Gracious Majesty is “inflexib!e” in his “action,” the victim Minister may at any moment have his “ resource” at hand, THE VERNON GALLERY. triotic generosity of VERNON. pictures upon the nation. He will descend to posterity as posterity’s benefactor. Future generations will be kindled into gratitude and admiration as they contemplate the be- quest of varied power and beauty, made to them by one who was an English trades- man; by one who made his wealth minister to the intel- lectual delights of Art. For some time we have awaited an acknowledgment of the gift on the part of the Government. Nevertheless, , we were not impatient. tainly not. If there be any delay, we thought, it is only the delay of a delicate anxiety. The

tt the world knows the pa- | ioti Mr. | He has bestowed | his magnificent. collection of | Cer- | Government is only taking due time to vouchsafe a due reward. It | is, it must be, in such a case, difficult to square the honour to the merits of the deserving. Well, we have not been disappointed. The to the public,’—the Committee have made their report, and, making it, have nobly satisfied Mr. VERNoNn :— “Your Committee are unwilling to pass from this topic without recording their sense of the public spirit and considerate liberality which have prompted this living bequest on the part of Mr. Vernon, and they entertain no doubt that the public grati- tude will furnish the most powerful incentive fur eliciting further instances of munificence similar in kind, as well as the most honourable reward to him who has afforded this noble example.” The Committee “entertain no doubt” of public gratitude; no doubt of Mr. VeRnon’s “most honourable reward!” ‘This is satisfactory. May we, however, ask cf the Ministry when the public gratitude, as vouchsafed to Mr. Vernon, will be made visible to the naked eye? —when the “reward” will be manifested? We have good reasons for our anxiety. For at this moment we know of twenty galleries about to be given to the nation; the gift only delayed until the donors may feel | “Special Committee of the House of Commons, appointed to consider | | of the best mode of providing addi'ional room for works of Art given certain that they shall not be seized and knighted. It is rumoured that | | Mr. Vernon himself has had a very narrow escape. The Queen and Prince at Stowe. WE take the following from the Builder :-— ‘A statue of Venus Rising from the Sea was hotly bid for by two rival agents, until it was knocked down »t a considerably higher price ‘han its value. The report is that the agen’s represer ted the Queen and ’Rince ALBERT, who each wanted to present it to the other. Psince ALBERT was the purchaser.” We congratulate his Royal Highness. husband has the last word. It is not always that the |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 139 THE INVASION OF FOLKESTONE. Tue quiet little town of Folks—long since jum- bled orthograpbically into Folkestone — was thrown into a state of extreme agitation a few days ago by the arrival of some of the National Guards of France, in their uniforms, by the boat from Boniogne. As soon as the vessel was seen in the offing, bearing down under the able sea- manship of Captain MonceR—who adapts his signals so thoroughly to the state of the ocean, that every wave of his hand seems to be called for by some wave of NertuNE—a report was raised that the French soldiery were on the point of invading our shores, and Folkestone instantly took an attitude of defence. A depu- tation from the Pavilion Hotel waited upon Mx. Fautkner, the intelli- gent Consul, and requested him to assume the command. Having consulted his own inclination, and retired into his brown study to deliberate, Mz. FavLKNER drew up a plan of the operations that he desired to recommend. He ordered all the posts on the pier to be immediately doubled, and he advised that the chain of communication should be unbroken; a measure that rendered it necessary to send for the ironmonger, as part of the chain of communication between the posts had for some time been out of repair. Recollecting what had been done with the lines at Torres Vedras, he sent for the thickest clothes-line the place could afford, and had it | arranged in such a manner that persons landing from the boat would still have this line to pass; and, having called out. a detachment, of light portery from the railway station, he placed them in such a position that everything coming off a vessel must fall into their hands. ‘These pre- cautions having been taken, he sat down upon the pier parapet, as if wrapt in deep thought; and as the inhabitants ga'hered round him with eager interest, to catch from the expression of his features the result of his deliberations, the scene strongly resembled the celebrated picture of NapoLEon’s famous bivouac. At length the vessel came round the pier point, and Mr. FauLKNeEr, placing himself in the gap, while one of his trusty officers appeared ia the van—used for carrying luggage—the very stones of Fulkestone seemed ready to rise as one block against the expected foe. Bya prompt intelligence between Captain Moncer and Mr. Fav Kner, the fact was ascertained that, the French invaders were only National | Guards come over from the Boulogne Féte to take a peep at. England ; and, beyond the firing of afew charges into them from the Pavilion Hotel—none of the charges being very heavy—the visi’ ors were utterly unmolested, and many of them leit for London by the first train. RESPECTABLE CRUELTY. WE think, if we wanted to bait a badger, or fight a main of cocks, or skin a cat alive, or indulge in any other of those recreations proscribed by the law under the head of “ Cruelty to Animals,” we should—having first taken care to put our best clothes on—repair to the City. This, at least, we should do if we expected to be called to account for such conduct before Mr. ALDERMAN CHALLIS. The reason which would induce us to adopt this course wil! be found in the subjoined Police Report :— “CruELTY To AN Ox.—Mr. BR. Warp, a salesman, of Leicestershire, appeared on an adjou: ned summons before Sir G. Carrott and Mr. ALDERMAN CHALLIS, charged with having ill-used an ox.—Police Constable Trew deposed, that about five weeks ago, while he was on duty in Smithfield Market, he saw the defendant strike one of the cattle in the market a tremendous blow on the head. It was what is termed | *pething’ the animal. Upon asking the defendant his name. he refused to give it ' until he was taken to the station-house.—Mr. ALDERM4N CHALLIS considered that | to justify him in such an assertion. the police had exceeded their duty. They had no business to interfere merely because the defendant struck one of his buliocks.—Trew said that he had seen many bullocks knocked down by a similar blow.—Mr. ALDERMAN CHALLIS: Admitting that he had, such a blow did no hurt to the animal.—Trew said he always understood that such a blow was termed cruelty —Mr, ALDERMAN CHALLIS : It does not hurt the animal,” Now “ pething” an ox, we believe, means beating him in a peculiarly savage and brutal manner on the head with a bludzeon; which, in an ordinary slaughterman, is accounted an act of remarka' le barbarity, and as such punishable with fine and imprisonment. In this instances, however, it was ruled by Mz. ALperman Cuatuis to be a perfectly innocent operation; first, on the ground already stated, that it did ‘‘ not hurt the animal.” It is dubious if the extreme of beef-headedness could so far enable even an Alderman to put himself in an ox’s place as We certainly should hesitate to “enter on our list of friends” a gentleman apparently so much “wanting sensibility” as ALDERMAN CHALLIs. Salesmen, however, may be of a different opinion, for— ‘* The defendant here said that the police had acted very improperly towards him ; they came up and took him to the station-house.—One of the sergeants who was on duty said that whenever they interfered with any of the salesmen they were laughed at, and told they had only to send for Ma. ALDERMAN CHALLIS, and it would be all right.” To which assertion of the police-sergeant, Mg. ALDERMAN CHALLIS gave the following indignant contradiction :— « ALDERMAN CHALLIS: You had no right to take defendant into custody.” No right to take the defendant into custody! Why? Well, first as aforesaid, because he did “not hurt the animal.” Secondly, for a far more substantial reason—solid and weighty, as an Alderman’s reason should be. Perpend it :— ‘« Trew said he should not have done so had not defendant refused to give his name.—ALDEBMAN CHALLIS: But you could see that defendant was a respectable person.” The interference of the constabulary, then, according to ALDERMAN CHALLIs, must be determined, not by the appearance of the act, bat by that of the agent. ‘Trew “could see that the defendant was.a respect- able person.” We will not stop to inquire how. We will swppose the defendant to have been well shaved; to have had on a deeent hat— whether with or without butchers’ mourning—a clean shirt, and a good coat, waistcoat, and continuations, with a watch and seals, and perhaps top-boots. We will accept these from the worshipful Alderman as the obvious evidences of “ respectability.” Still we must remind him of a certain trifling inconvenience to be apprehended from the adoption of his principle, which would assuredly preclude the police from any intervention with the “‘ Swell Mob.” The only doubt in the mind of Trew related to the nature of the defendant’s conduct. He frankly admitted his perception of the individual’s *‘ respectability.” ** Trew eaid he was aware of that, but as he refused to give hie name, he had no alternative.—Sir G, Carroit remarked that be thought the police did perfectly right in taking defendant into custody when he refused to give his name.—Trew said the instant defendant had given his name he would have been allowed to go away.— ALDERMAN CHALLIs thought such a charge did not come within the meaning of the Act ; and the case was dismissed.” But whether the charge came within the Act or not, was, according to our Alderman, nothing to the purpose. The defendant was evidently a “respectable person.” When he refused to give his name, the police- man should have been satisfied, and asked no more questions. Really his Worship ought to compose a “ Guide for the Police,” which, we are quite sure, would eclipse all the precepts immortalised in the third Scene of the third Act of Much ado about Nothing.” a, In the meanwhile, let all butchers who would work their own sweet will, unmolested, on their oxen, exchange the blue smock for a respect- able paletot—which, we would suggest, may be called the “Cruelty Wrapper”—and cut away, regardless of the police and of any Act of Parliament in such case made and provided. GUILTY, INNOCENCE. Victoria at Boulogne. At the Boulogne /ée the health of “Her Masesty THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND” was given, and drunk by the French with, we are told, tremendous enthusiasm. We are glad to chronicle this delightful fact. Nevertheless, we cannot take the compliment as indicative of the better feeling of the whole of France towards Perfide Allion. Boulogne, it must be remembered, is little other than an English watering-place on the other side of the Channel. It has become enlarged, beautified, and is mainly supported by English money. Hence, when the Frenchmen toasted Victoria, it may be a matter of nice inquiry, whether they drank to the English Queen or the English—sovereign. SIGNS OF THE SEASON. We are strikingly reminded of the presence of Autumn, and the consequent dearth of intelligence, by the American aloes and Lilia lan- cifolia, which are now in full bloom in the newspapers.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FLUNKEIANA. French Maid, “ You LtikE a—ZE—SEA-SIDE—M'siEu Jean Tuomas ?” | John Thomas, “Par soxnoo, MaAMZzELLE—Par BoxuHoo. DOWN HERE.” I’vE—AW—BIN SO accus- TOMED TO—Aw—GalETY IN TowN, THAT I ’M—aW—a-MOST KILLED WITH arnwee| Society, we should like to know where the Royal Academy THE VEGETARIANS. WE see by the papers that there is a society existing in Manchester, that devotes its entire energies to the eating | of vegetables, and the members meet occasionally for the purpose of masticating mashed potatoes, and munching cabbage leaves. “Sweets to the sweet” is a popular maxim, and “Greens to the green” may fairly be applied to the Vegetarians. At one of their recent banquets, a party of 232 sat down to a couple of courses, in which sage and onions, beetroot, mushrooms, and parsley, were the principal luxuries. JosErpH BroTsaERTON, Esq., M.P., the gentleman who is always wanting to get the House of Com- mons to bed by 12 o’clock, was in the chair, and proposed a series of toasts, which were drunk in plain water, and as several odd fish were present, they no doubt felt themselves quite in their element. We do not quite understand the “1_—° upon which these gentlemen object to animal food; ut if health is their object, we do not think that will be promoted by the mixture of messes they sat down to the other day at Manchester. In addition to their sage and onions, they disposed of several dishes of plum-pudding—in itself as heavy as plumbago—almonds and raisins, cheesecakes,‘ custards, | grapes, gooseberries, sago, figs, and flummery. There is | something very infantine in the pretended simplicity of this | fare, for none but a parcel of overgrown children would | sit down seriously to make a meal upon sweetstuff. We | look upon the vegetarian humbug as a mere pretext for | indulging a juvenile appetite for something nice, and we | are really ashamed of these old boys who continue, at their time of life, to display a puerile partiality for pies and puddings. The Future of the Royal Academy. Tuer Atheneum publishes a report, relative to the National Gallery, of a Select Committee of the House of Commons, composed of Lorp Joun Russext, Sir Ropert Pezt, and other legislators of all parties. ‘So that,” observes our learned contemporary, “ whatever party shall be in power, something will be done to enlarge and new front the National Gallery. Where will the Royal Academy goto?” Considerin what have been the doings of that same expects to go to? THE SEMPSTRESS AT HOME, IN THE UNION AND THE GAOL. To Mr. Punch. 1R,—I wELL remember when Mr. Hoop sang his Song of the | Shirt in your pages. Ha, Sir! what a song was that! and how it seemed to touch and tremble upon the heart-strings | " 3 of all England! We sempstresses thought that one little song had made the selfish world ashamed of itself; that a few %) lines of verse had carried compassion and Christian tender- WI ness throughout the land. A lovely song, Sir, setting free, as by a charm, thousands and tens of thousands from the bonds of slavery. Fine ladies sang the song, as though con- verted by it from the carelessness of plenty to think kindly, tenderly, of the sufferings of the sempstress. People talked of the sisterhood of woman; and the slaves of the needle and thread smiled at the words, and, in their simplicity, thought there was really something true and beautiful in them. “All this, however, passed away. I once heard Mr. Huckapack observe, ‘ Songs are all very well to humbug the ignorant, but you can’t | set ’em t0 political economy.’ Now, Sir, I don’t exactly know what | political economy is, but I’m told it’s an economy that’s to teach the poor to live upon nothing. And this I know—a many thousands of ’em | every day learn a good deal of the lesson. | “ But, Sir, my reason for addressing you is this. I am a shirt-maker, | and am desirous of getting into the Union or the Penitentiary (which- ever you may advise as best), that I may be able to eat a little more from my needle and thread than I am able to do in my own garret. “You must know, Sir (and Ma. Roper, the Secretary to our Society of Distressed Needlewomen will be my witness), that there’s a Union where they take shirts from warehouses at 34d. each, that—to keep life and soul together in the needlewoman that makes them—ought at least to be 1s. 9d. At Millbank Penitentiary and other prisons, sailors’ | jackets and soldiers’ great-coats are made at the rates of 24d. and 5d. “Now, Sir, as the pauper woman gets a farthing for herself out of | every 34d., I am sure P should be much better off in the Union than in my own attic. and there is, at least, the extra farthing clear for little luxuries, such as snuff and tea. But, Sir, with rent and food to pay for, I must starve ([ mean, Sir, I do starve) in my own garret, with never a farthing to spare at all. Therefore, Sir, 1 have made up my mind not to attempt any competition with my Parish, but to go into the Union at once, and enjoy the independence of the farthing. “Or, Sir, as I feel my pride pretty well starved out of me, if you think I should do better in the Penitentiary, I think after a few trials with myself I would attempt to steal a roll, or a bun, or some trifle of the sort, to get comfortably committed. Once I should have died to think of such a thing : but—I am sure of it—’tis nothing better than conceit in such as me to think to work against the authorities. I can’t work at either the Union or the Prison a and keep myself, but am content to take their 34. and 5d., with the understanding that they must keep me. We must all come to this sooner or later, and I may as well go among the first as the last. * Your obedient Servant, “Susan Jones,” “P.S. I’ve got a linnet and a geranium, and as I hear I mustn’t take ’em either to the workhouse or the gaol, they’re at Mr. Punch, if you will do me the kindness to accept ” em. Because the Union finds board and lodging and coals; | your service, dear |

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> S SS : Wy ‘ ~s ~ “al 3 == 5 35 SL S WAY , We ES WY GarpvE Mosire. Rep RepvBiican, | ! LIBERTY. THIERS. CAVAIGNAC. “THE CONVALESCENT” IN FRANCE.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 143 HEMIGRATION MADE HEASY. To Lorn Hasuiey. “Sir, “ The Cabbys Hinstatute, Blue Postes. “ Lookin hover the 7imes at our Hinstatute on Sattaday, I sea that 2 wimming have come up Before Mr. Harnoup, the Wushup Street Beak (whomb I ope he is quite well & know very hintimit) quarralen quite outragus (as there is no satisfyink some of em) about their usbands hemmygrating without them. “Has I thought it mite interest 1 prigd the hextrack out of the paper, and send you the sam. “**« The woman Awne Lorinox stated that in consequence of her husband, a cab- driver, being unable to procure employment, he determined to emigrate with herself and child to one of the colonies, and for that purpose, with a number of others, attended a meeting at the Irish Ragged School in the Minories, at which Lorp AsBLEyY and many other influential persons were present. A subscription was then set on foot to provide a free passage to America for as many as the funds would cover, and the whole superintendence of the undertaking was intrusted to Mr. Jackson, who placed her husband on the list of applicants. She and her husband both remained in the fullest conviction that she and the child would be sent out with him, until a short time before his embarcation, when to ber astonishment ste was informed that the funds were insufficient, and that the child and herself must remain behind. She subsequently sought an interview with the manager, Mr. Jackson, and pointed out to bim the hardship of their separation, but he told her he could not assist her, and that rather than thwart her husband's prospects it would be much better for her and the child to enter the workhouse. Her busband had now gone = to America ia an emigrant ship called the Victoria, leaving his family entirely estitute, “ The other woman’s usband went off without so much as with your leaf, or by your leaf. *** He left her and the infant in the morning, promising to be home at 10 o’clock at night, and she had never seen him since. She was involved in the deepest distress, the infant in her arms was dangerously ill, and she had no means of procuring support for herself or medical attendance for tne child. “** Ma, ARNOLD said, that it was so extraordinary a case that he shou!d like toknow what it all meant. He felt perf.ctly satisfied that Lozpp AsHLey would not have contributed his money to an undertaking which had for its object the separation of husbands from their wives and families, leaving the la:ter in the position of destitute paupers ; and as the fact of the second case coming so soon after the other rendered it a matter of much public importance, one of the officers must go at once to the house of the gentleman complained against, and request his attendance, with an explanation, *** Mr. JacKSon stated that the object of the gentlemen present at the meeting referred to, in entering into the voluntary subscription, was to send out a num of reformed and repentant thieves and cr:minals, and that both of the brothers Lorinck had represented themselves as convicted felons, and, therefore, qualisied as the objects intended by the meeting. Numbers of such characters had waited upon him, for it was a work of months, and he felt satisfied he had accomplished a great deal of good. With regard to the wives, he was not at all aware that the younger brother was a married man, and although he knew that the other had a wife and child, it was distinctly understood that the husband was himself to provide the means of conveying her to his place of settlement. “ * HOLLAND, the warrant officer, repeated the stat t the first woman had made, that Mr. Jackson had advised her to go with her child into the workhouse, but that gentleman made no observation iu reply. s e bg . bd “*« Mr. Jackson.— These men came to me representing themselves to be thieves and felons of seven, eight, or ten years’ standing, and repeatedly convicted, and by so furthering their interests I was —- them with the means of becoming res- | pectable and worthy members of society. I certainly should not have done so if they had not positively assured me they had led such a life. « «Emma Lorinok declared that there was not a word of truth in it ; her husband ee shoemaker, and, though out of work, had never committed an offence in all ife. ««« Mr. Jackson.—I assure you, Sir, I displayed the utmost caution in the execution of the office intrusted to me. “** Ma, ARNOLD.—I must say I do not think so. Did you make inquiry as to the men’s former character of any one else but themselves ? “** Mr. Jackson (hesitating).— Why, no; but they were in the company of known thieves and felons, and appeared to be conversant with the haunts and slang of such characters, and I founded my judgment of them upon that, which seemed to me satisfactory.’ “ Satisfactory—werry as far as it goes. But please let it be hall mene~-te I think I’d like to take advantidge of this hadmarable charaty. “I ham myself in the cab line, No. 9999 by name, my life is ard, my work arder still, my wife scolds like a wixen, and my children heats like hoguers. “Will it be nessary for me to commit a bugglary before I awail myself of the charaty, or will larsny du, or 3 weeks which I ad for hovercharging a passinger and itting him hafterwoods about the Kd? Robbry I never yet dun—to ouse braking I’m awuss; but hif by alittle on it I can git rid of my Missus and famly, and make myself comftable for life, present best compts to ey Lordship, and saye Hime your Mann, and your Lordship’s grateful Servant, “* NINETHOWSNDNINUNDERDANNINETYNINE,” Disqualification for Billingsgate. WE feel called upon to withdraw our nomination of the Hon. Craven F, Bexkevey asa fit and proper person to represent the electors of Billingsgate. a, the. publication of a very handsome apology to Mr. RounDeL the honourable gentleman has completely disqualified himself for the representation of that constituency. THE CROWNING EVIL. “Taxe away that bauble!” was the first excla- mation that occurred to us when we saw one of the new Post Office crowns on the lamp-post in Fleet Street, that it is our almost daily lot to pass. With our well-known respect for the monarchy, we confess we felt it difficult to restrain ourselves from demanding the surrender of the diadem into our cwn hands, in order that we might for ever destroy such a shameful insult to Royalty. We should like to know who can have been the artist that has dared to desecrate the type of Monarchy hy constructing a crown out of a couple of tin uprights, with an iron centre bit, and a rim of some inferior metal, relieved here and there by two or three ungainly-looking stars, cut apparently from the lid of an old saucepan. ° We cannot, dare not, will not imagine the head of our beloved Sovereign block’d in this block-tin, the bare con- templation of which caused our indignation to rise so high, that it only required a ladder to rise still higher, and “dash the bauble down.” Fortunately for the security of the Grown, as represented in the street regalia furnished by the Post Office, it is “fixed on such a height” that, like Richard the Third, we feel we must “strain” our “inmost workings” to an extent that might jeopardise our braces, if we were to allow ourselves to be strung up to too high a pitch of indignation by the unseemly sight. We can very well understand the monarch who says, ** Uneasy is the head that wears a crown,” if it was such a crown as the one at the Fleet Street Post Office that his most uncomfortable majesty had run his head against. SHAKsPEARE, when he lays down the beautiful proposition that— ** Crowns got by blood must be by blood maintained,” must have had in his eye such a crown as this, which could not be maintained upon anybody’s head without scratching it or tearing it in the most dreadful manner. WHAT MAY BE BOUGHT FOR FIVE POUNDS! Ir you are a married man, you may buy these luxuries for the small sum of £5!— 7 : You may, with your clenched fists, beat your wife until her eyes shall be “ dreadfully bruised and swollen.”—For £5. ; You may “take the bellows from her hand,” and with them “strike her several blows upon the head,” until she falls “senseless on the floor.’—For £5. You may further kick and beat her “ while she is down.”—For £5. These things—free and enlightened Englishmen, blessed with laws that make you the envy of surrounding nations—these things you may do, if you have £5. d “ But how”—you ask—“if I have not £5 —_— Why, then, inhuman pauper—hard-hearted outcast—penniless mis- creant—why, then, in default of payment of £5, you shall taste the bitterness of captivity and oakum-picking for two statute months ! For an illustration of this ennobling, legal truth, see Marylebone Police Report, in the case of Micnatn Gore, late of 25, Orchard Place, now on a two months’ visit to CoLonEL CHEsTEeRTON, at the House of Correction. ro ee Micuart Gore is punished—not, in-very truth, for beating his wife —but for not having £5 to pay for it. ‘IS not this the highest triumph of property ? Rebels’ Weapons. We take from the Chronicle the following paragraph, dated from Clonmel :— ‘““ During the present harvest the wages of agricultural labourers have not ex- ceeded an average of threepence a day, with diet—black bread or diseased potatoes —and in numerous instances so low as one penny per diem has been paid.” It is true there is a foolish, a wicked spirit of rebellion waking, and, tiger-like, watching, in Ireland: there are pikes, and guns, and pistols in the hands of knaves and fools. But, after all, are not the worst weapons against us to be found in that fatal three-pence a day—that filthy black bread—those loathsome potatoes? ‘The penny per diem is harder to contend with than the hourly bullet.

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144 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. IV. As YOU ARE LABOURING ON YOUR GREAT WORK (IN A STYLE, LET US ADD, EQUAL TO THE suBJECT), Lapy Anna Marta ToMNoppDy'’s COMPLIMENTS ARRIVE, AND SHE REQUESTS YOU WILL CAST YOUR EYE OVER THE ACCOMPANYING MANUSCRIPT IN SIX votumes, “Tue Mysteries oF Mavratr,” CORRECE THE ERRORS, IF ANY, AND FIND A PUBLISHER FOR THE SAME, N.B.—You wave IN youR Bookcase Captain Banaues’s “ BUFFALOES AND Banyan Trees,” 1n MS.; THE Rev. Mr. Growi’s “Sermons To a CONGREGA- TION AT SWANSEA,” bDitro DITTO; Miss Piminy’s “ Witprtower Coronal, A Wreata or Vittace Poesy ;” anp Mr. Crapperton’s six MANuSCRIPT TRAGEDIES ; OF ALL OF WHICH YOU ARE REQUESTED TO GIVE YOUR OPINION. “IS THERE ANYTHING IN THE PAPER?” * WHITHER are we marching? Whereabouts are we now, and when are we going to stop? What is France, Germany, our dear little England, and all Europe about? And what is the Future preparing? What is to come of the institutions, faiths, ranks, honours, truths of the Old World; and are we coming to the general smash? Is the system by which the Past went on, found 80 incompetent to govern the Present, that we are going to repeal and abolish it utterly? If yesterday is all a doubt and an error, what a bewilderment to- day is, and what an awful perplexity to-morrow! Is it not time to think of emigrating to the United States, where some order is still left, or of retiring to the North Pole or the Desert, for quiet ? As I sit in this railway-carriage, whirling down to Brighton at an infernal speed, borne along by a screaming engine which tears through the bowels of the earth, and before which rocks are cleft, and valleys are filled up; as I sit in this carriage, with the Zimes newspaper of this present Saturday in my lap, reading it until I am anon fy ny into the sudden darkness of a tunnel under- neath a mountain, or forced to lay it down, oppressed by that still more awful obscurity through which my own thoughts have to make an issue, there is no wonder that the lady opposite, with the novel in her lap, stares aghast at the haggard countenance of the gentleman with whom she travels, and at the wildness of his eyes. “Is there anything in the paper, Sir?” she says; for we had the honour of a trifling acquaintance. “Anything in the paper! All the world is in the paper. This express train travels fast, but the world travels faster. Why, Madam, if you will but read what is written in the Times of this very day, it is enough for a year’s history, and ten times as much meditation. If we have such a Times every day, life wouldn’t bear it. How can we follow and remember ;such changes? The whole of Europe sends news, and every | State is in revolution. States—we can’t call them states any }more: nothing is stable; it is overthrow after overthrow, a | succession of convulsions. It is struggle, battle, barricade, | murder, conspiracy, abortive or active everywhere. | “In Frankfort there is a barricade, and one set of patriots firing against another. Because the majority of United Germany is for not making war with Denmark for the present, the friends of the minority tear up paving-stones, fire on flags of truce, and shoot down unarmed Deputies in cold blood. Men who were beloved patriots yesterday, are carried away to their homes stabbed and dying. A great red flag, surrounded by riflemen, flares out over upset omnibuses in the street, until artillery comes down and pounds them into flight. “In Spain, ‘Our Own Correspondent’ says, a vast Monte- molinist conspiracy is organised throughout the country, and about to burst ona given day. Meanwhile, the Government is engaged hourly in arresting, not the Montemolinists, but the Constitutional opposition. “In Paris, they have just elected Louts-NapoLeon; the band of the National Guard is playing Veillons au Salut de l’ Empire, and the people shouting out Vive ?Empereur. So who knows but that GeneraL CavalGnac may be preparing to pack up his portmanteau, and to join Lovis-BLanc and Lovis-PHiLipre in this country ? “Meanwhile the Red Republicans are organising with great alacrity, and after the chief of the Provisional Government has evacuated it, the Emperor may come in for his turn of exile. “The Emperor being disposed of, and communism in per- manence, the partisans of Henry THE Firtu will openly have their chance. Their party is increasing daily in strengt = favour, aud the white cockade may take the place of the red one. “In Petersburg, they have erected barricades too, and attempted a little murder; but this is as yet confined to the persons of a few physicians, who are accused of desiring to poison the people; and the revolters knelt down when the Emperor alone mounted the barricades, and told them that those defences could not keep out the Cholera, But who shall say, a practice of barricading having once been tried in a country, when that sort of experiment shall cease ? “All the towns of Sicily are barricaded against the Nea- politan enemy, except Messina, and that is blown up. “Tn our own dear United Kingdom of Ireland and Great | Britain, they are trying SmitH O’Brien and his associate leaders of the Ballingary fight in Tipperary, while other patriots are still robbing, and in arms in Waterford and Cork. The younger MiTcHEL is represented as carrying out the precepts of his enthusiastic brother in exile, and engages with others in the pursuit of freedom, and in cutting down the crops. “At Dublin, other advocates of liberty are tried for stabbing a policeman on his beat. And O’Connett, not having done anything in particular, yet longs to be tried too, and calls upon the Logp LisuTenant straightway to put him in the dock. gate and Ludzate Hill, Mr. Wrtt1am Dow ine, a very mild and inoffensive young artist, is being tried with a number of his friends, martyrs to their political opinions. Their project, as announced by a witness (a traitor to their sainted cause, as it must be confessed), was a gallant one. It was concisely announced by the patriotic Munurms. ‘Mind, gentlemen, he said, ‘our object is, if possible, to destroy the power of the Queen, and establish a Republic.’ There was a general acquiescence in this, by every one. Some ‘ conversation’ having then ensued, ‘about vitriol and assassinating the police,’ an honest fellow, by the name of Rosg, remarked— ‘We must first assassinate the police, pull down the station- houses, and build barricades.’ “So that, though we have had no barricades, nor much power. Our city contained many Clubs, who had numbered off their ‘ fighting-men.’ nest of Saint Besides the surveyors in the Crow’s- | Paul’s, Liberty had appointed her mp of “In the Central Criminal Court, close by our own New- | murder, for our parts, in London, yet we might have had | them but for an untimely interference of the tyrants in | | | |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CIIARIVARI. 145 science, who had mapped out the metropolis for barricades, where they would put ¢/eir red flags up. Ginger-beer bottles were filled with powder and combustibles, accord- ing to the Irish receipt, to pop off at a moment’s warning. The great Currey himself approved of them, the informer says, and the teach- ing of the exile of Bermuda was to be repeated by professors here. Treland (Heaven bless her!) had the honour of the day. Indeed, there was a Jittle jealousy about there not being a sufficient number of Irishmen in the Ulterior Com- mittee, and so four Irishmen were placed on it; and, that their in- fluence was considerable, is shown by the fact that many of our Clubs took the names of the gallant children of Erin. There was the Mircuet Club, the Davis Club, the Emmett Club, as well as the Tom Pate Brigade, and all these were vrepared to act; when, on the llth of August, the police seized Rosz’s papers, and it was all up! “Yes, it was all up with them; but it might have been all up with : SN us, but for the Government and pitts 3-8 its myrmidons, Those gallant . Clubs, those true-hearted patriots, those dear, good, kind Irishmen, whom, as we know them better, we should learn to love and bless more and more, would have pep- pered us with fire-balls, burnt our shops and houses about our ears, butchered our police, and set up &@ republican form of government. | All this is in the paper, Ma’am,” I said. “ And anything more?” asked the opposite. ' | “Yes, indeed,—one thing more: there is the history of a noble- man cut off in the vigour of his life, powers, and fame—of one who | had a great name yesterday, and was the chivalrous leader of a great English porty. All the broils and battles of the Session were over; | the triumphs, the turmoil, the excitement of attack, the cheers of | friends, the discomfiture of enemies; a truce was sounded, and he was | taking his rest after his labour. We were caricaturing him but | yesterday, and his manly nature was the first to join in the good-natured | laugh: to-day, and all is over, and he is to laugh, and cheer, and battle no more. No more jovial sounds of hound and horn for him; no more shouting on the course as the race passes by like a storm; no more cheering of companions in the House of Commons: in the midst of life, strength, and triumph almost, lo, the end comes, and the Loyal Grorce CITISENS!# “ARM! ARM! goes down. “The next day there appears that fatal notice in the Zimes—that column of inevitable history. Is it not awful to think of that necrogra- pher who sits in some crypt in the Zimes office, and who, as sure as you die, will have your history in print! What will the sunrise be to you then, or the fame of a newspaper, or all the fights, revolutions, and ——- of all this struggling world ? “ T think here is quite enough, then, in the Times paper of the 23rd. Besides, there are the advertisements and the Court Circular. The Watchword of Order. THE Moniteur has published a decree of Genera Cavarenac relative to the Legion of Honour, commencing with what is equivalent to “Whereas.” Ah! This is the style for a Proclamation. What an im- rovement upon “Frenchmen! Citizens!” and all that _interjectional umbug. There is something solid and rational in “Whereas.” It looks like business. Vow we begin to have some hope of the French Republic. “ Whereas,” as an honest Hampshireman said when he had put sugar in his Claret, is ‘ zummat like.” Write and Wrong. Tere is to be a Grand Lottery of Books at Paris, at which the grand prize is to be 10,000 Livres de Rentes. This may be all very well for the Publishers, but we do not see what the Authors are to get by it. We suppose the Publishers will pocket the Rentes, and the authors will —— to fall upon their Livres? It scarcely required a lottery to prove this. | | } REPUBLICAN MAGNANIMITY. A Fixe instance of magnanimity has recently been given by the French Republican Government. From the statue of Joan or Arc in the palace of Versailles the name of the sculptor has been erased, because the artist happened to be Marrg, a princess of the fallen house of Orleans. We had flattered ourselves that there was already a republic of art as well as of letters, and that the late Princess Marie, asa member of the former republic, would have had her genius recognised and her memory respected by the present fraternal rulers of her country. If no other restoration should take place in France, we do at least hope to see the restoration of the name of the royal artist to her work, as well as a restoration of their original beauty to the public places in 7 —_ so grievously disfigured by the lanky skeletons of dead Trees of Liberty. EMIGRATION TO AMERICA. “ Under the patronage of Lonp AsHLEy and many other influential persons.”— See ** Times’? Report. Partigs having wives and families to desert, are provided with a free sere to America, and every comfort, on application to Mr, Sricson, cotch Ragged Schools, Minories. ae Honest men cannot be received, as this enterprise is only for the benefit of thieves and felons. Every attention = to Burglars, and gentlemen already returned from the hulks. A opening for a few experienced cracksmen. LOST, A PLANET. Ou, Yes! On, Yes! This is to give notice, that the Planet called Neptune has absconded, and it is not known where. He went out one night last month, and has not been seen since. It is supposed he has gone to meet the Comet, or that the vagabond is busy star-gazing. In either case any astronomer who meets him in his walks is requested to keep his eye upon him, as the said Planet is absent without leave, and has no right. to be away sky-larking. _ All Letters to be sent (pre-paid), to MonsteuR LEvVERRIER, at the Ob- servatoire, Paris. The said Planet answers to the name of NEPTUNE, winks very much, and never keeps - long inthe same place. Long live the a Zodiac! ROYAL CARRIAGES AND CATTLE. Tue Edinburgh Witness, in reference to the QuEEN’s visit to Scotland, says :— “ The Royal horses and carriages selected for the use of HER Masesty and Paince ALBERT, on their visit to Balmoral, arrived in the harbour of Aberdeer on Monday afternoon.” Royal horses! We have heard of Royal tigers often, but never, till now, of a royal horse. There must also be a royal road leading some- where, because it is said that there is none to Mathematics; but we can hardly fancy a carriage invested with the attribute of royalty. We should be seriously puzzled how to address a royal horse. Ought we to say, Wo! your chesnut Majesty? or, May it please your Royal Nagship to gee up? We should wish to observe all proper etiquette in talking to royal blood horses. Cui Bono? Everysopy is asking what on earth took Lorp Jonn Russet to Treland ? for, beyond avisit to the Castle anja few other complimentary calls, he might as well have been out of Erin, for he does not seem to have lent an ear to anything that the Irish people might have had to say to him. He, however, had much communication with the Lord Lieutenant ; and the probability is, that the Premier, who is extremely fond of Con- stitutional inquiry, went to Ireland for the purpose of studying CiarEeN Don’s History of the Rebellion. THE NATIONAL EXCRESCENCE. THERE is a person who keeps eternally advertising an ‘“‘ Errrcactous Cure ror Corns, Bunions, anp CaLLosities, &., witHout Curtine.” We wonder if this man could enable us to cure that troublesome ex- crescence, lreland, without cutting 1t. aan

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146 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | LINGTON’s horse stops the way.” DRED STATUES. THE HERO OF A HUN -— - = AnotHeRr statue of the Duxe or WexuincTon is to be put up in the Tower, and in fact, London is becoming a sort of livery stable, where the Hero of Waterloo and his horse are being constantly put up. The Duke’s head will soon be as familiar an object in the metropolis as the top of the monument or the dome of St. Paul’s. The plume of his helmet has already begun to take its place among the established London weathercocks ; and, as to his nose, there is scarcely a bridge on this side of Westminister that is half so conspicuous. There is hardly a street where the Duke or WELLINGTON may not be seen looking in at the top windows, or inhaling the smoke from the chimneys, or preparing to take a gentle trot over the tiles. As to poor Netson, the Duxe or York, and the two or three others scattered about town, they are completely lost in the crowd of Dukes oF WELLINGTON, who are beginning almost to jostle each other at every turn. a If we want a new site for a statue, we shall soon begin ‘to find that “the Duke or WEI- For it must. be remembered that the steed generally shares with his master in this great game of thoroughfare cribbage, and that if the former needs one yard for his head, the other requires at least two for his heels. THE SHERIFFS’ LIVERIES.—IMPORTANT.) We stop the press to announce that last week London was thrown into a state of delirious excitement by the exhibition of the new Sheriffs’ (Finnis AND GoopHART’s) new liveries, destined for November the 9th. Could Goce and Macoc condescend to plush—could they so far forget the moyen age—as to creep into the coat and waistcoat of degenerate 1848, we think they would choose the cut of Doupney and of Ciirrorp, as shown in their respective windows. The Morning Chronicle revels in each suit; “Jeames” himself was never more ecstatic in a livery, which our gifted contemporary calls “a brilliant specimen of civic splendour!” Perhaps the gorgeousness of London: is: more largely developed in the livery of Fixvis, though there is an unspeakable mixtureof taste and grandeur blushing unseen in the plush of GoopHart. As the reader has already concluded, all the footmen remaining in London visited the private view at Doupwey and at Cuirrorn’s; and, as is usual on similar critical occasions, partook of achampagne breakfast, doubtless the better to cultivate the purity of their opinions. The coats are of spring green, embroidered up and down with chains and fetters, illustrative of the sterner duties of the shrievalty. The waistcoats and breeches are of kerseymere and plush; the waistcoats worked all over in golden letters with /.fa., and the breeches’ pockets with zulla bona, Among the crowd of distinguished footmen there was just a sprinkling of sheriffs’ officers, and they, viewing the embroidery, declared the execution perfect. COINING LIKE BLAZES. Tue Two-Shilling Piece has made its appearance. They say it is very pretty. There is every chance, then, of its being snatched out of our fingers as soon as it is in our hands. The crown-piece was never circulated because it was found too beautiful. The Mint was afraid that people would wear them round their necks as ornaments, and that women would hide them in their stockings, as being much too pretty to spend. However, people ‘do say that the Moneyer’s Company set their faces against them, and that the amalgamation of silver and brass was found not to mix at all. It seems that these gentlemen do all the coins by contract ; that is to say, they clip a fourpenny-piece as much as they can, in order to get the greatest possible profit out of it. Their motto is ‘‘ Never say die,” unless they pocket a very handsome percentage out of every one they strike. This is the reason why the five- shilling pieces went up like sky-rocket pieces, creating a great blaze for the moment they were up; but when the public looked for them they found nothing but the sticks that issued them. In the same manner, we suspect, will the two- shilling pieces shoot up, shine, and disappear. “AN EXCUSE FOR THE GLASS.” Our sugges! ive contemporary, the Builder, who has laid the foundation, occasionally, of some of our jokes, gave forth a s tion not long ago, that glass doors might be adapted to houses with considerable effect. We have heard of people living in glass houses, and it has been said they are the last persons who ought to throw stones ; but as our population has not arrived at that pitch, we think the objection would not apply, at all events to the experiment of begin- ning, as it were, with glass doors. There are numerous advantages to be derived from such an arrangement; and, in the first place, it would be highly desirable that a dun or a bailiff knocking at the door, under the false pretence of a visitor, should at once be seen through—which he woul be if the door were of glass; and by being kept out, he would at all events be debarred from the right’ of sayin that his debtor ha let him in. The usual excuse of “not at home” might, in. some in- stances, become ra- ther transparent, if a glimpse of the denied individual should be caught; but an inner door of some opaque material would pro- vide against this disa- greeable contingency. In the matter of wine, the glass would frequently save the bottle ; for if a dining- room door were made of glass, no wine-bib- bing butler could, without detection, drain the Jast drop of the generous liquor, of whose gene- rosity he fakes an undue advantage, when he consumes its entire substance by a single draught. —— Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mul'ett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke New- ington, both in the County of Midd'esex, Printers, at their Office in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Publisued by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of Lendon.—Sarvuapar, Szrr. 30th, 1848. $$

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rr wey wee ]S FF See SY Pees ptt a i eo PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE SECOND. FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE LIBERTIES OF THE ENGLISH NATION, | A FEW WORDS ABOUT KING JOHN AND MAGNA CHARTA, “, hi va sano va piano* is an Italian proverb, —@ _ which, when education has so many irons in the fire—Ltalian-irons of course included—we need not translate; but it is a proverb exceedingly applicable to the progress of our Constitution, which perhaps derived its quality of forte from » the very piano character of its gradual development. Were we to follow the example of our fanciful French neighbours, and ive an allegorical representation of iberty, we should typify her under the form of a slow coach, which, in the absence of any determined patriot to put his shoulder to the common weal, would frequently remain for years in exactly the same position. The great political vehicle achieved something in the way of progress under Henry THE First, who had robbed his elder brother Ros of the | British crown, or rather had bought him out of the concern with an annuity of which the instalments were not long “| up with due punc- | tuality. When the instalments got into arrear, RoBERT expressed a wish to be paid off, and he was paid off by imprisonment in the Castle of Cardiff until his death—an early in- stance of fraternity, resembling in quality the specimens of the same article, with which the French Republic has recently favoured us. ke Henry being thoroughly aware that his conduct towards his own family would not entitle him to respect, adopted the course | usually followed by men who behave ill at ~~, ‘ home, and courted out-door popularity. _ | Though he had cheated and ill-treated his ~ : brother, he started as a philanthropist upon | > | a large scale, and like many others ina —-— | humbler sphere—the would-be heroes of Trafalgar, for example, who met with such per a severe cross in that noted Square—whose private actions are heartless, oppressive, ; and fraudulent, he was seized with a won- | derful amount of tenderness towards his species in general. He became a wholesale dealer in the milk of human kindness, taking good care, like others in the same line, to keep all the cream to himself; and he relaxed the rigour of the laws because he knew that if too much strictness prevailed, his right to the crown might undergo some awkward questioning. ; Pretending to be the friend of enlightenment, he abolished the curfew, that extraordinary arrangement which enforced the putting out of all the candles in the kingdom just as it was getting dark, which was, of course, the only time when they would be wanted. The curfew was one of those institutions which, assuming to take a parental view of the people, decreed that sunset was the proper time for all good children to go to bed; but the arrangement was of course prejudicial to the few lights of the age, and particularly to the development of that wonderful composition-candle which has grown, as it were, upon the fat of the land, and to whose wick—if we may be allowed the allegory— we all of us so cheerfully cotton—the light of Liberty. The curfew, by putting an extinguisher—after a certain — every light in the realm, from the “ mould of fashion” to the dip of no particular form, was felt as a hardship upon all classes, and particularly upon those who, before the latch-key had opened the door to pe revelry, were not permitted to keep sitting up for them even the rushlight, that beautiful type of domestic patience, shining appropriately, like modest merit, in the shade. It has been beautifully said by SreLMAN, that the light of science received material aid from the abolition of the curfew ; for, as the candles were — to burn all night, it was necessary that some one in every family should be up to snuff, and hence knowledge began to spread among the whole people. nder Henry THE SEconpD, Liberty, which had previously been making a series of imperfect hops, began to take large strides, and Trial by Jury—emblemed by twelve men in a box—began to start up again, after a long repose; for it is a curious fact that these twelve men in a box have sent and disappeared, upon the principle of the Jack-in-the-box, at frequent intervals in our Constitutional history. * We would not insult our readers by inserting a translation of this in the text ; | but lest some melancholy ignoramus may require enlightenment, and instinctively | drop dowa among the notes, we tell him that our own saying, ‘‘ Slow and sure,” } amounts to the same thing as the Italian proverb we have quoted. ‘ Cdeueet” >. geil NORMAN Gente A FRA “TERNZYNGE.Witk Ye SAXON- ! shall exist, the san It was his successor Joun, however, who gave himself all the exaggerated airs of a royal Jack-in-oflice, and, treating the prerogative as if it had been made of caoutchouc, stretched it to such a degree, that it must have cracked if he had not let go his hold, and allowed it to shrink into such little- ness as it never need have known had he been expert in handling it. The humiliated sovereign having roused the discontent of the whole country, found himself without resources, and was at last glad to put his name toa bill which the Barons had drawn and offered for his acceptance at Runny- mede. England still lives upon the interest attached to that glorious bill, which takes the name of harta to distinguish it from other promissory notes of Royalty which have been, in early days, shamefully dishonoured; but this valuable security . has been endorsed from reign to reign, and every succeeding sovereign has never failed to put a fresh name upon the back of it. We suspect that, as far as the great majority of our countrymen are concerned, Charta is little more than a great constitutional Mrs. Harris ; for, although everybody talks about, very few have read or seen this marvellous guarantee for our rights and liberties. We regret to be obliged to strip off much of the gilt that adorns this magnificent lump of historical and truly wholesome gingerbread, by announcing the fact that its chief — was the equalising of weights and measures ; so that, if it raised the social scale, it had an opposite effect upon scales in general.‘ It secured to the villain his implements of tillage, or rather, it looked upon the owners of spades as trumps playing the game of life with their hands, and deserving of every encouragement. Magna Charta declared also that no freeman should be imprisoned; but some- how or other mistakes often happened afterwards, by the incarceration of a liber homo—the lawyers doubtless holding that “upon being im- prisoned he was no longer free, and that, consequently, upon his coming within the jail, he no longer came within the statute.” : This venerable principle of drawing nice distinctions without differ- ences has desvended to us from our very earliest lawyers; and there is weve JACKS IN Ye BOX-~ P DRAWN AF TER THE QV ICKE WIM: % no doubt that the modern judge was backed by an ancient precedent when he declared, in the celebrated Duck case—which has since become a leading case, from duco, to lead—that “a dead duck by induc(k)tion is no duck at all,” and acquitted the thief who stole the living duck, because the dead duck, when laid on the floor of the court, did not seem properly laid in the indictment, and had not a leg tojstand ,upon as against the prisoner. ene i eed NY : == The Charter provided also that justice should never be sold—a pro- vision that would seem at first sight to annihilate all lawyers’ bills; but | when we recollect the enormous difference between justice and law, we see at once that the prohibition against the sale of the one could not in any way affect the practice of charging most extravagantly for the other. Notwithstanding all its drawbacks, Magna Charta was valuable as a 147 | collection of rare old clap-traps ; and it was at least satisfactory to the | people to be told that certain rights and privileges belonged to them, | though, how the prize was to be rather more for ornament than use, since, notwithstanding its arrange- ot at, might not have been very | obvious. In the frame-work of our Constitution, Magna Charta figures ments for equalising weights and measures, every housekeeper knows | that Magna Charta does not prevent him from getting an ounce, occa- sionally, short in a | pe of tea; and, as long as old Time’s hour-glass VOL, XV. Q will run into the grocer’s sugar cask. We must vad

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not, however, be supposed to undervalue the great caligraphic effort of Jony, whose signature was the happy result of the numerous 0 ~ lessons he had received from the barons. GASES. pleased were they with their bargain, that they YE i FG were always calling meetings for the purpose of | Yi “af i ~ oS IMSS

Runnymede read and confirmed, until Magna! Charta had been signed and re-signed so often | that r Joun could do nothing but resign | himself to the task, which kept him almost per- | petually with a pen in hand, and wore out “his nibs,” as the courtiers were familiarly in the having the proceedings at the last meeting at | Ws a, fal”, Cw <=

7S habit of calling him. She 94 \ vores o| Having traced our Constitution as far as ‘oe Magna Charta, we pause in reverence over that | eo Es — venerable parchment, and shall leave the reader to digest that astounding and most satisfactory | roll in the interval between this and the ensuing chapter.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | visiting the int-rior of the humble cottag

THE SERPENTINE REPORT OF COMMISSIONERS. WE have been favoured with a sight of a Report about to be for- | warded to the Woods and Forests by the gentlemen employed in sur- | veying this elegant sheet of water. It embraces several heads; and, we need not say, strongly condemns any interference with its present condition. With regard to the greenness of the water, of which so much has been said, they find it due to a beautiful little plant exquisitely organ- ised, under the microscope, and which Mr. Hassatu calls the Stick-to- | skin vericlos. This plant has been sent to Dr. Lyon Piayratr, who| finds that it is composed of the same elements as cabbages and green peas; and the reporters suggest, that instead of destroying this valuable matter, that a highly economical use might be made of it in the making | of green soup for charitable Institutions. The reporters also found that the green colour of the skin produced by this plant, after bathing, might be easily removed by gently sponging the body with a diluted solution of muriatic acid. The next point examined by the reporters was the deep holes alleged to exist in this piece of water. They found these holes to vary in | depth from twenty to forty feet, in addition to several feet of black

calling a Cab-eh? (Caper!) massive mud; but, in consideration of the number of persons employed by the Royal Humane Society in rescuing persons from drowning in! these holes, and the moral benefit of persons subscrihing to such a Society, they do not recommend that these holes be filled up, or that any alteration be made in the present dangerous character of the whole bottom of the Serpentine. The reporters had observed several lizards in a very lively state, as | well as innumerable animalcu's, which could not have existed if the waters of this place were so unfavourable to animal life as was ordinarily supposed, _As another reason for continuing the Serpentine in its present con- dition, the reporters had found that the number of bathers had been reduced from three thousand daily, to five hundred; and they feel | assured that anything which could thus deter so large a number of | reckless youths from playing with so dangerous a temptation as deep| water, could not be wished to be removed by an enlightened and | civilised community. With such powerful reasons for keeping things as they are, we feel | - : | that our Serpentine Reformers wil! not have another word to say. | Query.—Are not the French going fast enough to the Devil without THE DUKE OF RUTLAND ON TOWN AND COUNTRY LIFE. AGRICULTURE draws forth the natural man. He cannot, let him be sophisticated as he may, forget the original Apam. The sweet smell of the country awakens his old love of London carriage wheels—for his mother earth. All objects that remind him of tillage, of seed-time, and harvest-time, draw forth his purer tastes; and man is never so truthful as at an Agricultural Meeting. Therefore was it with peculiar delight that we read the speech of the Duxe or Rutxanp at the recent Waltham gathering. His Grace spoke to farmers; and— ‘He assured them that he had always felt, and that he always should feel, a superior pleasure in finding himself in the village street rather than in the crowded ways of the great city, in associating with the honest yeomanry of Eogland rather than with that society which he should have to mix with in the metropolis, and in of the honest and independent labourer than in visiting the splendid mansions of the great.” [Loud cheers.]

His Grace has mixed alike in village life and in London life—he has alike visited the mansions of the great, and the thatched cottages of }

—lulled to sleep, it may be, by the whirl | hedgers and ditchers—and_ he acknowledges purer happiness in the | village street than in May Fair, and has tasted sweeter repose on the three-legged stool of Dame Duckweep than on the velvet ottomans of | the Ducness or Dramonps. Waltham farmers—exploded in loud cheers: nevertheless, we attributed the sentiment to the harmless spirit of clap-trap; to the excusable desire, on the part of the bard, to obtain a burst of applause at any cost. We beg his pardon: he was right. We beg pardon of the galleries: they were right. We erred in our cynicism and our igno- rance ; and therefore beg additional pardon of the Duke or RuTLAND and the Waltham farmers. How are the medals reversed—how are the tables turned—by the confession of his Grace! He has tested city and village, lowly cottage and splendid mansion, and is happiest when with the humblest! It is clear, then, that the honest yeomanry, the lowly cottager, are the eople to be really envied, and the Peers the unhappy individuals to - much commiserated. The burthen of life is in the coronet; the weight, dragging the wearer to the earth, in the ermine and velvet. Happy, thrice happy, the gaitered leg, bound and cramped by no gold- and-purple-garter; light the rustic breast that carries not an Order ! ** Ye cl. dhoppers of England, That quaff the nut. brown beer, How little do you think upon ” The sorrows of the Peer! At length, however, the honest souls of Waltham must be awakened to the sufferings of the Duke, when distant from the village street, and seated under the fretted ceilings of the great. yeoman and labourer must feel their superiority to his Grace—must acknowledge their better cast in life—seeing how very much he prefers its lowliness to his own gilded condition! We marvel, however, that men, oppressed by the burden of wealth and state, and finding their best enjoyment in a village street, and on a cottage stool, do not resolutely make up their minds to put their sin- cerity beyond question. History gives us several instances of royal abdication ; but we do not remember any case in which even an Earl— much less a Duke—bade farewell to his state, and became a humble cottager. or Ruttanp. After what he has said, he will by no means take us by surprise, should he set aside his robes and coronet, undo the garter from his leg, pack up his Orders in silver paper, and appear, for the rest of his days, like Comus. “some harmless villager.” And whereas the cell of CHaRLES THE Firtu became a place of pilgrimage, so in due course of years the “humble cottage” of labourer RuTLAND may We have before heard the same sort of | preference avouched at the Coburg Theatre, and the gallery—like the At such hours, the | Very probably the original example is reserved for the DuKE | become a shrine, whereat the pomps and vanities of the world may | swallow wholesome medicine. As Mapame Tvussavp will never die, posterity may hope to see, duly advertised—“ The Duke or RuTLAND as an honest and independent labourer, seated on his original three-legged stool, when finally retired from the mansions of the great.” In conclusion, we beg to assure his Grace that if has given us grea‘ pleasure to chronicle his sentiments upon the superiority of village streets to metropolitan highways, and honest yeomanry to “ thaé society” that is ignorantly understood to be the politest and the best. A Set or Grixpers.—Oxford Street has been blockaded now for upwards of a month. Our Paving Commissioners evidently think that the London thoroughfares should be treated like teeth—when a little decayed, they ought to be carefully stopped.

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‘ And she lifted up her aching head, and wondered who might come : w sf — Ss aa ae eS Soe PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 149 Deer in her cell sick Liberty heard a hurry and a hum, “Though little matters it to me,” quoth she, as she turned round, And felt, amazed, her lips were gagged, and hard her wrists were bound. Then wearily her fettered hands she press’d across her brow: ** Have I been drunk, or dreaming? Am I mad or sober now? What memory is this I have of struggle, shot, and shout, | Of King Mob sea-like sweeping in, and Kine Lovis slinking out? Could that be me, red flag in hand, astride a barricade ? Wast ’t my voice, that club-clamour, that made the world afraid ? Ts this J, in a strait; waistcoat, to a prison-pallet shrunk— Eh? What? How? Why? if really must have been extremely drunk. I pave some good souls caged me here to keep me out of harm— Well—if ever [—” but here again broke in that strange alarm ; | And Liberty, to listen at the grate her ear inclined, And the far-off whisper of a name canie to her on the wind. What was there in that name that made her, all her chain’s length, start ? | What was there in that name that drove the blood back on her heart ? That struck her, faint and shivering, with clasped hand and failing knee— “Oh, not like him—ob, not like him may his Nephew prove to be! | Still I feel Acs scourge upon my back, Azs brand upon my brow; Thro’ Russia’s snows or Egypt’s sands I do his will e’en now. Once more before his slavish work I seem to hold a blind, Again light up false beacons for that wrecker of mankind. ' T have had grinding masters, but none that ground like him ; | Tyrants have baited me for sport, and whipped me for a whin— Fools have held dominion o’er me—of slaves I’ve been the slave— ; And lightly went I to the block, and as lightly left my grave. ' But could Death have pass’d upon me for ever and a day, | Ne’er had I risen from the tomb where 4e my bones did lay, Tue days of the old Venetian Doges are nothing to these days of new dodges, in which a man may be , suddenly pounced upon and carried off against his will, not perhaps to =|! | a dungeon, but to some gloomy apart- ie > ment in a Leicester Square hotei. It is true he is not liable to be laid hold of by the Sbirri, who once used to excite such terror, nor by the familiars of the Inquisition, but he may be clutched by those horrible familiars in the form of waiters, who tout & tout prix for the rival hotels in the neighbourhood of Leicester | Square, of which they are the repre- | sentatives. The rattling of a cab-wheel is the signal for a descent | upon the unwary traveller; and no sooner do the landlords of the CAFE | two opposition houses catch the distant rumbling of a vehicle than , they summon their myrmidons as Macueatn would have assembled | his band, singing— | “ Hark! I hear the sound of coaches, Now the hour of attack approaches ; To your posts, brave boys, be bold, Let the cabmen beat their horses, | To the ‘fare’ direct your forces, | On them you must Jay your hold.” | The neighbourhood of Leicester Square is becoming a sort of miniature Terracina, infested with rival Fra Diavoli, who affect a degree of | courtesy in the treatment of their captives, and politely demand the LIBERTY’S VISION OF LOUIS NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO PARIS. Piling a-top, from spoil of war, a towering trophied mass, Which, like Acs power, was based in clay, altho’ its head was brass.” So speaking, Lady Liberty had dragged her to the grate, And there she saw the Nephew ride by in solemn state ; The crowd to gaze upon him, no martial music drew, Unless ’twere the small trumpet that for himself he blew. He comes !—“ The same! ” cries Liberty—‘‘ The very same—’tis flat— Eagle! jack-boots!! well-known grey coat!!! and better known cocked hat! !!! Alas! alas! But, as the form more narrowly I scan— _ Hat, coat, and boots—I see them all—but where, then, is THE Man?” Showering its tinsel crosses, the phantom moves along, While to the shadow of a shade low lout the applauding throng ; With hiss and bray, in Freedom’s name those chariot-wheels they grace, Where Freedom, erst a captive, walked with bowed and burning face. Poor Liberty, lugged from her cell, must stand without demur, To see, borne by, a hideous Guy, which men adore for her, Crowned with her cap, and carried (scarce the gag her groan can smother) By a littérateur at one end, and a soldier at the other. And still as moves the cavalcade, the Future looketh down With scorn on him that gripeth still at a ghostly iron crown, And the brass bands that blow in front, and the brazen bands that follow, All play one tune, whose burden still is “‘ Hollow, hollow, hollow.” Yes: as the shrewd bagged eagle, that, when he should have flown To the columns, in the Prince’s cause, sought the tripe-shop in his own, To that fierce bird whose talons grasp’d the thunderbolt of war, That swoop’d from northern snow-steppe to African Sahar ; As the return from Elba to Boulogne’s unlucky “ do,” As the sawdust strife of AsTLEY’s to the real Waterloo, So is the Buonararte of word to the Buonaparte of deed— He that rides there, to him that sleeps within the Invalides! KIDNAPPING IN LEICESTER SQUARE. ransom-money that is exacted, in the form of a regular hotel bill. Every attention is shown to the kidnapped travellers; a Bill of Fare is set before them, and choice wines are presented; but all this does not compensate for the terrific struggle in which they are involved when the boty they are expected to furnish is the object of a scramble between the rival competitors for the spoil. C hr We have heard of some heart-rending incidents that have occurred, in the separation not only of travellers from their carpet-bags, but of wives from their husbands, ladies from their dressing-cases, children from their parents, razors from their strops; and we have known one dreadful instance of a gentleman who was carried to one hotel while his clean shirt-front, his only luggage and the only friend of his bosom, was lying as a neglected parcel in the hall of the rival establishment. 3ut, perhaps the most lamentable case of all, is that of a distracted father with nine children, who being attacked by the rival touters, was compelled to effect the horrible compromise of handing over four of his helpless innocents to one of his assailanis, and surrendering himself into the hands of the other, with his five remaining little ones. Nothing more affecting than this has happened since the appalling —but fortunately apoeryphal—affair of the travellers in the Pyrenees, who, followed by a flock of wolves, threw out, one by one, their babes, to assuage the ravenous appetites of their pursuers. The wolves in the ravine of Leicester Place are not so easily satisfied, but must have an entire family to glut upon, and every traveller becomes a bone of con- tention, under the snappings and snarlings of the voracious tribe. Would that the beadle were a Van AmburGu, to act as a brute-tamer in this fearful locality! for, while it is infested by that most formidable of animals fere nalure a touter, there can be no sense of security for the voyager, who should avoid as he would a jungle, or a /oup hole, the precincts of Leicester Square.

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| WHat’ aryl LOU VUL UN Vast ,teiwas |. sw wewes ooo ~~ s« i.” ! v * val fl — | Wi 4 ade the Deer We arinnk. | 8 eee ; | rhs — y p Ws. rence 1s mad | einai , 7) ch thy bubbly bosom brews. | To and fro thy current flo epaiene | One tremendous common shore: Which thy ) i Noe en -

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vit il Whe \ as — tir woe SS _ e —— | — a = >= —— et —= — ——s — | DIRTY FATHER THAMES | 5 | Fittny river, filthy river, | All beside thy sludgy waters, All her foul abominations And from thee is brew'd our porter— Thou, too, hast a Conservator, Foul from London to the Nore, All beside thy reeking ooze, Into thee the City throws ; Thee, thou gully, puddle, sink ! He who fills the civic chair ; What art thou but one vast gutter, Christian folks inhale mephitis, These pollutions, ever churning, Thou, vile cesspool, art the liquor Well does he conserve thee, truly, One tremendous common shore ? Which thy bubbly bosom brews. To and fro thy current flows. Whence is made the beer we drink! | Does he not, my good Lorp Mayor? |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 153 A BAD JOB FOR BADEN. HE readers of the advertisements —which are really the most inte- resting department of the news- papers just now—must have been struck by the occasional appear- ance of an announcement from Baden-Baden, as to the continued _ tranquillity and undisturbed : gaiety of that most diminutive of Ss: Duchies. Travellers had been : informed that the hotel charges - were as moderate, the Grand Duke as accessible, and his brass band as well conducted, as usual ; and that “bed aud breakfast,” including a presentation at Court, with “no fees to servants,” either at the inn or at the palace, might be had at the customary reasonable figure. The Gand Duke himself was clearly at the bottom of these little commercial puffs for the Duchy, as he naturally might be, for his revenue depends a great deal upon strangers. ; We are not sure that a suite of apartments taken for six months certain would not purchase a Marquisate, at least, for the fortunate visitor, and six days’ board and lodging paid for in advance, insure a Knightship of the Golden Kangaroo, or some other Order at the disposition of the Grand Dukedom, (The very last advertisement, issued only a few days ago, contained the following very enticing paragraph :— ‘Our delightful valley, which has not been agitated by the least political disturbance, affords its numerous visitors the most secure and attractive retreat. Concerts and fétes succeed each other . . . The magnificent conversation saloons have never been frequented by more brilliant and sociable assemblies. Of the many families of the highest rank residing amongst us, we may mention their Royal Nigh- nesses,” &c., &c, Here comes a long list of Royalties, including some half-dozen families of the tremendous house of Furstenberg, and a catalogue of Serenes, whose serenity did not appear to be threatened by any con- vulsions—such convulsions as Revolutions in their infancy experience when beginning to show their teeth; and it was added that numbers had resolved to spend the winter in this Elysium of fourteen acres by six, which we believe is the extent of the Duchy. . ; Unfortunately, when people are just beginning to think about their passports for Baden, under the impression that, “ Oh, if there’s peace to be found in the world, The Tourist that’s anxious may meet with it there,” they are startled by the frightful intelligence, in a third edition of the Times, heade * REPUBLICAN MOVEMENT IN BADEN.” The “ peaceful valley” is in a regular revolutionary storm. The ** magnificent conversation saloons” are cleared by a sauce gui peul ; the bank of the rouge et noir table is in the hands of the Provisional Govern- ment, intent on providing for itself in the first instance ; and “the public chest,” with its entire contents of small change, and the whole of the money taken at the café on the preceding evening, is in the hands of the insurgents. Those who were in the act of taking ices, chocolate, or anything else of the kind, received formal notice that they were to J hand over the cups, the glasses, the spoons—when done with—and the price of the refreshment, to the red and always ready Republicans. | Mr. Struve was the leader of this uncomfortable affair, and, breaking in upon the soriée at Baden, proved himself a very nice young man for a small party of Radicals. It was in vain that a counter-movement was | attempted at the counter, and an effort made to save the wine-cellars; for the insurgents blockaded all the ports—six dozen—in the name of the | Republic; at the same time threatening the keepers of the Restaurant if they attempted a restauration. DESCENT OF AN EAGLE. Last week, during the sitting of the National Assembly of France, an eagle perched upon one of the benches. For a short time there was considerable excitement in the Chamber, all eyes being directed towards the imperial bird—the legendary thunder-bearer. After a time, it was satisfactorily discovered that the bird was perfectly harm- less: there was not an inch of thunderbolt between its claws, and it behaved itself in the tamest manner possible. No cockatoo fed on sugar and toast could have done better. It had been predicted that the eagle—for its descent was by no means unexpected—would show very carnivorous propensities. But there is now every belief that the royal bird has made up its mind to forget all sorts of regality, and to live on bloodless corn, like the most peaceable poultry of the Republic. THE PILGRIM OF CHANGE. Arrn—‘* The Pilgrim of Love.” Now Europe is all in a state of commotion, One turbulent scene of insensate revolt, Unruly as Bedlam, St. Luke’s, or the ocean, And Princes abscond and their Ministers bolt. Like scared birds of passage, on double-quick pinions What numbers of foreigners, seedy and strange, Flock o’er to Her Magesty’s peaceful dominions !— No host but Jonny Bux for the Pilgrim of Change ! Kine Lovts-Puitipre here at Claremont is lurking, And Guizot in some place is lying perdu ; And hither we ’ve had Master Louis Buanc shirking— Perhaps we shall soon have CavaiGNac here too. Amongst us old MerrEeRNIcH also’s in hiding, In somebody’s castle, or mansion, or grange : All exiles of rank are in England abiding— No host but Joun Buut for the Pilgrim of Change! It is likely enough that the Monarch of Prussia Our guest will become before Time has sped far, And should Revolution extend into Russia, We may see you here some day, likewise, Mr, Czar. To-morrow the steadiest throne may reel over, The firmest of dynasties chance may derange ; Each sovereign will find, when he’s forced to turn rover, No host like Jonn But for the Pilgrim of Change! Cartes ALBERT is King of Sardinia at present, And QurEN IsaBELLa is ruler of Spain; But who can assure them that something unpleasant May not suddenly shorten of either the reign ? A rival may triumph—the people’s affection This, that, or the other offence may estrange; There ’|| be, if their lieges should cut their connexion, No host but Joun Buxt for the Pilgrim of Change ! Just now things are in such a terrible tangle, That it would by no means surprise us to see Both Marsuat Rapetzsky and GENERAL WRANGEL Take refuge in this little Isle of the Free— To hear, for no matter what Prince or Commander, That Mivart apartments was bid to arrange; For hither such exiles are certain to wander— No host but Jouw Buut for the Pilgrim of Change! E’en Pius tue Nintu, if the tempest should shake him, Could hardly obtain an asylum elsewhere ; To England he too would be forced to betake him, Establishing here his pontifical chair. With the Pore we could form diplomatic relations, To Rome without having the trouble to range; His Houiness crying, “ Oh! nation of nations !— No host but Joun But for the Pilgrim of Change!” THE MARCH OF MORALITY. THE following appears in the midst of a linendraper’s advertisement : ‘* SEVERAL ASssisTANTS WantED.—None need apply but men of high moral attainments, good abilities, courteous demeanour, determined energies, and strict integrity of charactcr.” We were not aware that “high moral attainments” were required to get off “ fifty thousand straw bonnets;” assist at “ alarming sacrifices ;” officiate at ‘“‘tremendous failures;” help to “ give things away ;” and perform the last sad duties of “clearing off one hundred per cent. under cost price,” by way of climax’ to “‘ another awful bank- ruptcy.” We can comprehend the necessity for “ determined energies” in a linendraper’s assistant, for his duty seems to consist in encumber- ing people with what they do not want; preventing them from getting what they do; and tempting them tothe purchase of dozens or half- dozens of an article of which only one is required. We have often been victimised by the determined energies ot an individual who has emptied our pockets of cash, in exchange for bits of ribbon, pieces of sheeting, | or rolls of jaconot, merely because they happened to be “remnants” that we might have for a series of mere aothings, amounting in the aggregate to something rather inconvenient. The “ high moral attain- ments” needed for this sort of thing, remain to us a mystery. THE WORSEST OF THE WORSERS, Amone the names of magistrates lately dismissed in Ireland for | joining in the Repeal Movement, we find that of Mr. Dennis SHINE Lator. We presume this gentleman will be obliged to drop at least | one of his appellations, for by his dismissal the Sainz is completely taken out of him,

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' AGAIN THAT MORNING 5; YOU | wish we could have done it ! 154 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. -_ _ a Let us suppose the 16th of August turning out favourably AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. V. for the friends of Liberty, and the town in their possession. = 1 \Y — —s ep ria bedi SAY THAT YOUR LAST CONTRIBUTIONS ARE NOT UP TO THE MARK, AND THAT YOU Tue Printer’s Boy Is SITTING IN THE HALL; THE” EDITOR HAS WRITTEN od MUST BE MORE FUNNY, IF YOU PLEASE. Mr. SNIP, THE TAILOR, HAS CALLED HAVE A SPLITTING HEADACHE, FROM A TRANSACTION OVER-NIGHT, AND AS YOU ARE WRITING AN EXCEEDINGLY LIGHT AND HUMOROUS | ARTICLE, YOUR DEAR ANNA-MARIA WISHES TO KNOW HOW YOU DARE DINE AT| GREENWICH, AND WITH WHOM YOU DINED ? I SUPPOSE SHE FOUND THE BILL IN YOUR COAT-POCKET. How CHANGED ANNa-| MaRIA IS FROM WHAT SHE WAS WHEN YOU MARRIED HER! AND HOW UNCOMMONLY | ILL-TEMPERED SHE HAS GROWN! TO CUFFEY IN MISFORTUNE. Dear Mr. Currey, As I read over your Trial, and that of your associates, which has been occupying the public inattention for the past week, and has afforded a speciaaio of legal bally-ragging which covers Themis with contempt, and drags the long robe in the mud, I have been made to think, as many others no doubt have thought, too, of what wou/d have happened after the 16th of August last, if the Cuffeyites had had their wicked way with the present Institutions of the Country. I wonder whether you now can lay your hand ‘on your heart, and say—“ I I think if we could have piked the Cabinet ; cut the throats of the police; shut up the two Houses of Parliament; dismissed ALBERT and his family to privacy and Saxe-Gotha; seized the Bank; smashed the gas lamps; taken possession of the Tower, and proclaimed the British Republic, we leaders should have very ry ! benefited, and the whole nation would have made an incalculable advance in liberty, comfort, and prosperity.” whom I love,) would remain the same. Currey would probably take up his quarters in the Tower Arsenal (for the gallant little spirit does not care about money so much as war), and distribute a couple of hundred thousand guns and bayonets to the people to keep down the atrocious tyranny of the police. But all the leaders are not probably so careless of gold as the little tailor. Moonzy, Roonry, Looney, Hootan, Dootan, and some of our Irish allies, who did us the kindness to sympathise with us, would probably like the specie with which the City abounds. I must confess they are not far wrong, and shouldn’t have the slightest objection, for my part, supposing the general scramble or re-distribution of the pro- perty of the country (such as the new philosophers propose) to take place—I should not, I say, have the slightest objection to have the Bank for my scene of operations. Well, we are in possession of the City. We announce that the Government and the property of the country are henceforth for the people; that {working men’s wages are trebled, and bread and mutton brought down to a reasonable price; that the tyrant landlords are to get no more rent, their land being as- sumed by its rightful owners, the people; and a decree from St. James’s or Northumberland House, prefaced with God Save the British Republic! and signed Loony, and counter- signed Mooney—(if that child of Erin condescends to adopt the usual orthographic symbols to represent his respectable name) —signed, 1 say, Looney, and countersigned Mooney, informs | us that they have taken the high offices of state, and have con- stituted themselves the Government of the country. Now, Currey, with your hand on your heart, say, do you think you would have been better off, and that the people would have profited by the change? You may have your doubts about Lorp Joun, as other people have, but would you rather | have him or Dooxan fora Premier? Which is the best informed man, the most conversant with public business and persons? | which would you trust, we will not say with a large sum of money—for that is neither here nor there, and an offensive sup- osition—but with a complicated set of accounts? Though irth goes for nothing, and Doonan is a MAN, a capital man, just as much as my Lord—yet, as the life of the former bas been passed in the rapid ascent of ladders, the laying of bricks, and the skilful management of hods, and, as a bricklayer, his brother MAN is not fit to hold a trowel to him; so, in like manner, in an affair of government, the advantages of early practice, and the prize for intelligence, political information, and habits of labour, would be awarded to the other individual. I am as good a MAN as you, Currey, but I don’t know how to make a waistcoat near so well. In the various conversations which are reported as having taken place between the gentlemen about to arm against , Government, the destruction of the police, I perceive, is always a preliminary measure. The murder of the Peelers is the beginning of the Republic. That seems to bea settled plan. Every new constitution or | lar of liberty commences with the extermination of the poor | lues. I suppose a Revolution successful, and the police hung up in blue clusters to the lamp-posts—a curious, edifying sight! , Now, the policemen hung, are we to go without guardians altogether, or will you have pegs in brown coats in place of the blue? Even a Republic must have some guardians ; for who knows what would be the quarrels about the distribution of property ; and whether Dooxay, having taken possession of the Bank, might not have a fancy to the Mansion House oppo- site too, temporarily, and after the massacre of the Lorp Mayor, in the occupation of Hootan? These quarrels, divisions, would be endless, and always turning to the benefit of the rascals of the community ; for though you and I, Currey, as honest men, would not wish to rob our neighbours were the temptation ever so, yet if there are no guardians, we may be pretty sure thieves will flourish; and as, after roasting and | cutting the throats of the Municipal Guar ‘ French people found they were obliged to have an Urban in Paris, the great | Guard, or a guard by some other name established, so our | Peelers being confiscated, you.may be sure that Looney and Rooney would be the first to | out for the organisation of a body of men who should keep property and patriots in order. I mean, there is no use in killing policemen. We must have them under any form of government, and as long as thieves and rogues exist in this life. I daresay there are some folks (though I mean no personality) who would be for abolishing locks to doors, and turnkeys to Newgate. What is the question, then, but a question of brown instead of blue, and brass buttons in place of pewter? The uniform may be changed, but the MAN, Currey, (the fellow in large capitals,

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ew EE elUmC - eS UV wr CS 6] CULV CL PUNCH, OR THE Li INDON CHARIVARI. 155 _. It stands to reason, too, that you would have to abolish the Press as it at present exists, and as they have been er om to do in France. There is an office in Printing-House Square, another opposite Somerset House, in the Strand, nay, a third little shop near St. Bride’s Church in Fleet Street, where I expect no slight interruption of business, and to see plenty of broken glass. Nobody can doubt for an instant that the Irish and English patriots who are bawling out about the bloody Government and the enslaved Press, would, on the very moment when they came into pore, abolish every one of the Opposition journals. They would be fools if they did not doso. We should all be gagged, smashed, and silenced: the Zimes, the Chronicle, poor old Punch—(for if we have the fortune to pass for dangerous levellers with some people, we are considered aristocratic sneaks by others)—we should all be sent to the right about; and all our compositors, reporters, editors, thundering- g-article-writers, wags, wives, servants, tradesmen, children, their schoolmasters, and al] depending on our labour, would be ruined at once. And it is a fine thing to think that not we only, but all the commerce of the whole City of London, would fall to ruin; the Stocks would fall to zero; the merchants would not meet their bills ; goods would tumble to no price at all; rents would be nothing, and then they wouldn’t be paid; the Early Closing Movement in the shops would be impossible, as the shops would never be openea—at least all this has happened on | the other side of the water, in consequence of disturbances caused by | the political opinions of many honest folks. I picture to — the City, the Republic poten been proclaimed iefs there, and a few Irish battalions with venerated chiefs quartered about | the bankers, | Threadneedle Street and the Mansion House. Of course all brokers, and monied men in the City would be obliged to shut up their shops, and all their hundred thousand of clerks, with their neat little | houses about Stockwell, Camberwell, Kennington, and Camden Town, | with their wives and families would be in desolation and ruin. The house is shut up in the City—there is no money to pay the butcher; the butcher has nobody to buy chops—the grazier cannot get off his | stock, because Currey is in possession of the Tower, and the City barricaded with omnibusses or blown up with ginger-beer bottles. The Republic and the Rights of Man proclaimed—everybody being thrown out of work—the great Banker and the little clerk at forty | = a year, who keeps his mother at Anna Maria Villas, Hoxton | ew Road—Moses and the sempstress who works that eminent | manufacturer’s chemises for him—Punch and his poet, and the little | errand-boy who gets five shillings and is waiting in the hall for this very copy—everybody being thrown out of work, and a general ruin | ensuing, I want to know who would be bettered by a Revolution? The Five Points of the Charter may be good and wholesome in them- selves; but what are they without a dinner ? J would xather eat roast beef under a tyrant Nicuo.as than starve under the most glorious Republic. | It is a vulgar and humiliating confession, but I own to it. Universal Suffrage is a doubt, but Mutton is a certainty. I should not enjoy | the one, if I had it ever so much, without the other. And after all, what is a vote, my Currey? Perhaps it is only a clumsy, barbarous, and absurd way of governing. If 1, for instance, | and my neighbour, vote that your manner of stitching waistcoats is not the correct one, neither of us knowing anything about tailoring, and if we force you, who are sixty years old, and no doubt accomplished as a| snip, to alter your present method, we are certainly not working out freedom for you nor benefit for us. A thing is not good because I vote for it. A vote! Why, the Cross was raised upon Calvary by a | popular vote; and the death of Socrates was voted by an immense | majority. My poor old Currey, I have read nothing that was said at | the Orange-Tree or other houses-of-call of patriots, and nothing in your own remarks, that makes me think it would be a particular benefit to | me to have you, and many millions of folks even inferior to you in intelligence, legislating for the country in general. _ And if, in order to procure you this,—what you call your undoubted right,—we must undergo ruin, as in France, tyranny, as in France, we | must wait in daily expectation of conflict, and doubts of the future, we | must submit to strong military government, and rather than have Red | Republicans firing into bodies personal and legislative, our Archbishops, | and other recognised institutions, must defend our lives with bayonets, | at the sacrifice of our peace, press, freedom, customers, workpeople, families—why, I say no; I had rather not murder my commerce or m a. for the sake of any of those prospective benelits about whic doubt very much, or those undoubted rights which I am perfectly ready to forego. Yours, in sympathy, dear Mn. Currey, * puNeD. yomresieroone Give Ireland its Due. WE have heard of certain persons whose claims to distinction arose from their being the “best abused men in the world.” This honour has been disputed at times by innumerable claimants; but we never | recollect a country putting forward its pretensions to the title. We|p demand it, therefore, on the part of Ireland, who, with all its faults, has an undeniable right to be called “THe Best abused Nation IN| THE Wor.p.” The Last Wieck of the Season at Waurhall. Li! \\\ ae iH | a / i ik M, "i " i WE regret to say that Vauxhall experienced its usual luck during the final week of its season, which was a nightly succession of “ tre- mendous overflows.” Who can wonder that the lessee, the waiters, the vocalists, and the fire-works, were all most terribly put out? The managers had resolved on winding up brilliantly, and making a regular splash of it, but they little expected that the only splash would be caused by the paddling of the waiters and the visitors into the puddles caused by the elements having turned on the water with all their might and all their mains. Even the grog became — by the cold water thrown upon it, and the fifty thousand lamps felt as if every jet was a jet d'eau. Pew could scarcely keep his countenance for the wet that continually fell upon it, giving to his nigger personations a new and rather varied complexion, as the rain kept pouring into every pore. His attempts at dry humour were utterly fruitless, and the moisture seemed to have penetrated even his renowned bones. FIGHTING FOR A SONG. EVOLUTIONS come and go in France, and each leaves behind it ey) asong. ‘Thus, for the first Revolution, France was endowed 4 with the Marseillaise. wd ve For the Second she received as a legacy the Parisienne. } i) For the Third she has come into possession of Mourir pour : la Patrie. That, song, by the bye, has not been so popular lately. Are Frenchmen beginning to find out that there is a “ sort plus digne d’ envie” than dying for one’s country in the very “fraternal” manner in which they have lately been doing it. No fashion, we know, lives ong in France, but this new Mode of patriotism has been short-lived indeed. Perhaps the fact of so many Frenchmen having carried out literally the parti- cular “sort” of thing prescribed by the song, may have had something & oO 4 Z ANN to do with it? Dying must come very monotonous at last, even when | you have such a Pa/rie as France as an inducement to go out of the | world. To sum up: France has had three Revolutions, and she has three songs to show for it. For ourselves, we would sooner be without any songs at all, unless they contained far better “‘ motifs.” France has always styled itself “ Le pays des Chansons.” The title is only good by one half. Henceforth it should be altered into “ Ze pays des Chansons | et des Révolutions.” Here’s to You. Lorp AsutEy and Mr. Caapwick have already commenced their sanitary labours in good earnest, and they have intimated to Fatuer THameEs that they hope soon to have the pleasure of drinking his health ; with a view to which excellent object they trust he will be fully pre- ared to “stand adrain.” Lorp AsHLEy, whose zeal has been very active on behalf of the sempstresses, is now about to assist in seeing what can be done for the sewers. We are glad to see this promptitude, for “a stitch in time saves nine.”

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EEE , Parliament to rotate over the | are quite sure, would only prove the wheels of Irish misgovernment. ' power which might be set in action with great benefit in Ireland. ee “Dip you want A Donkey, Sir?” A ROTATORY IRISH PUNCH. Rotatory Parliaments are the last new panacea proposed for the evils of Ireland, which they are as likely to cure as Vegetable Pills would be to arrest an attack of cholera. To send a . Parliament whirling through Ireland would not even have the effect of suggesting to the Irish It would be almost as wise to start L—EpRU Ro uty, as to cause erald Isle. The circumgyrations of such a senate could have no other effect than those of a top; namely, to produce a mere hum. Rotatory Parliaments, we i There is, indeed, a rotatory We modestly allude to ourself; for we feel confident that a Rotatory Puck would in a short time be quite certain to rub down all Irish asperities. With this view we are making arrangements for periodical publi- cation in all the principal towns in the sister kingdom ; and it will only rest with the Irish to put their shoulders to the wheel, and communicate to it the requisite rotation. We should at all events succeed in amusing the Irish mind—a result which could never be accomplished by such childish playthings as the proposed Parliamentary whirligigs. the industrious art of ne, m BARON NATHAN ON THE BENCH. Ir is with unmixed satisfaction that we have heard of our being likely to meet with Baron Natuan in a new and highly important character. The same ambition which egged him on to the new-laid eggs, and the same blind goddess who put the cambric handkerchief over his eyes, in that famous reel when he reeled with the intoxication of success—these same stimulants have taught him new steps, and have directed him even to aim at judicial honours in his baronial capacity. Baron Natnan has actually advertised his intention to “ proceed on his arduous duties in the North Riding of Kennington.” ; Ay, and he will accomplish the great task he has undertaken. Who that has seen him twirl and twirl, and twirl again, in the graceful fandango, will doubt his capacity for “ going the Circuit?” Who that has heard him order about the waiters at Rosherville, will question his power to make his own “rule absolute?” Who that has witnessed the easy, undulating movement of his hornpipe, will fail to recognise, in his natural and effortless action, the very PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL principle of that “ motion} of course,” which is no less important to {law than charac- teristic of the Baron’s deportment. When, after the dignities of the day, after | a féte at Tivoli, he thrown himself on | |the Bench before the door of the tavern | department, and ordered the flipping of just | one of those eggs upon which he has lately conferred hornpipean honours—when, we re- | peat, he is seen reclining on the Bench under }such circumstances, who shall say that his | sittings in banco will not be equal to the | most dignified séance of Pottocx, WILDR, or | Denman? Under Baron Natwan’s judicial auspices, if he condescends tO criminal matters, we may expect to see the hornpipe in fetters revived in full force, and the chaine des dames arranged for female prisoners. |A WALK FOR! SIR PETER LAURIE. | Some short time ago Srr Peter Laurie | declared that he would at any time walk | | twenty miles to see a reformed culprit. Only | | last week, one SakaAH ANN Frenco—an old associate of “dashing housebreakers,” an | offender who had seen the inside of Bridewell |—was brought before the Lorp Mayor, | having broken a pane of glass in order to be sent to prison. She said, “she had been pursuing very abandoned courses, was in a desolate condition, and hoped in time, through | the interference of the magistrate, to be restored to society !” His Lordship | seemed inclined to believe the sinner ; and, it is said—though we vouch not for the truth of | | the report—ordered his clerk to drop a line |to Sim Peter, advising the knight to put himself in walking condition. As it is not |twenty miles from Sr Peter’s town-house |to ANN FRENCH’s prison, he will—for con- | science sake—go backwards and forwards | ‘until he completes the promised distance. | | Str Perer’s match is not against time but | | repentance ; in which case we hope repentance THE COUNCIL OF ONE: | | A GAME AT “ DEFINITIONS.” Mr. ArtHuR WALLBRIDGE has "A, given the ra the definitions of Cy, his Council of Four, and very good we allow some of them to be. | | Having five minutes to spare before dinner | to-day, we threw off the following, and—to | speak modestly and within bounds—our four- | teen are certainly worth all the four hundred | contained in Mr. WaLiBrinGe’s book. Coun- | cil of Four, indeed! What is a Council of |four to a Council of One, when Punch is the | Council ? | Gentiuiry. French-polish for deal tables. | Ratzroap, A fast friend. PortraltT. A ee caricature. Bortie. The skin of the devil. Bicot. Every man’s opponent in argument. * Martyr. Arough thistle “chawed up” by donkey custom. Foc. Thehaloof the Lord Mayorof London. Time. Alocomotivethat no buffer can check. Surczon. A man who keeps you alive that you may keep Aim alive. ScutpturE. Nature cut out. IscantaTion. An evening invitation to the “ darkies.” Book. A friend who is Jound for you. Basy. A young person who drinks, Rore. Tue latest noose. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke New- | ington, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, | at their Office,in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of White- friare, in the City of London, and Published by them, at | No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, inthe City of | Lendon.—Satuspar, Ocroser 7th, 18438.

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uw - ee ee tr rer @ & Bot es Bd AS oo ES jl- Vv a. at QRreF FT il | them until any further shearing them would have been a | sheer impossibility, he bethought him of the Commons, and caused them PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | 157 PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE THIRD. PROGRESS OF ENGLISH LIBERTY UNDER HENRY THE THIRD AND EDWARD THE FIRST. Ap ORR HE British Constitution, like _* SS" = the British baby, was fre- Lect. ss quently in extreme peril dur- 3 ing the period of infancy; or, to use a more apt illustration, the British Lion was as troublesome to rear as a young child, and experienced its regular routine of maladies peculiar to the early stages of all our existences. In the midst of convulsions it had cut its teeth—a process typi- fied by the bristling up of the steel-pointed swords of the discontented Barons, who swore “by gum” that they vould never “ bite the dust ;”—it encountered its moral measles when an eruption of a “rash” character broke out in the time of Henry THE THIRD by the turbulence of the nobility,—and there were symp- toms of a sort of Constitutional weakness of the chest, in the drain continually made on the ‘l'reasury by the same monarch. Perhaps, however, the more or less gentle irritation that was kept up preserved the blood of the nation at a wholesome heat; and it is not improbable also that the frequency of the attacks which the Constitution in its infancy was doomed to undergo, caused the adoption of a strict regimen, which has laid the foundation of future strength and salubrity. However great, may have been the value of Magna Charta to succeeding generations, we doubt whether it can be said to have paid the original grantees, for it cost them enormous sums in renewals, repairs, and additions, which, whenever a king was short of cash, were always resorted to for the purpose of replenishing his coffers. HENRY THE Tuirp carried this principle to a ruinous extent, for he passed the whole of bis minority in obtaining fresh advances upon this great Con- stitutional security, which, on coming of age, he repudiated under the plea of infancy ; and ater he had turned twenty-one, he negotiated the same bill, taking care to exact a tremendous bonus as the consideration for his undertaking so large a liability. Throughout the whole of his reign Henry THE THIRD was continually trampling the Charters under his feet ; or, to speak figuratively, he danced over them a series of hornpipes, in which the double shuffle was the most conspicuous step; but he generally had the cunning to get =" > aed Acad), C the Parliament or the people to pay the piper. Sometimes, however, he | carried his antics a little too far, and the Parliament took the great Constitutional liberty of declining to send an answer when he called for a subsidy ; and in these cases his anger was shown in his declaring | that if he was not enabled to liquidate his debts, he could at least do | lured to the sacrifice. Nevertheless, it was a “ great point gained,” as De Lote truly observes, for it, gave the Commons the pleasant privi- lege of assisting at their own victimisation ;' and the words used in the writ of requisition, being ad faciendum—literally, to be done—et con- sentiendum, and to consent to it, would seem to imply that there was little attempt to disguise the object for which the towns and boroughs were required to send deputies. It is, however, one thing to bring a horse to the water, but another to make him drink; and though the Commons in those days could be got to swallow a good deal, they were not always to submit quietly to have crammed down their throats whatever was set before them. They at all events had the opportunity of complaining ; and the luxury of grumbling has been, from the earliest times to the present, one of the most delicious enjoyments of the English people. The roar was always the most formidable attribute of the British Lion: the growl was ever the most alarming symptom of the British Bull Dog; the complaint that “things never were worse” is, to this hour, the great consolation of the British merchant; a lamentation over its own decline, is the only thing that keeps the British Drama alive ; and grumble, grumble, grumble, is the great safety-valve of the British public in general. z ‘ There is no doubt that the taking part of the Commons in the busi- ness of the legislature, was a great privilege, for they thus formed a portion of the organ of Government, and even if their position relative to the organ was only that of bellows-blower, it was natural that they should sometimes get rather inflated themselves; for the occupation of raising the wind, even for other people, is an office of some dignity. It would seem that the invention of the friends of Freedom was not very fertile in former times, for we find little originality in the efforts made for advancing the cause of liberty. Nothing new was devised; but the people were continually falling back upon Magna Charta, | which underwent the process of confirmation no less than eleven times | during Epwarp THE F irst’s reign, until the old roll must have become i stale, and the desire for something new must have been | general. | Kpwarp seems to have become J/asé of Magna Charta himself, for he introduced a most successful novelty in the shape of the statute de tallagio non concedendo, which provided that no tax should be laid nor impost levied without the joint consent of both Lords and Commons ; an arrangement which placed the Koyal purse in the people’s pocket, though it was very long belore the pocket was protected agaiust the fingers, both roya! and aristocratic, that took the liberty of dipping into it. Sovereigns and nobles continued the practice, or rather, kept their hands in, until very recent times; and, feeling it to be our auty to trace the progress of the great moral and sucial watchword, “Take care of your pockets!” through every reign, we shall mark how the most flagrant instances of ligh'-fingery were visited with a rap on the knuckles, until the system has reached such perfection that the most itching palm can grasp nothing that must not on the nail be accounted for. } THE EARLY TWANKAY MOVEMENT. * Mr. Ponca, ; : ; ‘WHERE are we going? More shops shutting up at six something in the way of liquidation by dissolving the Parliament. This | o’clock ? Why, atter dark, London streets won’t be worth looking at ; great and glorious privilege of refusing the Supplies was practised with | such effect, that in one instance Henry was compelled to sell his | private plate, which, as kings are born with silver spoons in their | mouths, he could not have missed very grievously. But a new actor now comes upon the Constitu'ional stage, and we | greet him with a cry of “ Hats off!” “ Down infront!” For it is Epwarp THe Frrst who passes before the footlights of History. He made such a hit in the character of a law-maker, that he got the name of the English Justrn1An, just as Coorer was cailed the American Water Scott; and as a certain Albata philosopher—a spoon making some stir in the present day—might deserve the title of the British Plate-o. This sovereign, whose approach is trumpeted by several flourishes of our brazen pen, was called Long- shanks, as some say from the length of his legs; but, in our private opinion, from the enormous strides he took in advance of all former sovereigns. He was a man of somewhat expensive habits; and, being fond of the amusement of war, he required a good supply of its sinews; ‘‘ which of course,” says that odious SPELMAN, “he could only obtain by insinewating himself into the good graces of his poaein. F i Having flattered the vanity of the nobles by fleecing © to be invited by the sheriff to send deputies for every city and borough, —an invitation which, as it was only intended to give them an opportu- nity of contributing to the Supplies, was equivalent to the old cry of “ Dilly, Dilly,” &c., with which the ducks of nursery tradition were and nobody will be about their business but pickpockets. I’ve just read it in the papers that the grocers are going to put by their canisters and put up their shutters at six at night; so if anybody ’s aying for an | ounce of tea, or a half-pound of sugar, they may die till next morning, for nobody will serve ’em. - * And they say this is all to improve the young men’s minds. No doubt of it. Improve their billiards, Mr. Punch ; improve their cigars ; improve all sorts of idleness. Why, Sir, we shall have balloons trom all sorts of places at half-a-crown a head; and all the ’prentices of oro will be always going up a purpose to look down upon their etters. “Why, Mr. Punch, half the pleasure of life was doing a little bit of shopping at night; and, as for the young men behind the counters, it kept ’em out of mischiet to keep ’em at business till it was time to go to their honest beds: now, they’ll give their minds to dominoes, and politics, and Chartism, and high treason. Early closing of shops will be the early opening of the Old Bailey. Besides, some colours never looked so well as by candle-light; and Regent Street never so handsome as by gas. And now young men are to shut their shops that they may open their minds! Do you think Her Magesty could be persuaded to go in state to TwiniNne’s at nine at night—just once, by way of protest ; and the aristocracy be made to dine at eleven, that they might shop up to ten at night? Depend upon it they ought, if they knew their own interests; for this counter-movement—as my husband says—is sure to end in counter-revolution, “* Yours, « Boavicea.” ** P.S. I send my real name and direction, if you like to use ’em.” VOL, XV, R

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a ON ee a ee | 158 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | SKETCHES IN FRESH AND SALT WATER. | BY THE BUOY AT THE NORE. Ir must be a curious spectacle for the old mariner who has not been down the river for several years, to watch the new towns that have lately sprung up, like so many aguatic mushrooms, on each side of the Thames. If the popu- lation only manages to keep pace with the mania for building, the “ silent highway ” will soon become as noisy and as populated as the New Cut. The river will be only one immense street. and wherries filled with vegetables, an funnies loaded with fruit or fish, will be rowing for custom up and down the two banks. Who can say whether large barges will not in time be fitted up as hotels, and a little town of inhabited boats moored in the middle of the stream, in the same way that the Chinese take to the water, and cast their anchors for life from the cabin of some pictorial junk, when the land is not large enough to hold the tremendous overflow of population? A gentleman’s card, with the address, ‘‘2lst Yacht, Collier’s Canal, London Bridge,” may create no more surprise in 1948 than the simple address of the “Albany” does at present. . ’ . The newest of these new towns is North Woolwich. It is the younger brother of Woolwich, or rather it looks like a poor relation of Old Woolwich, which, finding it cannot prevent its having the same name, is determined to keep it at a respectful distance, and so sends it to the opposite side of the river. I doubt if North Woolwich has taken its dot yet as a town on any map. The only gazetteer that mentions it is BrapsHaw. It may be necessary, therefore, to describe its rm North Woolwich is situated on the Wapping side of the Thames. After you leave Blackwall, it is the first town on the left, on the road to India. It is well worth stopping at to explore, for it is a perfect curiosity of atown. It is a little bijou of a place, that you might almost wear in your scarf as a breast-pin. I should not advise any lengthened stay, however, at North Woolwich, unless you have an intention of turning hermit, or meditate writing a tragedy, or wish to escape from a wild mother-in-law or creditor; for, to tell you the truth, there is not a bed in the place. “No bed!” exclaims the reader. “Then there is no hotel?” Oh yes, there is; that is to say, if you can call a Railway Refreshment-room an hotel. You can live very well, too, if you have a taste for cherry-brandy and ginger-beer, and are fond of captain’s biscuits for dinner. There are not many buildings at North Woolwich; in fact, there is only one, but that 1s a good-sized one. It is the Railway Station. Trains run between North Woolwich and Shoreditch, which has a great influence at certain hours upon the population of the former place; for, with the Stoker and the Guard, there have been as many as four souls at the same time in this promising little ony ey but then this has included the Railway Clerk and the young lady at the Refreshment- room, both of whom are day-boarders. should say that the traveller had better visit its hospitable packs (like St. Petersburgh, it is all paved with wood) when it is at igh tide, for then it is easier to land, and you can admire the scenery | NORTH WOOLWICH AT HIGH WATER, | without dislocating your neck, as the pier is on a level nearly with the ' shore. Here and there it is decorated with a flower-pot, and at one | end is inhabited, for the Jack-in-the-Water has constructed for himself a snug parlour in the interior of the barge. This, with true | hospitality—which, I may say, is without its peer in London—he allows any one to enter when it is raining; but this generous privilege is very rarely abused, as there is never aan 4 stopping at the place. At low water there are certain difficulties that require a strong pair of legs, and a natural gift for climbing, like that of the Boy ee ———- nag Sag = Ie ae” NORTH WOOLWICH AT LOW WATER. JonEs, before you can surmount them. The pier is accommodated with a suspension bridge, which must be made of Gutta Percha, for it bends and stretches just like a silk stocking, and allows the pier to walk out to any distance that it pleases into the surrounding mud. The consequence is, that at low water, North Woolwich has such a dreadful sinking, that you fancy it never could rise again or possibly recover itself. Above the bridge is a plantation of first-rate sunflowers, very prettily laid out, and edged with a running border of flints, so white outside they look as if they had been lathered for shaving. In the centre of the most gorgeous group sprouts a tremendous flag-staff, which reaches here a very high state of cultivation. This is accounted for by the fact of its serving as a landmark when the spring-floods are turned on, and the face of the country is covered over with one immense sheet of water. The weathercock of North Woolwich then is of the greatest service, for it serves to keep up the post between the mainland and the Isle of Dogs, when the latter cannot show its head fora similar cause of de- pression. If it were not for this communication, the natives would never be able to receive their letters, and the Revenue, probably, would be a considerable loser. There is not much Commerce at North Woolwich. I have referred to the last Census, which pro- fesses to give a correct account of the persons who slept there on a certain night, and I find the return exactly 0. Since that period, however, the watering- place has grown bigger, and now, I understand, there is one person who remains there regularly every night, and that is the Policeman, who goes his rounds punctually every half- hour, to see that no one runs away with the Pier. The best time to view the whole resources of this juve- nile, but already manly town is when the twelve o’clock bell THE ONLY RESIDENT OF NORTH WOOLWICH. ings. The natives come pour- ing down, then, from far and near, and there is quite a rush to get over to Woolwich for their mid-day meal. The conflict to get into the boat is almost too painful to witness, and only proves that clerks will ey put themselves into a hurry when they are afraid of losing their inners. NORTH WOOLWICH GOING TO DINNER. Altogether North Woolwich is well worth a visit. I will warrant the visitor has never seen anything like it. It is neat, humble, beau- tifully clean, can boast of a flower-garden, and the handsomest pier on the river. It must rise, and will rise, despite the attempts of every tide to pull it down, and I have no doubt that in time it may be a second Chelsea, and will be sending its cabbages to Covent Garden; or, like Greenwich, be returning its two Members to Parliament. I have no doubt North Woolwich will feel the “Good time that’s coming, Buoys.” But, nous verrons, as the Owl said to the Hermit, when it doubted the 10,000 additional lamps at Vauxhall.

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ret rill eir ! PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 159 | FLUNK | iil i lt Pee A eM) || 0 CMG ii Hi li Nie) aan MT 1 ll MO AU Taati e AAW St Wh) ceepeer eden | i i wi Wa “~ = >; ti N ti ill ii Ml j EIAN A... ees rere rr Be od Illus | WN NN L Wace AU Cli I NIH a ¥)) | * be eee Cm ree 8 ° ! Tih i : \ lati AN ¥ TI ittiittartt ih ATi 1} | i \) iil vi | | i | ‘I ill 4 Enter Tuomas, who gives warning. Gentleman, ‘‘ OH, CERTAINLY! YOU CAN GO, OF COURSE; BUT, AS YOU HAVE BEEN WITH ME FOR NINE YEARS, I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE REASON,” Thomas. ““ Wuy, Sir, It’s MY FEELINS. YOU USED ALWAYS TO READ PRAYERS, SIR, YOURSELF—AND SINCE Miss WILKINS HAs BIN HERE, SHE BIN A READING OF “EM. Now I CAN’? BEMEAN MYSELF BY SAYIN ‘AMEN’ TO A Guv’NESS.” A TOAST FOR THE CITY. | _ Ar the next civic dinner that Mf. Punch is invited to, he will take the oy of proposing a toast. The subject to which Mr. Punch will allude, will, he is sure, be one of interest to all present. Mr. Punch will observe, that at a Court of Common Council lately held for despatch | | lightful ferocity by a Mr. Epwarp KEnea ey, an actor from the Sister Isle, almost new to the Old Bailey boards. | of business the following motion was put and carried :— “ That this Court do agree with the Commissioners of Sewers that itis highly 'y that a medical officer be forthwith appointed, and that a sum for the pur- pose, not exceeding #150, be paid out of the City cash, and that the Court of Sewers be required to nominate two fit and proper persons, of whom this Court will appoint one, to be the medical officer of health for this City and Liberties.” | Mr. Punch will congratulate the Court of Common Council on their considerate desire to render their medical officer exempt from Income- | tax. He will also congratulate them on the skill and talent which they may expect to get for a sum not exceeding £150 a year. Mr. Punch | | will venture to suggest that a young man just out of his apprenticeship, | or an old one in despair of a practice, will be the kind of man for their | | money. Whether he will exactly be a fit and proper person for the rather important office to be intrusted to him, Mr. Punch will not under- | take to determine. Mr. Punch will preface, with these brief remarks, | | the proposal of a toast, which he feels sure will be cordially responded H | to. Mr. Punch will then give “The very good Health of the City of | | London and its Liberties, and may it be attended to as well as it ought | to be by the medical officer to be appointed to take charge of it, at so liberal, munificent, and remunerative a salary ! ” “WHAT ARE THE WILD Waves Sayine ?”—“ Well, my dear, these - ago = are dreadfully full of draughts, and it’s getting very | chilly; so, do you know, I think we had better go back to town as soon | as possible.” THEATRE ROYAL, NEWGATE. THE omy 4 of Zom Thumb has been produced at this dreary establishment for domestic tragedy ; and, although there was consider- able drollery manifested in the course of the piece, the curtain fell upon a very serious interest. The part of Grizzle was performed with de- It was impossible not to admire the energy and precision with which he flung about him those flowers of rhetoric whose native soil is,Billingsgate. He pelted Lord Doodle (represented by Str Joun JERvis) with considerable felicity ; ' now and then hurling at him—as a change from blossoms—some very | bad, and much blighted sstifi ition of the genius of the young aetor by very significant shouts of otatoes. The audience testified their admira- laughter. a he Attorney-General’s Lord Doodle wanted dignity. There was nothing of the Court about him, unless it were Russell Court. The triumphant crow of Zom Thumb’s (LonD JoHN) * Rebellion’s dead—and now I'll go to breakfast,” may, in the words of a distinguished critic, “be more easily conceived than described.” : The piece excited much attention during the lengthened performance ; but, we trust, will never be repeated. a A Liberal Offer. Tue purchaser of the Quadrant Columns sold the whole of them to a Railway Company for forty pounds per column. A celebrated penny-a- liner has endivtaen to supply as many columns as anybody can possibly require, at forty pence per column, and he will head each column with any capital the purchaser may suggest. | : |

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160 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A PEEP AT LONDON THROUGH A TELESCOPE. THERE can be no doubt that London is on the point of finding its level very soon; for, when viewed through a telescope, we make the wretched discovery that the capital is in the hands of a set of levellers, more deter- mined and more dumpy than even Currey himself. At the corner of every street may be seen a sort of military occupation going forward, and at a distance the whole city seems to be studded with odd-looking erec- tions, intended to ascertain “the decline and fall” of the great metropolis, in the gredual descent of its sewers. To the uninitiated, the effect is somewhat alarming, for in these days of barricades it is a suspicious circum- stance for soldiers to be seen planting their apparatus in the public thoroughfares, as if there was some idea of an intended “ frater- nisation” of some kind or other. It is satis- factory to feel that the warlike preparations now going forward are directed only against the dregs of our sewers, not against the dregs of our population ; and that, instead of being called upon to “‘drain our dearest veins,” we are only required to drain our houses rather better than heretofore. THE MANAGER AND THE PLAYERS. ** That strain again.” —Shakspeare. _Txe Bard of Drury Lane—removed to Covent Garden—has prelu- dised in the newspapers. ‘Several journals,” he sings, “have ob- served upon the omission of the names of the professors of the legitimate Drama in my programme.” For ourselves, we would sooner see legitimate elephants and legitimate zebras at either Drury Lane or Covent Garden than aty of the legitimate little ones of the spring-cart of THesris. We know that many very worthy old gentlemen are troubled—regularly as with winter cough or periodical shooting of corns —with twinges of grief at what is now regularly accepted as the dese- cration of the beards where Garrick trod and Sippons fainted. We are above such weakness. We could see a dromedary take either of the patent stages, and feel no sympathy for any absent Gloster ; and for this sufficient reason: the patents abolished, @/oster may be had at any other establishment. Now, he has a wide range; being permitted to pitch his tent anywhere, from Whitechapel to London. This being the case, G/oster’s boar—if introduced in a drama measured for his tusks—is much better placed at either of the late patents than Gloster himself; whose artistic beauties are surely more visible to the naked eye at the Haymarket than at Drury Lane or Covent Garden. The Manager, however, gave handsome invitations to a certain number of the legitimate actors—wandering stars—to come and shine in his play-bills. He says (or sings) :— **T offered Miss Heren Faveir the highest salary (£25 per week) given to that delightful actress Miss O’NeiLt, when she was drawing all the world after her, but Miss Favucir demanded £15 per night, which is £90 per week.” Mrs. NisBerr is offered Mrs, Jonpan’s salary, £25 per week ; but, says the Manager— ‘I was scared by her intimation that she had recently been in the receipt of £60, and was exempt from playing in after-pieces |! ”— Mrs. Niszert being, no doubt, a staunch advocate of early closing. The Manager next turned to Mr. ANDERSON. “*T was prepared to give Mz. ANDERSON £20 per week—higher terms than he had with Mr. Macagapy at Drury Lane; but he required £10 per night—£60 per week— with certain other drolleries, quite bijour in their way ; and recoilecting that the Kran had £25 per week in the plenitude of his attraction, I felt called upon to decline the difference,” After such terms demanded, ought we to condemn the Manager if, in the course of the season, he should wander to the Zoological Gardens, and—like his brother bard, OxrHEus—soothe the beasts into his own terms ? The letters in answer to the Manager have, of course, come into our hands. Punch will not print the epistles of the ladies—(be feminine pothooks ever respected !)—but the letter of Mz. ANDERSON is so good, is so full of the art and the actor, that justice to the noble and dis- interested profession of which Mx. A. is an effulgent member, compels Punch to hand down the missive to the very last posterity. Mr. AnpDERSON ¢0 the Manager of Covent Garden. “ My Dear Sir, “T have to acknowledge the receipt of a letter addressed to me, and signed by yourself, but which letter, [ doubt not, in the vortex of your various engagements, has doubtless been misdirected. I at once jump to this conclusion, from the fact that you offer me £20 per week to act the first busimess at Covent Garden Theatre. Of course, the letter was intended for some unknown person—some barn-door By the way, I now recollect ; there is a person—a young mati—named Banperson, playing at the Theatre Rural, Salisbury Plain, or Chiltern Hundreds—I forget which; and, as I said, in the | hurry you doubtless misdirected the communication to Mr. B. | * However, my dear Sir, as we are upon the subject, in ‘ what so poor | a man as Hamle¢ can do,’ you may command me. I am not aware of any insuperable objection on my part to a few nights at the Garden— say twenty to begin with. My terms are only £10 per night. And, Sir, when you recollect that I have been to America, and that even the merest butt of an actor, like the merest butt of Madeira (excuse the pun) is always improved by a sea-voyage, [ do not think I ask an unfair advance upon what I will venture to call the additional salt in my tragedy. There is no doubt that a trip across the Atlantic enlarges the histrionic faculty, and the tragedian thus increased, is entitled to | a higher price; just asa full-grown Michaelmas goose in the market fetches more than a green gosling. é *T can only play four parts, Hamlet for one : with a Ghost and Horatio of my own choice, and entirely new scenery by Sranrrerp, I next propose Macbeth, Henry the Highth (to conclude with last scene of Wolsey), and the melo-drama of The Lady of Lyons. I am sure we shall not disagree upon the point, but the entire cast of these plays must be submitted to my approval. “Terms, as I said, £10 per night. I am aware that Mr. EpmunpD Kean received only £25 per week. Poor fellow! How the manager who robbed him could sleep in his bed, I can’t tell. To be sure, Mr. Kean was merely a natural actor ; no art much about him. Again, when he took the pittance of £25 per week, he had not visited America, where actors grow as big as pumpkins, and then put upon the article the price of Covent Garden melons. “Having been some time absent from England,'I am not aware whether it is yet the custom—as with the Opera people—to allow the principal tragedian a carriage, covers for twelve, four dressers, and sixteen wax candles. However, should this practice have obtained, I know that I am in the best hands in trusting to the justice and generosity of a manager and a poet, and am, my dear Sir, * Yours, truly ever, * Sept, 27th, Garrick Club. ** JamMES ANDERSON,” OLD FAVOURITES RETURNED. In the revived piece of Court Beauties, now performing at the Lyceum, two old performers have been restored to the stage in their | original characters. We allude to the re-appearance of two little dogs of the real King CHARLEs’s breed, who made some sensation a few | years ago, under Mapame VeEstTRIs’s management at the Olympic. The return of these old favourites was greeted with considerable applause, which was increased almost to enthusiasm when the dogs made the faintest of bows (wows) in acknowledgment. Such, we understand, is the sagacity of these performers, that when the call to rehearsal was first put up in the theatre over which they have the run, they barked in acquiescence at the prompter, and sat at the wing waiting for their cues while the earlier scenes of Court Beauties were being proceeded with. We understand that these extraordinary animals were punctual in their attendance at the treasury door on Saturday, when six nights’ full salary, in the shape of a couple of pounds—of dogs’ meat—was dealt. out to them. The dogs went through their respective parts with all that smoothness and polish for which they were so remarkable a few seasons ago, and the usual admiration was bestowed upon the coats of both, which ure exactly in conformity with the costume of the period.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 165 HOPES FOR HERNE BAY. HE present state of the Conti- nent, which has closed its ports against _plea- sure-seekers, blocked up the = gangways of |; our steamers \ against travel- Ea’ lers,stoppedthe ZJ sale of Mur- E rays Hand- ~ Books, and : driven no end of kings from their thrones, has nevertheless opened out to Herne Bay a prospect of not only taking its well-merited place in the scale of watering-places, but of building for itself, on the ruins of monarchies, asubstantial prosperity. It is indeed an ill wind that blows nobody good ; and the blasts of revolution which tore up the Orleans branch of the Bourbon tree, without leaving it time to secure its trunk, but sent it packing, without even a portmanteau to pack—these very same gusts will probably fill with a prosperous breeze the sail of Herne Bay’s luggage- van, turn once more the long stagnant arms of its deserted windmills, and breathe a healthful inspiration into its commerce, hitherto struck with an almost deadly dormancy. We know that, in the opinion of many, the shout of “ Revive Herne Bay!” will seem almost as wild as the cry of “ Restore the Heptarchy!” | A scornful world looks at the potato crops luxuriating in what ought to be | in the proportion of ten to one, Herne i 1 | the imagination of every banished outcast the picture of his own native | land. As the Albata is recommended to the lover of plate as the only the kitchens, sees a horse munching grass in a front parlour, and meets with a cow uttering its lowlow in some half-finished scullery, while the farmer cuts his wheat—amidst his neighbours’ chaff—from the centre of an acre of coal-cellars ; but we look upon the Bay of Herne with a different eye, and see not why civilisation and progress should necessarily be kept at bay—or rather kept from bay—in the midst of all the world’s vicissi- tudes. We havea proposal for its benefit. Our plan is to convert the really beautiful Bay into one great substitute for all the watering- places of the Continent, by the introduction into its bosom of every source of attraction for which the famous foreign rendezvous are remarkable. It only wants a pasteboard Cathedral to make it a Cologne, a set of canvass Alps to render it a Geneva, the Surrey Zoological Vesuvius to turn it into a Naples, a brass band to make it a Darmstadt, a dice-box or a rouge-et-noir table to constitute it a Baden-Baden; a sprinkling of sprouts to realise a Brussels, an artichoke or two to flavour it witha Jerusalemish aspect, a few Venetian blinds to invest it with the air of a Venice, with moonlight nights from the Colosseum, warranted to last all the year round. With its wonderful extent of acreage, exceeding the area of Vauxhall Bay may hope to realise to perfect substitute for silver—in every respect but its value—so Herne Bay can offer to exiled foreigners the only perfect substitute for their own sunny climes. To travellers, also, the Bay will present a grand réunion of all the attractions of all the foreign resorts they have been accustomed to visit, if our plan should be carried out, Let the inha- bitants summon BRADWELL, and the thing is done. Herne Bay, in spite of all its great natural advantages, has long languished for want of men of property, but it is clear that property men, in the theatrical sense of the term, must be the regenerators of the place. “ PICK UP THE PIECES.” Wuart does the word “United” mean? It must have different significations. We always imagined it meant “firm, compact, bound together, of one piece;” but late events seem to have broken up this meaning into a thousand pieces, and there seems now to be nothing binding about it. _For instance, there were the “ United Irishmen,” who were always divided ; for some “‘ Rent”’ or other invariably caused a distance between them, and then they went at it like hammer and tongs, or like Concilia- tion and Confederation Halls. And yet they were called ‘‘ United.” Then there is the United Empire of Germany, parcelled out into hundreds of little States, no bigger than pins, all knocking their heads together, and calling out for Unity. Occasionally there is a disturbance at Wurtemburg; then you hear of a few crowns being broken at Baden- Baden ; and after that you read of a violent collision at Frankfort; and yet, far and near, the 4 is raised for the German People to be United. The same clamour is heard in Italy, and as yet with no better result. There are bombardments, royal butcheries, towns taken and retaken, armies organised and disorganised, and all to enforce the necessity of the Italians being “‘ United.” The United States might also be called as a witness, to prove that “United” has not the same meaning with nations and persons as it has with things. It seems to us that one side of a kingdom may be at open variance with another, either about rent, slaves, religion, taxes, beer, or potatoes, and still the kingdom will be called “United.” We cannot make it out, and vote that a Commission be appointed to inquire into the meaning of the word—only there must be no Irishmen upon it, or else the result of the md will infallibly be that “United” meant nothing more than “ Disunited.” But who knows whether this very Irish Bull would not toss us right into the middle of the meaning of the word, whilst we might be beating about the bush for weeks to find it? . So, till Unity can be bound to keep the piece, we beg all lexicogra- phers to amend the definition in their future Dictionaries, and write down— Unitep, a. Broken, Disjointed, Mutilated, Disunited.—Zv. gr., Ger- many, Italy, France, and Ireland. A DREAM IN THE SHERIFF’S COACH. Ox then, I see, young Laurie’s been with you ; He is the Sheriff’s coachmaker, and builds A drag no smaller than is suitable For the dimensions of an Alderman, ~ Drawn by a team of little elephants, To bear his worship as he lolls asleep: The chariot wheels of pink, picked out with blue : The body like the wings of butterflies ; The traces studded o’er with silver knobs ; The collars gilt, and glittering with japan ; The whip of amber, and the lash of green ; The coachman a lace-coated liveryman, Not half so slender as a beadle, bred T'o twenty stone upon parochial fat ; The coach is made by Laurie and his Co., Time out of mind the City coachmakers. _ And in this state the slumbering Sheriff rides By butchers’ shops, and then he dreams of beef : By fishmongers’, and then of turbot straight ; By poulterers’, then of capons dreameth he ; By cooks’, and then he doth on turtle dream, Or haply venison comes athwart his nose, And then he dreams of gloating o’er a haunch ; And sometimes Fancy, with a roast-pig’s tail, Tickles his palate as he lies asleep. Ojt times he rideth to the Mansion House, And then he dreams of feasting foreign kings, Itaiian, Russian, Prussian, Spanish blades ; Of toasts five fathom deep, and then anon Cheers in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus roused, gives a hooray or two, And snores again, True, these are only dreams, Begot of nothing more than phantasy, Suggested by the Sheriff’s flaming coach. PRETTY LICENSE INDEED! Tue “ Killing of Hares of Scotland Act” has conferred upon the landowners of Scotland a privilege which, if carried out, would be likely to rid them far more rapidly of the burden of the Entail Laws thaa the provisions which the same Session made for that express purpose. The Act above mentioned allows any landlord to “ Aél/ him- seif,” which is the most suicidal Act ever committed by Parliament ; but more than this, it allows “ another person to do so,” which is carrying the license a little too far. But really it is too bad to make game of the Scotch landlords in this pointed way. It could not well be worse, if they lived over in Ireland. We expect to read in next year’s debates (though we are by no means anxious to anticipate that pleasure) the following motions of course :— - “Mr. Anstey moved for a return of the landlords in Scotland who had killed themselves.” ’ “Mr. UrnquHart moved for a return of the landlords in Scotland and Ireland who had been killed by others.” ’ ; Seriously, however, there should be a gamekeeper appointed in the House, to prevent Honourable Members walking over the QuzEExX’s English, and sporting with such deadly aim amongst the pronouns. We know nothing is too “ personal” for M.P.’s, but we should like to . —. how many “relatives” of LinpLeEy Murray they bagged ast Session !

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166 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ALARMING PROSPECTS. To Mr. Punch, -* Sta,—We live in awful times, as my late husband remarked at the time of the Reform Bill; but what would he have said now? And what with Prussia, and France, and Red Republics everywhere, and countries one never heard of—-such as Jellachich (where that can be, *Evins only knows)—I am sure one needn’t have had that wretch Currey and the Physical Force at our own doors, as I may say, and we not to know when one went to bed at night, whether one mightn’t wake no more, with a fireball on one’s pillow, and turpentine ruining the furniture. “But we have not seen the worst yet, depend upon it; and what’s brewing I’m sure it would take a wiser woman than me to tell; but I call upon you, Sir, to explain the awful advertisements one sees every day—which [ send parts of one copied straight out of the Daily News last week, called the ‘ Pal@ontographical Society’—something repub- lican, at the least, if not worse, as one may see by the name. “ What the intentions of this Society is, I dare hardly guess, but awful they are, and must he—Professors, as they call themselves— especially one Bex, who ‘ will describe the Chelonians of the London Clay ;’ and what should that mean, but some project for frightening, and burning, and destroying the respectable inhabitants of the Metropolis ? “T can’t get any information from anybody of what-these words mean, but depend upon it it’s a Secret Society, and well they know their own meaning, I'll und. And there’s Mr. Morxis and Mr. Lycert, have undertaken for the Society a monograph of the Testacea of the Great Oolite. Who the ‘Great Oolite’ may be, [ don’t know for certain ; but no doubt it’s their horrid slang for the QuEEN, or Lorp Joun RusseE.t, or the Duke oF WELLINGTON, or somebody. And a Mr. Rupert Jones there is,—which you will remember, Sir, one Ernest Jones,—who is to deal with the ‘ Entomostraceous Animals of the Chalk Gault and Greeensand.’ Dreadful doings these will turn out to be, mark my words; and I am surprised Government should allow such advertisements. ho knows, one mayn’t be an ‘ Entomostraceous animal’ oneself? If you can throw any light on these dark doings, which, to say the least, are very susp'cious, you will oblige, and very much ease the mind of, * Yours truly, “A Lone Winow, with a small independence and ditto family.” ——E British and Foreign Street-sweeping. Some of our readers may have noticed a machine of ingenious con- struction, drawn by a horse, which makes the circuit of the western thoroughfares of the metropolis, and in its progress brushes up all the mud. We allude to this contrivance for the purpose of remarking how much preferable is the above-mentioned mode of sweeping the streets to that which has been lately adopted in certain continental capitals, of sweeping them with grape. A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY. ———- HE following advertisement lately appeared in the Times newspaper :— BARGAIN.—Y. Z. being placed by circumstances so that he does not require the following, which he offers for Sale:—The Receipt for making a Patent Medicine, which he brought out four years since. It is quite superior to anything OF THE KIND, has TAKEN remarkably well, and REALLY an EXCELLENT MEDICINE, and very pleasant to the ~ taste. It is a gentlemanly employ- ment, requiring but little atten- tion, and from which a fortune may speedily be made. Apply, »» &C, _Here, then, is a real opening for an enterprising capitalist, who is disposed to go heartily into the atent Medicine line; but, as we think the advertisement scarcely does justice to its object, we propose a sale by auction, which should be announced in the following manner :— PILLS! PILLS! PILLS! The present proprietor, who has lived for many years upon a Pill, from | plum, has resolved on offering the Pill to public competition. The which he is about to retire to a Box in the country, having amassed a Pill needs only to be known to be appreciated ; and such has been its success, as far as it has been tested, that it is generally talked about, and is in the mouth of every one who has taken it. In addition to the Pill itself, the proprietor will submit to auction } | | | THE SPLENDID ADVERTISING CART, Which has been twice in custody for its admirable barricading qualities, and is warranted to create a crowd, with that most desirable incident —a quarrel with the police—in any thoroughfare in which it makes its appearance. The whole of the valuable Bill-sticking Apparatus will also form a separate lot, including— | 200 POUNDS Of thick Paste, with Brushes and other materials for laying it on so thick that some will be sure to stick on to the gullibility of the British public. There will also be submitted to the hammer the entire Live Stock, consisting of a small select Kennel of Dogs, including THAT VERY CLEVER DOG | spent in advertisements to convert | it at once into a CERTAIN CURE FOR EVERYTHING. In connection with this invest- ment will also be sold the Under- taker’s Concern, which has always gone with the Pill; but which may be taken separately if the purchaser should wish to divide the hitherto united properties. The Poet; The former being kept for the trial of experiments, to ascertain how far the Pill may be safely adminis- tered, and the latter to testify to its most marvellous cures, in the choicest lyrics. Among the mate- rials will be found that truly golden investment, PHYSICAL FORCE. | Tue National Assembly are still upon the Draught of the Constitu- tion. This only proves how averse the French must be to physical force, when it has taken four months Which forms the principal ingre-| to induce 900 Members to swallow dient in this most eligible Pill, | a mere draught, and they have not which only requires a few pounds | got to the bottom of it yet! | A Cask of Gamboge, —

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 167 THE ENGLISH PAINTED BY THE FRENCH. Tue following extract is taken literally from a late number of the Constitutionnel. It is a chapter of a romance, called Le Cabinet Noir. The sooner this Cadinet is thrown out, we should say, from the specimen below, the better. However, it is too iar to be lost. We are sure the British Peerage will be a little astonished at the new genea- logical tree introduced, root and branch, into it. One thing, however, is certain, that no noble house in England can boast of such a peculiar line of descent as the one at present eulogised. Without further flourish, we inform the reader it is the “House that Jack (KetcH) built.” The writer (a Mons. Cuartes Raszov, a name that henceforth must upset Lopes, and throw Burke from the Sublime into the Ridiculous) devotes a whole chapter to “Kirry Kercu.” Amongst other absurdities, too numerous to mention, he informs us that— “This Kirry Kercn was a young and pretty girl, having the purity and the sprightly tournure of the lily, with the freshness of the rose in the month of May. ‘‘she was well known in the capital of England, first of all on account of her beauty, but more especially on t of the profession exercised by her father. Since the reign of CHARLES THE First, the Kercues have been the public execu- tioners in London. It is a family which does not YIELD ANYTHING IN NOTORIETY (en notoriété) TO THE PROUDEST NAMES OF THE ENGLISH ARISTOCRACY, and which has establisled for itself a sort of nobility with the people, by the cord and the gallows. ‘Far from detracting from the success of the lovely Kitty, the lugubrious pro- fession which the worthy author of her days followed seemed rather to have multi- plied the number of her admirers and sighing lovers. For many she had the particular attraction, which is found amongst actresses, of occupying a prominent position before the public eye. For others, which is generally the result of contrast, the glory (Vauréole) of blood which circled her fair forehead spoke with a strange | eloquence to the imagination ; and upon the foggy banks of the Thames, where the | national character delights rather to come in contact with gloomy ideas, Kitty had | become such a matter of fashion, that bankers, the most opulent Jews, the greatest | political celebrities, and even several Members of the Royal Family, would willingly | have laid down, if her heart had only listened to their appeals, the most fabulous prices fur the possession of her hand,” We hope the absurdity of our extract will compensate for its length. But, absurd as it is, we can deduce several! facts from it most interesting to English history. . First, We \earn that the family of Jack Ketcu competes with the Beprorps, and Norroiks, and NoRTHUMBERLANDS, &c., &c. ; Secondly, That Jack Ketcu has created a nobility for himself with the British mob. Thirdly, That the banks of the Thames are always foggy. Fourthly, That we Englishmen revel in gloomy ideas, and that every Anglais is in heart a lugubrious fellow, who makes a cemetery his play- ground, and Miss Jack Ketcu his playfellow. Fifthly, That English bankers and English Ministers, carrying out this national taste, are apt to prowl about Newgate, and wait in ambush round the corner of Horsemonger Lane, with the view of meeting the lovely daughter of the public executioner. Sizthly, That members of the royal family are not too proud to follow in this English pastime. It is a thousand pities Mons. Rasou | never mentions the name of the royal prince who wanted so madly to | England, written by a Frenchman!” | elope with Miss Jack Kercu, for it would make a very valuable illus- | tration for the next edition of Mr. Cuartes Knicut’s “ Pictorial History of England.” It could never have been James? By the bye, what an amusing book it would make—“ The History of vritt , When we have nothing to do, we will write it ourselves, just “for the fun of the thing.” POMPEY AND CASAR IN AMERICA, Tue Times, in allusion to an anticipated state of anarchy in the American Union, says—“ Such are just the times for a Maxius ora Syiia, a Pompey ora Casas.” There is really something ominous in our contemporary’s remark. The American Republic may not have much to fear froma SyLLa or a Marius, but JonaTHan may well entertain a pretty considerable apprehension of a Casar or a Pompgy. Thanks to the institution of Slavery, the United States already produce Pompeys and Csars in | abundance. There is a black spot in the American horizon, which is daily growing bigger and blacker. ‘The Black Republicans may prove as troublesome in the States as the Red have been in other quarters; and, should they acquire the upper hand, there is no knowing to what a pitch the blackness of 'l'ransatlantic affairs may grow. At present, GENERAL Taytor and Martin Van Buren are contesting the Presi- dency ; but we may live to see the American Dictatorship, the bone of contention between Pompey and Czsar, Bourbon Liberality. THEY write from Naples— ‘‘A Neapolitan steamer left for Sicily on the 23rd (ult.) with fresh supplies of bomb-shells,” Thus the Kine or Napres supplies his subjects with bombshells, as a conscientious egg-wife supplies her customers—namely, with the com- modity fresh and fresh, MODEST MERIT. ost] We have long come to the conclusion SOK OHAT that “Modest Merit” is one of the worst 10.004 specs. in the world, and that a dumb waiter upon fortune may wait long enough, unless he will s up for him- self and proclaim his own deserts to an indiscriminating public. We are afraid that the Netson Monument in Trafalgar uare owes at least half the contempt of which it is the object to its omission to proclaim its own value, or rather, its own cost, to the passing stranger. We recollect rw many Fa a person who, by way . of advertising his literary achievements to the world, hung a placard about his neck, inscribed with the words, “‘ The author of a hundred pieces,” and thus labelled, he obtained not only publicity for his books, but occasionally a few odd coppers for his dinner. , We think this system might be applied with success to some of the monuments about town, which the public do not appreciate. The Netson Column, for example, would never be suspected of having run through £23,000—to say nothing of the amount of capital expended on its top; and those precious stones at the base do not bear the appearance of having cost close upon £4000—two little facts that ought to be notified by having ALONE COST THE SUM OF = _. the component parts of the column duly ss — . . * Sz ==, ticketed. The Lions, who are daily ex- — pected from the mason’s menagerie, where > they are only waiting to have the last blow of the mallet on their noses, and the final chiselling out of the whites of their eyes, will never look like their worth— or rather their price—of £3000, unless means are taken to state the fact by hanging a copy of the bill and receipt round the neck of each of them. As to the ginger-beer fountains, we should recommend their being decked out with one of the old familiar haberdashery puffs, inscribed ‘‘ Look here! Alarming Sacrifice!” which will be more expressive than naming any actual amount as the price paid for their erection. The National Gallery buildings should be ticketed en masse, as “ All these at” —whatever the figure may be which the nation has paid for them. The statue of the Duke oF WELLLINGTON at the Royal Exchange should be decorated, like the bread when it has risen with the words “ Upagain!” and the price, whatever it may be, shoul be-added in very large capitals, 000 EACH OR FOUR for3000 A Slight Contradiction. Mr. G. P. R. James published, last year, a Book called Zhe Last of the Fairies. This year again he has published another Book full of Fairies. This is the worst of Jamzs—he is determined you shall never hear the last of him, SABBATH LOLLIPOPS. Tue Rev. W. 8. Bricknett of Lasham, Oxfordshire, has fined a fruiterer, named Barton, in the penalty of 5s. for that—in his absence —his daughter, a child of nine years old, did on the Sunday, instigated by the enemy of man, serve another child of the like mature years with lollipops to the amount of one halfpenny. It is really delicious, in these days of laxity, to find clergymen so apostolically precise! It is no less gratifying to know that such sweet single-mindedness on the part of a divine, meets with its appropriate reward. For we have heard that a meeting is to be convened at Easham, for the purpose of voting a piece of Art to the Rev. W. S. BricknELL, commemorative of the lollipops and the offending children, The substance of the Testimonial will be neither gold nor silver, but the hardest hard-bake ; and the subject—Herod and the Innocents !

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168 DESIGNS FOR SHOP FRONTS. Some ot the § Shopkeepers of London, who rely upon the external singularity of their establishments to attract customers, are in despair | . at the difficulty they find in hitting upon something new for their shop fronts. Original ideas seem to be exhausted, and the old ideas no longer take effect. “Little Dustpans,” mea- suring some four or five yards square, dangle in vair, from the upper stories of tinware establishments, and red or yellow, golden or silver boots, kick their heels equally to no purpose on the outside of their owners’ doors. Idle are now the efforts to obtain custom by carrying the shop front into the second story, and turning the house—not exactly out of win- dow—but into one window ; for all this only serves to make more con- spicuous the smash that frequently ensues. ‘The cry is still for more novelty in the shop fronts; and we considerately add a few specimens from that best of all Schools of Design, our own busy brain, The three accompanying Illus- trations will explain themselves ; and if the plans we suggest are not quite satisfactory, it must be re- membered that in each case the door may be opened to improve- ment, if industry = ingenuity will only just stepin. he Greengrocer, the Tailor, and the Wine and Spirit Dealer, has each an_ elevation! offered to him, upon which he is at liberty to propose any amendment that may strike him, if he dislikes the style of our peristyle. MILITARY ‘“ BEASTS.” THe Post sas “The poor ex Queen! 8 ap yartments in the Tuileries have just been converted into barracks for the infantry ; thus fulfilling the propbecy in the Eastern tale.—‘ The beasts of the field shail whelp and | tter in the Sovereign’s chamber.’ ” French soldiers—according to the logical Post—being beasts whelp and litter !—“* Dogs of war!” that LOOK TO SPAIN, GREECE, PENNSYLVANIA, &c. We are always boasting that “ England stands alone in the world.” We really think that England is the only country in the world that does stand a /oan—and never gets paid for it. MORAL FOR CONSPIRATORS. Ir is well that conspirators of the Currey stamp should know that | the only approvers they can expect to meet with are such gentlemen as Mr. Powz.t. PUNCH, ‘On THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PHYSIC FOR THE “MORNING POST.” As the winter Medical Sessions are now commencing at the various London Hospitals, we recommend our contemporary the Morning Post to enter himself at one of them, for the purpose of acquiring a little pathological knowledge, which, when he next adventures to decry sanitary reform, may perhaps prevent him from committing himself in the manner following — ‘In London there are many slaughter-houses, the air of which is most offensive. The effluvium they senda forth is sufficient to give character to a neighbourhood, being far too strong for the endurance of gentility, None of our readers may have seen the interior of these obnoxious dens, but within them may be beheld a race of beings neither undersized nor weakly. The fellows are huge of frame, and in the tainted atmoephere they appear to thrive, ae growing fat and full of blood. | The men may be said to be too full of health ; have a te ndency to run into inflammation, which cannot be reduced. but in a milder degree, is witneesed in the butcher, who, flesh abounds, nevertheless displays a bulky body anda ruddy face.’ What our friend of the Post means to infer, we presume, is that these “fellows” live and thrive amid filth, as eels do in mud, and are, eels, uninjured by. it because used to it. According to him, being * fat and full of blood,” they partake of the quality of the atmosphere they inhale, which is “ far too strong for the endurance of gentility.” But our philosopher argues that they are “too full of health; for, seized with illness, their dis orders have a tendency to run into inflammation, which cannot be reduced.” If he will consult the requisite authorities, he will find that the end of healthy inflammation is what is termed “resolution,” which means, simply, subsidence, or getting weil of itself. It is well known that if a slaughterman scratches his finger he is very likely to be attacked with fatal erysipelas, or, as the Post says, “ inflammation which cannot be reduced.” And as the acute Dr. JEN- KINS himself adds, “ the same, but in a milder degree, is witnessed in tne butcher.” Exactly so. Ati osphere less foul, disease less malig- nant. Why, the Doctor nimself establishes the rat io existing between foe*ors and testers. It is not often we are thus scientific, not to say unsavoury; but really we should feel that we were deserting our Post had we neglected to rectify the very erroneous medical views advanced by the journal in question. The same, % BOTTLED CLIMATES. Amon the triumphs or alleged triumphs of modern science, is the effeciing of a change of clima’e through the medium of a respirator, by penne of which it is professed that the air of the “balmy South ” may be inhaled at pleasure, and the draughts of the blus:ering Boreas be rejected in favour of a soft Italian air, or any other species of atmosphere that may be desired. If this can really be ‘achieved, we may expect to be soon choosing our climates as we do our wines, and, with respirators on our mouths, discussing the merits of a fine old dry Neapolitan zephyr, or a rich full- flavoured and fruity Florentine breeze, inciuding beeswing fresh from the bee, to give a sharpness—a sort of agro dolce— to the luscious flowery flavour ol the composition. It will indeed be luxury to be enablid to get our “ without going abroad for it, homes in pints or quarts, so that we may sip it after dinner, and in the | midale of crowded London breathe the soit atmosphere of italy. | At dinner parties the respirators will take the place of the wine- glasses, and the guests, instead of being invited to partake of cham- pagne, sherry, or hock, will be asked what they think of the gust recent ly imported from Genoa—of which the. host has just received a few dozen—or they will be entreated to “ put that away, and try another climate.’ We shall be having ** sample hampers | of sirocco”’ | advertised, and consignments of “ fine old crusted monsoon ” announced in the newspapers. We long for the time when bottled climates will be as common as bottled ports, and the air of, Madeira may be had, like its wine, at so much per dozen. change of air” THE ENRAGED MUSICIAN. THERE is a sing-song tune which has for some months past been so | continually squalled, bawled, drawled, ground, fiddled, drummed, and | otherwise dinned into our ears, that it has at last put us into such a rage, that we have set upon it, and picked it to pieces. This perpetual | blister upon our organ of music is called Jeannette and Jeannot, of | which, having reduced it to its component smithereens, we here present = analysis to our readers. It consists, in nearly equal proportions, of When we went out a Gipsying, The Fine Old English Gentleman, and John Anderson my Jo; with about half a bar of the Soldier’s Tear and a cadence from the Return of the Admiral ; exhibiting, besides, a distinct trace of Lucy Neal. We can bear this strain upon our philharmonic | nerves no longer, and we beg all small children, organ-grinders, and other offenders, to take notice that we desire that the nuisance may no | more be repeated. for, seized with illness, their disorders | though he lives where like | but to have it sent home to our own |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 169 PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE FOURTH. PROGRESS OF THE CONSTITUTION UNDER THE THIRD AND FOURTH EDWARDS AND HENRY THE FOURTH—THE ORIGIN OF ELECTION CONTESTS CAREFULLY CONSIDERED—THE WAR OF THE ROSES A THORN IN ENGLAND’S SIDE IN THE DAYS OF HENRY THE FIFTH AND HENRY THE SIXTH, Tr we might be allowed to compare our incomparable Constitution to anything at all, we should liken it to the American Aloe, which, though always vigorously alive, condescends to blossom only once or so in a hun- dred years, when it yields something like a Magna Charta, a glorious Revolution of 1688, or a Reform Bill. The last of these'we have had in our own day, and we must rest, therefore, satisfied until the 20th century, when we may expect the British Constitution to blow again | with some new flower for JoHN But to wear the usual time in the national button-hole. Magna Charta was the first great contribution to our select constitutional flower-show ; and though it was long before there was such another full- blown blossom on the stem, every succeeding reign since the time of EDWARD THE First has assisted the development of our budding liberties. The representatives of the nation were now in Parliament ; and though they were only required to furnish subsidies, they used to smuggle a Petition now and then into the body of the Bill by which they granted the supplies, as Moszs and others, in the presentation copies of their works, blend a solicitation of our custom with the literary banquet they gratuitously serve up to us. Though the laws were submitted to the Commons for their assent, their dissent was never asked, or at all events it was never attended to; and, with reference to a new Act, to like it or to leave it alone, was the only option allowed to them. Under Epwarp tHE THIRD, however, | they began refusing to acknowledge the laws they had not concurred in making. But the king and the nobles often flew to the “‘ mean subter- fuge” of, “It’s the same concerp,” when they turned out of the legislative workshop an article that the Commons had had no hand in the manufacture of. ; The next step was to claim the privilege of impeaching ministers of State; and, as sovereigns sometimes found it convenient to favour their favourites with all the odium justly due to themselves, the liberty of impeachment was not much objected to. The plan enabled a despotic monarch to reserve all the g “_ of success for himself, and to visit upon his unfortunate tools all the disgrace and punishment that his | failures richly merited. This was the origin of the great doctrine of Royal Non-responsibility, and the foundation of the maxim, that “The g cando no wrong;” whicb, beginning as a fulsome fiction, has grown into a solemn truth, the impossibility of doing wrong having gradually been accomplished by the withdrawal of the power of doing anything. The fact is, that the Executive in this country is like the hand of aclock, which cannot go otherwise than right, while all the works are regular in their action ; and though the hand of a clock, like | the hand of the State, seems the only thing that moves, it is the most | passive portion of the whole machinery it is connected with. No one, | however, will deny that the hand is both useful and ornamental in a very | high degree, and that it has its appointed share of duty to go through, | which cannot be well performed without adue sympathy with every | vibration of the pendulum, whose ticking may be typified by the voice | of public opinion, and a promptitude in keeping pace with well- | regulated movement—two qualities possessed in an eminent degree by | the illustrious pair of hands that mark the present time in England. | Under Henry tHe Fourta, the Commons began the new, and, with | small dunning tradesmen, the now favourite, dodge of waiting for an | answer when they came with their bills, and refusing further supplies | until their demands were satisfied. It may be presumed that now, for | the first time, a seat in Parliament had become an honour worth starting | for, since the Commons had got considerably above the state in which | we found them in the days of Henry tue Seconp, when thev used to | | be called up in batches of a dozen or so before the Norman King, and were informed through an interpreter that it was only for the purpose | of emptying their pockets that he desired the pleasure of their company. It was certainly a very happy and appropriate idea to summon these poor victims by writs—for it was equivalent to having a writ served / upon them, in the familiar sense of that odious term, when they re- | ceived their invitation to the presence of their Sovereign. When, | however, the power of selection was placed in the people’s hands, and their representatives began to jails the luxury of having a fling at the higher powers—for there is nothing so much pleases Jonn Buty as bullying those above him—then it was that some of those election scenes may have commenced which have since woven the cabbage-leaf among the flowers of our Constitution, beaten up the rotten egg with the purity of election, converted the common cat into the pole-cat by its constant presence at the poll, and identified gammon with its since inseparable spinach, by stopping the issue of the former from the mouth of the candidate with large bunches of the latter, thrown by those who have his fate, and a vegetable missile, in their hands, Then it was that the earliest of our English Snooxses began to kiss our babies, fraternise with our wives, and shake hands with ourselves to secure our “vote and interest.” From that period may be dated the birth of that intolerable nuisance, “The Poor Man’s Friend,” who has ever since worried the “ Poor Man” almost out of his life, by per- suading him to feel as miserable and as malignant as possible. Then it was that the awful option of “ Muceins and Freedom” or “‘ Buceins and Slavery,” was first offered to our forefathers, who were impressively informed, that “Now, or Never ” was the time, and they firmly believed it was ; though, if they had been asked what “ Now” was the time for, or why “ Never” would not be my convenient, and perhaps rather an improvement on “ Now,” they would have been quite unable to answer the question. : Under the Fifth and Sixth Hewrres there was such a din of arms, such a clanging of battle-axes against breastplates, and such a rattling of the marrow-bones of one party against the cleavers of the other, that nobody could hear himself speak, and the voice of Liberty calling for changes in the Constitution was either mute or muffled in the miserable mélée. The Wars of the Roses were the pretext for all this to-do, and both of them were at last so terribly dyed in blood, that if the Red and White had not been happily united, it would have been difficult to dis- tinguish one from the other. The partisans of the cabbage had so be- laboured the adherents of the moss—from whom the famous moss- troopers perhaps took their name*—that for thirty years couleur de rose was suggestive of a state of things very different from that to which the phrase, in the present day, is applied; and in fact, England beat itself almost black and blue in settling the disputed pretensions of White and Red, as urged by the respective Houses of York and Lan- caster. It was from the accession of Henry THE SEVENTH, who grafted the two Roses on one stem, that the historian of our Constitution may begin to “Sing the song of happier days ; ” and, in order to clear his throat for this agreeable vocal effort, he will = up with a series of AHEMs the interval between this and the ensuing chapter. THE FALL AND DECLINE OF REGENT STREET. Ir the architect of the Regent Street Colonnade were only alive, how he would gnash his teeth, to be sure, at seeing the work of destruction that is at present sapping and undermining the beautiful fabric of his vision, leaving not a stick behind! ‘ rN The mistake will be found out, we are afraid, when it is too late to repair it, and we shall behold Regent Street in its decline, without a Bi ar to rest its roofless head upon. We wonder the Woods and Forests o not take St. Paul’s down, and sell it for old bricks, for we have repeatedly heard shopmen complain that it sadly darkens their drawing- rooms. But, after all, there is one consolation—let London be disfigured as much as possible, let things come to the very worst, we shall still have the National Gallery left us! Three cheers, boys. Hip, hip, hurrah! * Perhaps—on further consideration—they didn’t. VOL, XY,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL A MOVING EXTRAVAGANZA. Since the new plan of moving houses has come into fashion, persons who are in the habit of going to the seaside every year, need no longer | th They will have their | stick to good old port and sherry. mansions taken up and carried to the bankers’; where we can imagine | be afraid of leaving their property behind them. an extravagant scene taking place in a year or two, like the following :— COUTTS’S BANK. Enter Mr. Hopson with several hundred porters, carrying on their | shoulders the Albert House. Clerk. What is that, Sir? Mr, Hudson. Oh! that is my little mansion; I’m going on the Continent for six weeks, and I want you to take care of it for me till I come back. upside down ? Clerk. Very sorry indeed, Sir; but our cellars are quite full. We were obliged to refuse Buckingham Palace this morning, Sir, for want of room. (Exit Mr. Hupson, followed by his House. THE WEAKER SEX, AND THE WEAKEST POLICE. J. Wipe is charged at Clerkenwell with beating Evten Harris insensible. The fellow made use of a stone, whirling it about the woman’s head in a handkerchief. The woman was shockingly beaten ; nevertheless, the ruflian was charged only £5 for the damage committed. Tbhis—unfortunately for the dignity of property—he could not pay: he could not afford the recreation of beating young women’s heads with stones; therefore, as a check to his extravagance, he was con- demned to two months’ imprisonment with hard labour.—A brief retirement this from the world, for the better contemplation of the rights of property. With £5 in his pocket, Witpe would have been free as a bird, and his fingers undefiled by oakum. However, the ruffian had committed another crime for which no money cou!d be received in recompense. He had slightly hit—with the self-same stone —the sacred person of a policeman. Upon this, the villain was sen- tenced to an additional month’s captivity, no money being taken by Justice as golden ointment for the hurts of her officers. ,The moral of this is: You may beat a woman if you can afford to pay for it; but money is of no avail if you smite a policeman. Hence, by a metaphor, the stone in the ruffian’s handkerchief may be considered as the stone Justice, and therefore one of the brightest jewels out of the British rown. MEDICAL ADVICE FOR ALDERMEN, | | For reasons to which it is unnecessary to allude particularly, it is | : | | very requisite that all manner of persons, just now, should be very | ; Cautious in their diet. Your serious attention is therefore invited to | the important subjcct of “* What to Eat, Drink, and Avoid.” Salt meat and cured fish are very unwholesome; accordingly, your food should consist much less of bacon than of venison, and much more of turtle than of red herring, provided you take only a very little turtle | and venison, to which plain joints are preferable. G:een vegetables are | pernicious, so that you are not to be condemned to hermit’s fare; and | prudence, as well as inclination, will lead you to eschew all manner of | erbs and roots, except good mealy potatoes. You may safely vary your dietary with hare, partridge, pheasant, grouse, snipe, woodcock, | plover, quail, turkey, turkey pullets, and capons, All these are very | excellent things, only it may be as well to observe that they should not all taken at the same meal. You are recommended to eat as much as is good for you, and are at liberty to eat more, if you like. | You need not be afraid of truffles, stewed mushrooms, ¢ourtes, ice- Will you be very careful, if you please, and not turn it creams, lobster-salad, Chantilly biscuits, jellies, blanc-mange, oysters, | trifle, and strawberries, which will not do you the slightest harm—if | you will let them alone. ‘ You may indulge in iced punch efter your green fat, if you first take | the slight precaution of making your will, Otherwise, you had better | The point of clothing is one of great consequence. For the purpose lof protecting the bouy against atmospheric influences, you will find it | sufficient to devote half the pains to covering the surface which you have hitherto bestowed on lining the interior. | You will have observed that the foregoing dietetic precepts contain | no recommendation to avoid fermented liquors. The truth is, that you | must drink something, and every drop of water that you can command | will be required to sluice, and cleanse, and scour your nasty dirty city. | = OF THE VERNON GALLERY. | } To Mr. Puncn. | We, the undersigned, being perfectly resigned to our general lot, as | pictures—for instance, to newspaper strictures, which, whether daily or weekly, we all submit to meekly; tho’ it certainly were to | be wished that, if we are to be dished, those who “do” the sauce | however slight, in the subject on which they ’re writin’—being also prepared to endure all processes, whether for cure of horniness, mildew, or blight, or touching us up to be bright, or toning us down to be dull, or skinning our natural hull—a process by dealers called cleaning, (whose effects Ti1tan’s Bacchus are seen in); in short, all sor's of excoriation, restoration, |us'ration, purgation, to which works that belong to a nation, as to people of private sta‘ion, must make up their expectation. So, had nonsense about us been written, or had we with acids been bitten, or Art-Union engraver been sittin’, to git bet us all bit by bit in his journal, all “in the | and the dressing possessed, besides professing, some knowledge, | ' our sufferings to stay, if but in a “ provisional” way. But the tac: is, believe it, oh Punch, even now they ’re beginning to “ scrunch” our poor canvasses (truth and no ruillery) all into that National Gallery! And if he get us a!l in, with our trames, thick and thin, EastLake will have quite earned his salary. How ever we are to be packed, unless, that’s to sav, we are stacked like slates, one a-top of another, till each of us kills his poor brother; or packed— “casual ward ”—we can’t think—in the name of O_p Harry, perhaps you would ask Mr. Barry. The Old Masters may stand, if they like, bring treated as bad as poor SmIKE; but we, true British Pictures, will strike, and ne’er to High Art turning martyrs, submit to such mis’rable quarters—if “‘ quarters” they be, says a droll old W1ILKIE—being surely a “hole,” we hear talk how they ’ll patch up and plaster it, how they ’ll stucco, and skreen, and pilaster it; but Baray will ne’er put a face, we should hope, on the Nat’nal disgrac+. And if Barry declares he can alter the place for the better, ve say that this Barrytone’s base. In a word, one Joun Butt’s propertie, being works one and all of the best modern artists, have made up our minds to declare ourselves found, not in washing, but suitable lodging; and we’ll set up our Charter—its Six Points to be— @ne—The National Gallery ceases to be. @wo—Givers of pictures shall see their gifts placed where the works by the walls shall no more be disgraced. (read for the rhyme’s sake) esthities, | Jaur—Gil Blas and the Vicar of Wakefield must not furnish subjects, on pain of the artist’s being shot. Sf ibe—Art-Unions are humbugs—so are the Trustees of the National Gallery—both Lords and M.P.’s. (‘THE HUMBLE PETITION AND REMONSTRANCE | line manner,” we'd ne’er lifted Rebellion’s banner in this Revolu- | tion’ry day, and rushed to our Punch, thus to pray his protection, | tho’ like brothers we quarrel—like best Yarmouth bloaters in | barrel; or stowed close, with no more regard than tramps in a ‘ Mr. Punch, we declare here that we, late one VERNON’s, but now | Chartists, unless, without any more changing and dodging, we are ' Three—No newspaper writers shall dare to be critics till examined in Siy—Each artist may think (and get others as well to think so, if he can) he’s the new RaFraELLe. | | | LADIES’ FASHIONS FOR IRELAND. : , , | ‘Two spinsters—in correspondence with the rebels—have been com- |mitted to Clonmel Gaol. They wore percussion caps in their hair; n0 | doubt—with the spinster purpose—of the more reaaily going off!

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co om ese 1 OM Re i oon a “Pr | Oo Cr @@Qew Oe Or eae UW O&O a Om l- | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Drop V.—Tue Frencu IrritateD BY WATERLOO. The French were made sore by the memory of Waterloo. The more crass they. They should have forgotten it. Had I been made a French citizen, I would have denied the occurrence of such a battle. More: I would have written a book—two, three, four books if necessary—to disprove it. LORD BROUGHAM’S PAMPHLET ; IN TWELVE DROPS. pz have distilled Lorp Brovenam, to be taken in Punch, and present to the world the quintessential Dror VI.—Tue Fatat Fautr or Lovuts-Pxiuirre. properties of the philosopher and| he “ illustrious exile” did not sufficiently attend to my advice. I statesman. We purchased 4 Letter | well remember when I said to him, “ Louts, mon cher, I tell you what to Lord Lanspowne, on the French | you must do; you must put a patch or so upon the Constitution; you Revolution (a very thick and heavy | must not appoint. «// vour Chamber of Deputies out of your placemen. epistie, price 4s.), and proceeded to | You have only 250,000 voters in all France. Therefore, mon cher, extract the essence. Afier this | extend the franchise; make them—for there is strength in caution, see fashion—for Punch has no secrets— | my Political Philosophy—make them 250,001.” Had this been done, I did we catch and hold the volatile | should not, in February last, have embraced an “illustrious exile” at spirit of his Lordship’s wisdom. We first chopped the pamphlet into pieces about the size of an alderman’s thumb. We then threw the pieces into a brass skillet, with a pint of aromatic vinegar—to nega- | tive the gall-nuts of the writer’s ink | —with a pinch or two of rock-salf, | to supply the saline wants of the | original material. To this we added | a few drops of very old seal oil, with | the smallest touch of mace; stirred altogether, and placed on a French | charcoal brazier to stew and simmer. We occasionally fanned the charcoal ~—— with an old wig (turned inside out) ; and removed the scum as it rose with a tea-spoon of QueEN Cako- LINE’s pattern. | When the chopped pamphlet was done to a pulp, and the vinegar reduced to half a gill, we carefully | distilled it ; and—in a quarter of a thimbleful of the blackest liquid— | possessed the condanenll properties of LorpD Broucuam’s many pages. | We shall proceed to dip a clean new pen into the essence that, when | Claremont. Dror VIL—Wnuat THE Frencn HAVE Lost. Half-a-year ago, the French had ample liherty, and some to spare. They had a wise Prince, and the inestimable benefit of commerce. Their capital was frequently visited by an illustrious foreigner—he had it in his intention toleend a philosophic colony at Cannes—who is now resolved to pass every vacation in Westmoreland. Dror VIII.—IncrpEnTALLY OF GERMANY, Speaking of France, I think Germany in a much worse condition, A late fellow-labourer of yours—(my excellent friend)—never had, and never proposes to have, a country seat in Germany. The Germans are slower to warm than the French; but iron that takes longest to melt, takes longest to cool. I fear the imagination, when once roused, of the Germans. I dread the Murseillaise when played with diabolic variations upon the German flute. Drop IX.—Tue Ruter oF FRANCE. Whoever he is, he must have power. You must not parley with a mob; bullets they may understand, but not words. Think of the dregs of the people—(when I was Harry Brovenam the people, of course, had zo dregs)—rising to the top at Neuilly, and overwhe!ming a king | delivered to our page, shall present the whole of the pamplilet in a few | whose only faults were an excess of mercy and a too great contempt of | lines. And we modestly call upon the world to admire our combined industry and ingenuity. It was, doubtless, held a good trick of magic to imprison 4rie/ in a pine-apple (for so we read SHAKSPEARE); but what was this to the potency of Puxch, who wraps up a whole BrovGuam in a page ? We shall now begin our task; prescribing our extracts of BroucHamM to be taken in drops. Dror L.—Enenisu Rerorm. Frencn RevoxvTion. I brought about the Reform Bill of 1832; I have consequently a clear | right to review the French Barricades of 1848. They refused to make | me a French citizen; I have, therefore—iny old and excellent. friend, | Lanspowne—I have, therefore, an inalienable privilege to abuse all | French citizens soever. | Dror I.—Vutearity of THE RevoLution. | The Revolution was effected by unknown Frenchmen; by men who | never had a grandfather. My illustrious friend ARaGo was the solitary | meteor that coruscated among the National Guards. The Revolution | was effected by obscure men, who lighted the fires of rebellion from the dark-lanthorns of their own reputations. They knew not the modesty | of patience: they had, possibly, zever heard of a BrouGHam. | Dror III.—Tuer Encuisn Press, anp “ PUNCH” IN PARTICULAR. I es of my own knowledge when I aver that Lovis-PHILipPE was | struck from his throne by the Jdéton of a miscreant hanging out in| Fleet Street. The illustrious exile may thank the Press, and that miscreant in particular, that he was hooted from Paris. When Lovts- PuILirre was compelled to call himself ‘‘ Mr. Suitu,” the execrable Punch may be considered his inexorable godfather ! Dror IV.—Crassitupe oF THE REVOLUTIONISTS. In 1840, I wrote Zhe Political Philosophy, at once and for ever | settling the destinies of nations. And yet a crass Parisian mob must throw up barricades in the very face of that immortal work! The | Royal bed-chambers at the Tuileries and Eu were papered with early | copies of that book, that an illustrious exile—awake and asleep—might | always have i's pervading wisdom about him. Nevertheless, with | the work, by no means out of print—I repeat it, by no means out of print—there is another Revolution! Why, what is all human fore- | sight worth? and—I may particularly ask it—what is now the worth of | those two volumes (post 8vo) of my Political Philosophy ? | | liquid sulphur—when you behol money : a man who thought of his country first, of his family next, and perhaps of his own particular person afterwards. Drop X.—TuE Press AND THE MULTITUDE. The Press, to repeat very significant words of mine—“has done it all.” A newspaper lives upon untruth. It accidentally—I will allow as much—prints an error: it is too proud to swallow its words. There- fore, it goes on swaggering and vomiting forth all sorts of sophistries that honest men in gowns and wigs drop tears to think of. The Press ought to be the bread-tree, protecting and supporting all who seek it. My excellent friend, is it not rather the flauntmg poppy, whose poison creates dreams, and delusions, and idiotcy, and madness? I am, how- ever, not yet prepared to say that [ would destroy the Press, repeal the invention of printing, and bring in an Act of Oblivion that, in its first clause, should swallow up the memory of Joun GutTenBuRG. I repeat it: I am not yet prepared for this. Dror XI.—An Exuortation. And now, my old and excellent friend, let me not conclude without affording you some consolation. When, from your high position—when from the Pharos of Place—you look abroad and see the all but universal storm; when you behold France still heaving from the tempest— Germany in billowy —_ ra with uncooled lava—Sicily bubbling all this, be not dismayed. Drop XII.—THe Remepy. There is a man who is intimate with France, and can still her waves into a duck-pond—who can make the billows of Germany smooth as the native meerschaum—who can render Italian lava harmless as Italian maccaroni—and with Sicilian sulphur tip tae lucifers of all society for the diffusion of political knowledge. That man—it is a great happiness at the present time to think it—is still spared us, and he is Your old and excellent friend, Henry Brovenam. DISCOVERING THE LONGITUDE. Tue Sea Serpent has been seen again; persons declaring it was several miles in length. We should no: at all wonder if it was a stray column of one of Mr, AnsTEY’s speeches, for we know as a fact that that gentleman has been at sea for a long time.

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| 172 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

MEETING HIM HALF-WAY. THE ALDERMAN AND THE APOTHECARY. Scene—The City of London. A Street in the Slums. y) z Enter ALDERMAN. Ald. I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts he dwells,—whom once I noted In rusty black, and green steel spectacles, Weighing out powders: scaly were his looks, His frame appeared to be a bag of bones; And in his petty shop his license hung By ABERNETHY’S, matched with CuLLEN’s phiz— Two ill-framed pictures ; and upon his shelves A beggarly account of coloured bottles— Green, blue, and red, labell’d with Latin names, Haust : Senne Comp:, Syrup: Papav:, Mist: Camph :, Were thinly stationed to make up a show. Noting this seediness, to myself I said— An if we need an Officer of Health, To toil upon the lowest salary, This object is the very. man for us. Ob, this same thought did but forerun my greed! And this same hungry wretch must be our drudge. As I remember, this should be the shop: Being dinner-time, the pauper ’s at his crust. What ho! Apothecary! t/ Mh yg Hy Vii itl SSS F v7,

TRL MALL DM MU eC atl Ta i | | 4 Th, 7 Zz 7 f Wa Lila Milt Enter APOTHECARY. Apoth. Who calls so soft ? Ald. Come hither, Sir. I see thou art hard up; Hold. There are fifty and a hundred pounds Per annum for thy wages. Let us have Thy service to explore the sinks and sewers Of our foul city and its liberties, That it may be discharged of pestilence As quickly as the words, Jack Rosrnson, Do hurry from the fastest talker’s mouth. Apoth, Such pay 1s very small; and the employ Is death to many a man who works at it. Ald. Art thou so lean, so full of emptiness, And carest for life? Whitecross is in thy face, A wife is starving in thine anxious eyes, Upon thy back hangs a large family;

Young Hopeful. “ Writ, 1r’s oF No UsE, GOVERNOR; I CAN’? STICK TO BUSINESS. Physic is not thy friend, nor physic’s trade: I WANT TO BE A SOLDIER, AND YOU MUST BUY ME A COMMISSION.” | Physic affords no fees to make thee rich. — Governor. “No, my Boy, I can’? AFFORD To BUY You A Commission, BUT I’LL TELL | Then be not poor, but cut it—and take this. you wHat I wizz DO; IF YOU WILL GO DOWN TO CHATHAM AND ENLIST, I WILL GiVE | Apoth. My poverty, but not my skill, consents. YOU MY WORD OF HONOUR I won’r BUY You OFF !” Ald. We pay thy poverty, and not thy skill.

AN INNOCENT IRISHMAN. | This is not to be mistaken for “I should think so;” for mark :— a , Mi - P “* Had any of the men you saw guns in their hands ?—One had something with the T a time when, unhappily, an innocent Irishman is some- | appearance of a gun in his hand.” what of a rarity, it is really pleasing to meet with an| We should like to hear Mr. M‘Carruy’s description of the “ Hall undeniable instance of that character. There was a gentle-| 59 brave” of the “Fine Old English Gentleman,” which of course he man named WittiaM M‘Cartuy, who appeared on the trial | would have represented as “hung around” with the appearances of of M‘Manvs at Clonmel, as a witness, in which capacity |< yikes and guns and bows.” We are indebted, by the way, to the _ he established an indubitable claim to the appellation in | fine and ready-witted, though somewhat short-sighted fellow, for a rich question. Mr. M‘Cartuy was examined by the SoricitoR-GENERAL. | exhibition of genuine old Irish humour; only we should have enjoyed it We borrow from the Zimes a little of his remarkable testimony :-— better at a minor theatre in a melodrama, than in a Court of Justice on ‘Did you see any men about the door with a pike?—A pike! What’s that? \a trial for High Treason. I would not know a pike. (A laugh.)” | No doubt he would not if he could help it. | — ** Would you not know one if you suw it ?—I never saw one, to know it, in my life.” |

Modest and Benevolent. Mr. M‘Cartny does not see pikes for the purpose of knowing them,| A Forercn Correspondent of the Morning Post, in the best dove’s or remembering anything about them. Probably he is subject to a fit | milk writes as follows :-— | of hard winking when he looks at pikes. “It is a marvel that fire and flame have not descended from Heaven to sweep “ Would you know a carving-fork ‘—Oh! indeed, I might.” away Frankfort from the face of the earth ; it would be well if the hand of man . e . } Aci 7 it ‘ Rad ‘ It will be observed that Mz. M‘Cartny speaks in the potential | **°™¢ *uPP4y the deficiency and lay waste the city with fire and sword mood. He might know a carving-fork—but that would depend upon; What if the writer himself came in for a turn at the fire, and a cut of | circumstances. the sword? Truly, if all cities wherein horrors have been perpetrated “ Did you see anything in the hands of the people about !—I saw sticks with them. | were laid waste with fire, the map of Europe would inevitably have the Anything else 1—I did. appearance of a burnt ironing blanket. | ‘What ?—Things I heard the people say were pikes. (4 laugh.) But I did not know them at all. (A laugh.)”

| The plainness which is proverbially ascribed to a ange by no SINK AND THE DEUCE. | means appears to extend to a pike, in the eyes of Mr. M‘Carruy. : ? | His ignorance on the subject of weapons in general is equally crass—| A Seat Engraver, hearing that the Thames so poisoned the atmo- | indeed he appears to be quite an infant in arms :— sphere that it was dangerous to live near it, called it “a first-rate sink ** Would you know the look of a gun ?—Oh! I think I would.” for a die /”

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iN ——aa ——— =! —— ‘ ow \\ \ ti S ta oN . ‘ Y ‘ vel S Its | ee \Ge { Al os i) WAN NEY oN is rill a ; = a t ae ii m al ; if ai oa gee | | WP | " a Ne ’ & % ‘| | iis ay | i alt al : r) tr i THE ALDERMAN AND THE APOTHECARY. Ald. I do remember an 1 Apothecary, And if we need an sia of Health j To toil upon the lowest salary, This object is the very man for us. * x *~ * | Ofo Come hither, Sir; I see you are hard up: | Hold. There are fifty and a hundred pounds Per annum » for your wages. Let us have Your ice to explore the sinks and sewers r fo “ye city and its liberties. | Apoth. The pay is very small; and the employ Is death te many a man * at wo tks at it. * My po alii and not my skill, consents. Ald. We pay thy poverty and not thy skill. Shakspeare (a little altered.)

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| will be greedily sought after and cheerfully purchased at a guinea an ounce and | MR. ANDEBsOn ; as there is but one JenNx Linb, one GRisI, one ALBONI, and one | —_ Lady Spankers two guineas a laugh? ‘The reasoning is very con- | clusive.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 175

A VOICE FROM “ BROMPTON.” Brompton Square is known to be the square of ease to most of the theatres. A complete company—tragedy, cc medy, farce, opera, and a cut of the ballet—might be recruited in Brompton in less than forty minutes. Any Manager TuEspis might take avery briet turn wiha van, and fill it. Hence, we are rot taken by surprise when “an old actor” from “ Brompton” wheezes to the Morning Post in defence of the high-priced stars. The “ Old Actor”—as if intimately knowing the lady’s arrangements—declares that Miss Faucir only expected to play three nights a-week at £15 per night, when— ** Her salary would amount but to £45 per week, #20 per week more than Miss O'NEILL certainly, but considering the high price of provisions, and the scarcity of leading artistes, ought not to be grumbled at,” Thus, the prices of Ju/iet are to vary with the prices of house-lamb, and Romecs may be expected to “go up” with kidney potatoes! The subjoined illustration, if not very new, is very happy :— “ Lucuries can always fetch their price. Strawberrics and green peas, for instance, two guineas a quart. Tiere is but one Miss Faucit, one Mus. Nissetr, and one Maazio.” Therefore, as Kean’s (not Epmunp’s) seedlings are cheerfully bought at a guinea an ounce, why should not Be/videra fetch, say five guineas a scream? Marrowfats command two guineas a quart, why not And yet, it may be answered, it is the public who give guineas for strawberries and green peas of Covent Garden salesmen ; but the public will zo¢ give guineas to managers for Faucits and AnDERSONS. Gar- deners and fruiterers, upon the profits of their commodities, retire into private opulence. Managers—with ¢/ei; peas and strawberries—go into the Gazette. One tradesman proceeds to invest in the Bank; the other rarely gets farther than Basinghball Street.

THE LABOURS OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM. HE Lazours or HeERrcuLes are nothing to them. Thou- sands of books are lying about the shelves without a local habitation—almost without a name. It will require the aid of the beneficent fairy in the story, who sorted all the feathers for the Fair One with the Golden Locks, to put them in

their right places. The national cry of “ Register! Re- gister!” does not apply to our National Library. Valuable gilts are wasted for the loss of a common Catalogue to record their riches. | Our grandsons, when they have arrived at the age of grandfathers, | may be able to consult the precious volumes we are not likely to see, | for the chance is so faint, that the librarians only laugh, when asked to | We may not exactly live to see it; but still, we should take courage from the above facts, and hope that our descendents of the fourth or fifth generation perhaps will. We can fancy, then, the height the Catalogue will have attained. A separate Museum will have to be built to contain it; and if some intelligent bibliopolist wishes, in 2048, to consult Punch on the Constitution, or any other standard work of English literature, we can imagine a mountain of huge quartos being wheeled to him by some one of Herculean frame, who comiorts bim thus :—

Librarian. “You asked to see the Catalogue of the letter P, Sir? I’m sorry it’s not yet completed, Sir, but I’ve brought you all there is, as far as it goes.” ne ; Depend upon it, the Catalogue of the British Museum is not a work for one time, but for all ages! HECATOMBS OF PORTRAITS. Our next-door neighbour over the water, the Charivari, informs us that portraits of the French Members swarm all over Paris. One house, it says, is quite blockheaded with them—the exterior is covered all over. ‘he house may well hide its face for putting on so bold a front ! <n Eg

It seems there are no less than three editions of these endless | portraits. Now, there are upwards of 900 Members, which only

bring some unrecorded book, and say, “ Will you be kind enough, Sir, | makes the pretty number of 2700 heads. ‘The most Dantonian Red to call this day forty years, and I have no doubt Sir, it will be ready | Republican could not wish to take off a greater number. Never did then for you.” mer !such a number of patriots put their heads upon the block before! _, This evil, too, instead of diminishing, accumulates every day; for | Imagine having them all hung about your room! What an ugly view it stands to reason, if half-a-dozen books are inscribed only, every week, | it would give of Universal Suffrage! ‘lhe portraits, we are told, are so and some twelve dozen new ones are published, that the balance must | diversified, that there are not two alike. ‘his makes the collection all always be, even if they engaged en extra hand at sixpence an hour,| the richer, and is only another proof that no politician is himself against the possible completion of this dilatory invisible Catalogue. | for two days together. However, it must be a festering épingle to Will it be believed that not less than three gentlemen are engaged to! every Frenchman’s vanity, that his Je//e France should possess such a finish this gigantic task? ‘They have asked for assistance, but the | expense was too awful, for it can scarcely be credited that the salaries of these three gentlemen amount to the ruinous sum of 12s. 6d. per diem —as much as 4s, 2/7. each aday! The nation has so many burdens that | it is quite clear it could not bear an additional inscriber put upon it! Besides, the payment for such services is disproportionably large. These gentlemen are expected to know eight or ten languages, and |

| surely sixpence an hour for each language is most handsome remune- | ration. Why, a charwoman is not paid more! Aman who bottles wine | scarcely receives higher pay, and surely no one would think of putting upon the same footing with them one who merely draits books from one | ledger to ledger, and only scours acres of volumes, to make a stupid |

Catalogue! The possession of languages may be a valuable accomplishment, and ought doubtlessly to be well rewarded; but there is a medium in all things, and we think a pound a week for a man who knows Sanscrit, Hebrew, Chinese, and other tongues that are much easier to catch than | Welsh or Scotch, is most liberally remunerated, and we are quite sure | every Whig Minister in his heart agrees with us. It is false to suppose | that the subordinates in all Government situations are underpaid, and | that the Directors and Commissioners get the large salaries. The fact of as many as three inscribers being engaged upon one Catalogue, when | one would do it just as well with an equal chance of completing it, is a | sufficient contradiction to this absurd delusion, especially when the | large sum they receive every Saturday is taken into consideration. ‘rhe Catalogue will be completed in time, there’s no doubt of that.

cabbage-garden of portraits, and scarcely one good head amongst them. We would recommend vigorous weeding. At all events, France cannot complain of being badly represented—in the shop-windows. WRECK OF THE ROYAL GEORGE, Tue Pavilion at Brighton has been called, and very appropriately, the ‘“ Wreck of the Royal George.” CoLonEL PalisLey bas offered in the handsomest manner to blow it up, if the town will only find the gunpowder; but we believe this offer has for the present been refused, as the Woods and Forests are in treuty with the proprietors of the | Chinese Collection, it being their intention to turn it into a travelling caravan. ‘There is no doubt it would draw tremendously—if there is no gilding or paint spared to make it as showy as possible—as a new vehicle of attraction. It would be a pity to blow it up; though, as it has never had anything else all its life, it must be pretty well used to it by this time. By the by, the title of Pavilion ought to have foretold its fate, for, not being an English Pavilion, the Brighton Marines, if they had had any British loyalty about them, might have known it would be sure to be very quickly pulled down. As it will want a new name when it vagabondises through the country, drawn by eight cream-coloured horses, may we be allowed to be its godfather? The name we would give at its second christening is one which it is well entitled to, from a lon intimate connexion with it on the lids of work and snuff-boxes, and al sorts of toys. We would simply call it, A TRIFLE FROM BricHTON.”

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“THE GLASS;” PUNCH, OR THE LON DON CHARIVARL, A COMPANION TO “THE BOTTLE.” WE need not tell the world that we have a hearty contempt for that paltry spirit of imitation which exists by the adoption, second-hand, of successful ideas—a sort of trade for which theft and monkeydom com- bined are the only two qualities requisite. We abhor, therefore, the mere suspicion of having meanly availed ourselves of Geornce CRUIK- SHANK’S genius by hanging our idea of “ The Glass” on to his wonderful conception of “The Bottle.” We were almost as disgusted as the artist himself could have been when the swarm of paltry plagiarists came out dous Stopper,” if somebody had not fortunately cut off “‘ The Decanter” prematurely, or perhaps broken the neck of it. We are sure, however, | that the renowned artist will not be angry with ws for following up his | great moral lesson of “ The Bottle” bya little moral lesson of our own, under the title of “‘ The Glass,’ more particularly when we inform him that our “Glass” has no connection with the subject of his celebrated designs, but has reference to a perfectly different article. In accordance with the prevailing custom, we have put the whole of the papers and with their “ Pint Pots in Six Plates,” their “‘ Beer Jugs” on stone; and | drawings into the hands of our poet, with instructions to “ peruse and | when a mean caitiff had actually advertised ‘The Decanter,” we had | settle,” and subsequently to “ prepare draught from Pierian spring,” very serious thoughts of bringing out, on our own account, “A Tremen- | which he has accomplished in the following highly satisfactory manner, PLATE I.—Tae Gass DiscovERS TO ARABELLA THAT SHE IS PRETTY. | q—- “There’s no one coming, girl, | There’s no one coming ; ~~. and arrange that graceful curl While there’s no one coming.’ Before the Glass she stood and gazed, | Attraction growing stronger ; With her own beauty quite amazed, She thought, “A pleasure now 1’ve raise ed, | 1’ll wait a little longer.” | } PLATE II.—Lep on BY THE CAPTIVATION oF THE GLASS, ARABELLA | WORRIES HER UNHAPPY HUSBAND FOR EXPENSIVE DRESSES. “ There’s a new gown coming, dear, A new gown coming What I am saying can’ t you hear! ? There ’s a new gown coming.” Her husband angry turned around, His passion growing stronger, And cried, “The money can’t be found : The milliner”—he stamp’d the ground, ** Must wait a tie longer.” | PLATE III.—ARaBELLA, STILL DEVOTED TO THE GLASS, HAD LED HERSELF TO BELIEVE THAT HER ATTRACTIONS OUGHT TO BE PUBLICLY SEEN. } | i | “There ’s Jenny Lind coming, sweet, There’s Jenny Linv coming; To go and see her what a treat! The Jenny Linp coming. LaBLACHE, GARDONI, and ‘the rest, No Opera could be stronger.” | So, most extravagantlv dressed, He takes her there. It had been best To wait a little longer. | PLATE IV.—ARaBELLA NEGLECTS FOR THE GLASS THE SUPERINTENDENCE or THE Domestic Duties oF HER HOUSEHOLD, AND DRIVES HER | Huspanp To His Cus. “ There are two friends coming, love, | There are two friends coming ; I hope the room’s prepared above For my two friends coming.’ Thus spoke the husband! Truth to say, The Glass for her was stronger ; The house, neglected every day, More wretched grew: he could not stay, To stand it any longer.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 177 PLATE V.—Urcep to THE uTMost ExTRavAGANCE BY THE GLASS, | WHICH CALLS FOR FRESH SACRIFICES EVERY DAY, THE TRADESMEN’S | Bits INCREASE. | “There’s a postman coming here, A postman coming ; He’s got a lot more bills, I fear, That postman coming. T hate to hear his dreadful knock, I wish my nerves were stronger, From every note I get a shock ; They tell me I their patience mock— They ’re tired of waiting longer.” THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT. THE Dedalus Frigate, which dropped anchor at Plymouth on the 4th, brings news of an old friend— THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT !! The wonderful animal is still “to be seen alive! alive!” for the captain, most of the cfficers, and crew of the frigate have seen it Incapable as we are of suspecting the veracity of a gentleman who writes R.N. after his name, we immediately dispatched “Our Own | Reporter” to Plymouth, who brings us back the subjoined depositions | of several eye-witnesses, who, without any “cracking,” describe the | Kraken in detail. As the deposers are “true British tars,” their vera- | city is unquestionable. * The ’davy 9 me, THoMAS CaREY, Quartermaster on board H.M.S. Daedalus, 20 guns, Cartain McQunag, R.N., commanding; off Santyleny of a Friday, September 7th, six bells ; weather clear ; strong breeze S.S.W., under close-reefed top-sails, and all well on board, The following remarkable occurrence, as by my private log :’?— “T, Tomas Carey, was at that time a standen at the larbud gang- way, conwersin with a ship-mate, which I remarked a suden apperance about four pints on the larbud bough, we then runnin eight nots, in | the likeness of somut floating, and an ’ead with firy eyes, as reared itself up and snorted three times distinctly, gashing its teeth, which a middle-sized man might ave stood uprite in the month thereof, and a sort of main, what colour unable to say, aving been short-sited and no | glass handy, ‘which the gunner’s mate went down for hisn, but the cretur vanished afore he come back, with a smell like brimstone, me and several others washed the above for the matter of three minits, and ered it a lashin of the water aft, about fifty fathem, or thereabouts, | supposed its tale—which I ave seen the Flying Duchman twise—and often ered tell of the See-Sarpint, but never seed it till the present riting; nothin come of this ere apperance this crews, but who nose? and I am reddy to testify my voracity to this ere riting. So no more at present from : * Tomas CARgy. * Quarter-Master, H.M.S. Dedulus, 2 an. Chama” } » AMS. Dedulus, 20, Cart, McQuuar, Commanding. From Patrick M‘Ginty, A.B., Captain of the Foretop, H. M.S. Dedalus, Sc. “T hereby solemnly vow and declare that I have red over the above of Tuomas Carey, and he sairtanly told me he saw sec a secht, which I | hae nay doot he thinks he speaks the truth, but am of openion, mysei | being in the top aboot sax bells, he might ha seen a bucket whech the cook’s mate messed out of the galley soon after the above date. I did | not smell ony smell of brumstone, but I wad not say there might not ha | been sec a smell, brumstone matches being much employed in vawrious PLATE VI.—Victim 10 ARABELLA’S ARDENT PASSION FOR THE GLass, HER HUSBAND GOES TO THE QUEEN'S BENCH, AND THE WIFE IS FORCED TO GO OUT CHARING. \ QUEENS BENCH - |)\y | ne rl \ od 3 j Pe oT Ly tno 1 a | x ‘ | u } fe we a ——— | i | | | j + \ ie sstctnsessial > _ a cei 1 There are two men coming, now, Two strange men coming; Tis useless making any row With the strange men coming. They take him slowly to the Bench— No prison need be stronger, And soon, the wretched tale to clench, The wife will be a charing wench— Only wait a little longer. operations of the shep’s crew. My opinions is agenst seccan beestes as | clane agenst aw reeson and probabeelity and I downa mind ony instance | whech sawtisfied me mare than the abuv.” | Depositions of James Cravers, Dennis Corcoran, Jonn SwaBsTER, Able Seamen, and Tuomas Cueexs, Marine on board, §c. “ Tyomas Caney avin told the gunner’s mate, which he went for his glass, and he shode us the sarpint—a brown head with six roes of teeth the same as a shark, only sharper, and a blew smoke out of the mowthe, aud green skales on the showlders, like epulets, shinin brighter nor dollars, which looked towards the ship, likewise back fins, very sharp, ekal to capsn bars in Jenth and thikness, and he must have been a undred fathem, in ciles like a cabul stowed, and about the thik of a man’s thi, going twelve nots and smellin dredful, which the capt’n of the old called up the main atchway who was a smokin, which it was aganste orders at that time, and was wisible to the nakid i for a }? of an hour, knokin the water about under his bows, and standing end on for the ship, which we expected nothink but he was a comin aborde, and Tuomas Carey thinks if he ad a done according, it wud have | been the wuss for ship and crue, he bein an old man and ewsed to such things, avin been 5 times cast away, besides aksidents, and blown up, and is a good skolar, wich he has written this ’ere count from the mowthes of your humbel servints to command. ‘Their mark.” On requesting the favour of the Captain’s deposition, to add to the above, we regret to say “Our Own Reporter ” was told to get out of the ship, on pain of a very disagreeable alternative, which, to use the words of his letter, “ he little expected to have had proposed to him from one gentleman towards another.” he he NEW ARCHITECTURAL WORKS. SuoRTLy will be published, a new edition of Nasu’s Mansions. They will consist of— Ist. The Quadrant, which will be brought out plain, and without columns, on a much smaller scale, adapted to the tradesman’s pocket. The cuts will be very numerous. Rough specimens, done up in strong boards, may already be seen in Regent Street. , 2nd. Buckingham Palace, enlarged to a handsome royal size, and with Nearly complete. " 1is a new frontispiece. 3rd. The Pavilion at Brighton, greatly reduced in price. stupendous work will be brought out in parts, and is expected, if vigo- rously pushed and well circulated, to extend the author’s fame all over England. A brick will be sent as a specimen of the building, to any one who forwards the requisite number of postage stamps. 4th. To face the above, a portrait of the Architect contemplating his works. Underneath is the motto, Si monumentum queris, NON circumspice. The Architect is handled very freely ; in fact, looking at it in every light, we can safely say we have never seen a finer specimen of Doo.

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178 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LA PRESSE EST MORTE; VIVE LA PRESSE. RAXCE enjoys, since its last Revolution, a most curious Liberty of the Press, This Liberty seems to be the Liberty of saying anything that is agreeable to the Government, and nothing more. The freedom of thought is allowed to the greatest extent, providing the National Assembly is most freely praised. One word of censure, and the poe Editor is called upon by the President “to excuse the freedom, but will he take the liberty to walk this way P”—and he is escorted in the politest manner to Vincennes, or shown into some private apartment, where he may study at his leisure the profound mysteries of Locke on the Understanding. In England, “open and advised speaking” is for- bidden ; in France, it is open and advised writing. In Paris, a journal is suppressed, the Rédacteur imprisoned, and a whole printing establish- ment stopped, and perhaps ruined in a day, without the smallest public resistance or sensation; in London, such an event would almost cause a Revolution, if Revolutions were not fortunately so unpopular. Imagine the editor of the Zimes being carried off to-morrow morning to the Tower, and Martial Law being proclaimed in Printing-House Square! Why, the stoppage of the Bank would scarcely create a greater panic. The whole country would rush to the rescue, the united Press would nobly league together and forget their little jealousies in the defence of their injured brother, and Punch would wield his dééon with the force of a pocket thunderbolt, and, with his patriotic squeak, cheer on Lorp Denman, and Lorp CampsE.t, and a host of others who have stepped from the reporter’s gallery on to the Woolsack and the Bench, to liberate their honourable colleague. But in Paris there is a JOURNAL POLI LE : nf ie = ul f PERE f i] hy | DUCHESNE Tq ett PTY byes. — intl be HOW NEWSPAPERS ARE ll | » regular datiwe of newspapers, and not a murmur is raised to inveigh against the slaughter. Those who make the Revolutions in France are generally the first, it seems, to suffer by them, in the same way that GuILLoTINE was the first victim, it is said, that fell by his own instrument. The Press was one of the great causes of the Revolution of July, and yet stronger restrictions were put upon it by Lovuis-Paruirre than . CARLES THE TentH. It had nearly the same influence in causing this last Revolution, and yet restrictions stronger still have been inflicted upon it than ever it endured under the former reigns. If any one wanted a key to French politics of the present moment, we should say, “ Apply to Couns: he is the only man that can supply it, since he has made all the locks you see placed upon the different newspaper offices.” Whenever a aper is troublesome, we can imagine one or two Ministers y ett ‘La Cléture,” and the hostile dureau is instantly closed. Its shutters are put to in the name of Freedom, and its Editor is left in prison to warm himself, as best he can, with the chilling truth that the French Republic certainly takes a great deal more Liberty than everit gives. It is perfectly true that several French papers went to such insane lengths that it was really fate of many a respectable journal with the black wax of the Procureur, and padlocking a number of doors that never exceeded the fair bounds of newspaper discussion. However, the Press never dies; it knows no interregnum, and the very minute it expires, it lives and reigns again. May its reign be always a we ! one, and each of its acts prove it to be in France, as it is with us, the True Friend of Liberty ! ee [BUREAU DOs | Voit & WA if =) TON | LL) HL _|| +—s— | A Tee RULE TLL TAT)! 1 bevergaeeeemrnct TALL ——— a — tL) i PUBLISHED IN FRANCE. CATCHING GREY HAIRS. A Lapy who styles herself an ¢pileuse—an artist whom, in the ver- nacular, we may venture to describe as a tweezer—announces, by advertisement in the Morning Post, that— “* Les personnes qui ont été mal operées peuvent s’addresser 4 MADAME , pour l’épilation, devenue d’un usage général a Paris, depuis qu’il a été reconnu que les cheveux blancs étaient contagieux.” We really must protest against the fallacious idea that grey hairs are contagious; a delusion so obviously calculated to deprive venerable uncles of the caresses and endearments which they have hitherto been accustomed to—of their vested interests in the blandishments of social life. Mapamep says, that she “‘ se rendra au dgmicile des dames qui voudront bien l’honorer de leur confiance.” We must say that we cannot honorer MapameE with any confiance whatever in the above state- ment. Were it credible, it would introduce a new element of discord into conjugal relations. An elderly gentleman in the position of Ma- RINO FAatreRo would have no rest till he had parted with every hair on his head. Were he to ask, with Marc Anrony— * What, gir), though grey Do something mingle with our brown !” The answer would be— “Oh! pray, Go, let the grey be weeded.” Not only would the cares of matrimony turn us grey; but we should speedily become absolutely bald; and the husband would soon have nowhere to hide his head except in the Gentleman’s Real Head of Hair or Invisible Peruke. No, no; this will never do. It is all very well to talk of catching heiresses; but as to catching hairs—fiddle-de- dee! We can only say that where greyness is believed to be conta- gious, greenness must be decidedly epidemic. USEFUL, BUT DECIDEDLY NOT ORNAMENTAL. Has any one seen the fly-papers that are stuck about town? Of all the improvements that have lately disfigured our poor metropolis, they offend you the most. You see these “ fly-leaves” in all the hotels, and coffee-houses. Woe to the er fellow who leans his head against the box in which he is sitting! If one of these fly-sheets happens to be suspended over it, he may carry off a head-ornament that will not tailor. Surely in these days of science, when human beings are shot, like iagara, something better might be devised for the extermination of the musca tribe than these yellow sheets of gum! To see them dotted over with the innumerable carcases of these unsuspecting insects is a Waterloo, which may be a high triumph over our “natural enemies,” comfortable to one’s fingers and clothes. Could not the against whom every man’s hand, and woman’s too, is raised—be killed, without pain, by Chloroform, or be exterminated wholesale by some ethereal process? Surely this is worthy the attention of philanthropists, — we should then be spared these ugly, nasty, blister-looking fly- eaves!!! 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, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, im the Parish of St. Bride,in the City of London.—Sarvapar, Ocrosss 2 lst, 1848. but is decidedly a sight most unpleasant to one’s eye, and most un- | oor flies— | eS GENEID S a mercy to lock them up; but still, that is a bad excuse for sealing the | improve the luxuriance of his hair. Practical jokers delight in putting | them in the neighbourhood of a stranger, whose back, at the slightest | touch, becomes endorsed with the fly-flapper, much to the amusement | of the by-standers, and to the profit doubtlessly of the stranger’s | as, through an iron tube, and you hear of races over the Falls of |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONPON CHARIVARI. 179 «PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE FIFTH. FURTHER DEVELOPMENT OF OUR LIBERTIES UNDER HENRY THE SEVENTH, E have now reached that point of our great historical and literary voyage, at which we overtake, pick up, and travel with no less illustrious a per- sonage than Lorp Jonn RvssELL, the author of 4x Essay on the English Constitution, from the time of HENRY THE SEVENTH. We have now fairly started in a parallel line with his Lordship ; and, not doubting that we shall find him an instructive companion, we shall certainly turn aside to consult him when we think he can assist us; and, if we succeed in getting nothing out of him, it will be his fault—not ours. The Roses having “ceased to blow ”—or at all events to inflict their blows upon each other, we find Henry Tupor being crowned on the very field of Bosworth; his throne, a drum; a sword, his sceptre ; and the accompanying globe, to make up the regalia, consisting of what was rather a novelty at the period—a cannon-ball. Henry Tupor—or Two-door, as the name is usually pronounced— was aware that the illegitimacy of an ancestor placed him, instead of on the threshold of sovereignty, at least T'wo-doors* off; and he therefore called a Parliament for the purpose of getting it enacted, that the Crown, like the hand of the visionary young lady, dreamt about by the imaginary youth in the song, should be * his, and his only.” The object of this statute was to let bygones be bygones, and apply the sponge to all the outlying titles, legitimate or illegitimate, to the Crown; thus constituting Henry, as Mr. Hatta terms it, “a new stock,” and enabling England to hold up its head above the quarrels of rival dynasties. The terrific “crumpling of the Roses” had occasioned so much pares I to the people, and the opponents of the China had been so fre- quent against similar accidents for the future. ‘Fight it out among your- selves, gentlemen, as much as you like,” was their implied language to the various pretenders iz posse to the throne, “but don’t let our alle- giance to one of you to-day become treason to another of you to-morrow, by any of the ups and downs of your dynasties.” A law was accordingly passed, to protect from punishment any one serving a king de fucto, whoever he may be, and as the Jaw still remains in force, it follows that there would be no penalty for paying allegiance to any scamp who might there are impassable barriers.” It may be a nice question, whether a mere visitor to the House of Lords, who throws himself on to the fauteuil of Royalty, is entitled to allegiance, as being, de fuc/o, on the throne; but it is pretty clear that the usurper, if he persevered, would soon be transferred to his proper—a police—station. Though our Constitution certainly acquired some vigour under HENkY THE SEVENTH, it is not so certain that this king did so much good as those whom we and HaLtam turn up our noses at, as “smat- | terers in history,” have given him credit for. Even the Statute of | Fines, which clipped the Aristocracy’s claws, by enabling them to cut off their own tails, was a mere copy of an Act of Ricuaxp THE THIRD, who has been more grievously misrepresented in history, and at the Theatres Royal, than any other sovereign. The pocket was always the most sensitive point of the English people; and Henry THE SeventH having the tact to discover that they would often give generously twice as much as they would like to have taken from them against their will, hit upon the happy idea, when he wanted money, of leaving it to Joun Butr’s liberality. The cash thus collected | was termed a benevolence voluntarily bestowed ; but, in plain language, _ the whole thing amounted to nothing more than playing a voluntary on | the national organ of benevolence. This was often done to a very pretty | tune; though, not satisfied with what he obtained in this manner, he took to the practice of escheating, which was literally little more than cheating, as many heirs as he could out of their property, under the | pretext of forfeiture. By these and similar fines, the property of the _ nobility became so fine-drawn that their hitherto excessive power was | impaired; but the end was certainly more satisfactory than the means | were respectable. * This is not an idle pun, but a painful sacrifice to the awful rigours of Orthography. punished for adherence to the Cabbage, or vice versa when the | latter happened to prevail, that the nobles and gentry wished to guard | So avaricious was Henry THE SevENTH, that he sold pardons, first, for what he asked, and secondly, for anything they would fetch—the prices varying from £200 to 20s.; but some of our own laws of the present day are just as bad, since they sell to a man a pardon for half-killing his wife, as low as £5, or even for a sum more moderate, It is usually considered to be the great glory of Henry THE SEVENTH’s reign, that he res- trained the power of the Barons, which he some- times did in the oddest way, as, for example, by pulling the liveries off the backs of their servants, or heavily fining their masters for retaining those badges of vf flunkeydom. This movement on the part of Royalty was perhaps suited to the times, but in these days, : we should think no great deal of a Reformer who should vent his indignation on such little matters as velveteen smalls—in which there seems no harm at the first plush—and who should imagine that by blowing out the powder from our footmen’s brains, or prohibiting us from calving out our own establishment according to our taste or inclination, the cause of true liberty could possibly be advanced. ye ‘ Few of the objects of quencies) from livery would be thankful for any de-livery of the Sort; and there is not one of the richly-caparisoned state-coachmen, from Her Masesty’s to the Lorp Maryor’s, but would scorn the freedom proffered by a hand that would ash his wig and dash his buttons to the ground. he same “smatterers in history,” towards whom we (5 and Hautam have already expressed our joint and ‘ several disgust, have attributed to Henry THE SEvENTH the extension of the powers of the Court of Star Chamber; but the statute supposed to have had this object, had no connection with the Star Chamber at all. Thé Act in question empowered the Chancellor, Treasurer, and Keeper of the Privy Seal, or any two of them, to call persons before them for “ maintenance, giving of liveries, or other embraceries, untrue demeanings of sheriffs in making panels, unlawful assemblages, &c., &c.,” which in these days would seem to bea statute directed against Lord Mayors’ Shows, with their attendant paraphernalia of liveries, sheriffs’ panels, and the mobs they usually bring together. . The people were certainly indebted to Henry THe Seventu for his little differences with the nobility, as the antagonism of arbitrary Monarchy and insolent Aristocracy had the effect of weakening both and the Commons were likely to profit, in conformity with the wise old saw—some of these old saws, by the way, are apt to blind us by throwing sawdust in our eyes—which tells us that when rogues fall out honest men have a chance of coming by their own. THE BEAUTY OF FORGIVENESS! Her Masesty’s “pardon”—say the papers—has been granted to . . . . | "7 y y j l seat himself upon the throne, even if it should be Jack Noxes or Tom. Joun SHELLY and WILLIAM Lewis, convicted at the last spring assizes, Stites; “ but happily,” says Common Sense, “against these Stiles | Devon, “for attacking, ill-using, and robbing on the highway, Mr. James ReEpDpDICLIFFE, yeoman, and sentenced to 15 years’ transporta- tion.” ‘I'he men were too poor to bring witnesses to prove an a/idi on their trial; but this has been subsequently done by the benevolence of | others. Whereupon, after lying in gaol since the spring, they are par- | doned. The fortunate individuals were so overjoyed by such manifestation | of clemency, that they have addressed a letter of thanksgiving to the | Home Secretary. We are enabled, exclusively, to give a copy of the | epistle. As might be expected, it is written with simplicity—even with rustic rudeness :— * | “ Honoured Sir,—We beg to give you our humblest thanks for not being transported for fifteen years for not attacking, not ill-using, and not robbing Mr. REpDICLIFFE, as was sworn we did. We feel it to be very kind of you to forgive us for not being thieves and highwaymen ; but—it does somehow strike us, and we must be bold enough to ask it, —if you can only forgive = for being innocent, what sort of mercy do you show to them as is guilty? . }We are poor labouring men, but have heard that ‘Mercy is the brightest jewel in the Crown.’ All we can say to that is this: when that jewel is made to forgive folks for not doing wrong, the jewel isa sham; more like a jack-o’-lantern than a dimond, or a emerald, or anything of the sort. ‘Your humble servants (forgiven for nothing), * Joun SHELLY. * WitiiaM Lewis.” These poor ignorant men are, of course, not aware that the term “pardon,” in their case, is but a State fiction. Nevertheless, it may be eched—Onght the State, under the guise of Mercy, to preach flams to its illiterate children ? VOL, XV, r

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180 FLUNKEIANA. eyyory pra ! em | ‘ Lilt) i i, A aad oO es eae Saas Gentleman. “ Sixty pounps a-YEAR!! Wuy, Man, ARE YOU AWARE A SUM IS MORE THAN IS FREQUENTLY GIVEN TO A CURATE?” Flunkey. “Ou yes, Sin; BUT THEN YOU WOULD HARDLY, I HOPE, COMPARE ME WITH THE HINFERIOR ORDER OF CLERGY.” PUNCH, OR ‘THE LONDON CHARIVARL WE TWA HA DUNE A LITTLE BILL. Ain—“‘ Auld Lang Syne.” SHOULD auld acceptance be forgot, And never brought to mind ? Should auld acceptance be forgof, All drawn, endorsed, and signed ? Endorsed, drawn, and signed, my friend, Endorsed, drawn, and signed ; And noo ’tis time to tak’ it up, The siller we must find! We twa ha dune a little bill, To raise the bonnie wind, And, tak’ the matter hoo we will, That document will bind. Endorsed, &c. And SHaprRacu will nae time alloo, And therefore a’m incline To think that we had better do Anither o’ the kind, Endorsed, &c. And surely ye’ll be your bit stamp, And I’1l nae be behind, And we’|l do a right gude billie-wacht The needful cash to find. Endorsed, drawn, and signed, my friend, | Endorsed, drawn, and signed, We'll do anither billie yet, Just the wherewitha’ to find ! A Rival to the Great Sea Serpent. WE have just heard of a rival to this wonder of the deep, in the shape of a monster consisting of an almost endless number of folds, and presenting altogether a figure of such | enormous magnitude, as the imagination is really at a loss | to conceive. The monster in question may be seen at the depdt of one of the leading Railway lines; and although a Committee of Directors has been appointed to examine it, no one has dared to approach the alarming object, which lies coiled up in one of the apartments of the Company. The monster alluded to, which has been increasing in bulk THAT SUCH | almost every day and every hour, is no less than—the | Company’s lawyer’s bill. It is fearfully heavy, and its Go For To! weight has been stated at about four hundred thousand pounds, MORE TREASON. EALLY, troubles never come single. We were very confident, on the appearance of Mr. Youne’s letter to GENERAL NAPIER, that a twin epistle of similar import would turn up; and we hurry to give the world the very earliest copy of the new dis- covery. The original was written by a gentleman holding a high office in 8 t H——e, and was sold with quires of Lorp Broveuam’s Political Philosophy, and other waste-paper, to a distinguished trunk-maker, who has large literary connexions. “ My Dear Brovenam, " t H—e, October 13. . SiR —— told me of your wise determination not to become a French ci'izen; at least for the present. The inducement was at first very tempting; but as Crémievx would not have half of you, but insisted upon the whole of your allegiance, you had less difficulty in declining. I did not write to you while the correspondence was going on; but I felt that reason was against your acceptance; though, certainly on that account I considered you the more likely to acquiesce. Besides, with yeas various duties, your health, your purse, and your comfort, would all have suffered by your attendance at the National Convention. Your History of Harlequin must have been laid aside. And then, it would have been impossible for you, of all men, to be a silent Member: you would have endeavoured to push an ‘ illustrious exile’ quicker back to Paris than he is likely to go; or than, perhaps, all things considered, it is desirable he should go. Let us go back to the 10th of April. “The display of energy and readiness of the Chartists, when they heard that the Doxe of W————— had stationed troops in the neigh- bourhood of Kennington Common, was greater than I expected. I speak not of the Curreys, but of the men in Wakefield and Manchester. Are you aware that, in the event of a Republic, you were to be invited to take your carpet-bag to Buckingham House in the capacity of President? P had hired a cab for you with that view. Had he sent the cab on, I should certainly have despatched a ticket-porter to you with a letter, entreating you, if possible, to keep quiet and not to stir from Grafton Street. In anew Republic, it is not well to be the first President—the first falls a victim. What do you think would have happened ? * The Chartists (Fearcus O’Connor, &c.) bounced a good deal, and felt assured of success. ‘lhrowing up a few barricades would have brought matters to a crisis; and a week, they—the Chartists—thought, would have finished the Monarchy. The Special Constables, however, say that they and the Duxe must have succeeded. Thank Goodness we have been spared the convulsion; but, as a matter of playful specu- lation, tell me what you think would have turned up? Am I right in my conjecture that you would have refused the post of President, and kept your pension of £5000 per annum? ** Yours ever truly, “Gq * *“ P.S. Thanks for your last pamphlet.” T. Youne’s Nicnurt THovcuts.—“ What a fool I was ever to write that letter !!”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A VISIT TO KEW GARDENS. From *‘ Our Own Old Lady.” “You can’t think, Mr. Punch, how thankful I am to you for explaining to me all about the great a, and his testaceous dispositions, and the mysteries of Zoology, which, indeed, it is a wonderful thing to think of the earth having a crust, all as one as a beefsteak pie, and society, I ' suppose, like the steaks, some at the top and some at the bottom, and | Tam quite ashamed of my suspicions of the Pu/e—something—gra- | wonders of nature, which my son Aas the work, and phical Society, which I’ve no doubt, xow, that they take their name from the Rev. Mr. Patey, a highly respectable archdeacon of the Established Church, and wrote a Natural Theology, and Evidences, showing us the Lorp BroveHam wrote an edition of it, and 4e wouldn’t countenance anything that wasn’t | quite correct, as is well known. “However, Mr. Punch, what with your explanations about those poor | dear Chelonians, that live like the poor neglected brick-makers among , the London clay (though how it isn’t all made into bricks before this, | with the houses they’re building in all directions, I’m sure J can’t think), and my son’s talk out of Mr. Patey about the wonders of the vegetable world, I said to myself, says I, to think of there being a vegetable | world, and I, fifty-five my last birth-day, and never saw it, and accus- tomed to greengrocers all my life, for the late dear deceased he wasn’t happy without his two dishes of vegetables regular, so I determined to pay a visit to this vegetable world, and hearing it was to be seen in Q. Gardens, I thought I would take an opportunity this fine weather, and took the ’bus accordingly, at Sloane Street, and a very civil con- ductor he was, with whiskers and a gold band round his hat. I thought we never should have got there, and was very near getting out at the egg-hatching machine, but, however, we reached the place safe at last, myself and my niece, for I was determined she shouldn’t grow up as 1 had done, having placed her at an establishment near Turnham Green, where I made the conductor stop and called: for her, and why that old gentleman next the door did swear so L’m sure I can’t think, for we weren’t above ten minutes waiting for Jemima. “ Well, Sir, we got to the Gardens where the vegetable world is; and it’s well I expected to see vegetables, for there isn’t no flowers to signify; but hot-houses upon hot-houses. How the coals are paid for isn’t my business. And sucha Conservatory; all made of glass, and covering I don’t know how much ground; all under the care of Sir Witiram Hooxey. First, we went into the Conservatory, where they’ve the poor plants transported from Botany Bay—what for I’m sure I don’t know, But no good, I’ll be bound—and very ugly they looked, set in bush-ranges, which you may have read of, and put in solitary confinement in tubs, on short allowance of earth. “But oh, Sir, that Palm-house! The heat was awful, and the company suffered a deal ; and it’s little watering them plants want, I’// be bound. And all the fanning in the world isn’t any use; for the more you fan, the hotter you get, for it’s heated up to the topical regions—that is, the parts about the line, which must be the no-clothes line, where the benighted blacks go stark naked. This was the vegetable world I wanted to see, where you’ve trees that grow umbrellas and chair- bottoms, and trees that grow bread equal to hot-rolls, and custards, and cocoa-nuts, and chocolate, and tea, and coffee, and other groceries, and one ' that makes lace, and another that grows sugar and nutmeg and all sorts of spices, and one that you milk for all the world like a cow, and another that makes butter, and another that makes pots to put it in: and the ' Cabbage Palm, equal to the best savoys, and the Guinea Palm, which | grows the Oil of Palm, which guineas is well known to be; and | there’s some, no doubt the Aristocracy, that spend their time ' catching flies; and some that carry water; and there’s dwarfs among ’em, and ‘an Oldest Inhabitant,’ into the bargain, Sir W. Hooxey says in his book, which his name is Baobab, and my niece, who draws sweetly, took the portraits of some of them, ain’t they pretty? There was one little plant I was tempted to put into my reticule—the Paw- paw—that makes tough meat tender, a great comfort it would be to one, as none but a housekeeper can know. “ But of all the vegetable world I saw that day, and dear knows I saw plenty, and almost fainted among the Palms, there was one dreadful house in particular, where the Hugh Forbeses live, and awful plants they are, like melons, with spikes a sticking out in every direction, and tickets written up—‘ Visitors are requested not to touch the plants,’ and ¢hey’d Letter not, for I came on one of the Hugh Forbeses promis- cuously, and my shrieks brought in ¢hree gardeners, very civil young men, and how they got me off I hardly know, but grateful 1 was I’d put on my stout bombazine that morning. And in the same house there’s a heap of little old plants, called the Cereus Senilis in Sin W. Hooxey’s catalogue; and when I asked a gentleman who was civi/ to me and Jemima what ‘Serious Senilis’ meant, he said it was the Latin for ‘a heavy father,’ or serious old man; and serious old men they ma well be called, for this is what they ’re like in Jemima’s drawing, which is the very moral of them, all covered over with white hair, and little skin-partings on the tops of their green heads, and bowing and winking at you as you walk through, like so many rows of wicked old gentlemen that xever had their hair cut, “T shall zever get over them old Seriouses as long as I live, never. Indeed, what with the turn they gave me, and me coming upon that pumpkin with the spikes in it, 1 was odliged to leave the Gardens and take the first ’>bus back to town, and very glad I was to get out of the vegetable world, you may be sure; for what with the hot rooms those plants live in, and those dreadful old Seriouses, with their white with long legs and open mouths, which they call the audacious plants, and most audacious they looked. J¢ may suit Sin W. Hookey to live there, but I’d rather be among Cfris/ians, if you please. “So no more at present, from “Yours respectfully, “Tie Otp Lapy.” WE ARE NONE OF US SAFE! THERE seems to be no escaping Proressor Hottoway. For some time he had got alive Earl shut up in the Villa Messina at Florence, swallowing pills by the hun- dred, and writing letters by the score, to say what benefit he derived in all the maladies under the sun—and the sun is very comprehensive at Florence. This week Pro- FEssOR Ho.ioway has got into his hands a Waterloo | hero’s legs, which had been changed into all colours by rheumatic gout; so that, if not positively bow legs, they were rainbow legs in one respect, at all events. Hot- Lowy evidently sets his ointment—as bird-catchers set bird-lime—for | all the “bad legs” in the world to hop on to it. We understand that the Professor is setting a trap for the Pope’s leg-ate, in the event of Ambassadors being exchanged, and will undertake the cure of soles to any extent, under the pontifical patronage. NO WONDER. Tue Moraing Post says, “ A curse impends over Vienna.” she help it, when the Emperor puts Austria under a Ban ? Tlow can eads, and the ugly things curling about in the air in baskets, |

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182 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE VEGETARIAN MOVEMENT. WueEn we noticed, a week or two ago, a banquet of vegetables, we were not aware that a great Vegetarian Movement was going on, with a vegetarian press, a vegetarian society, a vegetarian boarding-house, a vegetarian school, two or three vegetarian hotels, a vegetarian Life Insurance Office, vegetarian letter-paper, vegetarian pens, vege- tarian wafers, and vegetarian envelopes. 2 The Vegetarian Advocate has replied to our article on the late vegetarian banquet, and we must confess that, notwithstanding the very cholera-inducing diet on which the members of the sect exist, the answer is by no means of a choleric character. The Vegetarian Advocate has a delicious vegetable leader, with two or three columns of provincial intelligence, showing the spread of vegetarian principles. There are vegetarian missionaries going about the country inculcating the doctrine of peas and potatoes; and there is a talk of a vegetarian dining-room, where there is to be nothing to eat but potatoes, plain and mashed, with puddings and pies in all their tempting variety. — We understand a prize is to be given for the quickest demolition of the largest quantity of turnips; and a silver medal will be awarded to the vegetarian who will dispose of one hundred heads of celery with the utmost celerity. We sincerely hope the puddings will not get into the heads of our vegetarian friends, and render them pudding-headed ; but they are evidently in earnest ; and, if we are disposed to laugh at them for their excessive indulgence in rice, we suspect that, Risum teneatis, amici, will be the only reply they will make to us. ORIGINAL VEGETARIANS. THE “FEAST OF REASON” UNDER EXISTING CIRCUMSTANCES, Or the three grand hygienic questions, ‘What to Eat, Drink, and Avoid?” the Board of Health has very judiciously answered the latter one. A medical correspondent of the Morning Chronicle has undertaken to reply to the two former, wistly remarking that ‘“‘The public should be told not only what to eat but what to consume.” We subjoin the dietary proposed by this philosopher, who has given our morning ceatenngennry something very much better to chronicle than small eer :— ** DIET TABLE DURING THE PREVALENCE OF THE EPIDEMIC CHOLERA. “* PReaKPast.—To eat: Bread baked previous day, toasted bread, biscuit, rusk with butrer; an egg, boiled 3) minutes; mutten chop; cold chicken.—To drink : tea, coffee, milk and water. “ Dinneg.— Mutton, boiled or roasted; roast beef; eggs, boiled or poached ; boiled or roast fowl; tripe; rabbit; minced veal; sago; tapioca; arrowroot ; sermmolina; rice; rice-milk; bread ; biscuit ; light puddings ; mealy potatoee.—To drink: toast-and-water; weak brandy-and-water; bitter ale ; sherry-and-water ; porter; stout, ** Tea —Bread and butter; dry toast ; rusk ; plain seedcake ; biscuit.—To drink : coffee ; black tea, ‘If anything is required for luncheon or supper, it may consist of a few oystere or a small mutton chop, with bread. A few glasses of good wine, port, sherry, or madeira. spiced negus, warm brandy orrum and water may be taken, with discretion, during the day.” Now if the Public should ever die, which of course the British Public never will, even after stuffing to the extent above prescribed, we will undertake to write its epitaph, which shall be a slight dy on that of Queen Katherine upon Cardinal Wolsey :— tied **He was a man Of an unbounded stomach.” The foregoing bill of fare is, in fact, the programme of a regular gorge—of as complete and thorough a blow-out as could be desired by any living creature of gastric capacity inferior to that of an Alderman or a Boa Constrictor. Such a banquet might amply satisfy the Sea Serpent himself. Great as is the gullibility of Joun But, he has never yet, we are quite sure, been crammed at this rate. If a licensed jester may appoint a licensed victualler, Punch will nominate the corres- pondent of the Mornixg Chronicle to serve the empire in that capacity. Gracious! he will make us absolutely a prize people. Our weight—if we are to be fed by him—will cause every country in Europe to kick the beam in the scale of nations. What a iy that this gentleman was not antecedent to old Connaro! He might have saved that patriarch an immensity of self-denial. Why, there is hardly a luxury that he forbids except cucumber and green apples. He might have regulated the habits of Justice Greedy himself, to the entire satisfaction of that worthy magistrate, curtailing him not a jot of his indulgence in **the substantials, Sir Giles, the substantials.” As to ourselves, we will only say that he is the very man that we should like to ask us to dinner. Our own dietetic directions may be thus briefly stated:—Hat and drink as much as is necessary to satisfy your hunger and thirst, and avoid everything beyond it. One thing, however, we will say. The diet-table of the Medical Adviser of the Morning Chronicle is eminently calculated for adoption in Union Workhouses, and is likely to prevent a complaint in those esta- blishments, which is perhaps even more formidable than the prevalent epidemic. The best regimen that we have as yet seen prescribed, with reference to the latter, consists, in its essential element, of that popular and universally digestible substance—gammon. WHAT AN IDEA! WE see a new work, advertised under the honoured name of S. T. CoteRIDGE, entitled The Idea of Life. Now, we want to know which | Idea of Life this is? There are so many Ideas of Life! There is the Politician’s Idea of Life :—a good cry, a quiet con- stituency, a friendly newspaper, and a permanent place. . There is the Young Lady’s Idea of Life:—pleasant balls, eligible offers, a good settlement, a place in the Morning Post, and a “ fashion- able circle” to move in. There is the Man About Town’s Idea of Life :—a dog-cart, a cab, and a park hack, the ex¢rée of the coulisses, tick at a tailor’s, a good “ tap” of Panama, the right club, and a bowing acquaintance with every- y. There is the Gent’s Idea of Life, a vernacular version of the last :— a seat ona drag to Epsom, a lark with “the gals” at the Casino, a “ stunning ” choker, Greenwich Fair regularly, a latch-key, and a good-natured mother, to stand between her boy and the Governor, and “tip” now and then. There is the Actor’s Idea of Life, in which the great business of the world is Green-room squabbles, and its great pleasure assisting in actors’ triumphs. > There is the Servant-Girl’s Idea of Life :—one long day out with “the journeyman.” There is the Schoolboy’s Idea of Life :—no lessons and free access to an inexhaustible cake-shop. There is the Pauper’s Idea of Life—dreary. The Labourer’s Idea of Life—blank. The Clergyman’s Idea of Life—decorous. The Attorney’s Idea of Life—shrewd. The Doctor’s Idea of Life—deadly. And there is our Idea of Life, which takes in all these. And no doubt 8. T. Coterrper’s takes in ours, And, no doubt, somebody’s takes in his. Good Gracious! The Idea of Life! there are beings to form them. there may be on the subject. ridiculous, There must be as many as We haven’t an idea how many ideas The idea book!—the idea is perfectly A “Kind Undertaking.” , Av arecent high-life wedding at St. George’s, the Post informs us, at— ** The bridal procession moved to the altar, headed by the Hon. and Very Rev. Heyy Paxennam, Dean of St. Patrick’s and Christ Church (uncle of the bride), who had kindly undertaken to officiate on the occasion.” Occasionally, when some tremendous tragedian worth £5000 per annum salary in 4merica—when some such magnificent genius vouch- safes to appear before the foot-lights in a second-rate part, the con- descension is announced in the play-bills as a “kind undertaking.” Are we, Dean of St. Patrick’s, to take the slang of the Green-room into the Church ?

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 187 ADVERTISEMENT.* HE YOUNG LADY with the Spaniel, (a real Kine Cuartzs) in pink riband, who bit a GENTLEMAN in the Brixton ’bus, is IMPLORED to return her initials and address. As a proof of the advertiser's heartfelt devotion, THEODORE he gives an instalment of his name. THE CITY OF LONDON IN DANGER, WE offer no apology for laying the subjoined letter before the people of England. Quite the contrary: we expect to be very much thanke and—metaphysically—embraced for a goodness. The letter—there was no need of the signature to tell us so much—is written bya female, It has all the mingled impulsiveness and delicacy of the sex. Here it is:— “ Gracious Goodness! Mr. Punch—Can this be true? Is it possible? But we live in such times, that whether I am standing upon my head, or sitting in my chair, I must think before I’m sure! *Sir—I am the wife of a citizen of London, of the Skinners’ Company, and therefore may be allowed to have the interest of the City close at my heart. Well; I read in the papers, that in that horrid place of Paris they’re ~ to have another dinner: that is, of course another revolution. The old story; when the cloth’s removed, they bring in the ’tillery. * But that’s not all, My paper tells me thati* It is added that the City of Paris intends solemnly’—(very fine words, Mr. Punch)—‘ solemnly to invite the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London, as an acknowledg- ment of the cordial reception which that City recently gave to the Frenc National Guards who went to visit it? And what for, Mr. Punch ? Why, I'll tell you—for I know it; and I’m sure of it. * "tis some years—I don’t deny it—since I went to school; but I think I remember something of Mr. Pinnock’s History of Rome, which I got as a prize for a tambour kettle-holder at Miss BackBoarp’s establishment at Camberwell. I think I remember how, when Romutus and Remus weaned themselves from the wolf—how they set about to found Rome. Why, they did what the French Parisians propose to do; they F aa a feast, and invited their neighbours. “ Now the French, seeing that they can’t govern Paris as they ought to do, without a Lord Mayor and Aldermen, will take a leaf out of the book of Rome, and carry off all our Corporation. For nobody can suppose that when they’ve once got our City Legislature—(as my husband calls ’°em)—safe in Paris, that they ti let ’em slip throug their fingers home —. No, Mr. Punch, no: I’m certain of it; if we once let go the ayor and Aldermen, the 9th of November is set for ever in this Metropolis of the world (as it 7s)—is set for ever in London, only to get up in Paris. “Or if they should come back—not that they ever would—pretty lessons they’d bring back with’em. In a little while we should have frogs instead of turtle; and, at the very next Easter Ball, dance GUILLOTINE Quadrilles, and RopgsrreRRe’s Gallopade. “ Now, Mr. Punch, what I propose is this :—Let us accept the invi- tation of Paris; but instead of sending over our precious or and Aldermen, let us send their representatives. I mean—Goc and Maco. The French will take the compliment every bit the same; and the wooden giants be quite as useful to the Republic as a Corporation of flesh and blood ; which, being flesh and blood, have wives and families to look after and consider ’em, one of whom is, ** Your constant reader and admirer, ** THe WIFE OF A CITIZEN AND SKINNER.” * Punch—to assist the agonised man—inserts his wood-cut : 3 ® benevolence on the part of Punch that must not be used as a precedent. THE BEAR AND THE BEE-HIVE. A TRUE FABLE, THERE was a certain Bear, remarkable for the irritability of bis temper no less than for the sensitiveness of his skin. BRrvrn, or BrovuGcHaM, as he was more commonly called, was often tormented by the attacks of certain] Bees, which he provoked by his antics in the flowery paths of literature, wherein he was accustomed to run riot, licking everything and everybody with the rough side of his tongue. Although they could not pierce his hide, so as to penetrate his sense of shame, yet with their little but sharp stings did they grievously wound his vanity. At last, unable to endure the smart, he made one desperate rush at their hive, and thus upset their whole swarm, and, of course, brought it down about his ears. The exasperated Bees, flying upon the invader, soon stung him into downright frenzy; and it is said that the unhappy Bear, in his rage and impatience, tore the skin over his ears with his own claws, and scratched his very eyes out for vexation. Tue Appiication.—When eccentric and’ wrong-headed persons incur the animadversions of the journals, they had much better put up with what they have merited, than, by running a-muck against the Press at large, draw down the whole body of writers on their unlucky shoulders. Variation of Zisop. THE DONKEY-DRIVERS’ DINNER. THERE is, it seems, at Malvern, in Worcestershire, a Society of donkey-driyers, who dine together every year, and fifty of them lately d| met together at their annual banquet. A local blacksmith was in the chair, which causes us to ask with astonishment how it was that no M.P. could be found to fill such a very appropriate position? What was Srstnore about? Was Bortuwick otherwise engaged? or was Lorp BroveHam too busy in belabouring the Press to show his sym- pathy with another ill-used clas al extremely well, notwithstanding the absence of those notabilities, whose connection with the donkey cause would seem to be most natural. An eloquent Address was spoken by the chairman in proposing “ Pros- perity to the Donkey ;” and in a beautiful episode upon,the nature of the beast, its length of ears was assigned as the probable cause of its pro- verbial longevity. The donkey was well described as a “creature of impulse,” for the “creature” requires all sorts of “impulse” to induce it to go: and a touching story was told of a faithful animal, who by refusing to move towards a spot where a op age was lying in wait, had probably, by the mild perseverance of the ass, saved a master from ass-ass-ination. This affecting incident drew tears from the eyes of all present, and the Meeting dissolved in gin-and-water. THE SCHOOLMASTER VERY MUCH ABROAD. WE must deprecate that glut of classical names for common things, which threatens shortly to render Latin and Greek as absolutely neces- sary for our tailors, hair-dressers, ironmongers, and cook-maids, as it is now for classical tutors at £20 a year, and assistants at the British Museum at 4s. 2d.aday. _ : Soon, if asked “ What’s in a name?” any but a polygiot professor must confess his inability to answer. We broke our shins over an * Anhydrohepseterion,” the other day, which, on knocking up our dead | languages, we discovered to{be neither more nor less than a common steamer for boiling potatoes. Then in garments we have the Greek tongue thus misapplied to the British toggery, a great-coat becoming a | Chliamys, when the very merit of a great-coat is not to be ye or anything of the sort; and the Palla Gallica advertisement has been repeated till it has positively palled upon us. But if these dead languages must be galvanized by our tailors, let them at least stick to Grammar, and do not let us be at once puzzled by a “ Pallium,” and provoked by a “ Pallium tepidws.” We ought not to stand neuter in the sae of such abominably false concord, whatever the adjective may do. . French Toasts and Sentiments. A rew days ago, the French Communists held a pleasant little banquet at Montpelier. The meeting was altogether very genial. Several happy and harmonious toasts were given. Among other benevolent and fraternal ‘exclamations, were “ Vive RoBesPreRRE!” “Vive la Guillotine!” Then, as a climax, some enthusiast shouted, “ Vive l’Enfer!” Whether upon this the band struck up—“ Ow peut- on étre mieux, qu au sein de sa famille?” is, however, not stated; if it did not, it was a great omission. s of animals? The festival went off | |

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| 188 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | ——— | arid was only made to be tossed for. I can MISERIES OF AN OMNIBUS CONDUCTOR. BY A CAD OF TEN YEARS’ STANDING. Ir isn’t pleasant, I can tell yer, to be sus- pended, like Mauimet’s coughing, ’twixt eaven and earth all , come good, come rein, snow, or ale. Neither is it quite haygreable to have a big fist a-knocking at ye, just as if agemmen inside couldn’t ax ye to stop without breaking the glass of your silver watch, and robbing ye of your breath. I calls it nuffin more nor less than a reg’lar buster; but people imagines, I really beleave, we have no bowels, ’cos we’re Bus Conductors; these xperiments ant pleasant tho’. There’s summat else two that tries us more ticklarly than another, and that’s a big bull fresh from Smitheel, and as black as your hat, which comes behind you, and _ Sharpens bis 2 horns on the soft part of your 2 calfs, and the pelissman axes you, as cool as JosepH Heypay, if ye’re going to stick there all day? just as if you were & mutton-pie, ( [ t and _won’t stand sich things, that’s flat! Again, it quite takes you off your legs when you ’re seased round the waste, and! hung over the door,. for all the world like an osier’s Golden Fleas, ’cos an incider is too proud to tell ye to stop. All umbe- rellas, if I was a’bus proprietor, should be put down by act of parleyment. ‘They’re the newsansees of public wehicles. Either they ’re being lost or miss laid, or stolen, or they turns the ’bus into a water- ing-cart, or they raises a storm ’twixt two hoppysight gentlemen, ’specially if one on ’em is Irish with ducks, or else they ’re thrown out of window to hook us and eye for one don’t like it. I mean to say this, that there shoed be some plan of communikation between the | conductor and his Fair. I don’t ax for the Lectric Tallygraff—that’s | absurd—nor a bell, much less a chec string, which brings us to the hold hackney coach, nor a trumpet, but some easy thing that will tell me what my insides want. How can ——- “1 I guess what a fellow stuffed at the bottom of the *bus wishes? And I’m tired of having my leg pulled off, and the soul torn rooflessly out of my Blucher whenever its kneedful to “hold hard.” But no matter; my leg might go, if that was all, but Ido not like my coat being tugged, as if it were a bell-pull, every minit. Its useless soing won’s \. skirts on, they’re sure to come off again the next , day, and a Spenser or a military jacket does not » look well on a Conductor, for 1 tried it, and all the Strand and Cheapside laffed, and I never felt so exposed or so small since I ran from Paddington to the Bank. I thought of om “ spring guns” on to my coat tales, and of filling em with crackers, or a live badger, but it never would do; for I’ve jumpt to this conclusion since I have hopped on and off my Perch for the last ten ears, and that is, the real badge of our order is sufferin. All hands are raised agin the ’Bus Conductor. He never has a good word from ir: Py only comes in for the bad sixpences! I shall go over to France, and get my guinea a-day like a Gent., by sitting in the National Assembly. Anythin is betterer than this where and tare of won’s hole eggsistense. HE CITY SEWERS.— Wanted by the Commissioners of the City Sewers AN INTELLIGENT YOUNG MAN, capable of hearing the Commissioners rehearse their speeches in private; in order that what they intend to say, they may say; much inconvenience having arisen, in consequence of their imperfect delivery. They did not on a late occasion mean to propose that the City Medical Officer should receive only #150 per annum ; they had no such intention : never- theless, from a confusion of intellect, and their utter disuse to public speaking, it is very plain that they did eay, what by no manner of means soever they did not mean to eay. Wherefore, they would be happy to enter into terms with an intel- ligent young man to put ’em right for the time to come.—An extremely liberal Salary given. A knowledge of grammar and stops indispensable. day, come bad wether | p POISONING MADE DIFFICULT. In a recent police report, which appeared in the Zimes, an unfortunate | woman, meno Saran Ricg, was stated to have been brought before | Mae. Hammitt, at Worship Street, charged with having attempted to | commit suicide with laudanum. ‘I'he charge was preferred by the authorities of the London Hospital, and supported by Mr. Samvuer mcH, House Surgeon to that Institution; not for the purpose of having the poor creature punished, but with a view to the discourage- ment of a certain branch of counter-practice: of that part of the art and | mystery of a chemist and druggist which consists of trafficking in death. The prisoner, it appeared, had bought sixpennyworth of laudanum at two different shops—the money taken, and no questions asked or directions given. She had swallowed her fatal bargain, and would have been lost but for the saving efficacy of the “ Purgatory of Suicides” superintended by Mr. Brrcu. : Ne quid nimis, Free Yrade doubtless is a very fine thing, but the best of ery may be ridden to death, as that of Free Trade evi- dently is, in the permission of the unrestricted sale of poisons. We would suggest an improvement in the chemico-commercial dialogue as it stands at present in the drama of life and death : videlicet— Poor Woman. “ Three penn’orth of laudanum! ” "Prentice. ‘* Yea, Ma’am, directly. Threepence the laudanum—and the bottle is A penny—fourpence,” We object both to the question and the answer, but more particularly | to the latter—for which SHaKsPEARE (and what problem has he not solved ?) has supplied the model :— ‘* Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua’s law | Is death to any he that utters them.” For “death” read “fine and imprisonment,” and the desideratum will be obtained. ‘I'he response will then run somewhat thus :— * Prentice. “‘Laudanum, did you say ? Where’s your prescription ?. It is poison, Ma’am. We cannot serve it but by warrant, signed By a physician, or the officer Of Public Health. We really can’t indeed, Under a penalty of fifty pounds, Or of a year’s imprisonment.” We commend this important alteration in the social drama to the consideration of our legislative play-wrights; and if they will attend to it, we feel quite confident that suicide will less frequently occur both in London and elsewhere; and that much fewer husbands and childre:: will be poisoned in Essex. THE CITY MEDICAL OFFICER.—A MESS WELL MENDED. | j | | _ WE rejoice to see that, since the publication of our last Number, the Civic authorities have thought fit to explain that the salary of their | Medical Officer is to be £150 up to January next, and not that sum per annum. It is not for us to say how far our remarks may or may not have elicited this verbal explanation—we will not call it change of , intention. But we do feel called upon to complain of the manner in which we have been dragged before the public by Mr. RaTHRONE, as | originating a report which, if correct, would have been highly scan- dalous to the City. If the Court of Common Council will pass resolutions, the plain and obvious construction of which is to its own disparagement, the blame of any misconception that may thence arise is clearly to be laid at the door of the Worshipful Court, and not at that of the Office, 85, Fleet | Street. They proclaimed— “That this Court do agree with the Commiseioners of Sewers that it is highly necessary that a Medical Officer be forthwith appointed, and that a sum for the purpose, not exceeding #150, be paid out of the City cash.” Hence, it might have been naturally inferred that the whole fund for the remuneration of the officer was £150, and that his salary was to consist of the interest of the money ; just £5 5s. a year. Of this shab- | biness we could not suspect even the City, and we therefore put the most charitable interpretation on the phraseology of the Common | Council; for which they ought to thank us—thanking themselves for | the misapprehension occasioned by their own obscurity. We must beg | to remind the Court of Common Council that though a nominative case may sometimes be legitimately understood, an essential portion of a | sentence cannot be so without the whole sentence being necessarily misunderstood. ‘The next time they vote a man a quarter’s salary, we trust that they will say so, and not lead everybody to suppose that the sum specified is a year’s. We are glad, however, that they have found out their mistake ; and, in the plenitude of our candour, we will not assert that we do not believe that it was not somewhat worse than a verbal one. We trust that in future they will be more guarded in their language— if we may not say, more mindful of their p’s and q’s.

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ete | sudden knock and a violent jolting all over you, an | turned in a minute into a Gibus, by the roof kindly flattening it into | the requisite shape of a | « The great success of these new cabs seems to be in the strange | position of the door. It is only requisite to place the door behind the | a patent for it accordingly. | through life has never been anything else but a “ mess.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARILI. 189 - ———_— _—_ —___._ , MY UNCLE! ani N Renate: £2) OE NT Ne 6 ' W- | ZB My! a Ly Elector (to the Prince de Joinville), “ WHat ARE YOUR CLAIMS TO THE PresIDENcy oF THE RepuBLic?” Prince de Joinville. “1 aM THE UNCLE OF MY NEPHEW (THE CoMTE DE Paris). Elector (to the Prince Louis Napoleon). “ AND WHAT ARE YOUR CLAIMs 2?” Prince Lowis Napoleon. “1 aM THE NEPHEW OF MY UNCLE!” THE MONSTER CAB AGE, WE see in our funny rival, the J//ustrated News, another portrait Of > aCab. Itis always giving us the physiognomy of some new monster in the Cab line. The last has two horses, which, if XAL they multiply the speed by two, will make a Hansom almost equal to a railway engine; which will render it very pleasant if the speed is accompanied with the same run of accidents. This is better, however, than the “improved ”cab, which you entered through the roof, and the cab which was over the horse’s head, and rose up and down every time the horee plunged or took a fancy to kicking. The two horses will be an advance, also, upon the patented cab that was so near the ground that if a paving-stone was out of its place, you felt a your hat was ncake. cab, or over the wheel, or just above the horses’ hoofs, or where a door was never placed before, to call it “‘an improved cab,” and to take out We wonder no genius of the Jenu stamp ever thought of putting the door right underneath the vebicle, so as to prevent the person being thrown out: but this invention is sure to be patented soon, for it is the only opening left. But we must not com- plain; for after all, the surpassing excellence of these cabs consists in their never arriving at anything. They appear in the J//ustrated News, but are never carried out. They run through all the coffee-houses in the world inside its columns, and then, as if their journey was completed, they suddenly pull up, go home, and you never see anything more of them. They only come out to go in again. The poor things have their portraits taken, and then die. Our clever contemporary evidently wishes to ride over the press as the most complete vehicle of novelty, It is struggling to take its position in the republic of letters as the Weekly Cabstand of literature. THE MOST UNLUCKY MAN IN EUROPE. _ Henri Quatre is reported to have said, before gaining quiet posses- sion of France, “ Paris vaut bien une messe.” Lovuis-NAPOLEON seems determined to gain it by the same means, for the end of all his attempts mae been made by high life to the miniature man of eight-and-twenty inches. nearly reduced the whole of that city to ruins. The accident is attri- buted to a man named MeETTERNICH, who had for years been accumu- lating a magazine of combustibles, amd who decamped the other day, leaving it in a condition to take fire on the application of the slightest spark. That casualty has occurred, and the consequence has been the scene of havoc and destruction which we are now, unfortunately, called upon to record, ; a good part ?” FOREIGN GEMS. Tue German correspondent of the Post is, evidently, a terrific fire- eater. When he writes his letters, he sits upon a ony of canngn-balls, and writes upon a drum-head. A fusee is burning by his side, and his iron pen is a short sword split and nibbed for the occasion. He thus quietly wipes out Vienna :— **But, perhaps, even while this is being printed, the cannon of JELLAcuicH has silenced the joyous hum of the Prater, the bandof Strauss and LANNeR, and all the Students ‘ Lieder ;’ and now perhaps Vienna is delenda, a heap of ashes, and well will it be for Germany if it be so.” He has a mighty mind, this fellow, for the contemplation of a metro- politan cinder-heap. The Parisian JENKINS is, however, of another kidney ; not quite so terrible, and a little more figurative. He speaks of Lovis-NAPOLEON :— “The impression is equally prevalent, that if he be elected to the Presidency, he will but serve as a stepping-stone for the hereditary Monarch of these realms once more to assume the purple, which has been soiled in the red cauldron of revolution.” We should expect nothing so shabby from Henry THE Firtu. Surely, should he be called to the throne, it will be worth his while to be measured for a bran-new piece of velvet: he would hardly wear the old royal purple, shot with republican red. IDEES LOUIS-NAPOLEONIENNES. QuvE mon oncle doit étre content de son petit Neveu ! Avec les bottes de mon oncle je vais marcher sur toute l'Europe. Montrez-moi le pays qui ne tombera pas apres quelques coups de Champagne. J] faut que je commence a prendre du tabac—c’est une grande tache, mais la France vaut bien une prise. ae Les destinées du monde sont au fond de mon chapeau 4 trois cornes. Mon oncle était le petit caporal; moi je serai le petit tambour. Mon Austerlitz est &4 Boulogne; Strasbourg est mon Italie; mes autres conquétes sont a Londres. J’ai saisi la Renommée a vol d’ aigle. oe ts Paris a été trois mois en état de siége exprés pour que j’y vienne m’ asseoir comme Président. : 7 Si je n’ étais Louis NaroLzoy, je serais BoNAPARTE. La France.c’est moi. Apiés moi, le Ridicule. ADMIRAL VAN TRUMP. ooR little fellow! We fear he is a Trump that has been kept too long in hand to be played with much profit. If put off against THUMB, the cards might have fallen very differently. But the Dutch are proverbially a slow people; hence they only resolved to send their Dutch Dwarf to market when the go a-head American General had carried off all the kisses that enlightened English ladies had to bestow upon littleness ; all the watches, and rings, and pencil-cases that the English Aristocracy (the proverbial patrons of genius) had to vouchsafe upon insignificance. ‘This is too bad; but so runs the world. For Van True is smaller than Tom THumB; weighs less; dances as well; lays at cards, and writes—for so small a hand—a good bold pothook. We feel for genius out of luck ; and therefore make this pathetic — to the Ladies of England—to the British Aristocracy—to give a lift to the little Dutchman. Why should Tom Tuums have all the kisses—all the plate and jewels? With the exception of Lorp Brovcuam, who, in the handsomest manner, has sent his last Pamphlet to the Admiral (Van Tromp and his Broom have old associations), not a single offering Dreadful Explosion at Vienna. A TERRIFIC explosion has lately taken place at Vienna, which has CONVERSATION IN A THEATRICAL CAFE. Old Actor. “No actors, Sir! Come, now, did you ever see SUETT in Young Man. “Yes, often—as dumplings round an ailch bone of beef!”

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190 PUNCH, OR TI IE LONDON CHARIVARI. ON THE MORAL, SOCIAL, AND PROFESSIONAL DUTIES OF ATTORNIES AND SOLICITORS. By J. Brirriess, Esq, (of the Back Rows—three from the outside on the left-hand—the Clerk waits in Westminster Hall with a motion paper in his hat), BaxRisTeR-at-Law. RESOLUTIONS OF THE SELF-ASSERTION SOCIETY, UNDER THE PRESIDENCY or Mr. Brieriess. J. Brieritess, Esq. 1n THE CHalR. REsoLvVED— “‘Tuat Mr, Barercess request himself, and he does hereby request himself, to publish his ideas on the Mora’, Social, and Professional Duties of Attornies and Solicitors, and he does hereby express his readiness to comply with this request, (Signed) “J, Barervess, President,” PREFACE. The substance of this work consists of a series of Lectures, delivered in the Hall—of his own Chambers—by the author, to various attornies who have, from time to time, attempted the mean and unprofessional practice of tendering briefs without the customary fees, and abusing the clerk—a defenceless urchin—for refusing to take the papers in. Many of the topics discussed required much firmness~and in two or three instances a kick—to produce an impression on those who were addressed. Mr. BrigFtess has been so frequently invited to repeat what he has advanced, and he has so often been told he had “‘ better say that again,” that he has resolved on saying it again, with a good deal more added to it, in a printed form. LECTURE I. Srr,—I shall not waste a moment of the precious time allotted to me —my chop is getting cold in the inner room—by expatiating on the conduct of such a fellow as yourself. I have had many opportunities of observation and reflection, for there is a speaking-pipe, by which J hear, and a looking-glass, in which | see what is going on in this room, and [ must say that your attempt to foist that brief, without the usual quiddam, upon that friendless lad—my clerk—betrays a want of fee and of feeling which has never been surpassed. I, Sir, have no merely selfish motives. It was not to aggrandise ' myself or my family that I adopted that most honourable of callings, which is entered upon by a call to the Bar. If my brief-bag is clear, sois my conscience. In that Court, at least, I have had some practice. | Before that tribunal I have taken many a verdict—aye, and without costs ! You will tell me, Sir, that if I have no selfishness, I might have undertaken your business for you; and you will perhaps refer me to the old statute, which gives to the meanest pauper the right to com- mand either your or my gratuitous services to enforce his rights and redress his wrongs. True, Sir, that the 11th of Henry 7th, chap. 12, tells us we are to do this ior nothing. But if a pauper came to us with , such an unprofitable retainer, should we not either of us thank him for nothing, and decline ? You, Sir, are armed with really formidab!e powers for good or evil. Your knock at that outer door can raise a hundred hopes, which your artful production of a brief can encourage; when suddenly, by your omission of the usual fee, the nervously excited utter is suddenly panic-stricken, and “ drops terrified through the air, thrilling with agony into the arms” * ot his clerk. You know, Sir, that we cannot do without you, or at least without your class, ‘l'o you we produce the dishonoured bill, the deadly writ, the “* thrice repeated ” application for rent, and the “‘damnably iterated ” railway call. When our peace is slain; when our very hearts are perforated with the very same file upon which the declarations against us are impaled, when the shaft of calumny, or the shaft of acab has wounded us, it is to you that we rush for a vindication of our smarting honour, or consolation for our smarting limbs. Am | overstating the case? There is before me a news-boy, who has just called for the newspaper, and who ought to know something of the world; there is at my side a beadle, who has called for a Christmas- box, who ought to know something of me; there is on the landing, a lamp-lighter, who comes to clean the lamp, and him IJ ask have [ over- stated the case? I have not! Then think, Sir, on the overwhelming importance of the profession to which you belong. The world is obliged to take you, but I am not obliged to take your briefs—on trust. When you write Attorney and Solicitor on your door—in appropriate brass—YOU MAY BE CALLED IN AND MUST ACT; but if you inscribe two or three guineas on a brief, and bring it to one of us without the money, YOU MAY BE ORDERED OUT AND MUST Go! Language, Sir, is not strong enough adequately to stigmatise the misconduct of him who rashly rushes into Chambers, where he may do such irreparable mischief; raising hopes only to he disappointed; ®* This beautiful image is taken with most respectful ackuowledgwent from the recently published work of a learned brother-in-law of Mz. BaieFLEss on the same subject as these Lectures. sending the barrister to an untimely cigar; while the next morning, his clerk brings his grey horse-hair (wig) down in sorrow to the Court. Let me ask you, Sir, whether you have ever given those matters amoment’s thought? Is it not possible that your not having done so may be the cause of your not very flourishing condition? Your office may display “‘a beggarly account of empty boxes,” perhaps, Sir. ** The world is not your friend, nor the world’s law ; ” or at least, what law the world may have, you do not get a good slice of it. ‘That coat, for instance, looks as if it had seen the morrow of St. Hiary, had been turnable at All Souls, and was now almost returnable again! That appearance seems to have been put in—as the song says —“ long, long ago.” Those boots, I perceive, go only— “ Halfway down (or up), Like those who gather samphire.” The buttons of your coat hang, like your existence, by a thread, and your whole aspect bespeaks anything rather than prosperity. us take a glance at your profession, and see whether it is the fault of your- self, or if it——but the subject is a large one, and my mutton-chop is a littleone. The former will keep, the latter will grow cold, and therefore go and discuss the second, while I reserve the first for future discussion in this Hall, when your attendance may give me the oppor- tunity of addressing to you another Lecture, G. A.aB. THE LAST NEW PATHY: THERE is no end to the Pathies. We have had Hydropathy, Homeeopathy, and nearly every pathy that the fancy could devise, but a new pathy has just been launched, under the title of Atmo-pathy. The object of this new discovery is to cure every disease — no system stops short of that in these days—by the appli- cation of steam. How the thing is to be done, we don’t exactly know, and we have no very particular desire to try ; but we -7ON presume the principle involves the ail ii necessity of establishing a steam com- munication between the patient’s mouth and a boiler, in some way or other. If steam comes into fashion, and dis- charges from a hot vapour cylinder should supersede the doctor’s draught, the Railway Companies may yet redeem themselves, by charging high fares for \ seats on their safety-valves, and other portions of their machinery, where the full benefit of a good rush of steam may be enjoyed. Such a little incident as that of the Cricket explosion will no longer be regarded as a tremendous ” eee pg no casualty, but as a refreshing shower- bath, and a seat over the boiler of a steam-packet, with probable contingencies, will be looked upon as a healthful luxury. ‘(a KETTLEFUL TO BE TAKEN TWICE A DAY.” ‘THE MIXTURE AS BEFORE.” I will |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 191 ADVERTISEMENT. O THE BITTEN GENTLEMAN.—The Young Lady (in a black velvet bonnet, with an artificial corn-flower and poppy ; 2 puce-flowered silk, and a black glacée visite, with her dear little dog Cuerry in a pink riband), has, she hopes, better things to think of, than to answer any idle person she may meet on any Tuesday on a Brixton Bus. ANGELA ————, ON THE MORAL, SOCIAL, AND PROFESSIONAL DUTIES OF ATTORNIES AND SOLICITORS. Delivered in the Hall (of his Chambers) by J. BRIEFLEsS, Esq, Sc., S., BaRRISTER-AT-LAW. LECTURE II. Sir,—You have come again, and in a somewhat better spirit; for I perceive that with that motion-paper, which instructs me to tax the arithmetical powers of the Court by that simplest and yet sternest of rules, a compute, you pay ae half-a-guinea into the hand of my clerk. My first Lecture, then, has had some impression upon you, and my second will, I hope, be equally successful. The sage has told us to “strike the iron while it is hot.” True. There was no striking you when your coolness—in coming here without the gviddam—was my amazement and my disgust. Let us look at the Law as the map of a country through which you are about to travel; a map in which many allow too much latitude, others too much longitude, by going to greater lengths than they ought. Will you enter this glorious country as one of the mere hewers of wood ? Alas! you had better cut your own stick, than assume this ignoble character. Would you sink into a mere drawer of water? Believe me, it is better to let well alone. Draw bills in Chancery, draw declarations, draw teeth, draw corks, draw—a badger if you will—but never draw water, for you will get nothing allowed for such a draft. Many have regarded the Law as incompatible with “the heart that can feel for another;” but it gives opportunities for the exercise of the best qualities—we all of us have two sorts—of our nature. _ A generous attorney, washing the costs from the back of a writ, in tears of sympathy, is a far nobler spectacle than that of a legal Shylock exacting the “pound of flesh” clutched from the shoulder,* and applying ,to his victim the Shakspearean query (slightly varied)— “If I tickle him will he not bleed?” Not that I would have you indifferent to your great mission; for you have a high office to fill, and your office must be filled in some way or other. The Grecian og took for his motto, “ Action, action, action ;” and it may be interpreted by you, Sir, to mean action in the Queen’s Bench, action in the Exchequer, and action in the Common Pleas. But seek not to make business out of the regular course. In long vacation, * There ’s nothing so becomes a Gent., (one, &c.), As modest stillness and humility ; But when the blast of Term blows in our ears, Be Foaes and Dopesons in your fierce deportment.”’ The Law is a great engine; and you, Sir, are one of the stokers by * A tap on the shoulder is the bailiff’s well-known signal, It is thus he prepares for sucking the very life-blood of his victim, who may well shudder at every fresh tap. whom the fire must be kept up, that sets us all going. You must throw in, from time to time, but with an honest and judicious hand, the coals of litigation; for, as the song beautifully says of love.—and why not of lawyers? that— “Lips, though honest, must still be fed, For not e’en I could live on flour.” It is you I mean, of course your class, that must whisper into the ear of the public, “what to sue, settle, and avoid.” It is you that must gently urge the vacillating plaintiff, or implant in the too yielding defendant, that dignified spirit of resistance which rouses human nature into pleading,—and you will recollect there can be no successful demurrer in this instance; for, though neither SrEPHENS nor CHITTY have told you, I venture to tell you, Sir, that— ‘Holy Nature never pleads in vain, Let me guard you against treating every man as, of necessity, a knave. ‘l'rust him till you have reason to do otherwise—until, in fact, you find him out, as I formerly trusted you, Sir, until I never could find you at home. But Sir, avoid all connection with rogues, and be not led away by the card-playing principle, that if you get a knave into your hands, and will play at beggar my neighbour, your knave will be asure card. If I might be allowed to fling the fleeting flowers of fair facetiousness into the eternal laurel-wreath | am now twining for my brow, through the medium of these Lectures, I would say of the knave, “ Do not try and make a card of him, but dis-card him altogether.” Human nature, Sir, as we find from Hume-an’-SMOLLETT, as well as from every other historian, is a mixture of good and bad. It is the old story, Sir, of the sugar and the sand’; the milk and the chalk-pit; the port-wine and the sloe-juice ; the Bohea and the birch-broom. Man is the ‘“‘ Mixture as before ;” and such, I fear, he will everremain. Even you, Sir, are not altogether so black as that bit of stocking under the hole in your highlow has been painted. That half-guinea—I hope the half-sovereign is a good one—is at least a small redeeming point in your character. I shall cherish this motion-paper as a specimen of the very poetry of motion; for the fact of a fee having accompanied it, is ; enough to invest it with the air of a fiction, a reverie, or a ream. But to return, Sir, to human nature. You will frequently see much of it that is bad. To you will rush Revenge resolved ona writ, Cupidity crying for a cognovit, and Hatred howling for the heavy artillery of Chancery. Will you, Sir, become the instrument of their bad passions ? Will you act as the wadding in priming to its muzzle the formidable legal howitzer? Will your hard heart furnish the flint and steel, or will you be the emissary of Lucirer, to strike the light that shall kindle these malignant feelings into a blaze? No, Sir, you had better put an extinguisher on the earliest spark; or, if the flame is already lighted, seize the snuffers of benevolence and—do your duty. You belong, Sir, to a class that must know all our secrets. The tale we tell our tailor is not the tale to be told to you. The “expected remittance,” the disappointment of a large sum, the “derangement in | the money market,” the “ bad time for selling out,” and all the other fictions by which we ‘* Put off, put off, our course we steer, Put off—whisper low!” —all these matters of imaginary fact for creditors, are fictions with which it would be idle to amuse you. Ourselves, our wives, and our children, whether in arms or out of arms, must go into your hands. When our affairs are getting into confusion; when our debts stand in the relation of three to one to our assets; when we have sixty pounds to pay and twenty to pay it; and when the frightful truth flashes upon us, that sixties into twenty won’t go—when the, same idea flashes on the brain of the importunate tradesman, and he won’t go either—at least without his money—then it is we fly to you, as Young Norval tells us that somebody or other did to somebody else—both of whose names we forget— ** For safety and for succour.” How horrible if this succour is only rendered by sucking our pockets dry! But my present Lecture is showing symptoms of dryness, and I will therefore hope for your attendance again—accompanied as you have been to-day—when I may resume my discourse. Natural Phenomenon. Tuer London milk-consumers have been for the last week expressing their astonishment at the unusual thinness of the lacteal_ beverage supplied to them. We have ascertained the cause to consist in the extreme wetness of the weather, which has so completely saturated the cows, that the milk has become diluted into little better than water. It is strange that, while we have had so little blue sky above our heads, we should have been so inundated with sky-blue at our breakfast and tea-tables. The milk has, in fact, most of it founda watery grave. | | VOL, XV. U

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. NAMBY-PAMBY TITLES. Pieces of Music seem to be monopolising al! the namby-pambyism of the present period. If we were judged by our songs, we should be the most loving, affectionate, doting, sentimental, stupid people that ever existed out of a French romance. There are the Pet Polkas and the Love Bird Waltzes, and Dost thou love me now as then? and the answer to it, Z do not love thee now one- -half as much as then; and we do not know how many more questions and answers which heart- broken ladies and gentlemen are continually putting to one another at the piano, in all the varieties of Flats and Sharps. If the namby-pambyism only increases, we shall be having :— The Tootsey-Pootse -y Polka, dedicated to all the Tootsey-Pootseys in the United Kingdom: Tiddledy-iddle edy little Tunes for Tiddledy-iddledy little Fingers : The Poppet Waltz, for newly-married couples : Oh, do but take another cup of tea !—addressed to nice young men for tea- -part ies, with a portrait of the nice young man to whom it was re ally | addressed on the memorable evening of the 25th of October, 1848, at | | No. 43, P—s—t Grove, Islington : The Chuck ‘y-Chucky Ducky-Ducky Cellarius : Little Durling Exercises jor Little Darling Schoolgiris—for the use of Seminaries for young Ladies. The above, in course of time, will be ready for publication, with the most rainbow frontispieces, at any of the respectable music-sellers. The price not less than the stereotyped sum of two shillings. BACCHUS TAKEN ABACK. A Law has just come into operation, rendering it a punishable offence to encourage intemperance; for being drunk, the same fine may be imposed on the individual who helped to make him so. There is an end at once to the trade in drinking-songs, and this once profitable branch of the poet’s business is for ever cut off. It is now penal to say or sing anything by way of incitement to * Push round the bowl,” And, though it may be doubtful whether it would be punishable to | exclaim— **A bumper of burgundy fi!l, fill for me,” there can be no question that the reconimendation to “* Give those who prefer it champagne,” would bring the vocalist at once under one of the most stringent | clauses of the new Act of Parliament. Like every other statute, | this one will, of course, give rise to innumerable questions; and it will | be asked whether the exhortation, “ Dvink to me only with thine eyes,” will be taken to amount to an inducement to drunkenness, since drinking and, if a man may be fined five shillings | | with the ¢ eyes cannot be construed ‘into drinking with the mouth; though a gentleman with “a wee drap in his e’e” may be in a st tate to bring him under the five shilli ing mulct imposed by the magistrate. As to poor old Baccuus, he will have to resign his jolly godship at once, and turn his beer-barrel into a water-butt. The teetotallers, in anticipation of the working of the Act, have added a Royal Humane Society to their other arrangements, for the purpose of preventing even sorrow from that drowning in the bowl which has made so many noyades in the last few years. GRATITUDE AND GROUSE. ” Mr Puncn, “ The su bjoined paragraph, relative to your ur unfortunate humble servant, appeared lately in the Bucks Advertiser : ‘© * His Grace THE Deke or BockincasAM, who is grouse shooting in Scotland, a few days since considerately sent a box of grouse to a clergyman and magistrate, | residing near Padbury. The porter’s demand of 10s. 6d. for carriage, was, by the | reverend gentleman, considered sufficient to quite spoil the flavour of the Scottish game, which was in consequence refused ; and will, in the order of things, find its way back to his Grace, in the Highlands.’ “* Now, Sir, it is too notorious for me to deny that two years ago, |when His Grace THE DUKE oF BuckincHAm was lord of Stowe, land I—why should 1 mince the matter ?—had the run of his princely cuisine, the smallest: donation from his Grace, in the shape of game, | especially if la belled with the ducal autograph, would have been most thankfully received—the expense of carriage no consideration. Had he sent me, with his compliments, a single jack-snipe from the utter- ; most parts of the earth, I should neither hay re. Sang how much its conve) ance cost, nor w hat state it arrived in. Nay, Sir, if the present had been a horse, under the denomiration of venison, I would, in the fullest sense of the word, have taken it in, and never looked the gilt- horse in the mouth. 1 would have joyfully paid the carrier’s demand, and, moreover, I would have given him a quantity of beer, to drink my own health and that of the Noble Duke withal. But times are changed now, and that is why, malicious people say, I offered his Grace the indignity of rejecting his gift for the sake of a paltry half guinea. “Yes, Sir, times are changed; with me—not, believe me, House of Chandos—that I sorrowfully turned away the Duke—repre- sented by his grouse—from my door. Had I possessed fifty pounds, I should not have thought it too much for such an addition to my larder, and such an honour to myself. But extreme poverty is my excuse for an act which otherwise would have been one of intense meanness. The | fact is, Sir, that I bad x pay for the Duke’s game. but it is because they are changed | trom any reverse in the fortunes of the | not 10s. 6d. to bless myself with; much less to | Indeed, Mr. Punch, I can assure you—and | | you, I know, wil credit what I say—that 1 am positively not worth a | } farthing. “Tam, &e. &e. “A CLERGYMAN AND MAGISTRATE RESIDING NEAR PapBuRyY.” * Oct, 30, 1848.” } —— | ANONYMOUS SCRIBBLERS. Tue author who writes the eloquent testimonials for Hoztoway | and Parr’s Life Pills, is an anonymous seribbler. Wanrren’s Poet is another. The tender Poet of Moszs is also another; and the talented author of Georcr Rosins’s advertisements was likewise an anonymous scribbler, and yet they are all more or less known to fame. But Lorp Brovenam sneers at all anonymous scribblers; and yet we are sure he would too willingly change places with any one of the above geniuses, if he thought be could_purchase with the exchange any chance of pro- motion in the ranks of Posterity. It would be better for many scribblers |if they had always been “ anonymous.’ Lorp Brovexam would have gained, if, during his literary careeer, he had not put his name to one hundredth part of what he has written. He might really have passed for one of the cleverest, most consistent, men of the present day; whereas—but we have a horror of a platitude, so the reader will please to finish the sentence himself. For instance, imagine what |

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PUNCH,. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 193 portable bridge with him in his sac de nuit, which remains behind him, and hundreds of my countrymen will very quickly pass over this same bridge, and thousands of Englishmen come over to us by the same means ! “T have no time, C1tMenTIne, to tell you what I have seen, for, in fact, I have seen everything, and everything has been so surprising about our visit that really I have too many words, too many ideas and sensations, to express one of them. If I began, I should never end. could talk of “ces bons Anglais” till the dictionary was exhausted, and your patience also. Suffice it to say, you must come and see for your- “au revoir” We select the follow- | self; and don’t be surprised at my returning home with a whole’regiment ing, as best exhibiting the spite with | of Horse-guards, or a hundred young men or so, or two or three dozen which “our natural enemies” now | families, for really I have given so many invitations that all Paris, I regard the “ perfide Albion.” It | think, would not be large enough to quarter them. To guard against looks so strange that opposite neigh- | any show of inhospitality, therefore, you had better get beds fitted up hours, living vis-a-vis like France and | in every room, magasin, and loft in our street, and ask our neighbours to England, should have been until now | kind enough to lend us their larders and cellars to feast our new guests. in such blind ignorance of one| “We must not allow these ‘Jraves’ to outdo us in good cheer. another. But now that they are | Henceforth the kitchen shall be our only battle-field, and the da(/erie introduced—now that they have the | dz cuisine the only battery we will point at one another. Ma foi, I entrée of each other’s houses—we are | am so hot for the fray, I should like to begin to-morrow. Iam burning sure the two nations will mix more | to conquer these English with their own weapons. You must help me, frequently, and will soon learn how | CLimentivg, and with our efforts we will turn, in time, the Hd'el des MES IMPRESSIONS DE VOYAGE. BY A GARDE NATIONALE IN LONDON, HAVE received several letters from the Garde Nationale. They are all full of good feeling and good humour, and end with the pleasant words, when friends are concerned, than to fall out. As for war, when | the poriico shall be written, ‘Jct on donne a manger et @ boire” That’s studied at each other’s firesides it | my notion of Glory. Anything warm in the stomach, but a cannon- much pleasanter it is to “drop in” | Invalides into a real Hotel; no maimed soldiers, but fat cooks ; andover | must explode, and be replaced, doubt- lessly by roasted chesnuts. Here is the letter, which we have translated as closely as possible. It is from Monsteur BonGaILiarp, a private in the Second Legion, and is the copy of one addressed to his wife, in the Rue §:. Denis :— “My very Dear CLEMENTINE,—Oh, I wish you had been with me; but only wait—the next time—these devils of English have said as much, and politeness is the only law which we Frenchmen obey without the smallest rappel. ‘They have said, ‘ My gocd fellows (‘ fellows’ means ‘ coquins’), you have come alone this time; well, youmust bring your wives wi'h you the next.’ Don’t be alarmed; they won’t-eat you, my dear, unless it is with kindress—for I can tell you I am half devoured myself. If if continues, there will be nothing left of me ‘bet my red epaulettes. You will receive the remainsof your poor saushand ima bandbox or a Jonbonnieére. “Imagine, my dear, these Anglais do not hate us—I was'so astonished They took me everywhere by the hand,.and were wringing it every day from morning tonight. I wonder I have a finger left. First of all it was a shake for myself, then a squeeze for La France; then another one for myself; then half-a-dozen for the two countries; and a thousand more—I don’t know for what. And when I tell you I felt a heart in each band I took, I was stung with my own meanness for having ever raised an arm ora cry against them. It does one good, though, to be convinced in this manner. It is like the feeling I have had, when we have had a little disagreement together,,and one of us has confessed being in the wrong. You recollect how shappy we were for the reconciliation ; and that we were all the better friends for it afterwards. Well, for the time being, Englandwas you, CLism=nTINE, —don’t be jealous—and I was so pleased for sbeing an the wrong, and acknowledging my error, that I could have -cried for joy. We French have been fools. We have had friends:;whom we have treated for centuries like enemies; but we must make wp for lost time. I am sure myself I tramvled in one day upon the .antipathies of a whole life. I wish all France could have seen «with my eyes, and have felt with my heart, and have known ‘the «sweet shame experienced for having ever abused these poor ‘“Hnglish— these ‘good shaps,’ as I called them, CifimMENTINE (‘shaps’ as ‘gveuc,’ or rather ‘ons enfans’)—and I have thanked them, if not in words, at least in feeling, for having disabused me of all my vulgar prejudices. { return —if ever I can get away—with another country. Henceforth I am a native of England, as well as France. Every one of us have been naturalised by kindness. When you see me, you will embrace uz Anglais, pur sang—and I am sure when you know them, you will not dishke your dear husband any the less for it. “Oh! I have drunk so! perhaps a little too much, but I could not help it. When the heart is too full, it always overflows, I find, into a tumbler. I have drank porter—oh! the beautiful porter—you must come and taste it—and ale, both Scotch and Irish, and every sort of ale—and wine—and grog—and stout—something of everything—but how could [ refuse it? When one is hemmed in by a circle of glasses, you are obliged to seize one, if it is only to make an opening to effect your escape—and the escape too is so pleasant! Every fresh! glass I emptied | felt another prejudice going down with it. “Oh! the antipathies | have swallowed since I have been here, and feel all the better for; onlyI wish it had been the British Channel we had been drinking, for there would not bea drop of it left now. The big ditch would be dried up, and there would be no difficulty in running over from one country to another; not that there is any difficulty since our visit ; for [ mean to say, every Frenchman in coming over brought a j ball, tout chaud. best diplomatists that one country ever sent to:another. evenings—when I will charm you, Ciéimenting, wi'h the wonders of this wonderful nation of a town; but no wonder will please you so with everywhere from everybody init. J/ 2’y a plus de ‘ bouledogues, **Expect me, love, when you see me, but not a post before. ** Your happy husband, * BONGAILLARD.” “*T have such a beautiful penknife for you! I know you will start with astonishment when you:see it—it contains a hundred blades! I[ for him,albsnug, a bottle of -real Hnglish demi-ct-d-mi—the veritable half-and-half. It »will.warm:his-good heart. our Hotel, the Red Lion, which made:a great fury. I was on my legs, and said, ‘ Messiewrs—Buvons au rapprochement de V Angleterre et de la France ; deux nations qui se tiennent si étroitement par la Manche | doivent se tenir aussi par la main? } | another time.” ‘THE RAILWAY INVASION BY THE FRENCH NATIONAL GUARD. Wecame not upon-cannon, but by rail, The capital.of Kugland to invade. Not conquest, but the love of peaceful trade And polity togather, that the tale Of British laws:and manners may avail Our fellow citizens, our end hath been. And now we know that, though you have a Queen, And ranks and orders in your social scale, Yet Liberty, of the strong sense of right, Tempered by steady moderation, born, The growth of ages, paramount in might, Reigns with the Lion and the Unicorn. Hither we eame to study, not to fight ; We go, with wisdom gained: of errors shorn. Irish Food, and Irish Famine. Mr. Wuitestpe, in his speech for the defence of MraGueEr, is reported to have made the following singularly happy observations :— “Again, the prisoner stated he had made a ‘flaming speech’ at Cork. Attorney-General did not like flaming speeches. Buc they were nothing uncommon ; they were food and drink to them in Ireland ; for the last twenty years the people had fed on them.” Exactly so. f €0 Irish has been referred by some philosophers to the peculiarity of their diet. “Oh! I must tell youfia ‘toast’ I delivered at a grand dinner at Not without reason is it that the miserable state of the | Depend upon it, the National Guard has been the | “ T have said enough; the rest will suffice to fill up our long winter | much, or appear to you half so wonderful as the kindness we have met | have salso a pair of scissors—such little loves—for AN@kLIQue, and a | flannel waistcoat for gros papa; and as for Juies, tell him 1 have got | Tt was not bad for me, eh? | | CLiuentinge! but you-see Iwas inspired with the superb Stout, which | |is the most delicious, the most—but the remainder of the adjectives | The |

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: GAY SL ial ’ aa! Ld h as GUARDS IN LONDON. . Fai} a) iM li"Na? FRENCH NATIONAL

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THE GREAT SEA SERPENT OF 1848. 3 — — ————s = =—

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——— OK "seen taking out the meat from his father’s shop at’ Ipswieh,.was able, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 197 PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE SIXTH. ADVANCES OF THE PEOPLE (PECUNIARY AND OTHERWISE) UNDER HENRY THE EIGHTH. ENRY THE EIGHTH commenced his royal career by granting little restitutions to the victims of the late reign, and practising great extor- tions on his own account; for it was the policy of that monarch to throw overboard an occasional sprat belonging’ to his predecessor, in order to secure a herring for himself. Even at. this early period, our Constitution had already so far advanced that it was in the power of the humblest' individual to rise to the highest office, and young: Tom Wotsry, who, a few years before, might have been in a few years, to exchange the sheep-hook for the bisttop’s crook, and the blue serge — with a cap of the same material—only in red —for the cardinal’s slouch hat and magnificent lace pinafore. WotseEy, who was an exceedingly agreeable dog, with a joke always on his | tongue, a song in his throat, and a twinkle in his eye, became an immense favourite with Henry, more particularly when, over their wine and walnuts, the sovereign happening to confess himself hard up for £800,000, Wotsey, with a confident exclamatiow of “ dear fellow, leave it to me,” offered to get it for his royal master. ‘OLSEY went down to the House one afternoon during the Speakership of Sir | Tuomas More, and it was at first proposed not to let him in; but More | who never looked less than on this occasion, suggested that “ they ’d | better see him,” and in he came, tremendously “got up,” with a/ ‘numerous train of auxiliaries,” groaning and melting under the great | seal, the mace, the hat, and all the rest of his official properties. JoLsEY commenced with a violent speech against the King of France, | and hinted that arrangements were in progress for smashing him. It | was “an opportunity for a spirited capitalist to come forward,” according to WotLsEy’s account; and “everybody would admit the | money would be well laid out, if the King of France should be well laid | into.” One of those happy turns having raised that most encouraging | of Parliamentary contributions, “‘a laugh,” Wotsey ventured to hint | that £800,000 was all that would be required to do the business. The | House became perfectly serious, but uttered not a word; and Wo sry, | though he had heard that “silence gives consent,” saw plainly that: | silence was not likely to give the money. Nohody showing symptoms | of a wish to catch the Speaker’s eye, Sin Tuomas More apologised for this dumb show of resistance, intiniating that the appearance of the Cardinal amongst the Commons had been “a stunner” to their feeble faculties. The scene ended by Wotsey hurrying out in a regular huff, | | his followers hastening 1 poe ngs after him. Long debates followed this exorbitant demand, and upon aealculation, | it was said that England had not as much ready money about her as would pay the £800,000, and at length tie Commons proposed a com- | promise of 5s. in the pound, to be forthcoming, by instalments, in four years—a suggestion that Wo.sry would not listen to. The Cardinal insisted on “* money down;” and looking at the 75 per cent. as “ discount for cash,” he agreed to accept what he contemptuously termed this | apology for a subsidy. The spirit shown by the Commons had had its effect ; for the Cardinal, | making up his mind there was nothing to be done in that quarter, | persuaded Henry to refrain for seven years from summoning a| Parliament. The King and the Cardinal proceeded to beg, borrow, or | steal, for the supply of the royal necessities. Commissioners were | appointed to take a sixth of everybody’s everything; and sometimes | an attempt was made to double this exaction by a verbal puzzle, by | taking a sixth twice over on the same articles, and alleging that if | there was six of one, there was half-a-dozen of the other, and that con- | sequently upon both the six and the half-dozen, a sixth would be payable. ‘Those who were weak in nerves and slow at arithmetic, yielded to this contemptible “dodge,” though in some parts of the country a spirited resistance was made; and in Suffolk, where the breath of liberty was not yet extinguished by suffocation, there was an insurrec- tion of the people. Henry perceiving that it would not do, dis- avowed his Minister; the Minister disavowed the Commissioners; the Commissioners disavowed their subordinates ; and, as the subordinates | ad been most of them killed in the riots, that which had been every- | body’s roguery, appeared to be nobody’s roguery, or at all events there | was nobody to be held responsible. Recourse was now had to the more delicate, but not less decided popular saying that “a reed must breakif it will not bend,” declined bending or bowing his head to the exacting tyranny of Henry. ReeEp was not one of those martyrs of whom our own times furnish an occasional specimen, and whose martyrdom consists in refusing to pay a tax, “on prin- ciple,” until a public or a local subscription, to fifty or a hundred times the amount of the legal claim, enables them to do so with a handsome balance in theirown favour. REED was really impelled by a patriotic spirit, and the tyrant determining that the alderman should not get off scot-free, sent him off to fight against the Scots, where the General, Sm Ratenw Ewer—“ not only an Ewer, but a base’un,” will be the mental ejaculation of the: reader—had orders to send poor REED into the thickest of the fight, and expose him* “to the sharpe disciplyne militar of the northern | —_ — = ws. i “‘ sharpe” enough for the “ diseiplyne,” he fe into the hands of the enemy. _ , Considering how much we boast of our ancestors being a liberty- loving’ people, it is surprisimg™ how prone they were to assist in almost’ atl sorts of tyramny by‘ which their own pockets were not dipped into. Perhaps, however, —s was: gained for freedom by even this apparent servility; forif the Commons: helped the King'to stretch the Royal prerogative to am almost unlimited extent, the King gave ar. nnent in the aid he rendered to the: assertion of the leges of arliament, On the occasion of‘ aw M.P. having: beew arrested for debt, and released by order‘of the House; Hmwnry applauded the resolution, and held it to be a settled point that the Commons were bound to pay nobody but himself; for, “ thought he to himself, thought he,” “ What will these fellows have left for me if they begin to entertain absurd notions of honesty towards their own private creditors?” — On the whole, the Constitution can scarcely be said to have Ye AYME -MINISTERE aF YE PERIOD. | advanced much in the reign of Henry THE EicutH; and we cannot agree with Spe~Man, that a fresh joint was added to the British Lion’s tail by the encouragement Parliament received in its own pranks, as an equivalent for the support it gave to the encroachments of the monarchy. GREAT SHAKES. Some wiseacre has written to the Atheneum suggesting the propriety of the Railway authorities supplying first-class passengers with the means of writing during the progress of a long journey. We strongly sus- pect that the rest- less BROUGHAM must be the pro- poser of such an absurdity, which, if adopted, would en- able the noble Harry to write Ietters to Lord Lansdowne, when- ever he took an excursion ticket. It is no reason because those “who run may read,” that those “ who ride should write.” One of our inde- fatigable artists was unfortunately in- duced to try the possibilityof sketch- a: ing in a Railway Kt” hp carriage, “and the ; subjoined illustration was the miserable result of his credulity. AN OPERA TO HIS ADVANTAGE. Ir strikes us that the new opera of Haydée, or the Secret, must allude swindle, called a Benevolence, the demand for which brought out some | t0 the secret which Josep Apy was in the habit of selling to confiding very heroic qualities in a certain alderman of London, who, as alder- | individuals for a sovereizn. But ScrrBe might as well have spelt his manic heroes are very scarce, we think we ought to immortalise. This | 2@™¢ right; but probably Haydée is very good French for “ Any. civic dignitary was one KRicuarp Reep, who, disdainful of the * Lopeg, 80.

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198 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. against you the vengeance of a AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. VI. loyal army, but he contents himself hoy ener with the following mild measures | Ply for suppression of the factious and rebellious of the capital :— **], Martial law is proclaimed. **Q, All assemblages are for- bidden. **3. Citizens shall not carry arms under penalty of death. “4, The ringleaders of the late disturbance shall be delivered up unconditionally. “5, The representative body, lately elected, is dissolved. ** Any disobedience to the above regulations shall be followed by bombardment of the city. Long Live the King!” . i) of , 4 a bg } ‘ A rie i | bolt,” he may throw dust into | the popular eye, by— ye Srontier). Hh, ta “* My beloved, (as in No. I.) | l Cam | [st Do not heed idle reports. Your Ny NY ' king still trusts in your loyalty and \\4 ilove. He repeats his assurances of | devotion to your rightsand liberties, : | and trusts long to remain under the Old Gentleman. Miss Wiggets. Two Authors. | protection, not of a mercenary sol- Old Gentleman. “I aM SORRY TO SEE YOU UPIED, MY Miss WiGGETS, WITH THAT TRIVIAL PAPER diery, but of his noble and armed e . - a 1 Cr SS ee ae Se i - citizens and children. Say what *Puxcu.” A RalLway 1S NOT A PLACE, IN MY OPINION, FOR JOKES, I NEVER JOKE—NEVER.” you would have, and you shall Miss W. “So I sHovutp THINK, SrR.” | have it? Old Gentleman. “ AND BESIDES, ARE YOU AWARE WHO ARE THE CONDUCTORS OF THAT PAPER, AND THAT While the mob are perusing the THEY ARE Cuartists, Deists, ATHEISTS, ANARCHISTS, AND SOCIALISTS, TO A MAN ? I HAVE IT FROM THF above, the royal carriages may start, BEST AUTHORITY, THAT THEY MEET TOGETHER ONCE A WEEK IN A TAVERN IN Saint GILES S, WHERE THEY we : sisi = HEY and when they have passed the CONCOCT THEIR INFAMOUS Print. THE CHIEF PART Or THEIR INCOME IS DERIVED FROM THREATENING frontier. discharge at the rebels— LETTERS WHICH THEY SEND TO THE NosiILity AND GENTRY. THE PRINCIPAL WRITER IS A RETURNED : Convict. Two HAVE BEEN TRIED AT THE OLD BalLeY ; aND THEIR ARTIST—as FOR THEIR Artist .... | No. 1V.—From the same to the same Guard. “ Swix-pun! Sta-tion !” (Exeunt two Authors. } (across the frontier). = ——— ~ ———— —_——— Your triumph will be short- lived. I i my pn ag ' n | return with force to crush the hydra THE ROYAL COMPLETE LETTER WRITER. Fg ee gee peepee re EALLY in times like the present, when kings are brought into such | thousand envenomed heads among odd and complicated relations to their subjects, a work under the you. Tremble!” above title seems a desideratum in literature. Now that thrones are| Youmay then raise an armyas you daily turned topsy-turvy, balls tossed about like jugglers’ balls, and can, and crush your rebellious sub- sceptres balanced as gingerly as the equilibrist’s ladder, with a donkey | jects without any letter whatever. a-top of it, everything may depend on a monarch’s having some good guide to “what to say and how to say it,” in communicating | with his people in emergencies. A Hint for the Sanitary Board. The following specimens may be useful, as hints for such a book, Mr. C = end bic col under some taking alliterative title like De Monarch’s Manual ; or |) Sn ee - es the Cut and Dry Copies for Crowned Heads ; or Epistles for an Embarrassed | sili the a soni ae , &.. wee bow | Emperor ; or, Little Letters for Levanting Lords Paramount, To be or pr ens: ac - we a. not printed in German text or Italian running hand, instead of the old aware'of any provision having yet Court character :— been made to secure these advan- No. L—From a King in a fix to the Mob triumphant in his Capital. | tages to the second and third-class ** My beloved (here some endearing appellative—‘ Berliners,’ | Passengers on the various railways. ‘Children,’ “Milanese, ‘Sons,’ ‘ Viennese,’ &c., as the case may be)— | Our old friend the Eastern Counties “Your king hastens to place himseif at the head of his beloved | is, we understand, sadly in want of people, as he has long ruled in their hearts. Your sublime attitude | Sewage for) the second-class car- inspires me with confidence. Your rights shall be secured by every | Tiages, through which there runs a constitutional guarantee, and a universal amnesty granted for political | sort of open drain, making a perfect offences. A king is never so great or so happy as in the bosom of his | Sop—not half so agreeable as a sop people. Abandon your attitude of heroic self-assertion. Return to| in the (foot) pan—for the unhappy your homes, and rest under the shadow of the law which you so much | Passengers. We should recom- respect. Obnoxious Ministers shall no longer stand between us. Bless | mend that the regulations for ascer- you, my beloved and heroic people; and do not forget to return to the | taining the health of the Metro- arsenals the arms snatched up in the moment of alarm.” polis should be applied to the rail- Such an epistle ought to be followed by a cessation of popular | Ways; for we have heard that the tumult, and the voluntary disarming of the insurgents. The army meanwhile may be concentrated on the | 4gue 1s quite an epidemic on some capital, the royal carriage being kept packed and horsed, in case of the above letter not acting. When the | 0f the lines, and precautions ought Viv th ed > army is posted so as to command the city, you may exhibit— to be taken to prevent its spreading to the benches. There is an im- No. I1.—From the same to the same (two days later), mense tract of marshy flooring at a * Misguided men ! station we could name, and we trust “Mercy is not mercy, unless guided by justice. Instigated by a small but audacious faction, you | an officer of health will be instructed have dared to rise against the lawful authority of your sovereign. He would be justified in loosing] at once to look to it. | If the army refuse to act, and | the monarch find it advisable to | | | No. I1.—From the same to the same } (an hour before starting for the |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 199 THE BLACKGUARD GRENADIER. Am—(with Prelude of ‘‘ The Rogue’s March”) ‘* The British Grenadier.” Most regiments have some varlet, Some rascal mean and base, A stain upon their scarlet, Their scandal and disgrace ; But of all the arrant scoundrels, There’s none for to compare With my ah! shame! to the fellow with the name Of the Blackguard Grenadier ! This rogue and comrade, wending Their way to Temple Bar, Encountered, eastward tending, Two brother men of war, Two National Guards, come over To see the lions here ; They were hailed, straight, by that vagabond ingrate Of a Blackguard Grenadier. The fellow’s demonstration The generous French received As frank fraternization, And in the sneak believed. : To the Dragon they invited The knave and his compeer, There to stand treat, with bounty indiscreet, To the Blackguard Grenadier. To pay their shot so duly, ey gave a coin of gold, The change for which was truly Upon the counter told. This scamp, his lips yet smacking With the taste of their good cheer, de a grab—dash! and pocketed their cash : Oh! the Blackguard Grenadier ! Mit, Rents to British justice, is dirty:thief was sent To Bridewell, where our trust is He?!l have due-punishment. Andewhen discharged from prison, corps, we’re glad to hear, Wiil degrade, scout, and indignantly drum out This same Blackguard Grenadier. HARD NAMES. A “PLAIN MAN” writes to us,— “ Sir, “T wave received a regular, plain English education, and I flatter myself my spelling and pronunciation of our own tongue are erfect according to WALKER. “ But now-a-days, to help a man to the pronouncing of the names which fill the Foreign Intelligence columns of the Zimes, WALKER is ‘all Walker.’ Accustomed as I am to ride in omnibuses and take my part in the discussion of political events, I am distressed beyond measure by the distracting uncertainty which prevails as to the names of many of the heroes of recent revolutions. “For example Sir, there’s the Ban (and by the way, I should like to know what a ‘ Ban’ is) Jentacuicu. Dr. Swisn, the principal of the Establishment where my sons are, (who ought to know) calls him * Yellow Cheek ;? but Miss Rvs, principal of the Establishment where my daughters are, (who also ovght to know), calls him ‘ Jelly Sitch. The gentleman who regularly rides opposite me (believed to be in the Russian trade) calls him ‘ Hedl-a-kick. I have also heard the name spoken with the following variations :— “ ‘ Jelly-chick ;? * Yeller-shish ;?.‘ Heller-shick ;? * Jelly-lick? Now, Sir, you would much ease my mind by telling me which of the above, if any, is correct. Would you take the same opportunity of kindly informing me whether I should pronounce the name written WINDISCH-GRATZ,’ as ‘ WINDY-sCRATCH’ or ‘ VINDER’S-GRATES ;’ also, whether ‘Macyar’ rhymes to ‘swagger,’ or ‘ flog-yer;’ also, whether ‘ HornBusTLE’ is a real or nick-name; and what, in the name of Pinnock, is a ‘Czech?’ and whether it is to be sounded Zeck,’ or * Check, or ‘ Setch, or ‘ D’Jeck, or * Shek, or ‘ Ctshesh, or simply like a sneeze? And, while you are about it, any information as to Rusyiaks, WaLLacus, and Stowaks, would be thankfully received.” We have laid the above queries before Lorp Brovcnam and Mr. Sixx Bucxrxenam, the only universal geniuses of our acquaintance ; and, when we receive their answers, we shall hasten to relieve our puzzled correspondent. PICTORIAL ACTS OF PARLIAMENT. As it is now certain that mere words are insufficient to express the intentions of modern legislators (notwithstanding the liberties taken with LivpLey Murray, such as making singulars include plurals, mas- culines include feminines, and so on), an intelligent correspondent suggests to us that the aid of the Fine Arts might be called in to make the meaning of the statutes plain and intelligible. This would have the further advantage of rendering the Acts of the legislature accessible to that numerous class of the community which cannot read. Illustrating the Acts of Parliament would also afford much more various employ- ment to our artists than illustrating the Houses of ditto. We cannot conceive a finer subject for Mz. Corz, for example, to cope with, than : suggested in this, from the “ Removal of Nuisances Act,” of last ession :— * On receipt of such notice by any Commissioners for the drainage, paving, lighting or cleansing, managing or directing the Police of any city, borough, town, or p ” &e. Here the artist would be called upon to express pictorially the extra- ordinary functions of these Commissioners for “draining:or cleansing the Police,’—say in two Cartoons ; the first thus:—- Which represents Commisstonek Mayne administering by main force to the Force that favourite mixture so well appreciated by the masses as “Cream of the Valley” or “Old Tom,” and taken in the form popularly called ‘‘a drain.” Next, “ Cleansing the Police.” The scene of which might be the Baths and Wash-houses in Gulston Square; and the great practical lesson of the blessings of bodily | ablution would not be thrown away on our humbler population. In fact, an immense gallery of great works breaks on our imagination as we write, to which we may from time to time introduce our readers. We may thus, also, be opening out to our artists aclass of subjects entirely new, to the utter downfal of Burials of Harold, Finding Body of ditto, Alfred Burning Cakes, Margaret of Anjou and Robber, King John and Barons, and the other common-places of the Pictorial History of England. IRISH RAILWAY INTELLIGENCE. Tie Cork Eraminer relates an accident which occurred on the | Limerick Junction and Tipperary Line, and of which, as it was un- attended with fatal consequences, we may legitimately take cognizance. This railway, it seems, consists but of a single pair of rails. Our contemporary says— ‘‘ Whether the Tipperary Train should have waited the arrival of that from | Limerick, or vice versd, we have not learned; but it so happened on Tuesday morning, that both trains started almost simultaneously from their respective stations, and as a natural consequence came slap-bang one against the other, about midway on the line. . . . Fortunately, there were no persons in either, with the exception of the guards and engine-men. . . . The carriages were completely shattered,” To start a couple of trains on the same rails in opposite directions, is a trick which savours strongly of that greenness which is said to be peculiar to Erin. But what heightens the joke, whilst, on the other hand, it diminishes the seriousness of the affair, is, that there was nobody in them except the guards and the engine-men. However, the next time the Tipperary and Limerick Company run opposing trains upon one line, they will find it a very considerable improvement to have nobody in them at all.

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200 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

| for the medical-officership of the Howden Union that— ' districts will fully occupy—must be prepared to exist on the above- | |

FASHIONS FOR NOVEMBER. ~——_| refute an imputation which would be unspeakably disgraceful to them if it were true. But here a thought strikes us. The advertisement may be genuine after all. There may have been a slight erratum in the specification of the sum. For £70 very likely we shall have to read £700,

POST-OFFICE ROBBERIES. —the postmen—who occupy the most ill-paid post under Government, | lare trying to make both ends meet, by coolly taking all the mone u tions of the public to an ill- Instead of the highwayman’s cry of “Stand and deliver !” the exclamation of the postmen to a money letter, is, “Come, come, you must stand something, or I won’t deliver you at all.” Post-office robbery is now such a common occurrence, that to put a piece of money into a letter, is equivalent [to subscribing it for the relief of the under-paid postmen of the Metropolis; and when our “vile dross” does not go safe to its destination, we are fully aware that the mistake has not arisen “by any misdirection,” but by the letter-carrier having carried things a little too far, and paid more regard to the spirit than to the letter, in the view he takes of what forwarded by letter, as voluntary contri ‘1 is due to him for his arduous services. Considering the shabby remuneration of this class, we are not surprised at the old saying of “not worth a rap,” which clearly means |a postman’s rap; and we trust that, for the sake of the victimised public, ‘las well as for the good of the wretched functionaries themselves, this rap on the knuckles may tend to an increase of their legal salaries.

SHORT PIPES TO SMOKE. To please the greatest number, it is not so necessary to say, as to leave unsaid. , A “scoundrel” is often but an incomplete philosopher, and a “ruffian” but an unfinished hero. A person who knows English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish, is often only able to say a stupid thing in five languages. = In so far as it is better to be sordid than ferocious, so far is it better for a nation to be commercial than martial. . To be well spoken of, you must die. Even a pauper, when dead, is mentioned without asperity; and that’s as much as any pauper can expect. hvie man takes life as he takes physic: he shuts his eyes and swallows it, without asking questions. c- When a man is called “a successful humbug,” the general feeling is not so much indignation because he is a humbug, as envy because he is successful. ; Folly is like a Jesuit: it is always being exposed and weakened—and always regaining its influence.

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Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evavs, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Prin at their of London, and Published

insulting the medical profession by offering an educated practitioner the Office in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the ey by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the Ci Novemsse 4th, 1348. ity of London.—Saturpar, Tse present rage for economy vents itself as usual upon those | | servants of the public who really do the work, and those unfortunates

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 201 SCIENCE AT CAMBRIDGE. | Amonc the new sciences which are to be taught at Cambridge University, and for the teach- | ing of which eminent Professors are to be, appointed, we are informed that H.R.H.) the Chancellor, and the Heads, have deter- applications of the two eminent men whose PB letters we subjoin. 7 “To His Ror Hicuyess THE CHansLor, and - the Nobs of the University of Cambridge. ara “ Tom Spring’s. “SEIN perposials for astabblishing new | .. Purfessurships in the Univussaty of Cam- bridge (where there is litell enuff now lurnt, as Evins knows), I beg leaf to hoffer myself to your Roy! Ighness as Purfessur of Sulf-defens, which signts I old to be both nessary and useful to every young mann. “T ave sean on his entry into life without knowing the use of his ands, a young chap flord bya fellar of 4 his sighs; and all for the —_ of those fust principills which a few terms under me would give im. **T ave sean, on the contry, many an honest young Mann pervented from doing right and knockin down a raskle who insults a lady in distress, or chaughs you, or anythink, simply from not knowing how to imploy them fistis which natur has endowd him with, and which it is manifest were not made for nothink. “ T old that the fust use of a man’s ands is to fight with; and that the fust and most nessary duty ofa feller is to know how to defend his nob. “T should like to know in some instanses whether all your Algibry and Mathamadix, your Greik and Latn and that, would serve a young gent half so well as a good nollidge of sparring and fibbing, which I shall be appy to teach him, has also to serve any Had of any Ouse in the Unaversaty. “Peraps I could not stand up before Dr. Bicewnice and Doctor SquartToges in the Latn Mathamadics; but could they stand up to me with the gloves? Why, I would wop them with one and, and ingage to make the young gentlemen of the Univussaty to do lickwise. “Therefor I propose to your Royal Ighness and the Eads of Ouses, to allow the manly and trew English Scients of Boxint to be took up for honours by the young gentlemen of Cambridge. Igsamanations might be eld in the Sennit House, both vith and vithout the mufflers, it would be a pretty site—plesnt to parints (for what sight can be | nobler than for a fond collate to see a galliant young feller pitchin | into his man in good style, or taking his punishment like a trump ?) ' and would etract quanties of foringers and ladies to the Uniwursaty, | like the Hancient games of the Roman athleeks. “The CxisB Purfessurship in the branch of Mathamatacal Science, which I’m blest if it isn’t, I purpose to your Roil Consideration, ; and ham, ** With the deepest respect, “ Your Royal Highness’s obeadient to command, “BENJAMIN BENDIGO.” | From Proressor Soyer. * Pall Mail. “* Micuty PRINCE, AND REVEREND, AND ILLUsTRIOUS GENTLEMEN! “It has been universally allowed by most nations, that Science would be vain if it did not tend to produce happiness, and that that science is the greatest, by which the greatest amount of happiness is produced. “T agree with the poet Soton in this remark—and if, as I have no doubt it is one which has also struck the august intelligence of your Royal Highness—I beg to ask with retiring modesty, what Science confers greater pleasure than that which I have the honour to profess, and which has made my name famous throughout the world? _“* Eating is the first business of a man. If his food is unpleasant to | him, his health suffers, his labour is not so productive, his genius | deteriorates, and his progeny dwindles and sickens. A healthy diges- | | tion, on the other hand, produces a healthy mind, a clear intellect, a| vigorous family, and a series of inestimable benefits to generations yet | unborn: and how can you have a good digestion, I ask, without a good | dinner ? and how have a good dinner, witout knowing how to cook it ? * May it please your Royal Highness Consort of the Imperial Crown of | England, and you ye learned and reverend doctors, proctors, provosts, | gyps, and common sizars of the Royal University of Cambridge, row that = are wisely resolved to enlarge the former narrow sphere of know- edge in which your pupils move—I ask you at once, and with’! , unanimity, to ordain that MY Science be among the new ones to be , taught to the ingenuous youth of England. | | PROFESSORSHIP of Culinarious Science be established without mined to create two new Chairs, upon the yo | with which he endowed the beloved country into which he came. ** Mine is both a poe and moral science—physical, it acts on the health ; moral, on the tempers and tastesof mankind. Under one or other of these heads, then, it deserves to be taught in the famous Halls of Cambridge. I demand and humbly request that the SOYER loss of time. And I ask of your Imperial Highness and the learned Heads of the University, what knowledge more useful than that which I — and profess could be conferred upon a rising and ardent uth ? * Who are the young men of Cambridge? They are brought up for the most part to the study of the Law or the Church. “Those who have partaken of food in the miserable chambers of the law student, and seen their cadaverous appearance and unearthy vora- city, will at once agree with me that ¢/ey are in a lamentable state as regards eating. But it is of the other profession which I speak. “T can conceive now no person so likely to become eminently useful and beloved as an interesting young ecclesiastic going down to take possession of his curacy in a distant and barbarous province, where the inhabitants eat their meat raw, their vegetables crude, and know no difference between a white and a brown sauce.—lI say, most noble, mighty, and learned Sirs, I can conceive of no character more delightful than a young curate coming into such a district after having graduated honourably in MY science. He is like Sarnt AuGustin, but he bears a saucepan in his train, and he endears the natives to him and to his doctrines by a hundred innocent artifices. In his own humble home— see my Regenerator art, my kitchen at home—he gives a model of neatness, propriety, and elegant moderation. He goes from cottage to cottage, improving the diet of the poor. He flavours the labourer’s soup with simple herbs, and roasts the stalled ox of the squire or farmer toaturn. He makes tables confortable, which before were sickening ; families are united who once avoided each other, or quarrelled when they met; health returns, which bad diet had banished from the cot- tager’s home; children flourish and multiply, and as they crowd round the simple but invigorating = Th bless the instructor who has taught them to prep»re their meal, Ah! honoured Prince, and exalted gentlemen, what a picture do I draw of clerical influence and parochial harmony! ‘Talk of schools, indeed! I very much doubt whether a school-inspector could make a soufflé, or S. G. O. of the Zimes could toss a pancake ! * And ah! gentlemen, what a scene would the examination which I icture to myself present! The Professor enters the Hall, —— by his casserole bearers; a hundred furnaces are lighted; a hundred elegant neophytes in white caps, are present behind them, exercising upon the roasts, the stews, the vegetables, the sweets. A Board of Examiners is assembled at a table spread with damask, and the exercises of the young men are carried up to them hot and hot. Who would not be proud to sit on such a Board, and superintend the endeavours of youth engaged in such labour? Blushing, the Senior Medallist receives the Vice-Chancellor’s compliment, and 1s crowned with a fillet by the Yeo- man Bedell ; this—this I would fain behold in the great, the enlightened the generous, the liberal country of my adoption ! “And if ever British gratitude should erect a statue to a national benefactor, I can suppose an image of myself, the First Proressor oF Cookery in Cambridge, to be elevated in some conspicuous situation in after ages, holding out the nectar which he discovered, and the sauce “Waiting your answer with respectful confidence, I am, of your Royal Highness and Gentlemen, ** The profound Servant, “Corypon Soyer.” GEMS OF THE “ HUE AND CRY.” Tue Hue and Cry has struck out quite a new vein of humour—so | very peculiar, in fact, that we feel inclined for once to copy it. We give a few specimens, which we have borrowed, from its amusing columns :— “Missing, Jane O’DonERty. She had in her arms two babies and a Guernsey | cow, all black, with red hair, and tortoiseshell combs behind her ears, and large | black spots all down her back, which squints awfully. | “A reward of £5 is offered for the appre.ension of Mike O’Brren, who on Tues- | day last stole the jackass with a pair of corduroy breeches, with blue eyes and a | short pipe, and is very much given to swearing, and has his shoes down at heel. “ Absconded, PHELIM, TIMOTHY, AARON, Pail,, and Pappy Bake, of Roscommon | Gaol, who broke into the turnpike, and carried off two pounds and six sucking-pigs | in silver and copper, with a canary and a bull-dozg, who had frieze-coats dreadfully given to bad language, and a wheelbarrow that cannot look you in the face without winking, and ten shillings will be given for each of their apprehensions. * Lost, a Tom-cat, the property of Miss Sanpess, that was last seen going over | the roofs of the houses in Holly Street, and is supposed to have dropt down one of the chimnies,” We may give one or two more next week; and in the meantime we thank our talented contemporary, the Hue and Cry, for the rich amuse- ment it has lately afforded us. VOL, XV. X

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| \ yt L ar TN nentnm d vt i 7 VWIDLO . AATTEMPTE To-PorTRAVE: SYaTeRS& Ye PAGEANTE- OF -Ye RyohTE-WoRSkP- _ eo 7 y hs » r i. aie . -Fve -Ye. Loap- MAYOR: ys Show. aa Ark To Which -JS-ADDED-AYS -DYNNERE. MID the general smash of Continental Crowns, it is comfortable | the event can come off, our only reply is, their report is wrong and A to feel that every throne is not yet overthrown, and that among | ours is right; for, to borrow the language of the dealers in cheap but the Royalties still preserved to us, may be numbered the Sovereignty | birchy tea, low-priced but sandy sugar, and economic but chalky a City. , satiated | arrow-root, “ None other is genuine.” he commencement of a new reign over the Cockney kingdom is | always an event of interest; but > oe like these, oy elevation of | 4 MILITARY BAND, Sir James Duxe from his Dukedom to the Civic Royalty, is an incident | the various members carrying the mystic Cymbals of Melody, the which we cannot contemplate without such emotion as may be shown | different Horns of a Musical Dilemma, and one of them having a ore of an entire gill of inky tears—not of sorrow but of The Great C Serpent in his Mouth. The Cockney accession, which happens once a year, adds annually to A DEPUTATION FROM THE STATIONERS’ COMPANY, those fixtures, which cannot be taken at too high a valuation, by fixing some new potentate in the affections of the people. The ceremony, | which takes place once in every twelvemonth, may be compared to the | ° THE CITY BARGEMASTER AND WATERMEN. opening of a new Civic Parliament under a new Civic Sovereign ; and THE BEADLE’S ASSISTANT the procession to the House—the Mansion House—is a matter of | , ; aig ee Fleet-streetian, Cheapsidean, and Ludgate-hillian, if not of absolu‘ely with the Staff of Life and Death mounted with brass in his hand. national interest. The excitement on the occasion of the advent of the | Dukian dynasty may be judged by an advertisement headed—“* Wanted a Window to see the Seabee ;” which has actually appeared in one of the newspapers. The happy birth of the Prince or Watson} THE GENTLEMEN OF THE LIVERY ON THE FOOT-BOARD BEHIND. Lord Mayor’s Vay seems to have linked the sovereignties of the Rust | and West in a bond of real fraternity—much better than that imperfect. | Se ; a“ : : substitute in vogue across the Channel—and the throne of St. James’s | Zhe Arms of England and the Arms of the City, walking arm-in-arm. may be regarded as bound by an honourable alliance with the /auteuil | of Civie Sovereignty. Wearing their Foolscaps, and accompanied by a small 8vo Flute. CARRIAGES OF THE GENTLEMEN OF THE LIVERY, CABRYING The Prime Varden, in Prime Conditicn. A VERY ANCIENT HERALD AND A VERY ANCIENT KNIGHT, There are certain things which must be seen to be described; but a | the latter locked up in steel, and suffering under lock-jaw, from the tight | ! aa Mayor’s Procession is one of those things that may be described | fit of the visor of his helmet. without being seen; and, as our description is necessarily written | sili ddinrs cuit otelinn before the event, we proceed to give our particulars, in the style of the | THE TWO SHERIFFS, Expresses of the present day, which furnish intelligence of facts so | surrounded by a crowd of Sheriff’s Officers doing their utmost to arrest | early, that they have not yet occurred, and unfortunately mar, occa- | the attention of the public. sionally, the éc/a¢ of a very anticipatory despatch, by never happening. | - The following order of the Mayoral procession may, however, be relied THE OLD ORIGINAL MAN IN BRASS, upon; and if any of our daily or other contemporaries give any version, alter seeing the ceremony, different from the account we furnish before | the multitude. with his brazen face exposed, for the purpoze of brazening it out with |

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THE LADY MAYORESS, IN HER STATE CARRIAGE, SPEECH FROM THE (CIVIC) THRONE :— Drawn by Six Whipped Creams, My Lorps anp GENTLEMEN, and looking, like Macbeth, as if they were quite ready to In meeting you on this occasion, I am_ glad to say that my friendly relations with my gracious ally, Queen VictTorta, are as firm as ever, DIE WITH (THE WEIGHT OF) HARNESS ON THEIR BACKS. and that Temple Bar is, in fact, no bar to the good feeling existing between us. Another mounted Military Band, playing Polly put the kettle om,on| { have given orders for the opening of the ports, and I have prepared the kettle-drums, and the horses attempting the tune of a galop, while \ age : j the musicians make the most of a . progeny — subj-ct of the clarets, both of which measures Grand dis-Concerted Piece, in 12 Flats, ‘ I am happy to a on ee that you. Pag ery - on : - ormer occasions, with the grand gastronomic principle appetite is ‘ pone by i per pene thrown almost flat on to the“heads of the only legi'imate sauce oF a at dinner. _ - | SE RE ye SRC Ne of the animals. I have concluded a treaty with the chef of a celebrated cuisine, the | THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE GRAND DUKE, JAMES, | P04." ine mn Ge sage Rilo a Fare, | Lord Mayor of London, and Autocrat of the East (end), The wconnp on upply, ” been on ss a ge to wearing the Aldermanic Jack-chain round his neck, and accompanied | YOU" Powers of demolition; and, having amply discussed, 2 hope you | by the Sword-bearer, with the bla:ie resting on his cheuben blade. will not fail to digest, all that has been submited to you. I regret that partial distress has occurred in some remote parts of my dominions, and I am sorry to hear that a scarcity of provisions occurred at one of the cross-tables. I have also heard with pain of some dis- minute gun—of the most minute dimensions—as weil as by a discharge | tutbances connected with the Cape, in consequence of its substitution of abuse from a discharged porter, who had formerly been in the Grand by mistake for Madeira; but I have taken measures that will, I am Dukal service, but had been dismissed for constant inebriety. convinced, preven’ a recurrence of these, or any other similar calamities. The trifling differences existing between London and Edinburgh, in The opening of the Civic Parliament was marked by the usual very | respect of the porter of the one, and the ale of the other, have caused extensive opening of mouths, and several Bills (of fare) were laid upon | me to try the effect of mediation, which has resulted in the half-and- the table, which were read a first, second, and third time with scarcely half that has already been submitted to your judgment, a dissentient voice. After a superficial audienc+ given to the soup and I can assure you, my Lords and Gentlemen, that nothing shall be fish, the company had the privilege of the extrée, which consisted of | wanting on my par! to promote the spread of civilisation; and I hope nearly 100 entrées of the most recherché descrip'ion that culinary inge- | you will rezard the spread you hav.; partaken of this day, as an earnest nuity could devise. At the conclusion of the reception, in the course of | of my good intentions. which everybody received nearly everything that was handed round,| ‘The speech of his Civic Majesty was loudly cheered, and his reign His Cockney Majesty pronounced the following may be considered to have opened most auspiciously. As the procession passed up the river, it was salu'ed by a very A Natural Mistake. | twopence was paid, and the Frenchman walked in. “ Hollo! you Sir, A Nationa Guard was walking into St. Paul’s, when he was stopt | you must take your hat. off.” No notice was taken, when the enraged for the ordinary twopence. “ Qu’ est que c’ est ?” said the astonished | 40or-keever ran after the Frenchman, and explained to him very warmly Frenchman. “‘i'worexce,” exclaimed te clerical door-keeper. “ Plait- | that he must not walk about with his hat on. “Pardon mille fois,” il?” inquired the Frenchman. ‘TWOPENCE,” shouted the two- | Said the National Guard, removing his shako, “mais ye ne savais pas | penny janitor, getting very wrath. A’ter numberless explanations, the 2”¢ © lait une église /”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Affectionate Husband, “ Come, Potty—ir_ I 4M A LITTLE IRRITABLE, IT’S OVER IN A MINUTE!!” “YOU AND I.” As sung by H. B. to his noble and intimate friend, at the Nobility’s Concerts, with no applause. Wuewn we Lords of the Peerage so dosily are At our labours, [’1) talk the night long, And from speeches, to pamphlets more prosy by far, “You and I” will be first in the throng— “You and I!” “You and I will be first in the throng ! Now that France won’t accept me, and England looks sour, And my course for the woolsack is run, Your “‘ anonymous scribblers” exert such a power, That I long from my heart to make one. So when Lords of the Peerage, &c. Read my pamphlet, and say you don’t think me to blame, That with men and events I make free ; For 1’m tired of the Public, or, what’s just the same, The Public are tired of me. Then where Lords of the Peerage, Xc. A PAINFUL PROPHECY. Wuat we prophesied a year ago is now being literally fulfilled drew then a most harrowing picture of the Beadle of Regent Street sitting amongst the Ruins of the Arcade. A most agonising Cut accompanied our prophecy. Our readers can see both by going as far back as June 5, 1847. Let them compare our then prophecy with its present fulfilment, and they will shudder, as we shudder, at Ibcholding the work of destruction that is going on every minute of the day amongst those fair pillars of Regent Arcadia. Let this be a lesson to all who have a turn for prophesying, not to foretell evil things, but good, Henceforth we shail only prophesy the beauty, not the rubbish of life; the things to rise, and not the things to fall in the world. We will prophesy the Regeneration of Ireland, a Whig surplus, a real admirer of Mr. Fearcus O'Connor, and other wild, improbable, out-of-the-way, pane | things; and who knows but what they may come to pass! May we all live to see the happy day! What rare old fellows we shall be! We THE STANLEY “STANDARD.” Ir Lorp Srantey were not one of the boldest of men, he would certainly bind over the Standard to keep the peace. That } Sranzey has been cruelly barked at by Tray, Blanche, and Sweetheart, praises his Lordship with unabated severity. knowing, we say, in curs, declares— “ There is not a hungry follower of the Whig camp, not a mongrel cur in the whole Whig kennel, that is not at this moment gnawing at his character. It is the old system. We are not sorry it has not been departed from in this instance. The chosen man of the country cannot permit that country’s choice to be insulted in his person. His loyalty, never questioned by his Sovereign, will retributively | approve itself by unmasking the slanderers who dare assail it.” honey- | mouthed print is very great upon dogs; and, insisting that Lorp | The Standard, very | | Now, what is all this about ? Simply, about Tom Youne’s gossipping | | letter, written in veriest idleness—even as Mrs. Gamp would have | poured her heart out in ink to Betsy Prig. For a fortnight and more | has the Standard lived upon that letter, and, we doubt not, will serve | | it up at tea-time, with customary crumpets, any day for a fortnight to come. The Lzamizer, it seems, hinted that “ Lorp STaNLEY was not the least fervid and determined” of the party in 1832. Whereupon the Standard, brandishing the Gampian umbrella, exclaims— ** As sure as Jon Pagkes and his friend ‘the Secretary’ are well-paid placemen, so assuredly will Lozpp StanieEy drag the dark treason into light.” AMBURGH showed the Lions in Drury Lane, an old benevolent bald- headed man took his place unfailingly, every night, inthe pit. And wherefore ? the Lion would bite off Van AmBuRGH’s head, and the phulanthropist determined not to be absent upon the occasion. We shall imitate the perseverance of this curious gentleman. Every night—when Parliament assembles —do we propose to seat when the innocent victim at the Coburg dragged the villain of the melo-drama down to the footlights, so in maturer time we may exult when We feel certain of the sight, for we do not see how the Lxaminer We confess ourselves set in expectation by the promise. When Van | Why, the good creature was assured that “some night” | ourselves in the House of Lords; that, as in youthful days we rejoiced | Lorp Srantey drags the Examiner on the floor of the Lords. | can escape the lordly grasp; unless, indeed, like the wrestlers of old, | | it goes oiled.

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- SS ‘er 1 ie S| ) SAN LA N / VS MM LZ LT | LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY. DEDICATED TO THE SMARTEST NATION IN ALL CREATION.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 207 A SANITARY POLICE. Tue noble art of Self-Defence was never more nobly put into practice than it is at present, being brought into operation against those inveterate foes to the human race—Filth and Malaria. We should, however, suggest that, to facilitate the arrangements of the General Board of Health, a Sanitary Police Force should be at once organised. This corps might be empow- ered to order the stagnant pool to move on, and in case of unlawful assemblages of large vegetable bodies, the sanitary policeman should have instructions to take them up at once without any other warrant, We are great enemies to anything decidedly inquisi- torial, but we think it would not be altogether unconsti- tutional to allow a right of search into any receptacle for hot pies where the inmates are suspected to be in bad odour. Large crowds of persons in small houses or single rooms might be declared illegal, and power should be given to the —— police to call upon them to disperse while the law of arrest should at once be put in force against anything in the shape of a pesti- lential vapour. Open drains, in a state of open defiance, under the very nose of the authorities, ought at once to be subjected to close confinement, and the policeman should at once rush upon the offensive grating, however gratin it might prove to his own nas feelings. Every offensive sty should be got out of the public eye, an care should be taken to prevent unlawful assemblages of the swinish multitude in thickly-populated neighbourhoods. The necessary accoutrements for such a Force as we suggest would be in the first instance somewhat costly, consisting, as they should do, of a shovel and a box of disinfecting agents; but we are quite sure that such a police would protect us against the most formidable class of thieves, namely, those that come to rob us of our health, which we all know is more valuable to us than our very best set of albata spoons, for the protection of which we have paid in police-rate nearly nine times their original cost, and are still paying twice their value per annum, RUBBISH Some cynical defamer has written over the National Gallery—just near the spot where the beauties of the Vernon Gallery are brought to | light—the following notice :—‘“‘ PicruREs MAY BE SHOT HERE,” COURT JEWELS FROM THE EMERALD ISLE. DRAMATIS PERSON. The Soticrron GENERAL (for the Prosecution). Mr. Resutt, Q.C. (for the Defence). The Court. The Jury (mutes). Time—November, 1848, during a Political trial. Scene—The Court of Queen’s Bench, Dublin. The S. G. (to the Jury). Such writings at a time of political excite- ment— Mr. Rebutt. You have no right to call it a time of political excitement. The 8. G. Thave. Iam perfectly aware of my right— Mr. Rebutt. Of your wrong, you mean. — , The S. G. I don’t care for these indecent interruptions. Mr. Rebutt. It’s not much you care for indecency any way. The S. G. It’s false. Mr. Rebutt. My Lords, I must throw myself upon the Court for pro- tection. I have been malignantly assailed by the Solicitor General. The S. G. Who began it ? Mr. Rebutt. You did. The S. G. I didn’t. Mr. Rebutt. You did. The Court. Really this altercation— ? ad : Mr. Rebutt. My Lords, he has no right to impute political excite- ment— The S. G. I beg the learned counsel not to impute any imputations to me. Mr, Rebutt. I don’t care what you beg, if you wouldn’t beg the question, " The S. G. Then I beg the learned counsel to hold his tongue. Mr. Rebutt. You’d better hold your own—it’s running away with your brains. ; | The S. G. Yours has got no brains to run away with. Mr. Rebutt. My Lords, I must appeal to the Court if these unmanly insinuations— The Court. Really, Mz. Soriciror— Lhe S. G. If the Court think I ought to apologize— Kir. Rebutt. Oh, I don’t value your apologies. The Court. Really, Mr. Reputt— Mr, Rebutt. Oh, if the Court think me to blame— The Court. We do not think either of you to blame. The S. G. T am sure I had no intention— Mr. Rebutt, No more had I. The S. G. Uf I had had any idea— Mr. Rebutt. Uf I had had any notion— The Court. Really we are not here to listen to apologies, but to | attend to business. : | he S. G. Lf my learned friend would only conduct business so as to | make it a pleasure— : . Mr. Rebutt. 1t’s little pleasure 1 get doing business with you. The S. G. My Lords, I must appeal to the Court. The Court. Really, Ma. Resutt— S¢., §C., 5¢., ad intinitum, and the scene never closes. ADVICE GRATIS, Tne College of Physicians having sent forth some gratuitous advice, which is well worth its cost, on the subject of Cholera, we hasten to put it into plain language for the benefit of the community. Every one is to live extremely well, and no one is, on any acccunt, to _ neglect warm clothing, with good coal fire, or any other arrangement | that may be conducive to health and comfort. | All persons crowded together in small ill-ventilated houses are re- / commended to take at once more commodious apartments, and those individuals who are insufficiently clothed must give orders forthwith to their tailors for taking the necessary measures. Families not hitherto in the habit of keeping up a good fire in the winter, through their inability to prrchase the fuel, will without delay take the necessary steps for laying in a stock of coals from their respective coal merchants; and those who have had meat only once a week, will give orders for a daily supply in future, to their various butchers, It being highly expedient not to overtax the strength, those who feel exhausted by their labour will relinquish their work when they feel themselves too much debilitated to continue with comfort to themselves, and they will of course take care to make up in some way for the deficiency of their wages. These simple suggestions have only to be followed out with due care by the labouring classes of the com- munity, in order to mitigate very materially the severity of the Cholera. Such persons as may experience pay in acting on this advice, are ollege of Physicians. | requested to apply anywhere but to the

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| 208 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE NATIONAL CELLAR-IUS. Tue Vernon Gallery has been stowed away, like so much coal or wood, in a cellar. Art must be going down in our country, when you have to descend area steps to look for it. The trustees of our National Gallery have evidently the souls of butlers, and think pictures, like casks of beer, improve in their drawing when they are kept underground. Butlers, however, when they go down to the cellar, take candles with them. They do see what they are about ; but in the Vernon Gallery the atmosphere is at the best an illuminated fog ; and people knock against one another, and growl and grumble, as only Englishmen can do when they are put to it. Many was the exclamation we heard, of “ Now then, Stupid!” whilst the painful cry, every second minute, of “ Where are = shoving to?” revealed the sad history of an injured corn, or, may- ap, an oppressed bunion, smarting under the iron heel of the heaviest despotism. We felt for these poor sufferers, complaining audibly, and evidently struggling, in a misty twilight, to catch the careless oppressor who had trodden on their softest feelings. The gloom, how- ever, favoured their escape, and may probably aid the elopement, some wintry afternoon, of one of our finest LanpsEERS, or most valuable Mutreapys. Really a light might be afforded, if it was only a rush- light, to cast a ray of glory upon our poor eclipsed native artists. Why | I not let lanthorns be let out near WILKr#’s statue, or candles be sold at a penny a-piece, or small dips be handed to every visitor who ventures down the cellar, as they do in the Austrian salt mines ? j P Ne oN Little link-boys might be allowed to traffic outside to show strangers the way to the Vernon Gallery. It is too bad that foreigners should go away with the notion that English Art is in such a state of profound darkness in our country, as our Fine Arts Commissioners have too successfully thrown around it in Trafalgar Square. Even Turner’s dazzling sunshines have been turned into the most November mid- nights; and there is not one picture left hanging, in which “ the lights” have not been completely extinguished. It is most melan- choly to see an amateur viewing @ sunrise by the light of a Lucifer! The Vernon Gallery may be “well worth seeing”—but the difficulty is how to see it. We went to see pictures, and saw nothing but blinds. —Altogether, the treatment of Mr. Vernon is the blackest piece of ingratitude a country was ever guilty of towards a benefactor ! ON THE MORAL, SOCIAL, AND PROFESSIONAL DUTIES OF ATTORNIES AND SOLICITORS. Delivered in the Hail (of his Chambers) by J. Brierixss, Esq., §-c., §¢., BaRRISTER-AT-Law, LECTURE III. **Oh! why did I, in language weak,” but with intention strenuous and strong, endeavour to represent to you the arduous nature of your profession? Was my statement—like a cab-passenger—overcharged ? Have I not drawn it mild as a moon- beam, or as a draught of Kempson’s ale? What was my object ? Not to prevent your rushing into your profession rashly, without due preparation—for it is too late to warn you on that head—but to prevent = rushing into mine or any other barrister’s Chambers without ving “‘put money i’ thy purse.” Perhaps you may endeavour to elude the responsibilities of your position by sending hither your clerk? Perhaps you have not chosen Sir,— one. Come, let me guide you in your choice. What is the “cunningest pattern” that “excelling nature” has cut out for the attorney’s clerk ? A clear head and a polished boot, a quick eye and a clean shirt, with a moderate amount of “vaulting ambition,” but an aversion to that leap-frog which is the bane of our clerical youth, which meets us on the landings of our staircases, disturbs us at our arbitrations, and con- verts our ante-rooms into little better than that spot at the foot ‘of Mount Aventine, celebrated for the celebration of the Lupercalia by the Roman boys. Let me ask you, Sir, shall we re-establish a Lupercal at the bottom of every stair-case? No, Sir; 1 would rather be the Cuntivs of my own coal-cellar, and by coming suddenly down upon them—shut them up. I have told you, Sir, what a lawyer’s clerk should be; let me now tell you what he should’nt. You have heard What’s What. Listen to What’s Not. If I saw a youth with dullness in his eye, but brilliance—at the end of a cigar—in his mouth, possessed of the sourness of the crab, without its sharpness, having the rashness of youth with the mustachios of manhood, slow in his understanding, but fast in his mode of life, with a brow * Sicklied o’er with the pale ale of Bass ;” then, although it may be true that “there can be nosmoke without fire,” will not accept the smoke of the Havannah as an indication of the fire of genius, but I will exclaim, on the contrary, “‘ Don’t send that lad into the law, but let the lad seek another ladder for his ambition.” Your’s, Sir, isa profession requiring a liberal education, as I have said before ; but I may as well say it again, for it is by hitting the nail often that we drive it home, just as by hitting the horse often, the cab-driver was enabled to drive me home yesterday. To you comes the client, | with his affairs and himself in a state of nearly equal derange- {ment. Your office is the lunatic asylum to which he resorts. He isa | man of science, perchance, who has invented some elastic trouser-strap, | at which he expects the public will take “a long pull, a strong pull, and |a pull altogether,” and which he seeks to protect bya patent. He |may be a poet, who has “loved the merry sunshine,” and said so in | gushing measure, or, forgetting that pink sarsenet takes a very good light blue, has carolled forth the beautiful fiction that ‘bright things can never dye.” * Such a client as this may require an injunction against iracy; for what right has any one to “love the merry sunshine” but himself, or at least, set the fact to music, and wed it to immortal verse? It is you that are asked to lay the law’s solemn injunction on the act, and teach these ** Land-rats and water-rats—I mean pirates ”— that they cannot carry on their piratical trade with impunity. But do I seek to make you a natural philosopher or a scholar? No, Sir; though you are now lending me your ear, I would not attempt to construct a silk purse out of such material. Nevertheless, you should remember that in these days, Science, like a Vauxhall ham, is spread over a wonderfully extensive surface. It is not every one for whom it | is cut fat, nut nearly every one has got a taste of it. Shall the attorney | alone be left without a mouthful of the ham of Science? No! better bury himself in the Sandwich Islands at once than undergo such a horrible privation. The “feast of reason,” to which the advance of education invites us, may not be so rich nor so rare as formerly, but it is a great and comprehensive “spread” in more senses than one. For the meanest of us Arithmetic has laid out her tables, and Geography brought forth her plates. The Curriculum of the Classics draws up at the humblest door, Engineering civilly invites us, and Chemistry smoothes the way to its most elaborate laboratories, by leading us, as it were, over a drugget that softens down the drudgery of penetrating to a knowledge of its most mysterious drugs. The attorney and solicitor should have a taste of everything, from physic to philosophy, from senna to SENECA, from wit or mirth to medicine, from the attic to the Epscm salts. Even his handwriting should be carefully cultivated; for when we con- sider that the pen is scarcely ever out of his hand, we cannot deem him to be “ penny wise and pound foolish,” though caligraphy should occupy some portion of his time. Even in writing a letter for payment of debt, fe may use his pen as something on which to plume himself. I have known, Sir, one of your class whose hand was so tremulous from a consciousness of his bad writing, that we should have believed him to be in his dotage, if we had judged by his I’s. Within my own knowledge, Sir, there is a sad instance of a fatality having nearly occurred through the hieroglyphical writing of an attorney. The subject was one of a criminal charge, and he wrote a letter to a witness to come and prove an a/idi. The letter was unintelligible. The case was one of murder, and the client was nearly hanged upon his attorney’s pothooks. Fortunately the case for the prosecution broke down, by the | murdered man walking into Court, or the innocent accused might have been troubled with a line, because a witness was so troubled with a line by the attorney as to have been actually unable to make it out. It is true that sometimes “might overcomes right;” but in this case, right * I love the Merry Sunshine, and Bright Things can Never Die, are the names of two ballads, fresh from the heart and the music-publishers, at two shillings each.

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eel 7 a? - west ct eR cote O ew SE OE ee ww |S ane PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. auu might have been overcome by bad writing, and the want of six lessons in penmanship would then have taught the attorney a sad lesson indeed. I myself, Sir, have had briefs sent to me, in which there have been figures that i thought were figures of fun, and [ have been unable to unravel the sixes and sevens into which my client may have thrown 8 affairs. I cannot quit this part of my subject without touching upon Logic. Believe me, Sir, I would not chop an ounce of my Logic for a pound of your brass. It is Logic that helps me to the use of this language, so magnificently nervous that I perceive you have caught its nervousness, and are trembling like a leaf. Logic enables you to arrest your own attention; and, though arrest in other cases is nearly abolished, it is aon a to keep up the good old legal practice, even to this limited extent, University education is not a bad thing, Sir, for an attorney, nor for any one else ; but were I to judge by my knowledge of you, I should say that if you had ever been at College, you had picked up nothing there but the College Hornpipe, and that of the College Hornpipe, the double shuffle, Sir—yes, Sir, the Dountze Suurriz—is all that you have retained. _My words are too much for you, Sir, and you are retreating. Go, Sir. Iam glad that a sense of shame, or another appointment, carries yen away. In the words of SuaKsPEaRE let me address you, Sir, efore you descend the staircase, and— “Tf any spark of shame is still remaining,” you will perhaps oblige me by going ** Down, down to—Dicx’s—and say I want my dinner.” Note.— By mistake some initials were placed at the end of the first of these Lec- tures, and appeared in a part of our impression. MR. DUNUP’S AFFAIRS. WE are happy to observe that Mr. Dunvup, following the example of some of the leading Railway Companies, has at length resolved on publishing a statement of his affairs. This step had become absolutely necessary, on account of the various unpleasant rumours lately in circu- lation upon this somewhat painful subject. In one or two quarters a composition had been talked about, while in others a suggestion had been actually made for a regular wind-up; both of which alternatives Mr. Dunvp had resolved to scornfully reject. He is not prepared at present to offer anything in pursuance of the first arrangement, and as to the second, he refuses it with disdain; for though his transactions may not have been as regular as clockwork, he looks upon a winding-up as the very last resort. We hope the following very clear summary of Mr. Dunvv’s position will silence, not only public rumour, but his own private knocker, which has been kept continually going since the reports of his difficulties were first whispered abroad. STATEMENT OF MR. DUNUP’S AFFAIRS. DEBTOR. | CREDITOR. é 3s. d. £ 8. Liabilities as per Trades- Stock in hand . . o 2£2OD men’s Bills . ° - 415 2 9 StockonNeck . * 6 00 Reference Liabilities as per Estimated value of probable Dishovoured Bills 560 2 6 Interest in Remote Contin- Guaranteed 10 per Cent. Cog- gencies ° . - 700 1 4 novits e ° - 140 1 6 Ditto deferred e o6« BE Old Debt . ° . . 512 2 8 Unfunded Coupons of Old Middle-aged Debt ” . 460 9 6 Guarantee . ‘ - 640 9 New Debt . ° « « 240 3 1, Expectations from rest . . 811 2 4} Accumuiation of Interest on Balance in Mz. Dcnup’s 2328 2 0 Old and New Preference . 514 3 9 favour . . - 85019 8) —_—_—__ ——_ £3179 1 8! £3179 1 8 It will be seen from the above clear and satisfactory statement, that on a valuation of all the anticipated assets, Mr. Dunvr’s estate will be not only solvent, but will afford to that gentleman a handsome surplus. We are glad to find that he has followed the example of the Railway Companies, and we are quite sure that his balance-sheet will be as intelligible as theirs, and aearly as satisfactory. Monstrum Horrendum. _It is all very well to talk of the Great Sea Serpent, but’a more disgusting et: exists in the shape of that aquatic monster the Serpentine. It is several hundred feet in length, and presents a most loathsome appearance, being covered nearly all over with a coat of green. If astone is thrown at it, the monster sends up a black and noxious fluid of the most poisonous description. . The bed it occupies is formed by a collection of several layers of filth, which has been accumulating for several years ; and it is believed that many have fallen victims to the venomous exhalations that the monster has long been in the habit of sending forth. A NURSERY LAY FOR YOUNG LANDLORDS, Tr I live, and grow up to a great man, I hear That I shall come into ten thousand a year. Oh! what shall I do with it all? I suppose I can’t spend it in eating, and drinking, and clothes. Shall I buy a large number of horses and hounds? What a lot. I could purchase for ten thousand pounds! But I surely can do something better than feed More horses and dogs than I ever shall need. Shall I bet on the turf? Shall I gamble and play ? Oh! but that would be throwing my money away ; If I lost I should be a ridiculous goose : If I won, with my riches, ’twould still be no use. Shall I keep up a box at the Opera? Let’s see— Several hundreds a year I am told it, would be ; Which would prove me possess’d of more money than sense, Since the pit only comes to eight shillings six pence. I have made up my mind. I will have, nicely planned, A number of cottages built on my land; Snug and neat, but not gaudy, well drain’d they shall be, For poor people to live in that labour for me. I shall ask them as little as may be for rent, And that, I have heard, will pay full five per cent. ; Of their comforts and morals [’ll take the best care, Keeping them in good order—their cots in repair. Tis in this way my fortune I mean to employ, But my hunting and shooting 1’Il also enjoy ; Pursuing my pastime, improving my health, At the same time bestowing around me my wealth. We should not be regarded with envy and spite By the poor, if we rich people always did right, And adopted the course I’m determined to steer From the moment I get my ten thousand a year. ANOTHER WELLINGTON STATUE. Tne rage for erecting sta- tues to the Duke has seized the boot-shops. We give a view of one that has lately been put up in Whitechapel. The fact of there only being one boot might seem rather odd at first, but it is sufficiently accounted for by the graceful compliment,which is evidently meant to be set up with the statue, that there 1s but one great WELLINGTON in the si Wellington Statue mania has world. We hope that, now the got down into our public | boots, we may consider it to | have reached its last extrem- ity. We fear that the National | Guards, during their last visit, | must have thought the Duke |oF WELLINGTON our only |great man; and _ surely his } | ' being emblemed in our very = = —— boots, looks as if he was our ; sole celebrity. Musica’ Critics. Ovr friends of the musical world have given up their alphabetical style of criticism—at least for the present—and we are no longer puzzled with their A.’s in alt., their B.’s in the bass, and their little military touches about Major Fifths, with which they have so f are | bothered us. They are now beginning anew style of mystification by talking about voices being ropey and wiry—a ropey voice being, we suppose, a voice that can take a dominant cord, or can go above the line, or perform some other novel feat, which only the musical critic can appreciate. How a voice can be wiry, we don’t know, though we have heard of such a thing as a voice as clear as a bell; and, as bells hang upon wires, we see a sort of connection between the human voice and the wiry quality that is often assigned to it.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | ADVERTISEMENT. i is supplicated | by the BITTEN THEO- DORE to be more ex- plicit. Will she and her little dog be in the Brixton "bus on Tuesday next ? On Tues- day last, an iron impossibility prevented the attendance of T CURLING ON THE ICE IN SCOTLAND. Tue Herald tells its readers that the frost has set in with such force in Scotland, that the practice of curling on the ice has commenced already. The Scotch are remarkable, we know, for taking it cool, but we were not aware they carried their coolness so far as to choose the ice as a fit spot for the operation of hair-curling. We hope the J//us- trated London News will favour its subscribers with an illustration, something in the following style, of the practice of CURLING ON THE ICE IN SCOTLAND, THE SEA SERPENT IN THE THAMES. We lose not a single moment in laying the subjoined letter before the eyes—(how they will be opened !)—of astonished London. The Sea Serpent is in the Thames! It will be seen that the monster was beheld by our correspondent—a most intelligent and conscientious waterman, as we have made it our business to discover—off Chelsea Reach. Whether, in its course from the sea up the river, the Serpent has entirely swallowed the multitudinous family of whitebait off Black- wall, is a ee that must, until next May, feverishly engage the minds of all men interested in the Crown and Sceptre of Greenwich. However, we hasten to introduce the reader to the letter of Joun SKULL, waterman, of Chelsea; a letter written in that homely simplicity * style that endears to our memories the voyages of Anson and AMPIER, “Mr, Ponca, 7 ** Cheyne Walk, Nov. 1st, 1848. .. The Sea Sarpint is in the Thames! There can be no doubt on if, seeing the horrid monster myself. But, Sir, I give you the account regular, as if I was writin’ with swabs upon my shoulders to the bigwigs of Her Masesty’s Admiralty, “Last night, —e off in my wherry, the Better Luck Still, from the Red House, and a leg of mutton and trimming supper—the wind St. Paul’s East by Fulham Church Nor’-West—light airs and hazy—striking ten bells—and thinkin’ o’ nothin’, I suddenly saw a long black sarpint-like thing upon my wether bow. Bein’ inno manner afeard—for I’d had too much ale and gin-and-water for that, tho’ not a drop more than’s good for an affectionate husband and indulging father—bein’ not a bit afeard, I laid all along upon my skulls, and had a good look. For twenty minutes— more or less—I seed the thing a cutting like smoke towards Battersea. It was about a hundred yards long, and seemed to move with two fins that went round and round, and made a hissin’ noise like bilin’ water ; and it carried its head out 0’ water some twenty feet and more, womiting sometimes smoke and sometimes fire. And so it went on at the matter of ten knots an hour, till it came to Battersea Bridge, where it seemed to bend its head back’ards to go thro’ the arches, and so, takin’ the | bend o’ the river, it vanished out o’ sight, but not out o’ mind, “Of yours * Humble Servant, “ Joun SKULL.” e - * P.S.—I’m not much of a drawer, att but think I can warrant the pictur wa I send as the fae simile of the Sarpint as it appeared. Some of your shy- andtifick readers may have seen something like it afore.” I7i9GTR 6 OR THREE GROANS FROM AN OLD GUY. Marry come up, Mr. Spectator ; and I should like to know who you are, Mr. ADDISON, that in your trumpery newspaper of last Saturday was a week, you dare to call me “a nuisance,” and to use such shocking bad language of your elders and betters as this:—“That civic scare- crow, ‘Old Guy,’ is a mass of — contagion, which ought to be condemned by the Board of Health as a portable repository of typhoids!!” “Scarecrow,” indeed, and “portable repository of typhoids!” “Typhoids” in your teeth: I don’t know any fireworks of that name, and 1’li put it to any respectable householder or candid policeman if I was ever a portable repository of anything but honest Protestant squibs, and true-blue crackers, with now and then a Church and King Roman candle, or a Constitutional maroon? i But it’s all of a piece. The Constitution’s going, bit by bit; and when Destructives and Democrats take to pulling the British Lion’s skin over his ears, a poor old Guy can’t expect much respect. What do you, or such as you, care about my being a symbol and a sign, now-a-days, that Parliament’s establishing relations with the Pope? Of course I must be put down, for fear of hurting the Cardinal’s feelings, that they’re going to send over here as Ambassador. No doubt Popish bulls are like to be frightened by Protestant crackers. But we’ll see what Str Ropert InGLIs says about it, and the Rev. Hucu M‘Nert. I’ve written to,’em, and you may find out that poor old Guy ain’t without his friends, for all his coat isn’t so new as it was, and though honest brimstone matches Aave had the shine taken out of ’em by your new-fangled Lucifers. ‘ What have you to show against me? I’m “a commemoration of malignity,’ you say. And how many of the laws in our blessed Statute Book are any better? I’m “a street nuisance,” eh? Well, if you walk in the old ways you must put up with the orna- ments that the wisdom of our ancestors embellished ’em with. I’m “a mass of squalid conta- gion,” am I? But the boys have a vested right in me; and how many much bigger repositories of contagion are sweetened by that great deodorizer, a vested right! I’m “mouldy and ragged.” But those are marks of age, and anti- | quity is respectable for its own | sake. My wardrobe was picked |up piecemeal—and so was our | blessed Constitution. I’m “stuffed with straw and rags.” Well, if you take to looking into the insides of things, Mr. Spectator, which of our glorious institutions can stand it without coming (as I’ve done this many a year) toa flare-up ? : In ohh Sir, you’ve met with your matches in us Guys. We are in the chair, and we’ll stick to it, putting our itrust in Sir Rosert Ine uis, and keeping our powder dry. We are too much used to squibs and crackers to care for your flash in the pan, and T’ve written this in the name of my brethren, to let you see we have still “a bang” in us. Tue Otp Oriernat Goy, as scorns all disgutse. (Well known about the West-End, and patronised by the nobility and gentry.) 7 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 Middierex, Printers, at their Office in Lombard Street, ia the Precinet of Whitefriars, in the City of London, aud Published wy them at No 8 Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride,in the City of London.—Sarvspar, OVEMBSEB llth, 1548. —~

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(HS tae, FR = ES eS 6. oe PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 211 PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. ~ CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. THE REFORMATION. Wuatever glory may attach to the reign of Henry on account of the Reformation, is due to the polygamic propensities of that Royal reprobate. Had his domestic arrangements been respectable, he would never have renounced Popery ; but as the Court of Rome would not allow him to “ put away” his wives like his old coats, whenever he wished for a change,.he became a bitter opponent of the papal power. He had at first attacked the Reform movement, and, like one of our more recent Harrizs, he had taken to pamphleteering, for the purpose of putting the proofs of his inconsistency into black and white; but again, like our own old Harry, he made no scruple of changing his tone altogether, and turning his back upon his former self, when he wished to wed himself to “another party.” When the decision came from Rome, by which CaTHaRINe was ordered to be returned upon HeEwry’s hands, he flew into a storm of passion, which, after whirling him ee ae round, left him prostrate upon the bosom of the Reformed urch, The personal interest of the sovereign ‘chanced to be in accordance with the popular feeling, and there was no dilliculty, therefore, in setting the British bull-dog in antagonism to the papal bulls. Though the Reformation was popular, the divorce of CaTHARINE was quite the reverse, and the good old English rallying cry of “ Woman in distress” was everywhere heard. The king was secretly spoken of as “the man who could basely ill-use a British female,” and it was occasionally hinted that he was “ unworthy of the name of an officer and a gentleman ;” but he was regardless of these matters 80 long as he got rid of CaTHARINE, and he used to say, with a cruel dupli- city of allusion to his opponents and his wife, that he did not care a button r for theentire Kit. Henry’s religious zeal took at a very early period a rapacious turn, and he soon began to combine his spiritual with his secular interests, by pouncing 7 all the moveables of the monks; and whilst reforming abuses with one hand, he pocketed the roceeds of those abuses withthe other. He, however, amused his subjects by pretending to do oe for the good of the country out of the immense wealth he had seized for the advantage of himself, and he repaired a few ~ yy as well as a port or two in the Channel; but he did so very reluctantly, for he declared that to lay out money in mending roads, was to throw it in the dirt, and to devote ready cash to the improvement of harbours was merely sinking so much capital. _ is In order to bring the religious notions of the nobility to the same tone as his own, and persuade them to see the errors of Popery in their true colours, he gave them large slices of the spoil, and their eyes were suddenly open to the horrors of superstition, as well as to the excellence of the reformed religion. However corrupt the monasteries may or may not have been, it is clear that the King and his nobles did not scruple to act as scavengers to the “ filthy dross;” and, having carted it away, they laid it as manure to the roots of the ancestral trees of some of our “ first families.” This pro- ceeding was highly important in a constitutional sense, for it humbled the once haughty clergy, and made them cut their coats—or regulate their habits —according to their cloth, while it gave to many of the nobility a power that has often stood very advantageously between the overstraining of the prerogatives of the Crown, and the too great license of the people. Admitting the heads of the Aristocracy to be sometimes overcharged with lead, it must be allowed that the metal in question has, at least, considerable weight, without being wholly unyielding; and in the vessel of the State there is no better ballast than a Peerage, sufficiently ponderous to keep us steady in our goings on, but sufficiently ductile to take trom time to time the — cee that the force of public opinion may be used to impart. We cannot, like the “smatterers in History,” give credit to Hewry THE E1curtu for sincerity as a church reformer, since his plan of reformation went little further than that wholesale spoli- ation which is not unfrequently the covert object of an ultra-liberal reform. What are usually called the great errors of Popery were by no means removed in the religion established by Henry; but instead of rooting out the errors, he simply disabused the monks of the one great mistake, that having collected so many good things, they would be allowed the undisturbed possession of their acquisitions. . Upon Henry’s death the Reformation was really carried out under Epwarp THE Srxtu, the Boy King, who was a very early specimen of a regular infant prodigy. Somerset, the Protector, who played the part of showman to the monstrificus puellus, as Carpan calls him, made the most of the phenomenon, and a journal has been published, pruseting to have been kept by the young king, which, instead of being a mere record of tarts demo- lished, toys purchased, and sights seen—as might have been expected in the pocket-book of a youngster—is replete with business-like matter. Whether as much of it as remains may be regarded as the genuine cream of the young king’s thoughts we are unable to! say, for we have scarcely done more than skim if off in a moment of leisure; but there is no doubt that Epwarp THE SrxtH would have been regarded as a promising youth at any classical and commercial academy, or even at anevening school for adults. Though the Crown and the Aristocracy supported the cause of the Reformation, because its plunder supported them, the people, who got nothing by the job, were not disposed to consider matters quite ripe for achange; and it is{not wonderful they should hesitate to see ripeness where they were to get no pickings. Accordingly, in the time of Mary—familiarly known by a term equivalent to “sanguinary PoLt”—the road to Rome was easily retraced, and England was formally reconciled to the papal See, with a blindness of obedience to the royal will that says little for Parliamentary enlightenment. A PATTERN CATECHISM FOR YOUTHFUL CANDIDATES. Tue Hon. Cuartes Fitzwit1tam, in the timidity of extreme youth, has had some difficulty in making known—by way of answer to a requisition—his political principles to the electors of the West Riding. We modestly propose a pattern document for the future voters and candidates. I. Will you support Free Trade —As for Free Trade, there is not the slightest doubt that the potato blight, the cholera, and possibly the Sea Serpent, would have compelled some relaxation of our commercial policy,—even if possibly the potatoes had been sound, the cholera had been unknown, and the Sea Serpent remained, as the song says, “‘ coiled about the world.” II. Will you advocate the Extension of the Suffrage ?— With the greatest pleasure. Every man with a vote—it has long been my opinion—should be allowed to vote at every polling- booth: if the vote does not count for more than at present, the gene in giving it is prolonged; and this I call Extension of the uffrage. IIL Will you advocate Separation of Church and State ?— With the greatest pleasure: that is, all the people of state shall, as at present, be separated in pews, and the people be separated as now in the body of the Church. IV. Will you advocate Retrenchment of Pablic Expenses P— T have not yet made up my mind. That entirely depends upon what the Minister may refuse or offer me. A QUESTION QUESTIONABLY ANSWERED, Wuen will France find repose? It will, mayhap, If it resolves at once to take a Nap. VOL, XV,

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PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARI. THE ROYAL ETCHINGS. ET us confess that the shabby knave who stole the royal property, making unlawful use of the QuEEN’s plate, has, without intention, done good service. Punch recollects no thief since the time of Mercury, who has done so pleasant kings and queens wear diadems instead of hats and bonnets, and carry about with them—as a sort of state life-pre- server — their royal sceptres, have doubtless been much astonished _ to find that Her Ex- CELLENT Masesty can let her Imperial notions subside into the home- liness of common life; and, forgetful for awhile of the jangling of Cabinet Councils, can busy her thoughts with the “ Head of an Arab | Gipsy and-Child, and Head of an Old Woman,” (No. 60). The Windsor | Togues have, all unwittingly, “drawn the curtain and shown the | picture” of Her Maszsry’s retirement in its pleasant aspect; and | very pretty, very charming, we must confess the exhibition to be. We | do not believe that Lovis-Puiirre left any such etchings at the Tuilleries, as “The Apotheosis of Micron ;” neither, so far as is yet known of the matter, did the Emperor or Avstaia, on his late drive from his capital, leave such memorandum as “ Pigeons at the Royal Aviary,” in charge of his beloved Viennese. Therefore, it is more than pleasant to contemplate the private recreation of a Queen, when it is at once so refined, so graceful, and so truly womanly. We have read all Mapame D’Arsiay’s book of the Court of Grorce THE Tarp, and find nothing so agreeably suggestive in it, as in the “ List of the Royal Engravings” filed in the Court of the Vice-Chancellor. ~ Punch be permitted to touch with his pen-—a dove’s quill—a few of the homelier subjects ? To begin :— No. 1. Portrait of a Turk, Head of an Old Man, and German Peasant Girl. Drawn and etched by Hex Masesrty, Aug. 28, 1840.” Were the portraits from the life? Ifso, who was the Turk ? the chosen Old Man (no doubt made happy with a thumping present for his modelship)? Who the German Peasant Girl? Have we seen her in London streets, thumbing a tambourine? Did her picturesque look catch the Royal eye ‘in the course of a Windsor drive? and was she forthwith commanded by equerry to prepare for a sitting to-morrow ? At this moment is not that very girl—(for so is the meanest accessory of Art rewarded at the Castle)—the wife of a thriving farmer on the Rhine, having brought him an apronful of English gold for a dowry ? There can be no doubt of it. The dogs honoured by the QurEN—like many other lucky dogs of this world—are altogether ignorant of their happiness. Otherwise, how would “Islay, a Scotch Terrier,” twitch his whiskers, elated beyond the usual elation of puppyhood! And “ Kos, a Russian Greyhound,” would bound more lithely, walk with nobler step. But let us rise to a loftier theme :— “No 16. Portrait of His Royat Hicuness Prince Atpert. Copied by Hen yng! Bs Sim Geonce Hartep’s Marriage Picture, and etched by the QuEEN, ct, 26, 1840,” Pretty and wife-like this. A labour of love, full of happy memories. How many Queens—IsaBeLLa or Spar, for one—would prefer any otber subject to dwell upon, save that of their Marriage Picture! (Is it not so, Count NEvILLY ?) "No. 19. Portrait ofa Lady. Drawn and etched by Her Masesty, Nov. 18, 1840. ay 22, Portrait of a Female. Drawn and etched by Hem Masesty, December 27, 1840,’ Who is the Lady, and who the Female? A very proper and very courtly distinction. No doubt, however, both handsome ; both the porcelain and the delf. “No, 27. Scene from the Opera of Norma. etched by the Quen, Jan. 7, 1841.” Drawn by Her Maysesrty in 1836, and This is, perhaps, one of the most condescending tributes ever paid by Royalty to Art and the Drama. It has been held a fine thing that FRANCIS THE First once picked up TiTIan’s pencil; but this was only the grace of a moment. Now, a good slice of the day of January the 7th, 1841, must have been given up by Her Magesry by way of studied . Aug. 22, 1841, and etched by the Queen. Who | compliment to the Drama of our land (as imported). If Mz. Lumiey be wise, he will immediately have the subject painted for an act-drop. my No. 37, The Fisherman’s Bride, Drawn and etched by Hern Masesty, Feb. , 1841.” Let all fishermen’s wives think better of themselves from this minute. The Queen of the Seas, in her affability, draws and etches, it may be, a Margate shrimper! The etchings we shall end with must be very beautiful, for the senti- ment that elevates and sweetens them. “No. 38. Portrait of the Princess Roya in the arms of her Nurse. Drawn from life by Her Masesry, Feb. 22, 1841, and etched by the Queen. “No. 45. Portrait of the Princess Roryat. Drawn from life by Her Masxsty, Aug. 15, 1841, and etched by the QuEEN. “No, 46. Portrait of the Princess Royat, Drawn from life by Her Masesry, No. 47. Portrait of the Princess Royat. Drawn from life by Her Masesry, Aug. 23, 1841, and etched by the QuEen. ** No. 48. Portrait of the Princess Royat, Aug. 25, 1841, and etched by the QuEEN. No. 53. Portrait of the Paincess Rorat, Jan. 12, 1842, and etched by the Queen. “No. 56. Portrait of the Princess Roya. Dee, 27, 1842, and etched by Prince ALBERT. “‘No, 57. Five Portraits of the Paincess Royat. Drawn from life by Hzs Masesty. and etched by the Queen, Jan. 7, 1843. “No. 58. Portrait of the Prince or Wares and the Princess Royat. Designed from life by Her Masesty, Jan. 3, 1843. Drawn and etched by Prince ALBERT. “No. 61. Two Portraits of the Princess Royat. Drawn from life by Hes Magsegsry, Feb. 10, 1843, and etched by the Queen, Feb. 26, 1843,” Drawn from life by Hex Masesty, Drawn from life by Her Masesry, Drawn from life by Her Mazesry, Fifteen portraits of the eldest born! How many delicious hours must the QuEEN have passed in the happiness of such maternity ! Were any Cabinet Councils held on the days of August 22, August 23, and August 25? If so, it is not impossible that Har Masesty may |have risen from her motherly work with reluctance, and—the Irish | Question, or the War in the East dismissed—returned to it with delight. Any way, we can hardly find fault vith the Windsor rogues who have | caused it to be made known to all men that Her Magesty delights in the labour that from month to month, and from day to day, fixes the changing loveliness of babyhood, and enshrines the future with unfailing |memories of the happy past. We shall never again see VicToRIA, | whether in cottage bonnet, in pony chaise, or in diamond frontlet in the | House of Peers, without thinking of those fifteen portraits—the tender work of tender mother’s hands—of the Princess Royat. | To return to the Windsor thieves. The pillory is gone. That vene- | rable piece of timber (the very heart of British oak) has been cut down by levellers. Otherwise, the folks concerned in the plate robbery would surely have been doomed to twirl their hour. In which case they would, /no doubt, have been pelted for their evil doings. And yet who—pon- dering the prettiness they have brought to light—who would have cast | at them aught heavier than sugar-plums—aught dirtier than custards ? Again ; we recognise another good in the larceny. Prince ALBERT has been in Chancery. The Queen and the PRINCE zow personally feel what it is to be robbed, pillaged, pirated. Will they then do their best to push on an International Law of Copyright with our kind friends in America, who live by robbing “us youth,” and against whose wicked- ness there is not even the forlorn hope of the Vice-Chancellor ? BARBAROUS TREATMENT OF THE EQUITY BAR. Tr is well known in legal circles that the Equity Bar is, four times per ‘annum, walked nearly off its legs by having to run backwards and forwards between Lincoln’s Inn and Westminster. The sittings, being | held alternately in the East and in the Sou’- West, keep the Chancery Bar, | like the vane ot a weathercock, engaged in the truly vain task of vibrating | continually between those two points of the compass. ‘The Equity {Counsel shares, with the Pilgrim of Love, a perpetual restlessness. The bearer of his bag is a literal bagman, for he is an incessant traveller | between the Hall of Westminster and the Inn of Lincoln. As to the Vice-Chancellors, they are almost as much “‘ put about” as the Bar; for no sooner does Knicut Bruce get himself snugly ensconced with his curtains drawn cosily round him in the little outhouse they have run up for | him in the old yard, than he is obliged to get the carrier to call for the paraphernalia of Justice, and “ move in” to his “humble shed” at the | back of Chancery Lane. Really there is no knowing where the limits |of one Court end, and the confines of the other begin. A suitor | scarcely knows whether he and his business have been (to use the technical term) “ done at Westminster” or done at Lincoln’s Inn. Vicr-CHanceLLorR Knicut Bruce has been heard to ask for a caravan, which he would glaaly convert into a Court of Justice, so that | he might be only allowed to call it and consider it his own. We well |remember the tribulation of his Honour when he used to hold his sittings in a three-pair back, and was constantly being interrupted by the announcement that the room was wanted for another party ; upon which Justice used to be compelled to double up its screen, catch up its | portable wash-hand stand, and hurry with all its papers into some other Cailding. We have known the energetic Vice continue the hearing of | ——

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— i ee eTowe VS We We eS rT SS SS ee a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 213 acause on “further directions” on the landing outside a door, take petitions through the ters, and hear small motions under an umbrella in the : d below. Such is the determination of his Hononr to attend to the interests of the suitors, that we are sure he would not personally object to sit under the dry arches of Waterloo Bridge, if no other spot could be found for him, or to take short causes in any of the doorways in the neighbourhood of Westminster Hall. “Give me but the portico of the Sessions House” is the feeling of his Honour, “but let me have it to myself; and if Counsel will only regard the division made by the railings as marking a distinction between the Inner and the Outer Bar, I will undertake to get through the whole business of the term, and the sittings after.” His prayer, however, is not yet to be granted. The Equity Bar must still be the shuttlecock of fate, knocked backwards and forwards between those battledores—the doors of Westminster Hall and Lincoln’s Inn. It is proposed to sit at the latter place during one part of the year, and at the former during another part ; but even these semiannual migrations - very properly exclaimed against by the exhausted Kquity Counsel, who sings— al “ Faint and wearily the wayworn barristers Plod on droopingly, afraid to stop ; Dim and drearily the clerks go after them, Wig-box carrying, and fit to drop ; Limping, laughing, One another chafiing.” &e., &c. A PALPABLE MISTAKE. Or= * Gossipville. y DEAR Mr. Puncu, “T’m come back again. Well, I sup- pose you know that; at all events it’s got nothing at all to do with it. Last Mon day, I took my age cousin GEORGIE all the way from St. John’s Wood into London, to see those tiresome National Guards that dearest KaTHLEEN is always raving about. She Sis to be eighteen on her next birthday. Let mesee—what was I talking about? O, yes, to be sure—the National Guards. Well, I never did see such odious frights. Upon my word, there were men chairing them about the streets—the ugly, clumsy things —in chairs, too! Iam sure, I wonder how they could bear to touch them. No sort of uniform, either; only pasteboard hats, and trumpery coats, and looking, for all the world, as if they were stuffed with straw. One of them had the audacity to have a beautiful Albert Hat on, which ~ like so much. And they ad all lanterns, too—but so have our own Railway Guards —and he must have been tipsy, the horrid brute, he reeled so in his cart. They said he be- longed to the heavy artillery, and an old woman told me some of them had been caught trying to blow up St. James’s and the House of Parliament. Only think, Sir! and these monsters come over under the guys of friendship, too! Coming home we met a rabble of those dread- boys, carrying another of them, and drumming and cheering—what they call ‘ fra- ternising’ him, When I asked where they were taking him, they only said, ‘Fawkes, Fawkes.’ I suppose they were silver forks he had stolen. I hope he was going to the Old Bailey. Oh, if I was his wife, 1’d give it to him! I’m sure if I was a man, I wouldn’t submit to be put on by those Guards —black-guards, J call them. There are some of them big enough, to be sure; but their legs and arms don’t look like soldiers at all; how they managed to fight at Waterloo, I’m sure I don’t know. ** Ever yours, “Ann Span.” OXFORD MIXTURE. Oxrorp, determined not to be outdone by her sister University, is making a movement in rivalry of that which has so much enlarged the circle of Cambridge teaching. As Cambridge is hereafter to offer to her sons her draughts of science, not pure but mixed; administering, from 1849, not the “cold without” of Algebraic Abstraction, but the “warm with” of Physical Philosophy, so Oxford is bent on blend- ing the practical with the theoretic, and mixing the wovown with the yuvaorixn, a8 recommended by Piato and AristoTie. We insert the following advertisement from the Ozford Herald of Saturday week :— AN OXFORD M.A., who Graduated in Honours, and is now resident upon . the South Coast, within easy distance of London, will be happy to receive into his House two or three Undergraduates, to read with him during the ensuing Winter Vacation. He can offer accommodation for three or four Horses. There are Foxhounds (2 packs) and Harriers in the neighbourhood—eacellent Wild Duck Shooting Pike Fishing, dc. References to men of almost every College in the University. Address A. G., care of Mr. &c., &c. This is a fine sample of the Oxford Mixture. We feel it our duty, however, to amplify this brief prospectus into a detailed programme of the arrangements for the winter season of this Oxford Graduate. Sunday. Rise at eleven—breakfast, and a Tract for the Times. | Walk to the river and look at the chub-holes, and mark down pike for Monday’s trolling. Lunch, and see to the terriers—if rats handy, | enter a young one or two. Church. Cigars, and construe in the library. Dinner—not to exceed a bottle of claret per man—no cards. A mild hit at backgammon, and edifying conversation. | Monday. Rise at ten, unless the hounds meet in the neighbourhood, | when pupils will be expected down to breakfast, in pink, by nine. Hacks at the door at ten. A practical commentary on XENOPHON, de re venaticéd. Lessons on unstable equilibrium, and fall of heavy bodies, with illustrations by Tutor. Late dinner, with Bishop in the evening to take out the stiffness. Tuesday, Breakfast at eleven. ARtstoTie cram for an hour, then, | if day warm and moist, troll for pike till lunch. Draw the badger till three. Logic from three till half-past. Pupils who have a book for | the Derby, take a lesson in the doctrine of Chances. Dinner at six. | ae in evening, and further practical application of doctrine of | hances. Wednesday. Herovotvs construe, with crib and run with harriers. | Duck-shooting at night. Lllustrations of Dynamics in the punt, and of equality of action and re-action, from recoil of duck-gun. Hot grog | and ‘Ethics about the small hours. : : Thursday, A \ark in the market-town, and Biblical History during the ride home. In the evening Arithmetic, illustrated by Cribbage. : Friday. Draw the badger in the morning. Greek play, and out with | the ferrets in the afternoon. —— Saturday. Repetition of the week’s work. Hunt, shoot, fish, Ethics, — History cram, Logic, and Theology, and to bed early. N.B.—No unlimited loo after twelve. Two years’ tick for coaching, and no objection to good bills, where expectations,

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214 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY. THE MISREPRESENTED CITY. : WE read of a toast being given at the Lord Mayor’s Feast, to the “ Members of the City.” Now the City is without its full complement of Members, which we look upon as the worst compliment that could be paid to a city ae rofesses to be “‘the most civilised metropolis in the world.” Since Baron Roruscuitp has been thrown out, the City of London has been most singularly misrepresented in Parliament, The least Ministers can do in return for a good dinner, is next session to re-Member the City. Weare told that Roruscuitp was advised to respond to the toast; but he said, with great irony and modesty, “ My feelings won’t allow me—I never felt so disgracefully put out.” We wish he had risen and spoken as follows :— * Gentlemen, I was elected by you; but the House of Lords said, ‘This man is not worthy to represent you, because he is a Jew.’ Parliament says to the City of London ‘ Make your free election;’ but mind, that election is null and void, if it happens to be a Jew. Government is not too proud to ask my advice now and then upon finan- cial matters; but then it declares I am unqualified to legis- late upon such questions, because I am a Jew. I am received everywhere, the honours of the City are open } to me, I can enter every place with renown, but the House i of Commons—the door of that is shut in my face, simply because I am a Jew. You associate with me, foreign | States deal with me, Kings have been my clients, every \ = - capital in Europe puts confidence in me, you with the same q 4 I confidence elect me your Member; but the House of s \ Lords says, that confidence is grossly misplaced, because " . I am a Jew. Let us hope the day is not far distant when mh ; of all men, even of Jews.” | pf Me “THEREBY HANGS A TALE.” | Lord Brovenam has left England in a steamer. We are First Naturalist, “Wuat! Tue S-S-Suz-Suer-rent a-an (1c) Icx (ac) raro-| formed, but mind we do not state how credibly, that his eavnus't .Nessun-nan }” Lordship has started expressly to have an interview with the Second Naturalist. “ Wuo sap Icu-(utc) Icutay-o-saurus? I sap a (Ic) Pxzst- Great Sea Serpent. He intends to devote the remainder of 0-(HIC) SAURUS PLAINENUFF.” his life to this pursuit. | | England will respect. the opinions, and honour the consciences | MAC—BULL AND THE RAILWAY WITCHES. eg Beg map mt Scexe—Wear a Tunnel at Midnight. In the middle a boiler with the A Private Act that guarantees steam up. Shrieks of the Railway whistle at intervals. ce ae oa pe a | * Enter the Torex Witcres, (Great Western, South Western, Forty per cent. instead of twenty ; and North Western.) For sole bye-law our high pleasure ; . . Engines at low price and high pressure, 1st Witch. Thrice the shareholder hath rued ! (No matter though they smash and scald one,) 2nd Witch. Thrice! and once director whined! i i 3rd Witch. Hupson cries—Combine ! Combine ! rng ee = cor cen. 1s¢ Witch. Round about the boiler go, All. Bubble, bubble, without trouble, In new plans and projects throw; Fares increase and profits double ! Shares, that ere debenture loan, Qnd Witch. Join three directors’ heads and hands, At a hundred oft were done, And the amalgamation stands ! And now for fifty may be got— 3rd Witch. Now for picking up our crumbs !— Boil thou first in the charmed pot. Something stupid this way comes ! All. Bubble, bubble, without trouble, Open strong box, to buy our stocks ! amie “aoe re and profits double ! Enter Mac—zvtt. nd Witch. a . ; , erg: Baga 3 wit. How woe, you secret, sharp, and downright stags, - 3 you ’d do: Eye of Jew, and tongue of stag, All. To us ’tis quite the same! Fees and briefs from Counsel’s bag; | gr of five = cent. ; rofits that to pay them went ; AR : A ’ as ay of Sunshine at last. pad of th apogee pee wet trouble Tuts has certainly been a wonderful year; but of all wonders that ’ have been packed as close as a carpet bag into it, none has been more All, Bubble, bubble, without trouble wonderful than the wonder whi ; , » » ch set everybody wondering on Lord Shares send up, and profits double ! Mayor’s Day. Future ages will be astonished to hear that the Show 3rd Witch, Heavier fares and fewer trains ; passed through the City without a drop of rain, and reached Guildhall Public loss and Railway gains ; without the ghost of afog. The Sun was distinctly visible all day !! Third-class trucks, like NoaH’s ark, This is the first time within the recollection of the Oldest Man in For clean and unclean, damp and dark ; Ri pinceesnpesehnillaetsdaiesan usages im en AERIAL LARS sodas calcein Armour, that the Civic Monarch’s reign has begun without a shower.

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os" a @ em "Ss Oe RRO OF @PoresS PS OPP tt cote is of = oO ce ll

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 217.

ADVERTISEMENT. ty Ql a?

| prong will merely allow herself to observe, that busses run from Brixton to the Bank every day, Tuesday next, at 12, included. This much, however, she will say: the weather having set in cold, it is quite the season to wear a Chinchilly Victorine, and a velvet mantle. P,S, Damask roses in cottage,

THE DRAGON’S-BLOOD ORANGE CLUB. A MAGNIFICENT supper was eaten on the 5th of November by this Club, in commemoration of the unexploded gunpowder of Guy Fawxes. The Chair was taken by Brother Och Muntuer. He made an elegant address. Rising, he observed— Y There was not in the world (after a good supper) ‘like the Christian virtues. He was proud to say, he saw the table full of them. There was not a Brother there who did not think every Papist a scoundrel; and who did not believe that the curse of Ireland was the Catholic religion. That blot, however, should be scratched out—if necessary, by the point of the sword. He was a Christian, and a man of peace; and as such, his cry was—“ War to the knife, and no sur- render!” He was very sorry for QuEEN Victoria. He wished to speak of the gentlewoman with the deference of a loyal subject and the politeness of an Irishman ; but ¢/is he must say of Hen Masesty—no; on second thoughts, he would not say it; but he would not shrink from his duty. would give the following toast :— “ QuEEN Victoria, and may she quay return to the upright principles which placed her illustrious family on the British throne!” Amm.—“ Why are you wandering here, I pray?” The Chairman next gave— _ “The Notorious, Glorious, and Uxorious Memory of the immortal Kane Wituiam tHe Tarp!” Arr.— Old King Cole.” This toast was drunk with three Irish howls, every Brother going 8 down upon his knees, and—ere he tossed off his glass—knocking hi head thrice upon the floor. A few enthusiasts took the sawdust out of | the spittoons, and—to show their sorrow for their loss—sprinkled it upon their heads. The effect of this was very impressive. The next toast was— : “* Enyest, King of Hanover.” Arn.—*’ Tis the last Rose of Summer,” © This toast was, of course, honoured by very many “Bravos.” Brother O’BiatHER, a distinguished locksmith, returned thanks. He said— the Kine or _ was a great King. Inthe present Cimmerian darkness of the Continent, when the sweet firmament of rational liberty was obscured by the pestilential fogs of Popery—in the present hour of Stygian gloom, it was a pity that Ernest, like Romeo in the play, could not be cut into little stars, that he might at one and the same time twinkle over twenty kingdoms. And oh! wouldn’t it bea great day for Ireland, if QueEN Vicror1a—whom he wished to speak of with the least—he meant, at least—respect, if she would only invite

to England her beloved uncle—that unsqueezeable orange—to take of him a few lessons upon Church and State. As it was, HER Masesty— though he could never forget the Maynooth Grant and the potato blight that grew out of it—as it was, he would not refuse the QuzEEN the benefit of his prayers. The next toast was— ** Protestant Ascendancy in Church and State.” Arz.—* March to the battlefield.” The Assistant Secretary returned thanks. He said it had been asked what was —— and truly, and definitely intended by Protestant Ascendancy? It was this: that in throwing the State dice, Protestant Ascendancy should always come up sixes. Now, this could never be left to chance. Certainly not. How, then, effect it? Why, by loading the die; not with lead, but with a heavier metal—gold. (Loud Cheers ; in the middle of which the table, that had long groaned with every delicacy of wine and dessert, broke down ; the lights went out ; and the brethren, tumbling one over the other, each manillustrated to his utmost, his personal desire for Protestant Ascendancy.)

A KINDLY CAUTION TO TRESPASSERS. Tue pleasantest and dullest road to Richmond—we adapt our des- cription to all tastes—is that which leads over Hammersmith Bridge through Barnes and Mortlake. There is the ful repose—or the extreme dreariness—about portions of it, of quiet, solemn park-scenery. Going to Richmond by this road you will remark, to the left, within three quarters of a mile from the town, a sign-post, directing you through a bye-lane, to the Star and Garter. You will take that path, which is also the lonelier and more agreeable, because it will be the nearest to your destination, inasmuch as you are bound to dine with a party of friends at the tavern just mentioned. You pursue your journey in anticipation of a choice banquet and a glorious sunset, an outlook on the valley of the Thames, which will suggest the happiest imag and the delightful reality of one of the best dinners in the world before you. You are in the most amiable frame of mind possible— on excellent terms with yourself and all i In these disposi- tions, your goal in view, midway between it and the humbler hostel of the “Lass of Richmond Hill,” on your left, surmounting a hig wall you will observe a Board inscribed with the subjoined benevolent notification. We have transcribed it verbatim et literatim :—

-_—¥ oe re fee ks SS § = AEN

| a St ee =A aes ~ : > ea > é ,

This precious relic of the olden time—which probably has long out- lived the old boy who reared it—is slowly yielding to decay. Perhaps it is destined soon to fall before the hand of innovation and improve- ment. Asa tribute to the memory of the venerable individual whose spirit yet survives in his Notice, Punch thus throws the halo of his own immortality around this interesting monument of crusty exclusiveness.

Astronomical Intelligence. Saturn has lately been appearing in public without his rings, and has occasioned much animadversion among the other planets, who accuse him openly of having pawned them! (Shadby.) BRIGHT REFLECTION IN THE VERNON GALLERY. TERE is so little light in this place that it is quite impossible to see a single R.A.(y).

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218 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A SIDE-BOX TALE. Rocuy anv Pocuy. Roguy. “See raHxt Girt LooKinG aT ME, Pocuy ?” Poguy. “Don’r 1? I DECLARE SHE CaN’T KEEP HER EYES OFF YOU. Roguy. “ Wuat WoMEN caRE FoR, Pocuy, my Boy, Is Not FEaTuREs, BuT EXpREssIoN.” [He pokes Poavy in the waistcoat. ” TRAITORS TO THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT. “Dear Mr. Puncn, “You are one of the most humane and kind-hearted of satirists, and stopped one of my letters while the Conspirators’ Trials were nding, for fear lest the severity of that remarkable production should ave borne hard on the prisoners, and perhaps have shortened their lives. Sir, you could not brought to believe that the trial, the defence, the depositions, the formation of the Jury, and the verdicts, and the sentences, were humbugs altogether, and you consigned to the flames the document which exposed those fictions. What sober man ever believed that anybody was going to hang Mr. Situ O’BrIey, or in that way put an end to young Mr. MgaGuer’s oratory ? “This morning, looking over the Dublin Evening Post (at Derraheeny Castle, the hospitable mansion of my friend, RoLanp CasHEt, Esq), [ saw a letter which a Mr. MaGeEg, a gentleman who is a traitor to the British Government, addresses to a New York paper. Ah, Sir, what a blessing it would be for England, and what a comfort to the States, no doubt, if all the traitors to Government would but join company with Mr. Maces! “In this letter Mr. T. Dancy Maces, a traitor to the British Government, has the honour t0 announce to the inhabitants of New York his safe arrival in that city. He feels, no doubt, that his mis- fortunes will create a sympathy for him in the breasts of all honest and prudent citizens; and, having failed in his attempt to incendiarise his own country, he flung himself with confident generosity upon the hospitality of the great North American Republic. “Before quitting his beloved Ireland, Mr. Macex did his best to planes her in anarchy, ruin, and murder. It was not his faultjif a loody Government thwarted his designs and those of the good and | | great men with whom he acted. Some of these have been nabbed and are in prison. Dogged from the cabbage-groves of Boulagh to the clanking dungeons of Clonmel, they have met, without blenching, the auger of the Law, and would have died resolutely under her fasces, had the bloody Government not let them off. Honour to the Martyrs of freedom! Next to coming to America, it would have been most agreeable to Mr. Darcy Macee to have laid his head on the bleck where they placed their own, and, having cursed England—got up again. But to see America was Mz. Macer’s first duty. He is here, and he hails the Republic. “Gentlemen interested in murder and rebellion, may inspect, at Mr. Macer’s offices, the beautifully bloody and authentic plans ordained for the late revolution. He has no objection to publish the councils of the leaders from whom he has run away; and, now he is out of Ireland, thinks it right, to the best of his humble means, to exaspe- rate the English against that most miserable and heloved country. ** As the people are starving, as usual, and the begging season is to | he uncommonly well attended, Mr. Macer begs to warn the people of Iingland, THAT THE TWO STRONGEST OF FEELINGS OF THE IRISH, ARE HATRED TO ENGLAND, AND A SANGUINE HOPE OF IRELAND. “This will be sure to make the English people more willing to he!p their Irish brethren. The dignity of the latter is preserved, while ‘heir destitution is made known. ‘D—— you, I hate you!’ says poor, ; prostrate, bleeding, but honest Ireland; ‘but give me some money for | that. “ Again, while the gentry in Ireland, with a liberality which does them credit, are begging the bloody-minded Government to hold its hand, nor deal severely with the leaders of a rebellion, which wasn’t a rebellion after all, only an excitement—nothing but a little discontent— merely a show to frighten the English Government into compromise, like those for which the late dear Mr. O’ConNELL obtained so much credit—it will be a great comfort to all parties to know that there really was a rebellion intended to the Government, because the charge of cruelty is disposed of ; and, the deuce is in it if men menaced by cut- throats, may not apprehend their assassins. The friends of the prisoners, who, having that interest for their captured acquaintances which outrage aud rebellion always excite in a noble and romantic country, must, nevertheless, perceive, that though pity for all prisoners and cap- tives is a Christian quality, it is better, after all, to have them locked up, than practising upon your own throats, families, and hayricks; and to the gallant prisoners, finally writhing in the dungeons of a bloody Goverament, whose honour is saved, at any rate, by their friends’ timely vindication, and who can say to those inclined to exclaim, ‘ Pooh! you never intended to fight ; psha! you are but braggarts and brawlers ’— who can say, ‘ Dastards, ye lie to the teeth! Dancy is there and free, listen to him, if ye will not to us. Wewere going to pike and torch; we were going to fire and murder; we were zo¢ bragging, but in earnest ; and very kind it is of Darcy to vouch for us from New York.’ “Mr. T. Darcy Maces then respectfully requests inspection of the plans, as proposed for the late insurrection. “Tn confidence, his explanations will be full and complete; but at present it is only his intention to say so much. “The towns were strongly garrisoned by the bloody old troops of the QuvEEN, whom it would be impossible to attack in their fastnesses. It was the intention of the gentlemen of the Executive to burn down the towns, so that the troops would naturally bs put upon the country. Here they could be disposed of more easily—multitudes of guerilla bands would deal with them, and cut them off. And though it is certain that by roasting them in the cities a vast number of Irish must have been roasted too, yet a patriot, and one especially who is across the water, and has nothing to lose, can contemplate the idea of his people butchered and his country in a blaze, for the sake of the delightful free- dom which would afterwards enswe, and the harm which the bloody old British Government must get in the shindy. “But for the intervention of the Irish Clergy, will it be believed that all these benefits might have been brought about? Their reve- rences prevented their people from joining in the contemplated rising— the tempest which was to tear the monarchy out of Ireland rose, blew, and died away, and the only persons injured by the blast were two or three poor fellows prostrated in a cabbage-garden, and two or three more blown across the water. ‘The spirit was ready to come, Mr. Mage says, but the Irish clergy exorcised it.” } aL “ My revered friend Pusch knows my opinions, and that I believe, for my part, it would be greatly to the benefit of this country if we could be rid of the union with our beloved sister; but this opinion, rapidly gaining ground, is not universal as yet ; meanwhile, and until it become so, are there not compromises to be made, and palliatives that we may apply! gs For instance, if there ever was a moral pointed to a story, there is one to the amiable tale of Mr. Maceg, and that is—PAY THE CLERGY. What force of policemen in green coats have you in Ireland ? what horse and foot artillery, and what do they cost? Will it be worth your while to have 3000 black policemen—the best soothers, detectives, preventives, in the world? From the very indignation of

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 219 the Roman bishops against the scheme of Pong. why, the Empire should see the goodness of the scheme. Give these 3000 clergymen a stake, not in Ireland merely, but in the Empire, and will they be less averse to rebellion and its consequences, than now? Protestant land- lords of Ireland, combine together, and pay your best friends, the Catholic Clergy ; Isay that Lorp Carpreay, and all his hussars, wi not keep the country so well as those 3000 scattered black horsemen, who would garrison every village in Ireland for the Queen; and, to well-me persons in this country, who cry out against the wicked- ness of endowing Popery, I humbly point Mr. Punch’s attention, begging him to ask them whether they prefer an immense costly army in Ireland, and hatred therewith, to the maintenance of a small eecle- siastical force, which would do ten times the service at a tithe of the present charge? , “Hisernis Hisernior.” THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA. THERE has recently been an oe of Spanish Bulls into the metropolis, as if the supplies from Smithfield were not sufficient to make the public thoroughfares almost impassable. The Spanish specimen of the Taury party comprises several droves of cattle, whose horns are so sadly out of curl—possibly from the dampness of the climate—that they extend almost horizontally, and render it nearly impossible to ae without a horn accompaniment of a very disagreeable character. e are thankful to Spain for her onions and for her chesnuts, but we trust she will give us no more of her bulls, if they all resemble those we have been so unfortunate as to meet with. PUNCH 10 tue REV. THE EARL OF GUILDFORD. My Lorn, f A CORRESPONDENT of the Daily News, signing himself “G., Winchester,” asserts that P ha Lordship is Master of the Hospital of St. Cross, near thatcity. He describes St. Cross Hospital as arelic “ of ancient piety and munificence,” as it is known to be. He states that it “was founded by princely prelates in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and richly endowed to maintain a number of brethren, to afford support to a number of poor, and to furnish partial refreshment to the multitude of pilgrims and travellers journeying in the South of England.” All perfectly true. There, he says, “ the poor and weary traveller can still demand his horn of ale and slice of bread, as he did seven centuries ago.” Exactly so; though the ale is not very strong of the malt, and cannot be designated XX. He avers that St. Cross is situated “in one of the most delightful spots in the Vale of Itchen.” I believe, my Lord, that these statements are quite correct. I am acquainted with parties who have caught minnows in the Itchen, and tasted the Sanctacrucian ale: albeit they gave that liquor a milder term; for, between myself and your Lordship, they called it “swipes.” But, my Lord, this G. also declares that the brethren of your richly- endowed Hospital are greatly reduced in number. This may or may not be. The Institution may have become poorer. Let the base insinuation pass. I wish to arouse your Lordship’s indignation at his direct ——— on yourself. He has the impudence to say, that though the St. Cross property, if properly managed, would yield will | £10,000 or £12,000 a-year, the amount expended in 'charity is only £1000 a-year. He has the effrontery to assert, that whereas part of the income arises from fines for the renewal of leases, and £12,000 was paid lately for the renewal of a lease, your Lordship receives 16s. 10d. in the pound outof every fine, and did receive | out of the £12,000 aforesaid. He'is so audacious as to allege that your Lordship’s income is more than four-fifths of the revenues of the Charity, instead of one-fifth, as originally intended. Pray, my Lord, me to excite your Lordship’s wrath by the mention of these monstrous aspersions on your But no: your Lordship feels that the charges are incredible. That you, my Lord, should have the capacity—to say nothing of the conscience—to swallow up four-fifths of St. Cross Hospital, beats anything in Muncuavsen. The disgusting exhibition of a_clown devouring a leg of mutton and trimmings is nothing to it. Tf this were true, your Lordship would be a greater pro than the Sea . You would bea sinecurist so tumid, my Lord, that you would burst a Castle of Otrauto. My largest cut, by the side of my least imitial letter, would give no idea of your Lordship’s dimensions. You would be too big for this world; and where could your Lordship expect to go to? My Lord, this “G.” would make out your Lordship to be a monster exceeding in rapacity and voraciousness, the cormorant, the vulture, the shark, the boa-constrictor, the alligator, the whirlpool, the earth- quake, and Danpo the celebrated oyster-eater. He ;would represent you to be as greedy as the grave, and very nearly as gluttonous as Time, | the consumer of all things. I hope your Lordship will not endure his calumnies, and will allow me to refute them; only, if you please, your | Lordship must condescend to furnish me with the data requisite for that purpose. I have the honour to be, my Lord, Your Lordship’s most obedient humble Servant, PUNCR. PARIS MORE FRIGHTENED THAN HURT. On the 4th instant the most alarming reports were circulated throughout Paris; which is not to be wondered at, all things consi- -| dered, and especially the fact that no less than 101 cannons were fired between six and seven o’clock in the evening. It happily turned out that the noise did not indicate any fresh demonstration of Red Repub- lican liberty and fraternity, but was’merely meant to announce the birth of the New Constitution. We trust this will be the first and last discharge of artillery which that Constitution will occasion, or, at least, that any future connonading it may give rise to will be equally harm- less, GrnERAL CavaIGNnac, however, should take care, another time, how he suffers his cannons to be let off in this manner, without any sort of notice or warning, in such a ticklish place as Paris. THE FRENCH CERBERUS. ADMIRALTY FARE. Cartarn M‘Quuez not only saw the Sea Serpent, but, what is more sateen, he was invited by the Lords of the Admiralty to— ine off it.

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CHARIVARI. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON THE MONS (WJULLIEN) IN LABOUR. UR Mons is again in labour; but the result is neither a ridiculus mus nor ridiculous mus-ic, but a treat of no ordinary character for the economic but enthusiastic amateur. It is true that our imagination is rather over- intended to indicate. We can hardly understand how “‘a double military band,” for which the situation has been expressly arranged, can give us the notion that “ Silence reigns around ;” though the extreme drubbing given to the enemy is perhaps appropriately represented by Cotttvet on the flageolet, whose conception of a thorough flagellation is something quite marvellous. It is gratifying to know that ‘in the trumpet calls and signals M. Juxuren has strictly adhered to the military regulations.” We understand that the Mons had several interviews on the subject with the Duke or WELLINGTON, who perfectly approved the arrangements of the professor, and several notes, both caligraphic and musical, are understood to have passed between these two distinguished characters. The great attraction of the Concerts is, however, God Save the Queen, arranged for “‘five distinct bands,” though they are so jumbled together that the preservation of their distinctness is almost impossible. The performance taxed to realise all that the British Army Quadrille is | of the five bands is insignificant, after all, compared with | the performance of the audience. The enthusiasm of the latter knows not only no bounds, but tolerates no hats; and indeed such is the demolition of these articles of head-dress that God Save the Queen, as now played, is a grand hatter’s movement in at least forty flats; for, no less than two score of hats are nightly flattened on the heads of those who cannot raise their arms for the purpose of uncovering and showing their loyalty. Many an unfortunate individual who is too crowded to be able to show his respect for HzeR Magzsty’s crown, suffers in his own, by having his hat converted into a temporary gibus; and, though the sentiment of loyalty which inspires this onslaught upon the rebellious beavers may be all very well, we think it hard that the public should be kept with their hats in hand, raised high in the air, during the capricious solos with which the National Anthem is interlarded. x © one could object to keep his hat off while the air is played; but it is rather hard to preserve a most uncomfortable attitude, while Kenie is shaking for a quarter-of-an-hour over “happy po glorious,” or Prosprre is grumbling about “ their politics” for ten minutes, through his monster ophicleide. Perhaps the greatest martyr of all to the cause of loyalty is the unhappy drummer of the Coldstream, who, standing next to one of the two men required to play upon one of the grossest cases of grosse caise we have ever seen, receives upon his | head every conére-coup of the enormous drum-stick, to which a momentum is imparted by the performer’s flinging backward his arm, and unconsciously making the head of the Coldstreamer a fulcrum from which the drum-stick receives its rebound. ‘ We hope M. Jutiey will, in mercy to the public, cut out all the superfluous twiddling, which detracts as much from the simple grandeur of God save the Queen, as it tries the loyalty by taxing the patience of the hatless crowd, who are obliged to preserve a most awkward and uneasy posture while listening. WHATEVER IS THE MATTER WITH LEICESTER SQUARE? HERE are certain Mysteries of London which the boldest ay] inquirer shrinks from thrusting his nose into. Leicester Square is one of them. What can it have been built for ?— ._ what is its use ?—how came it there —why does it not go == away ?—why does not some benevolent builder take pity upon * it,and throw over its raggedness a handsome cloak of eligible mansions, or an embroidered front of desirable residences, or even a plain dicky of commodious shops —These are all so many mys- teries, which you might offer premiums innumerable, and bushels of gold medals, to have explained, and yet never get the right solution. It is strange, but still it is true. Whilst all London has been advancing, Leicester Square has stood still. You will find it in exactly the same spot where it was full five-and-twenty years ago. It has not moved an inch. The same birch brooms for trees, the same weeds for grass, the same brush- wood for gravel walks, the same cobwebs for flowers, the same dogs and cats for visitors! It is sad, but perfectly true. The Statue remains, too, in the same state of stony indifference that has distinguished it for ages, long before we knew it. It looks resigned to its fate, and holds its nose with philosophic coldnes$ above the rubbish of this world that surrounds it so plentifully on every side. We always felt for that poor Statue. It looks such a melancholy outcast! We would willingly give a pail of whitewash to see it clean again. A change, however, has lately come o’er the wilderness of Leicester Square. Whether a policeman has told it to “move on” or not, we cannot tell, for we have not asked it; but it certainly is stepping out of the way to improve itself. There has been an air of wildness aud decided derangement about the poor thing for some time past; it has evidently been unsettled, and had grown quite callous about going to the dogs, but now it looks asif it were coming a little round again. Two or three of the railings have been replaced; a wheel-barrow of rubbish has been hurried away; a walk has been swept, and a forcible entry has been made through one of the least infirm gates. Long poles are sprouting up inside in parallel lines, as if they were taking their places for a country dance. There is decidedly something up ; but whether it will spring into anything, it would be rashness on our part—or anybody’s part—until’ next year, to say. Report hints that it is taken by a washerwoman for 999 years, to be turned intoa drying-ground, and the poles certainly give some foundation to this rumour. In the meantime every man has a right to inquire what will become of the Statue? If a finger is laid upon it, we will not answer for the consequences. Regent Street has gone; and if the Statue of Leicester Square goes also, why, London will probably some day go after it. ‘This is a question that interests, more or less, every person that lives in the metropolis ; and all of us who feel the slightest warmth for our hearths, must unite and keep our eyes open, for the next month at least, upon those suspicious clothes-poles. This is no time to be sleeping, when we have the Sea Serpent almost knocking at our doors, and the Statue of Leicester Square stands in momentary fear of being knocked off its pedestal. Further Abasement of the Trafalgar Basins. WE are sorry to observe that the contemptible slop-basins in Tra- falgar Square are already showing an accumulation of grouts, as thick as if they comprised the sediment of a series of Nelsonian tea-parties, given by the principal Statue in the Square to his brother Statues in the neighbourhood. If it were only out of mercy to GeorGE THE Fourtn’s horse, the water in these receptacles should be purified, for it is impossible that that or any other animal could drink his health out of the stagnant pools that are now lying before him. It is really too bad to establish a couple of open cesspools in such a situation as Trafalgar Square; and we shall expect soon to see arrangements made for dredging for ballast, unless the preliminary deposit already formed is removed before a secondary, and even a tertiary deposit creates an almost impervious stratum on the top of the under-crust already existing. = 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 Lombar i Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by them at No. 33, Fleet Screet,ia the Parisa of St. Bride,ia the City of London.—Sarugpar, Novsemsss 1Sth, 1348.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 221

VERNON GALLERY.—ARTISTIC SYMPATHIES. ur letter-box has been filled with letters from all the living painters whose pictures—known as the Vernon Gallery —have been put into the Na- tional Cupboard. The artists are, it seems, one } | and all in a terrible con- + WE s || dition, There is, it | SS et y || appears, some “ horri \W i ts sympathy” between their . \\' ys flesh and blood and their ~*| NARS / paint and canvass. The \ \ \\i mea men suffer in their pic- ‘\ tures. Ifa bit of silver- grey be scratched, the artist feels the stab some- where; if acool green be peeled, the artist has his skin flayed away. This is very odd, and reminds us of the famous portrait that gives the name of the Picture to a play of Massincer’s. O course in these dramatic times, all the world knows it. Nevertheless, we will venture to speak more fully of the incident. A certain king, going to the wars, leaves his wife. (Some men go home to both.) He is doubtful of her con- stancy; whereupon one Baptista presents him with a portrait, whose changes shall truthfully indicate the changing condition of the Queen. Baptista assures Mathias that if the picture once vary “From the true form, and what ’s now white and red Decline to yellow ”— P the lady is courted, but innocent. “But,” adds Baptista—- ** But if it turn all black, ’tis an assurance The fort, by comporition or surprise, Is fore’d, or with her free consent surrender’d.” Such pictures are not to be painted now-a-days; and if they were, some folks might refuse to sit for them. However, it would seem that the Vernon Pictures and the Vernon Artists sympathise in an opposite way. It is the painter that suffers when “ what’s now white and red” is rubbed into “ yellow :” it is the painter who “turns all black” when {| | S\ 0 his picture receives a thump of the eye from a , [3h crowding public.

We have no space to give all the letters at length ; but shall pick a few extrac's illustrative of the feelings of the living painters now |}| suffering in their pictures. | with Cattle. “ For these last three weeks ”—he writes—“ I haven’t had a bit of rest. No, Sir, not so much as a bit. I have had a dreadful tender- ness in my right calf, as if the skin was peeled off ~ : like an onion. Went to the National Gallery <-~—~ yesterday, Mr. Punch, and saw the whole thing. One of my—no, J won’t say beautiful, but 1 might—one of my best hits of cattle, flayed as if a butcher had skinned it, If this is to go on I must be measured for a whole suit of diac’lum.” Hear Mr. S. Cooper, about his Farm-Yard

TF The next is a very temperate appeal from Mr. Mactise. He is concerned for his Hamlet. He writes, “The day before yesterday, Mr. Punch, 1 received from an invisible hand a very savage and improper black eye. There being nobody in my studio, I thought of course it was my fancy; and so went on as if nothing at all had happened—to be sure. Why should I trouble myself about it? However, going out to dinner, and going to a glass by accident, I saw this same black eye.” (Mr. Mactisz here enters into a very fine theory of colour: it is, how- ever, too abstract for our pages—so, we jump to the great fact.) —“‘ The thing was plain, when to-day I visited the Vernon Pit (it was once called a Gallery). There, Sir, 1 saw my Podonius, with one of his eyes nearly out—and my eye, you may he sure of it, was entirely out to look at it. What’s to be done, Mr. Punch? I’m a peaceable man, and love the laws of the Saxon; but do you think they would allow me to take priva’e lodgings for my Hamleé, till the Government can provide Mr. PIcKERSGILL complains very pathetically about his Syrian Maid. He writes—“‘ Were she a Maid-of-all-Work in a lodging- house she couldn’t be worse touselled. I can’t express my feelings; and, being an R. A., I am not expected.” for some days. ‘Went to the Babel Gallery,” he writes, “and found the hand of one of my boys in Fuir-Time shockingly scratched.” n like manner, Mr, STANFIELD suffered from a sudden thickness of vision. All sympathy! Went to the Gallery, and discovered some of his pellucid sea-water rubbed into brown paper. e might proceed, adding new instances of sympathetic suffering on the part of the unfortunate men whose works have, in veriest simplicity of heart, been handed over by Mr. Vernon to the tender mercies of our Art-loving Government. However, we trust we have — oes LL Keine en ke < Carnawow

committed upon their works as sensibly as wrongs inflicted upon their own flesh.

THE TIMES WERE NEVER SO BAD. oe or two years the badness of the times has been the cry \yS—— of the world in general, and the excuse for dunning trades- men in particular. Everybody to whom‘one owes money has

_ “tightness” has been the pretext for one half the world to _2= bother the other half about those “ small trifles” which have been “standing since Christmas.” It is a popular notion with the tardy debtor, that the tradesman who cannot wait, has no right to continue his business; and that to ask for his “small account” is to confess a deficiency of the requisite capital to carry on his dealings in a respectable, or at all events in a creditable manner. Without going so far as this, we may confess that we hate grumbling, and are glad, therefore, to hear a change in the tone of the national voice, and an acknowledgment that things are beginning to look a great deal brighter than they have done. For ourselves we have little care, though we like cheerfulness in our neighbours, and therefore we have been indifferent as to “railway panics,” “ monetary pressures,” ‘* pecuniary tightnesses,” “ financial crises,” and all the other ills that Commerce is heir to. We have always felt that if the worst came to station among the dramatic dogs of the day to which his histrionic genius would entitle him. We are convinced that in such pieces as The Dog of Montargis, The Butcher's Dog of Ghent, and The Jolly Dog of the Abruzzi, he would make a hit, or, to speak more appropriately, bite his name in our histrionic annals, e would far surpass in sagacity that popular but injudicious mongrel who, while performing at the Victoria, lingered too long over the sausage that formed the bell-pull. Our own dog Zody would never disgrace himself by such an unprofessional neglect of the business of the scene; and therefore, as Railway shareholders are beginning to wear a smile. We seldom predict until after a thing has occurred; but we venture, on this occasion, to anticipate for the country a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

What's to be done with the Serpentine ? Every one agrees that the Serpentine must be got rid of, but no one knows how to get rid of it. It would be vain to get a policeman to invoke it with the exclamation— ** Flow on, thou shining river!” for its stagnant state prevents any hope of the order being obeyed. We know of only one way by which it may be absorbed and made serviceable at the same time. Our plan is to use it as a substitute for the “glutinous wash” employed to give their adhesive quality to the backs

him with a decent apartment ?” of postage stamps.

Mr. Mutreapy complains of a dreadful “pricking of his thumb” | had “‘a little bill to make up,” ever since 1846; and the | we said before, the stage was always open to him if the worst had come | to the worst. Happily, the worst is coming rapidly to better, and even | done enough to convince even a very dull reader (if we have such a | treasure) that it is very natural that painters should feel the injuries | the worst, we could send 7ody on to the stage, and let him take that |

VOL, XV. Z

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. CONTINUED SUCCESS! CROWDED HOUSES! ST. PAUL’S! THE OLD ORIGINAL EXHIBITION! AT THE ORIGINAL PRICES! Tats unrivalled Nave has been cleaned and decorated during the recess, and is now universally acknowledged to be the finest Ecclesi- | astical Edifice open to the Public at any price. THE OLD FAVOURITES STILL ON VIEW. THE TOMBS AND MONUMENTS, Allowed by all visitors to be superior to those in WESTMINSTER ABBEY. THE UNEQUALLED ORGAN! With the powerful Corps of Choristers in several favourite Chants, | every morning and afternoon. THE WHISPERING GALLERY, In which the softest whisper is reverberated from the Dome like a PEAL OF REAL THUNDER. The universally admired paintings by SIR JAMES THORNHILL. THE BALL, (En negligé, since the removal of the Observatory.) THE CROSS, GILT WITH REAL GOLD, At an enormous outlay, and commanding a view of this vast Metropolis ; | with other Entertainments, all to be seen, as usual, at the incredibly Low Charge of 2d. EACH!!! NOTICE. Lo their Patrons, the Nobility, Gentry, Distinguished Foreigners, and Public at large. It having been lately stated in a daily newspaper of some circulation called the Times, that the price of admission to the St. Paul’s Galaxy of Art and Grand Exhibition of Ecclesiastical and Architectural Curiosities, has been raised to 6d. a head, the Proprietors beg to give the statement an unqualified denial, and to appeal to the above Programme as a proof‘ that they are still anxious to merit the favours of a kind and discerning British Public by opening their doors at the usual, but ridiculously small charge of TWOPENCE EACH ! N.B. Vergers in attendance, of whom Catalogues of the Curiosities may be had, at the smail sum of Sixpence each. Good fires in every part of the Exhibition. 6 Enquire the Character at the Doors. Open from Ten till Dusk. “ Cautiousness, large.” _ Last week a witness at a police-oflice, speaking of an alleged stolen ring, observed— “ Might have said dear departed angel.’” Nothing like being on the safe side. it belonged to my dear wife, but did nor use the words, ‘my PUNCH’S ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND ON FINANCIAL REFORM. My Prorrze—as Mr. Exxiston used to call the British Public when he was sober, or my Pippins, as he termed it when otherwise—I have a few words to say to you about Financial Reform. There is a cry, and | a very proper one, for retrenchment ; but let us take care that we do not | adopt that species of retrenchment which has been happily described as the “ reduction of useful expenditure.” ‘Let us cut our infinite variety of Gold Sticks and Silver Sticks by making them cut theirs ; and let us | go into particulars respecting the useless Generals who form some of the | most expensive and most unnecessary items-of our Army ; but do not let us begin our retrenchment at the wrong end, Tf in some respects we are too lavish, in others we are too niggardly, and without meanness let us try to hit the happy mean. ‘There are many functionaries receiving too much for doing nothing, and many more receiving too little for doing a great deal. There is one class whom I would call your attention to as being, between you and me and the post—I allude to the postmen—most cruelly ill-paid. The letter-carrier who gives a double rap at ~ your door has often not a single rap wherewith to bless himself. how he hasa leg to stand upon; for he travels some twenty or thirty miles a day, to the equal wear and tear of body and sole. For this, his salary is a guinea a week; and in addition to physical fatigue, he has His walk in life is frequently such a walk that it is a wonder | to endure the mental tortures of TANTALUS, by money-letters frequently | passing through his hands. ! } a couple of fortunes in an evening, after having pawned one shirt to The rich Uncle in a farce, who gives away | pay for the washing of the other, is not more wretchedly situated than | the postman who has to leave Jarge sums at other people’s houses, | without having a shilling at home. Even a pig is thought to be worth a farthing a mile for his travelling expenses on a railway; but a post- man is frequently paid at the rate of five miles a penny, in the course of which he has to knock at two hundred doors, make out one hundred hieroglyphical directions, and be informed six different times, that six different Mrs. Jonzses are “ gone away, not known where.” More need not be said of the hard lot of the postman. His knock comes home to every man’s door; and everybody will admit that a reasonable addition to the postman’s pitiable pittance, ought to be one | of the first steps of a really equitable financial Reform. THE LOVES OF THE POETS. == ERTAIN song-writers of the present day appear | = to be madly, desperately, and ferventiy in love ~ with the “merry sunshine,” and the “merry moonshine;” but why not with the “joyous - rushlight,” or the “laughing gas?” We should like to know what is the use of falling in love with the “merry sunshine” in a place like London, where the object of one’s love is so very rarely seen, and even when visible, is so muffled up in fog and smoke as to appear to a dreadful disadvantage. If our affection is to be bestowed on any kind of light, why should we not love the “jolly camphine ?” or some other object illumining the dreary path of life, but with whom we are more likely to come in frequent contact than with the “merry sunshine,” which we cannot expect to see much of in a climate like ours. If our song-writers were to make up their minds to love any light rather than the light of the sun, they would not be so likely as they now are to give themselves up to a hopeless flame, or so unlikely to have their passion returned with appropriate warmth. Even the rush- light would should the rushlight itself expire, we may always cherish the former, repay devotion better than the sunlight; for, in the case of with affection the shade of the departed. The Loves of the Lights will be a memorable era in the history of English Poetry. Our songsters are gushing with affectionate yearnings for all kinds of lights, from twilight to moonlight; and, in fact, they are apparently so dreadfully light-headed, that it is a pity some member of the Society for the Protection of Life from Fire, does not kindly come forward to blow out all their brains. |

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a ot ty us et y; re a hii i i i ee eo ee eo oe Oe PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 223 HERO DESECRATION. HERE exists an individual who, a short time since, gave a Lecture at the Western Institution—and who is now repeating his task elsewhere—a Lecture on the Non-Entity of SHaKsPEARE and Ben Jonson. The men whom we have hitherto regarded as flesh and blood—as two indivi- duals—lived, it appears, in many arts: namely, in the various rains of various monks. Yes: “The Monks,” says E. 8. Dick- son, “were the authors of those understand that Dickson himself is quite harmless: hitherto he has bitten nobody; and lectures ou¢ of a strait-waistcoat. Possibly, a keeper, in some part of the room, exercises a professional control over him. Nevertheless, these antics of Dickson ought to be suppressed : otherwise, who can answer for the mischief they may create? We know how prone is a certain low, creeping mind to piagiarise a first great thought. A RusseLL, for instance, cannot have his Ship on Fire without a Smita immediately coming out with a Barge in Blazes; The Maniac instanily produces Zhe Beside Himself; and The Gambler's Wife is inevitably followed by Zhe Thimblerigger’s Widow. Now, unless this profane tom-foolery, or hopeless lunacy of Dickson be met by the proper authorities, we shall very soon not have | a single hero—whether of foolseap, gunpowder, or imperial purple— wherewith to bless us. Allow Dickson his rant, and prepare to have, in avery short time, announcements somewhat similar to the following :— “THE NAPOLEON NONSENSE.—The lecturer is prepared to prove that Napo.eon never existed in human form. other than a myth of the French Revolution. He was, in fact, the original of the Jack-o’-lanthorn playing on the blood of a slanghter-house. What we believe to have been NapoLeon at Saint Helena, was no other than a Grey Redingote, filled with the blast of a trumpet.” “THE TALLEYRAND TARRADIDDLE.—There was no such pérson as TALLEYRAND. Many Lives have been written of him; and others are to be written; but the human thing we acknowledge as TALLEYRAND never had a being. TALLEYRAND, in fact, like all genius, , isamyth, An incarnate embodiment of the wakefulness of a weasel ; ‘ a type of vigilanc2 and astuteness. | wonderful power of a bow that could beat all Europe. | be owned, has been very | _— it, as make a feather broom from the tail of a phonix. ‘ : n Hence, the Proverb—‘ Catch a ALLEYRAND asleep.’’ “THE LOLA MONTEZ LIE.—None but the most ignorant can, for a moment, believe in the existence of a Lota Monvez. As easily Loa ONTEZ is, in fact, a myth. In very truth, the incorporated idea of crinoline, diamonds, pearls, and coral; with roses and lilies in the abstract, and castanets and bull-dog in the concrete.” “THE WELLINGTON WAPPER.—Of course, as men manu- factured NapPoLeon out of a myth, it was necessary to supply an ideal conqueror of the aforesaid glorified Jack-o’-lanthorn. Hence the idea of WELLINGTON. Hence the Wellington Boot, that signified the iron heel of the victor. I+ can be received as no valid argument that the bronze horse opposite Apsley House wears shoes and zo¢ Wellington Boots. That defect lies at the door of the sculptor.” “THE GEORGE THE FOURTH FLAM.—The King that en- grosses so many pages of the History of England is, in truth, no other than a mythic embodiment of the graces of the dancing-master, and the work of the tailor. ‘Tne oak leaves about his head merely typify the A certain Welsh Bard, named BruMtuu1, known to the learned by his Epic of Starch, in Five Thousand Fytts, first imagined Georce THE FourtH; and SHEE—the tailor—subsequently added’ to the allegory ; that, it must ly embodied by Sir Tuomas Law- RENCE. It will be found that Lorp Broveuaw, in his Notices of | English Statesmen, treats GeoRGE THe Fourts as a bodiless thing—a mere wiud-bag; a creature of court breath, and royal purple.” “THE DUKE OF YORK DODGE.—There never was any DukE or York. And the story about Mrs. CLarke is merely a modern SuaksPEARE.” Moreover, “ Ben | Jonson and SHAKSPEARE never | existed in human form: they | are spiritual ideas or idols erected in the monkish times!” We} He was no | | adaptation of Cuaucer’s Clark’s Tale. The Duke or York is amyth of Debt. This, it is very plain, is shown by the monument erected to the shadowy Man. For what does the monument signify, but the Column of a Ledger? what the folding-doors that lead to its |staircase, but Debt by Double Entry? As a climax, the assumed ‘figure of the Duke is stuck upon the top, as poetically illustrative of b= principle, or rather want of principle, never known ‘to come | down.’” ' As worshippers of the heroes of our country, we trust we have now said enough to show the dangerous effects of Mr. Dickson’s lectures. Unless he be stopt, what will he not turn intoa myth? He will rob us of the domestic virtues of our GEorGE THE THIRD, assuming that they mean nothing more than a myth of mutton and turnips; and—we shudder even to think of it—haply deprive us of what many politicians have held to be our Palladium, the National Debt; declaring that such Debt has no other meaning than the Chalk Deposit of England. Dramatic Compositions called | THE OLD AND NEW CANTAB. THERE ’s a fine old song for fine old gents, with fine old wine elate, Of a fine old, etcetera—the rest I needn’t state; And Punch unto that fine old air new-fashioned words would mate, _ Of the fine old Cantab as he was before this change of late— The fine old Cantab as he was, all in the olden time ! His rooms their range of ballet-girls and running-horses showed, And a fox-brush, meant to indicate that up to hounds he rode; , There at vingt-un or loo he’d sit, until the cocks they crowed, | Nor ever thought of how to pay the various ticks he owed— This fine old Cantab as he was, all in the olden time ! From Eton or from Harrow he came cramm’d with longs and shorts, An ambition to drive tandem, and a taste for fruity Ports ; And his hardest; work was playing, till he deafened half the Courts, Concertos on the Cornet, in keys of different sorts— This fine old Cantab as he was, all in the olden time. ' As a Freshman he wore sober ties, and gave a Don the wall, But came out, his second year, in short coat and fancy shawl, | And treated the authorities with no respect at all, | Was seldom seen at lectures, and never dined in Hall— This fine old Cantab as he was, all in the olden time. So he managed to forget the trifling all he once did know, And by a very narrow shave got through his little-go, | And then he took “‘a coach” with cram what brains he’d left to stow— | Arithmetic to the Rule of Three, and some Algebra, also— | This fine old Cantab as he was, all in the olden time. Thus, loo, lark, liquor, and late hours, made time and money fly, | Till when three years brought on the Poll, he was plucked disgracefully, And his disgusted gov’nor came and paid off, with a sigh, _ | Licks to a tune which nearly sucked the poor old pump quite dry, For his fine old Cantab of a son, one of the olden time. | But times are changed henceforth, we know; for, from eighteen-forty-nine, The sons of Alma Mater must choose a different line ; And if you try the Muses round, not a lady of the nine ; Out of whom he won’t be qualified with ease to take the shine— Our fine young Cantab that’s to be, all in the future time. | For reading and not racing he’ll have to keep his book, | He’ll blush at his own pink, and hang his tops upon the hook; And if e’er he use a cue, ’twill be for motion’s laws to look ; And for milk punch he ’ll drink his toast—and water from the brook— Our fine young Cantab that’s to be, all in the future time. He’ll put off the old Anam for the new one—Apam Situ ; Political Economy will bring private, p’r’aps, therewith : At Ge— or else ‘The—ology he’ll spend his pluck and pith, ‘Tea and Theorems ousting loo and lush, which will be all a myth To our new Cantab that’s to be, al in the future time. Save for studying the pendulum he’ll never try a tick ; | A novel definition he’ll invent for the word “brick;” _ | Not one who braves the Proctor, or bargee can slang or lick, | But who digs up Hebrew roots like beans, and knocks off Morals slick— { Such our new Cantab is to be, all in the future time. Old Dons will-shake their heads, no doub‘, and the good old days deplore, When reading men were voted slow, and lectures all a bore ; But still let. ’s hope that Cambridge will furnish, as of yore, | All the wisdom of our ancestors, and perhaps a leetle more, To the fine new Cantab that’s to be, all in the future time!

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| ii \ tun be WN a THE OUVRIEB CBEBPING LIKE SNAIL UNWILLINGLY TO SCHOOL. THE SEVEN AGES OF THE REPUBLIC. ——France is a stage, And all her heroes little more than players. Her Kings their exits have, and entrances ; And the Republic runs its round of parts, Its acts being seven ages. First, Young France, Emeuting and plotting, e’en in the nurse’s arms ; Then ouvrier out of work, casquette on head, And frowning hairy face, going, in faith, To Louis Bianc to school. Then LAmartins, Spouting away, writing a score of sonnets Unto Dame Liberty’s eyebrow; then Bfobile, Clapped in strange clothes, and bearding barri- es, Zealous against old friends in sudden quarrel, Taking a sight at death and devastation E’en in the cannon’s mouth ; then CAvAIGNAG In power despotic and a state of siege, With frown severe, and beard of Algiers cut, O’er-riding Law with a soldier's insolence— And so he plays his part. The sixth age shows Poor Liberty, with Constitution weak, Halting "twixt Anarchy and Despotism, Her youthful bonnet rouge a world too wide For her shrunk brains, and the big boastful voice, Turning again to the old treble, pipes Louis NapoLeon in. Last scene cf all, That ends this strange, eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, Sans trade, sans tin, sans press, sans everything. THE GABDE MOBILE SEEKING THE BUBBLE REPUTATION IN THE CANNON’s MOUTH. THE JUSTICE, WITH EYES SEVERE AND BEARD OF FORMAL CUT. THE LEAN AND SLIPPERED PANTALOON, WITH SPECTACLES ON NOSE.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 227 ADVERTISEMENT. —— looked into every Brixton ’bus last Tuesday. He thinks not of the threepences ; but ANGELA was not there. No Velvet Mantle; no Chinchilly Victorine; no Damask Roses and no Cottage. Can ANGELA sport with a heart that is breaking ? ON THE MORAL, SOCIAL, & PROFESSIONAL DUTIES OF ATTORNIES AND SOLICITORS. Delivered in the Hall (of his Chambers) by J. BrrertEss, Esq, Fc. ¥¢., BaRRISTER-AT-LAW. LECTURE IV. 1R,—In my last lecture I touched upon your educa- tion; the field was, indeed, a narrow one: but to- day let me say a word or two on manners, of which the “gent., one, &c.” betrays too oftena sad deficiency. In the first place, you should avoid flippancy, and fly the faintest shadow of a joke; for, though the man who can make a pun might pick a pocket, I do not think it is essential for even an attorney to be au fait at this accomplishment. You, Sir, have often been led into vulgar jocosity at the expense of my clerk. I have heard you ask him when he would be out of his teens, and out of his velve-teens. Nor have you scrupled to try to catch the services of me—the old bird—by offer- ing chaff to him—the younger one. Believe me, that although the poet has told us, “Tis good to be merry and wise,” it is not always wise, but frequently other-wise, to be merry. Let me entreat you, Sir, never to forget the suaviter in modo, and recollect that he will have little prospect of being able to keep himself, who cannot keep his temper. _ You may undergo many trials from the very fact of your never being engaged in any trial at all; but recollect that the man who allows his own judgment to go by default, will never obtain the confidence of his client. The violent action of irritability is an action against yourself. It is you who will suffer the damages, and—oh! terrible penalty upon an attorney !—the party pays his own costs. You are the party; you are your own legal adviser; and, as every man in this condition has a fool for his client, you, Sir, are a fool! How many cases I have known, how many instances I haveseen, which I might, could, would, or should describe, if it were not that,. for obvious reasons, I mightn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t.* Shall I hint the possibility of an irritable “gent., one, &c.,” being found impaled on one of his own files, or having devoted the whole of his tremendous powers of attorney to his own destruction ? Avoid slang, and particularly in the presence of the Judges, even when at Chambers; for, though the ermine is superseded by the paletot, the judicial heart beats no less majestically beneath the registered wrap-rascal of Nicont, than under the ample crimson of ADAMS AND Eps (late Wexs).+ Be careful not to put off the Chester- field of politeness on such occasions as these. The Caxon { of private life may not beso imposing as the judicial horse-hair; the Jasey of social intercourse may not have the pomp and stiffness of the oflicial head-gear; but you must recollect that— “A Judge ’s a Judge for a’ that ;” and you must never indulge a presumptuous familiarity on the strength —or rather on the weakness—of the private wardrobe of a great public functionary. The unrobing of a Judge, like the unrolling of a mummy, takes nothing from the venerable character of either. A Lord High Chan- cellor, with whom I enjoyed the privilege of constant intimacy, and an occasional chop; at the soir¢es of whose lady I have ** Stood amid the glittering throng ;” at whose banquetting-table I have sat among those ** Who deeply, deeply drink of wine ;”” at whose matutinal breakfasts I have eaten the bread of friendship, and laid on the butter of admiration; with whose card-rack and with whose toast-rack I have been equally familiar—yes Sir, a Lord High Chan- * Mr. Brieress has in this case copied a learned predecessor on this subject, who continually states that he is able to say a great deal, ‘“‘only he doesn’t ;” and who thus gives the public to understand that, like that “honest fellow” Jago, he ‘‘ knows more—much more—than he unfolds,” + The robe-makers at the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street, ¢ Caxon and Jasey are two almost obsolete terms for two kinds of artificial coiffure, which the “Real Gentlemen’s Head of Hair,” or ‘“‘ Gentlemen’s Head of Real Hair,” or “ Gentlemen’s Real Head of Hair,” and other similar contrivances have superseded. cellor, with whom I have been on those easy terms, has been, to my knowledge, a purchaser2of the humble highlow; yet no er ever had a more respectable standing than himself. Have I said enough to prove to you that the Judge en déshabille at Chambers, should be as respectfully treated as the Judge ex grande tenue in Court—his proper sphere? Echo, through a million ophicleides, answers “ Hear.” Your intercourse with the Bar is a very delicate subject, and I had rather let it alone—I mean, of course the subject; though in:your case I might add, “and the intercourse also,” without giving offence to the class to which you belong. ‘The relations between barristers and attorneys require the nicest treatment. You know, Sir, that I abomi- nate huggery ; but when I have a gentleman to deal with, who is also an attorney, I can avoid huggery without adopting any of the opposite attributes of the bear. Nor do I admire those who, while keeping an attorney at more than arm’s-length in public, are in private “all things to all gents.,” (ones, &c.). Iam not one of those, either, who consider that a man once admitted on to the roll of attorneys, is ationce struck off the roll of humanity; nor do I look upon the Law List as-essentially the Black List of the age we live in. It would seem like mockery on my part were I to lecture you on exactness in money matters, when if is notorious that you, Sir, are exactly the reverse; or rather, that your exactness consists in exacting from me my labours without their equivalent—when you can. “ Know- | ledge is Power,” and happily, my knowledge of you enables me to prevent your making many more of these “ points of practice” at my expense. Learn, if you can, to be economical, not of money only, but of time; and I will set you an example on the latter point, by telling you, that as my time is valuable, I can spare no more of it at present, and you must therefore go. I would have warned you, nevertheless, against the consequences of doing things in a hurry ; but, as I have just remembered I have something else to do, I must advise you to hurry off. Time, they say, is money, and therefore capital, which may be true ; but if you have nothing to do, your capital will remain idle, although it is constantly going, and returning you no profit at all, This is my case at present; 80, ‘€ Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.” MUSIC FOR THE NURSERY. In consequence of the great demand that has oi sprung up for Niminy Piminy Tunes for Namby Panby Players, and other musical minutia of the same class, it is in contemplation by the Mons. JuLLIEN to arrange a series of classical compositions to suit the nursery taste that is now prevalent. The Maestro, who last year took a trip to the Swiss mountains, for the purpose of picking up all sorts of instruments to give effect to the Ranz des Vaches, has this year been upon an expe- dition to the Lowther Arcade, to collect the necessary materials for arranging pour un grand, or rather pour un petit orchestre, the overture to Fidelio, in which the penny rattle, the halfpenny whistle, and the child’s coral, will be intrusted to the respective mouths of Baumann, Kenic, and Ricnarpson. It is intended to announce a series of classical performances, under the name of Funny little Fugues for Noisy little Ninnies, and these will be succeeded by a set of Brobdignagian Barcaroles for Boisterous little Baritones.

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| 228 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. —x— CURIOSITIES OF ADVERTISINY LITERATURE. =~ HIs is a title we have on more fi than one occasion taken up ; and we only regret that there is no Disrakwi of the daily press, to devote himself to the task of collecting the curiosities of the advertising literature of the newspapers. The Zimes of Tues- day gave a rich specimen, in the shape of an advertisement, of a Double Brougham, the lightest ever known, and “built to the order of a gentleman called out of this country to be sold a great bargain.” Are we to infer that the unfortunate gentleman has been kidnapped for the Slave Trade, or how are we to under- stand his being called out of the country to be sold a great bargain ? We do not pause for a reply—if we did, we should never go on again. Another advertisement, in the same day’s paper, commences by calling public attention to Native Oysters, which, it is added, are not in perfection until they are six years old. We should like to catch an oyster telling its age, and we defy any one else to ascertain the secret. There is no judging by its teeth, and we are not aware of any other criterion, unless the strength of the beard may be relied upon. It is something new to us to be told that an oyster must be six years in shell before it is worth opening. A LITTLE LESSON FOR STAMMERERS. WE would recommend persons who have aslight impediment in their speech to practise reading the following sentence. After they have read it a dozen times every day for a couple of months or so, they will 1 oe cured, or else they may depend upon it their case is perfectly opeless. “Now WInpIscuGRAtTz, being joined at Schwechat by Putszky, who was, according to the Schlessische Zeitung, the agent of the Ban JELLACHICH, prepared to meet MEsSENHAUSER, who relied on KossuTH relieving him; but Frasew advised him to retire to the Burgthor, where Limonicu, with his Magyars, was waiting for supplies from Goéding. At this crisis, what should Schleswig Holstein do but send the trusty Unrun to Olmutz, to demand terms of Krauss, or else it would be the worse for WussenBuRG, who was already in the hands of Dyonis Pazmanpy, the brave chiefiain, who had so valiantly over- thrown Czanyi and Luszensky, and his Croats, near Bugitereau, on the right side of Hetzendorf. just between Veneja and Chiarojvenna, the capital of Colico. But Fetrx SchwaRTZENBERE, arriving at this moment, and WinDIsCHGRatz having received some information in the Preussische Staats Anzeiger, which showed too plainly that Bem was a traitor, they coalesced, and the result was, they quite cowed Benxo, who was in full force at Temezigt. That same day JELLACHICH entered the Karnthern Strasse.” THE DIET OF THE UNITED KINGDOM. t the risk of our popularity—which is with us an infinitely minor consideration to the public good—we propose an organic == change of a tremendous nature in the British Constitution. Piumply and plainly, without if or but, we recommend the conversion of the House of Commons into a National Diet. It has long been said that no bu-iness in this country is ever done | without a dinner. We were going to instance Parliament as affording an exception to this rule; but we find, on consideration, that it does not. We say then, that every meeting of the House should be a public dinner; and then, perhaps, there would be some hope of the despatch of public affairs. In this way the Assembly of St. Stephen’s would become a Lond fide Diet. The following are the arrangements which we suggest for adoption: and when they are adopted, we sincerely trust that the evening’s legislation may bear the morning’s reflection :— Tables shail be laid out separately for the principal parties, with the legs of the mahoganies fixed firmly in the floor of the House, lest, in the heat of discussion, the rival partisans should literally turn the tables on each other. The Bill of Fare for the day shall be appropriate to the Order of the same. Thus, when the Poor-Law is to be discussed, it shall consist of roast beef and plum pudding (with skilly and water-gruel for those who | | | | prefer the latter), in order that the Diet may be generous. On the! other hand, the debate on the Estimates shall be taken upon cold mutton. Irish debates shall be preceded by the stew, Scotch by the haggis, of the respective countries. The business of the House shall not commence until after the removal of the cloth. The Speaker shall then call upon an honourable gentleman | for his motion, which shall be proposed after the manner of a toast. | If the measure is one of reform or retrenchment, no Member shall | drink it who is not prepared to vote for it; but if it be for the impo- sition of a new tax, or of a coercive nature, it shall in that case be | allowable to drink, by way of amendment, to its second reading that | day six months. Each Member shall be strictly required to drink every pledge which | he has given to his constituents. Free Trade questions shall be debated upon French wines; those | relative to Excise over grog; but whisky shall on no account be intro- | duced when Irish affairs are under consideration. ; Foreign Policy shall be discussed upon iced claret, as the lightest and least heating of beverages. ; é In deliberations upon University or Ecclesiastical questions, the Conservative tables shall be supplied with champagne, and the Liberal boards with choice old port, which will tend to produce that com- promise of feeling so desirable upon such occasions. : No Member shall be permitted to drink till he has finished his speech —with a view to the probable abridgment of the oration. When a Minister is asked a question, he shall be bound to answer it—or swallow a glass of salt-and-water. . : Should any Honourable Member so far forget himself, in the excite- ment of debate, as to throw bottles, he shall be obliged to acknowledge that he committed the outrage only in a Parliamentary sense. The allowance for each individual shall be a bottle of wine; but a power shall be vested in the Speaker to license certain gentlemen to drink as much as they please—there being some of them whom it would be desirable to prevent from remaining on their legs. A similar privilege shall be extended to the Premier, on the principle, “ Jz vino veritas,’ 1 THE THING TO TEACH AT CAMBRIDGE. To Mr. Punch. *Srr,—I percertve that the new Cambridge Curriculum includes the science of Political Economy. Now, Sir, I have a son at that seat of learning, and I speak feelingly. It may be all very well to instruct undergraduates in Political Economy; but I wish the University authorities would also contrive to teach these young gentlemen a little personal frugality. J] am, Sir, greatly indebted “ To various Wine-merchants, Bootmakers, “* Liverystable-keepers, and Tailors, ‘Your most unfortunate humble servant, ‘* PATERFAMILIAS.”

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OS cher mM PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 229 Dit His and was free, his means was easy, Ne’er drove about the Shons-Eleesy, A brougham and pair Str Jon prowided, That “some one helse” a lovely dame was, This faymus Countess ad a daughter A nobleman in marridge sought her, Their pashn touched the noble Sir Jouy, Lavy GraBrowskI he did urge on, *O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent,” The living thers ’s uncommon pleasant— “OQ, come to Bath, my fair GraBRowsk£I, “ The Barrine here shall have the ouse-key, ** And when they ’ve passed an appy winter, The marridge-vow they ’ll enter inter, To Bath they went to Lansdowne Crescent, No end of teas, and bails incessant, He was so Ospitably busy. Upstairs to call out, ‘‘ Missy, Miss But O! ’tis sadd to think such bounties A BOW-STREET BALLAD; BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE FORCE. HERE ’s in the Vest a city pleasant, To vich K1ne Bia- DuDgev, hisname, And in that city there’s a Cres- cent, Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame. Although that gal- liant knight is oldish, AlthoughSmJonn as grey, grey air, Hage has not made his busum coldish, His Art still beats tewodds the Fair! "Twas two years sins, this knight so splendid, Peraps fateagued with Bath’s rou- _ tines, To paris towne his phootsteps bended.’ In sutch of gayer folks and seans. A nobler, finer gent than he Or paced the Roo de Rivolee. In which abroad he loved to ride; But ar! he most of all enjyed it, When some one helse was sittin’ inside! Dear ladies, you will heasy tell— CouxTEss GRaBROWSKI her sweet name was, A noble title, ard to spell. Of lovely form and tender art ; By name the Baron or Sarnt Bart, It was so pewer and profound; With Hyming’s wreeth their loves to crownd. Says kind Str Joun, “and live with me; I’m sure you’ll find the hair agree. And bring your charming girl,” sezee: Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea, Their opes and loves no more we’ll bar; And I at Church will be their Par.” Where good Sir Joun he did provide And hosses both to drive and ride. When Miss was late, he ’d make so bold y, Come down, the coffy ’s getting cold!” O, Barrine or Saint Bart, O, Countess GraBRowskI, and O, cruel Miss ! He married you at Bath’s fair Habby, Sant Bart he treated like a son— And wasn’t it uncommon shabby To do what you have went & done! My trembling And amost refewses To write the charge which Str JoHN swore, Of which the CounTEss he ecuses, Her daughter and her son in lore. My Mews quite blushes as she sings of The fatle charge which now I quote: He says Miss took his two best rings off, And pawned ’em for a tenpun note. **Ts this the child of honest parince, To make away with folk’s best things ? Is this, pray, like the wives of Barrins, To go and prig a gentleman’s rings ?” Thus thought Str Jonn, by anger wrought on, And to rewenge his injured cause, He brought them hup to Mr. BroveHton, Last Vensday veek as ever waws. If guiltless, how she have been slanderd ! If guilty, wengeance will not fail ; Meanwhile, the lady is remanderd And gev three hundred pouns in bail. PLEACEMAN X, 54. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH THE EARL OF CARDIGAN? Tue Fart or Carpican, who has so often figured at the bar of public opinion, has been once more brought before that Court, charged with the old offence of tyrannical and insolent conduct to one of his officers. The present plaintiff is the = Hon. Carraty Noet; and the particulars of the case are notorious. Of the treatment which he received from the noble Lord, Caprain NoEt complained to the Commander- in-Chief, who decided that it was so well merited that he ought to apologise to the Hart or Carpican.. This the gallant Captain declined to do, probably not seeing how he could apologise for his word having been denied, his manners sneered at, and himself turned out of the room. In deference to the decision of the Duke or WELLINGTON, we will suppose that Lorp Carpican, in this matter, has acted and spoken like an officer, a nobleman, and a gentleman. Otherwise, we should have regarded him as having decidedly exhibited himself in what Bottom calls “ Ercies’ vein—a tyrant’s vein.” We might have been tempted to pursue the analogy between the Earn or Carpican and Boééom, whose “chief humour” was “ for a tyrant,” and who was denominated by his comrades, “ Bully Bottom.” But we will assume that his Lordship was in the right. No doubt, at least, he has kept on the safe side of martial law. We cannot, however, help asking how it is that the Earn or CarpiGan is constantly at variance with somebody in his regiment:? Whence comes it that, as the BisHor or ExeTeR has always some undutiful curate, so he has ever some refractory officer on the grill ? Is the circumstance ascribable to peculiarity of temper? If so, what is it that has soured his disposition? Can it be an ungratified longing for military distinction? Is his Lordship the young Norval of the llth Hussars? Has he “heard of battles,” and sighed for unattained Jaurels? Is he tantalised by the sight of decorations and medals adorning the breasts of Peninsular and Indian officers? Nay, Is he troubled with acorn? Or is his general health out of order ? Is his liver in fault? That must be it. ‘Then why does he not try an Antibilious Pill? Why not drink Taraxacum Coffee? He should consult Srr James Crarke, or Dr. CoamBers. We are convinced he must be very ill. Poor Lorp Carpican! We pity him very much; indeed we do. He is the victim of bile and indigestion. His food disagrees with him, and hence he disagrees with his cfficers. The Duxe or WetiiNeton is not the man to deal with his case. The proper person is the Surgeon to the Forces. If the Eart or Carpican will take a little medical advice, the 11th Hussars may become quite a pleasant regiment. Thus tenderly have we touched Lorp Carpican; whereas it may have been expected that we should have hit him hard. But bis Lordship is not one of those persons who have no friends, The issue of his affair with Captaris Nort shows that he is exceed- Should meet with such return as this; ingly well befriended at head quarters. we trust not. Perhaps he suffers from some physical source of irritation. | } i

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| independence, had arrived in this country, and taken a season ticket for 230 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE UNLOYAL ONE. We formerly used to hear and read a great deal about a Hatti Scheriff; but if ever there could be a necessity for the interference of such an officer, now is the time. The nightly demolition of hats at Drury Lane Theatre is something so tremendous during the shakes, solos, ad libitums, and encores of God Save the Queen, that (we have it on the authority of one of the charwomen of the establishment) there are at least six dust-pans full of old beaver to one of orange peel to be removed every morning after the performance of the preceding night. The little bit of clever fingering on RicuarRpson’s flute costs many a gossamer its existence ; for, the impossibility of keeping the gossamer elevated in mid-air, brings it down on to the devoted head of its owner, and immediately three thousand voices, joined with four hundred fists, a score of walking-sticks, and six umbrellas, reduce the hat to an untimely gibus, in spite of the remon- strances of the bonnetted occupant. When JuLLIEN gives the signal for a da capo, many a hat is converted into a sort of night cap (of) by a crushing process, which reduces it to the consistency of a mere bonnet de nuit. One would think that the notorious Harzorr, the great enemy of Polish Juiien’s Concerts, in order to oppress the Polls of this country, and violate their liberty, even when under the shelter of the British hat. or crown. The débris of devastated chapeaux would make a monument to Sir THomas Beevor, and the pile of velvet naps that have severely napped it, would, if woven into a carpet, make several hundred yards of velvet pile. If God Save the Queen should run through the season, with all its absurd and tedious variations: if, in fact, its glorious notes are not paid in short, to that bank of loyalty, the British ear, the hat will disappear from the head of the playgoer, for no one will be anxious to play the victim in the farce of Smasher and Crasher, which is performed every night, not only at the Adelphi, but at Drury Lane. gga ae 2) ln bas il i, MIR Yi a SRE XN y \W pl = ; an \2 th f \) ; ee ii i/ X =F NG) IF “Gop Save THE QUEEN,” WITH VARIATIONS. Rather Showery. | WE have had our showers of frogs, and of lady-birds, and of locusts, and of | blacks, and of hail the size of small paving-stones, and other things that do | not usually turn up on the top of an umbrella; but a French paper puts the | English newspapers completely out, in the way of showers. The Réforme | publishes a shower of Fire! If this shower really fell in France (and we would | not doubt it for the world), we should say it was only the commence ment | of the reign of the République Rouge, which wishes to carry fire everywhere. | However, this sort of shower has been pretty general lately, all over the | Continent. We would much sooner have a shower in London just at present, than one in Vienna or Berlin. We must confess we have a weakness with regard to showers, and when we have one, we like it to be “cold without,” instead of “warm with.” We prefer taking it “neat,” and do not think a shower is much improved, after the French recipe, for having a regiment of soldiers “just to take the chill of.” A REMONSTRANCE FROM CUFFEY. Wuat do you mean, my Lorp Joun Russk., To do with me and Mr. Fusseu.? You put us down without a tussle— We only bluster’d ; Whereas you see that Switu O'Brien, The QuEen’s authority defyin’, Agin the Unicorn and Lion Rebellion muster’d. Well, you ’ve convicted him of treason ; It seems that clemency ’s in season, For he, no doubt, for some good reason, Ain’t to be martyr’d; Oh, no! you mean to spare his wizen, The traitor’s doom will not. be his’n, Dragg’d on a hurdle from his prison, Hang’d, drawn, and quarter’d. Now, if he isn’t executed, Why ain’t my sentence, too, commute. ? Your justice will be, sure, dispu’ed By all the nation, Tf, of a smaller crime convicted, I’m to have mine in full inflicted, Served out, with rigour unrestricted, With transportation. I own my crime—I’m punish’d rightly— I know | ought to catch it tightly ; But yet my Lord—don’t weigh it lightly— I ask you whether The gaol, at least, don’t level stations, Ranks, and conditions, and gradations, Rendering all in our situations onvicts together ? Fair play, your Lordship, is a treasure : Deal with us all in equal measure ; Spare Surry O’Baten at your pleasure, But unto Rurry Show the same favour, and to Rooney, To Jonzs, to Fusse.t, and to Mooney, And me, unhappy crack-brained spooney, Poor little Currey. WHAT IS A POUND? Sir Ropert Peet, some time ago, puzzled the world in general, and himself in particular, by asking, What is a Pound? We believe the Right Honourable Baronet, like the green- grocer’s hoy with his master’s little account, is “ waiting for an answer;” and, taking pity upon him, we offer the following solutions of his rather quaint query :— A Pound—of cherries sold in the streets, is eight ounces. A Pound—of raw sugar is ten ounces of saccharine to one ounce of brown paper and five of sand. A Pound—of arrow-root is twelve ounces of pure radix sagitte to four of chalk. A Pound—on the stege,"is one brass button, or, when in the shape of small change, it is ten gallery checks. A Pound—of waste-paper sold at a butter-shop, is twenty- four ounces. A Pound—of mutton-chops, is nine ounces of meat to four | of flank and three of bone. A Pound—cake is a shilling and upwards, according to its size. We hope Sir Rosert Peer will find these answers to his question of “‘ What is a Pound?.,” perfectly satisfactory. A Dish for a Jesuit. Mr. Srermmetz, in his recently published History of the Jesuits, tells us that Ignatius Loyoxa “used to fast every day on bread and water, except Sunday, when he would eat a few herbs, boiled and mixed with ashes.” We have heard of a glass of water with a cinder in it, but ashed herbs are a novelty not to be found in even SoyEr’s code of cookery. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, Yok Place, Stoke New'ugton, aod Frederick Mul et Evans, of No. 7, Courea Row, Stoke Newiugton, n the County of Middlesex, Printers. at their Office in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, im the City of London, and Pub is ed by them at No. 85, Firet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, ia the City of Londoa.—Sarvuapar, Novewser 25ta, 1845.

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ity- our ize. his PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 231 DEATH OF THE EARL OF ROBINSON. (In the manner of a popular Necrographer). T is Gur duty to record this morning the demise of a nobleman who has for some time held a not insignificant position in English politics and society. AuGUsTUs GusTAVUs ADOLPHUS SMITH Ear, Viscount AND Baron Rosinson, expired @ quarter-of-an-hour ago at his house in Bel- grave Square, where indisposition had of late detained his lordship. His son, the Viscount Situ, at present third Hart or Rosinson, was immediately sent for from Paris, where his lordship is staying. The death of the second Earl will no doubt be a shock to the present robleman; but as bis Lordship inherits Castle Robinson in Yorkshire, Robinsonburgh, Mayo, the rich paternal estates in Norfolk and Suffolk, and the funded property, which is very con- siderable, his grief will probably be of trifling duration. The family of the Robinsons is rather numerous than distinguished ; nor can the biographer of the race discover that they were remarkable for talents or wit, or for public or private virtue. The founder of the House was known for many years by our ancestors as Cock Roxninson, and his juvenile escapades with SmirH, and Brown, and Jones, were long familiar subjects of public talk. Cock Robinson was a creature of WaLpote’s, and accused—not without justice, probabiy, —of repeated malversations of the public funds. He was Deputy of the Pewter Closet, did not retire into private life without carrying with him some of that metal over which he had the charge, and was created a Baronet by a ciever but certainly not squeamish minister. This Sir Haycock Rostinson died in 1764, and was succeeded by his son Siz GEORGE ROBINSON. Sir Gxorce represented Robinsontown in Parliament, and in- creased the family estate, not by any genius or talent of his own, but by an economy which was pushed perhaps beyond the bounds of manli- ness; and, above all, by marrying the immensely rich daughter of Wootry Brown, Esq, of Tobago. The absurdities of the lady and the niggardliness of her husband, formed matter of fun for the wags of the day; and cheese-paring RKopinson and the whitey-brown heiress have had the honour of some satirical verses from the pen of TorpHam Beaucierc. Georce III. is said to have been shocked when the Barongss Rospinson was presented to QueEN CHARLOTTE at Court ; and cried out “ Black, black; didn’t know she was a black woman.” However, Rosinson was a baron. The votes which he commanded, and which were at the service of Lorp Noxru, Lorp Rockineuam, the Lord Keeper Cxcit, and indeed of every Ministry—and the lucky denise of the black heiress, raised BARON Ropinson to an Earidom ; at which period, though stricken in years, he cons: led himself by marrying a very young lady—ARABELLA, daughter of Hicks fifteenth Karl of Blenkinsop, who subsequently ran away from his Lordship. ‘Lhe subject of the present memoir, AUGUsTUS GusTAvUsS ADOLPHUS (then the Hon, G. A, A. Ropinson), in the year 1799 entered the House of Commons, when QuiBERKooN capitulated, Loxp Netson engaged the Spanish Armada, Mr. Huskisson brought in his ‘turnpike Act, Mr. ‘l'reRNEY made his celebrated speech against the Pig-tail Tax, and the one-pound note question was raging. On neither of these questions did the new Peer think fit to speak from his place in the House of Lords; nor indeed did he open his lips there—a proof of discretion on his Lordship’s part, for nature had endowed him with but a feeble brain, and he had the sense to be aware of his utter mental inefficiency. It is a pity that, in this respect, some of their lordships would not take pattern from the Haru or Kopinson—a pity, too, that that nobleman’s own incapacity was such as to lead them justly to mistrust him. The young nobleman was educated—if that may be called an educa- tion where a man can barely write his name (and Lorp Rosinson could not be said to have gone much further in the practice of ortho- graphical learning)—at Kton, and subsequently at Curistchureh. It is needless to say that he took an honorary degree. ‘The Continent was as yet open to our aristocratic youth, when the young man achieved the distinction just mentioned, and the young Peer took the grand tour of Europe. A quarto volume was published, with some observations on Hecla and Stromboli, by Viscount SmirH; but it was known that the work was written by the KEVEREND BarinG LEADER, his tutor, and afterwards Bisuor or BULLOCKSMITHY—a man neither conspicuous for preaching or practice, and who might be called, by the severe, a disgrace to the Church. In person, Lorp Rosinson was corpulent rather than athletic, and ungainly without being strong. He was marked with the small pox in infancy, and by that disease deprived of an eye. His lameness was the result of a subsequent accident. His Lordship lisped, and could not pronounce the letter R. Mx. Cannine’s lines about “* Wobinthon” will probably be remembered by our readers. They are,to be found in that clever but overrated Miscellany, the Antijacobin. He was sent to negotiate the ‘l'reaty of Straalsund, when the capitu- lation of Magdeburg gave some hopes tothe Allies (though it may be supposed that a person such as Lorp Rosinson was merely a cere- mony, and that the work was really done by subordinates), but the negotiations, whatever they might have been, were interrupted by the | best reason in the world—Mack’s victory. The battle of Pultawa, |Count Titty’s brilliant engagement with Mirotapovicn, and the ;sudden burst of Napo.gon into the Ukraine and Swedish Pomerania | with an army of five hundred thousand French, Poles, and Ltalians of | | the Old Guard, abruptly ended the conference, and sent the diplomatists | to the right-about. Lorp Ropinson narrowly escaped capture in the frigate the Are¢husa, which brought him from his mission. She was | chased and engaged by the French ship the Belle Poule, in the Bay of ' Bengal, and the particulars of the action are narrated in James. His | Lordship was not complimented for his couragé in the affair—but he was a Civilian, and suffered greatly from sea-sickness. In1811 his Lordship married BLANCHEFLEUR, the beautiful daughter of Harquesuss, DUKE or FitzBaTTLEAXE. Gi.LRay’s caricatures of the pair are still to be seen in the portfolios of oollectors. Suffice it to say, their union was not a happy one. The pleasures of the table appear of late years to have been Lorp Rosinson’s only passion, His dinners were the most splendid given in this city, and were frequented by those who contributed their wit in return for his entrées. His Lordship’s mind did not enable him to appreciate the former, and it is owing to a too great indulgence in the latter that he has been called away from a world which will not very much miss him, With all his splendour Lorp Rosinson was said to be stingy, and, though dull, he was not good-natured, as are some stupid people. His deafness of late years still farther excluded him from the enjoyment. of society. But beyond these points little can be said in his dispraise. So long as his tenants paid their rents, he did not annoy them. He cannot be said to have cheated his tradesmen,—to have picked a pocket, or to have robbed a church; nor, on,the other hand, can it be stated of him that he invented gunpowder or set the Thames on fire. PICKFORD A MYTH. Ir was Bishop BeRKe ey, we believe, who denied the existence of matter—a doctrine which taught us to look at everything as perfectly immaterial. We really shall begin to think there is something in this great theory of nothing, for lectures are being given by a gentleman house he lived in must be, a fortiori, a castle in the air. It is difficult enough to believe that the Swan of Avon, whom we have all been so accustomed to run after, is a mere nonentity, involving us in a wild- imagination, a creature of the fancy, and, in a word, a myth. scarcely credit the possibility that PickrorD, whom we have always goods upon his shoulders, should be a mere name, without a living representative. Our faith in the reality of everything is shaken when we find Pick- FORD, whom we always regarded as leading the van of civilisation, to this, we feel that seeing is necessary to believing, and we shall doubt the actuality of even Barcutay & Perkins, Meux, or Swan & by coming forward in propriis personis and proving their respective identities, Our Colonel on the Sea Serpent. ** Dear Puncu, ort =o ’ ** Proressok OWEN, in his communication to the Zimes, seems the ease, it surely implies a gross dereliction of duty on the part of the Lord Chancellor, who should be called upon for an explanation. “ T remain, yours truly, * SrpTuorp.” VERY CHEAP, BUT VERY NASTY. Tue fellow Wuite, who bas lately been deservedly expelled with ignominy from the British Army for robbing a soidier of the National Guard, as the audacity to call it ‘‘a cheap mode of purchasing his discharge.” VOL, XV, AA to consider the last Sea Serpent as one of the Great Seals; if this be | who ignores SuaksPEar® altogether, and maintains that there never | was such a person in existence; so that, if he never lived at all, the | goose chase; but it is still more perplexing to hear, as we heard the | other day, from a letter in the Zimes, that there is no such person as | PickrorD, and that Pickroxp is an idle fiction, a stretch of the | We can | imagined as a sort of luggage ATLAS, carrying the whole world of heavy | be nothing more than ‘“‘a mockery, a delusion, and a snare.” After | KpGaR, unless they one and all give us “the proof, the ocular proof,” | | |

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23 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. “ My Eye, Arry, Tuat's A STUNNING GREAT-COAT.” “ Anu! I FLATTER MYSELF IT’S RATHER ‘ DOWN THE ROAD. 999 EDUCATION IN THE ARMY. WE observe by the papers that it is in contemplation to oblige per- sons seeking a commission in the Army to undergo an examination as to their qualifications, in the same manner as candidates for the medical and other professions. This is quite right. Of two professions so similar in their objects, it is strange that so much should be required to qualify for the one and so little for the other. But henceforth the pill and the bullet are to be placed on the same level—the lancet and the sword in the same case. ‘The soldier will no Jonger receive his license to kill (any more than the doctor) without having first taken out his diploma. Degrees will, of course, be granted to the candidates for honours—the M.R.C.S.’s (Members of the Royal College of Soldiers) — so that we shall have another squad of M.D.’s, F.RS.’s, &c., these letters representing respectively Mad Dragoon, First-Rate Soldier, &c. The only objection that occurs to us as likely to be raised to this new project, is, that it may cause a number of extra professorships to be created, and so lead to some jobbing. If we thought this, we should decidedly say, “‘ As you were with that motion.” But, as many of the professors of our Universities have plenty of leisure time, they might undertake the duties of the new office. The Church Militant might perhaps spare some minor canons to teach the young military idea how to shoot. By way of assisting the new professors, we beg to give the following as a specimen of an examination for a young cornet :— . What is meant by “dressing?” . Patting on the shell-jacket for dinner. What is “an odd file?” Lorp BroveHaM and the Brook Green Militia-man are odd files. What is a “good Wheel ?” One that won’t run off the rails of a railway. What is “ cutting true?” . Cutting the Quartermaster when you meet him out of barracks. What is the “pursuing practice ?” Ask Hume the policeman, or the Messrs. ForRESTER. What is an Orderly Officer ? Orderly Officers do not walk in ranks of threes up the Hay- market at two o’clock in the morning, and have to pay £5 each for a “spree” at the police court. RO ASASDAD AO AS DISCOVERING THE LONGITUDE. Tue extreme length of the American Sea Serpent may be in a degree estimated from the astounding fact, that it ey a es $s ihesnah the papers now for a month, and we have not seen the last of it yet. THE SEA SERPENT. By the “ Observer's” (and our) Own Correspondent. WE have reason to believe—though we will not pledge ourselves, because we have an objection to being pledged—though we are often | taken in—that a Sea Serpent, or something like it, nas been seen some- | where by somebody. As we make a point of believing nobody’s eyes | but our own—not that we can always depend on those without our | spectacles—we are unable to say with certainty whether the Sea Serpent really exists; not that we deny its existence—far from it; for | we should be sorry to throw a doubt on anybody’s words, or to deprive | an innocent creature of its life; for if none of our readers would “Rank among his friends the man Who needlessly would set his foot upon & worm,”— we are sure that nobody would rank us among his friends, if we need- |lessly set our foot upon a Sea Serpent, which we are determined |not to do. From our own peculiar sources, which are no secret, |for they are open to all the world—if, indeed, the world takes the trouble to look—which we don’t say it does, though we won’t say it mightn’t, if it liked—we have ascertained that the Sea Serpent is something like a horse, according to some, and according to others, “very like a whale.” Proresson Owen, with whom we do not pretend to be intimate, though we don’t feel called upon to explain whether we are intimate with him or not—which bas nothing to do with it, although we have stated the fact, which we have a perfect right to do, if we think right, and we care not who says we are wrong—thinks it was a Seal desirous of taking an ice, and looking out for an iceberg. This seems doubtful, for few would think of taking ices in autumn; at least, we should not, but we do not say that Seals have the same tastes as ourselves; but we are wandering from the subject; at least, if we may be said to have had any subject in view when we set out with admitting that we never saw the Sea Serpent at all. Though it may be doubtful whether there is such a thing as a Sea Serpent in real life, we have good reason to believe, on the best possible — which is, after all, the proper authority, and no other autho- | rity ought to be called upon to act. And this brings us to the point | we were going to mention, which relates to acting, namely, that the Sea Serpent will most likely figure in one if not two, and perhaps three— | supposing there should be as many as three, which we are not ina situation to say—of the forthcoming Christmas Pantomimes. We might, per- haps, add, if we were disposed, an we don’t know that we are not disposed; at all events we cannot be called indisposed, for our health at our time of life was never better, that the Sea- Serpent will figure on , hearth-rugs, dressing- gowns, neck hand- kerchiefs, and other articles of daily con- sumption—supposing, at least, that a neck-henikerchief can be fairly called an article of con- sumption, when it is noturious that consumption is prevented by keep- ing the throat warm. (Ae ex lll [ Pak Ovi = TIDY WANs —— Sea TMT ONIN SSS THE FASHIONS OF THE DAY.

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es, ten ne- yes our for ive ed- ned ret, the y it » 1s era, ate, ith the are ran uld not ing Sea Sea ible ho- int Sea il in a@ con- eep- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 233 VERY HUNGRY COMMISSIONERS ! OUBTLEss reading a report in the Times is believing ; or else it would be impossible to credit the extra- ordinary statement, that, at a recent meeting of the Court of Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers,— “ A letter from Mz. Bateman, lately one of the Com- missioners of the Holborn and Finsbury division, addressed to the Eagt or CaRLisLE, was then read, complaining that the Metropolitan Commissioners had refused to pay a sum of money (#94 16s.) expended at a dinner which some of oe Commissioners of that division had at the Albion - Tavern.’ Ninety-four pounds sixteen shillings expended at one dinner by some of the Commissioners ! Gracious goodness! how much would have been devoured at one meal by the whole lot of them ? = If they can clear cesspools as well as they can plates, the sewerage of Holborn and Finsbury : must be excellent. How could they possibly manage to consume between ninety and a hundred pounds’ worth of food and drink? Did they call in the assistance of their subordinate sweeps and scavengers? Why, the wine they must have drunk would have sufficed to flush their sewers as well as them- selves. They have outdone Hexiocanaius if not Hercutes. We know nothing to match such enormous gluttony, except the effrontery of asking for the payment of the cost of it at the public expense. CONSTITUTION FRANGAISE. Preambule, AU NOM DU SENS COMMUN, L’ESPRIT NATIONAL PROCLAME: La France s’est constituée pour le moment en République.“ Elle a choisi cette forme du Gouvernement parceque c’est la meilleure; néanmoins, La France est parfaitement libre d’en choisir une autre demain, si Ja fantaisie lui en vient. La République Frangaise est éternelle—excepté toujours en cas de | Révolutions. Ill. Elle a pour principes: Le Rappel, les Barricades, et les Lampions. Elle a pour base: absolument rien du tout. Tous les Frangais sont égaux devant cette base, et ont une égale participation aux principes de la République. Les citoyens doivent beaucoup, mais pas moins que la République. Vi Les citoyens doivent 4 toutes heures du jour et de la nuit défendre la oy oye avec leurs meubles, avec leurs pavés, avec leur poudre, | avec leur dernier sou, et méme avec leur vie, autant de fois que la | République leur demande ce petit sacrifice. La République doit donner de Pouvrage a n’importe quile demande; et en tout cas que les braves ci‘oyens ne veulent pas travailler, elle doit leur donner de l’argent—pourvu toute-fois qu’elle en a. VIII. La République doit infiniment plus, car elle doit déja 600,000,000 francs et quelques centimes. LElle paiera quand elle pourra. Pour la garantie de tous ces devoirs, |’Esprit National décré'e, ainsi qu’il suit LA CONSTITUTION DE LA REPUBLIQUE, Art. Ter. Le Peuple c’est le Souverain—c’est-a-dire, si la population est & 36,000,000, chaque Francais renferme en lui !a 36,000,000éme d’un Souverain—pas plus, pas moins. IL. Le peuple dans ses droits de Souverain, ne peut, en aucun cas, porter la Couronne. III. La demeure de toute personne est inviolable, excepté, bien entendu, par les boulets et les troupes, et autres suites d’une petite révolution. - IV. Tout citoyen peut aller et venir ot bon lui plaira sans peur d’étre arréié ou detenu, avec cette exception, que s’il veut voyager ou sortir de la ville, il faut préalablement se munir d’un passeport— autrement il peut étre arrété au premier pas, et renvoyé, er, s’il dit un mof, jeté en prison. V. La censure est abolie; mais les arrestations d’écrivains existent toments. ; I. La Presse est libre, c’est-a-dire, de penser et s’exprimer d’une maniére a ne pas déplaire, s’il vous plait, au Président. II. Les citoyens ont le droit de s’associer, et de manger, et de parler, et de chanter, et de crier, et de danser, et d’écrire toutes les bétises qui entreront dans leurs tétes, ou leurs mains, ou leurs jambes ; pourvu en tout cas que ces membres du corps public ne fassent rien qui puisse choquer l’oreille, ou les yeux, ou la sensibilité du Pouvoir. VIII. Il n’y a plus de princes ou de nobles, excepté que dans les Vaudevilles, et les Opéras Comiques, et les Contes de Fées, et les Romans, y compris |’Histoire. 2 IX. La Propriété n’est - le Vol. Néanmoins, l’Etat peut exiger le sacrifice d’une Propriété qu’elle affectionne, et moyennant une juste indemni'é, c’est-a-dire, un bon sur le ‘I'résor. X. Cette Propriéié, une fois exigée, ne pourra jamais étre rendue. XI. Les destinées de la France sont filées dans une seule Chambre. XII. Mais cette chambre est d’une telle grandeur qu'elle peut contenir neuf cents réprésentants. ‘ F XIII. Chaque réprésentant recoit une indemmité par jour pour son tabac et son eau sucrée. , XIV. Ce tabac et cette eau sucrée sont sacrés, ef ses créanciers ne peuvent nullement les toucher. XV. Il recevra ces bénéfices tout de méme quand il est en vacances. XVI. L’Etat se contente d’un Président, mais il faut qu’il soit ni Anglais, ni Ture, ni Chinois, ni Crétin, ni Anthropophage, mais Francais, tout ce qu’il y a de plus pur. Les enfants, audessous de l'ige de 30 ans, sont exclus. Quant aux femmes, elles ont leur Chambre chez elles, - elles peuvent régner, et gouverner aussi, sans que la République s’y méle, XVII. Tout Frangais, y compris les Sourds-muets, a une voix dans la ao? le moment qu’il a atteint | Age de diserétion. XVIII. Tout électeur ala chaire du Psésident dans satéte. XIX. Le suffrage est pour tout le monde. Quant au scrutin, les balles seront tirées, justement comme A une barricade, sécrétement. La dette publique continue une dette publique. , XXI. La justice est gratuite pour les avocats. _ XXII. Il n’y a pas de loi, qui force un Frangais, quel qu'il soit, de porter la croix de la Légion d’Honneur, ni de punition pour celui qui refuse de lui livrer gon sein. : II. L’esclavage ne peut exister en France, mais c’est autre chose avec le service militaire. . ae Tout Francais est nécessairement né, ou garde nationale, ou soldat. XXV. L’armée est un corps sans téte, car elle ne peut en aucun cas détibérer. : XXVL. La constitution garantit aux citoyens, tant qu’ils sont sages, la durée de feux d’artifices et des spectacles gratis. _ VII. La date de la prochaine 1évolution est laiss¢e enti¢rement au choix des Frangais. ee XXVIII. Cette constitution est confiée & la stabilité inébranlable ‘de la nation Francaise, et a Ja fraternité et accord unanimes de tous les Républicains, les Rouges méme y compris. — =. tS - y era H “4 - | = = fy pe ! am oD THE POODLE THAT HAS LOST HIS WAY.

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KITCHEN Tne fire of classical enthusiasm has got down at last into our coal- scuttles, a specimen of which has been brought out under the Anglo- Grecian title of the Purdonium. We should not like to venture to tell our servant to replenish the Pur- donium— CLASSICS. to stick to it, and has taken the title of Anti-Callosity, while a common wrapper is presented to us under the odd appellation of a Palla Gallica. We must really put down these lin- gual disguises in which ordinary objects are now put forth; for, if the evil does not abate, we shall have our old friends the high-lows spoken of as alta-inferiora, a fate which we should bitterly lament; for the high-low is the patronymic of a long race of shoes that we would not “ willingly let die.” WHat, sir? unless we were sure he could rub up his Greek as well as rub up our coal-scoop. There must be at once a culinary edition of the classics, if objects of every day use are to be called by these very hard names; for nothing now-a-days can be spoken of in plain English. If we| want our waterproof great coat, we | must ask for our Aqua-scutum; and if we go into a shop to pur- chase a shirt, we are liable to be asked if we want an Eureka, Corn- plaster could not get its own name THE PURDONIUM. SOFT SOAP AND CIVIC SEWERAGE. A REPORT on the state of the civic sewerage has been lately published, addressed to the City Remembrancer. The document has been com- piled by Messrs. WaLkeER, Cusitt, and Brunet; but its authorship, we think, will be ascribed wholly to WatKer. It declares London to he the best drained city in the world, the sewerage to require very little extension, the sewers themselves to be generally clean, to need no alteration, and to have been constructed economically. It decides that the attempt to divert the flow of filth from the river is hopeless, It assumes that sufficient improvements in the metropolitan drainage will be made from time to time, as heretofore, which wiil be quite sufficient. It condemns both of the plans of sewerage which have been suggested for Westminster, as inapplicable to London. In fine, it asserts that to cleanse the City hardly anything is wanted beyond a little more water. All this must be highly satisfactory to the citizens, and Messrs. Wa ker, Cusiit, aud Brunet will savour in their nostrils more agreeably than anybody would suppose they could, after the peculiar researches they have been engaged in. _ Our own engineer has furnished us with a report on the same sub- ject, which embodies in a few words both the substance and the spirit of that above referred to. It is simply this :— “Your humble servant has explored all the sewers in the City, and pronounces them incapable of any improvement in size, form, or} arrangement, His nose has been unassailed, his boots unsullied, during his progress, He considers the City of London better drained than | even the national pocket, and the purity of the sewers to exceed the | proverbial cleanliness of the whistle, or the new penny. ‘The result of his investigation is, that he can only suggest that now and then, perhaps, they might be advantageously flushed with lavender-water. “Your humble servant is nevertheless of opinion that the sewerage of | the City should be inspected from time to time, and respectfully recom- mends that he himself should be engaged, at # reasonable salary, to do the job; in the performance of which he trusts he has proved that he is likely to meet the views of his employers.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. SONGS OF THE LONDON TRADESMEN. No. I—THE TAILOR’S SONG. My pal’tot now is register’d, My beautiful, my fair; You cannot test its quality Unless you know its wear. Had you been standing at my door, You might have seen arrive, Six thousand of the overcoats, And all at one pound five. The seulptor’s chisel all in vain Might with my cutters vie ; If Purptas could live again, He’d fail were he to try. Its durability is such, No change it ever knows; My pal’tot, like a good man’s life, Is brilliant to the close. No. I.—THE WINE MERCHANT'S SONG. Wuite merry Christmas is approaching ‘’hrough old November’s fogs, My wine I quietly am broaching— The heads of several hogs.* I’ve Port than penny loaf more crusty, And Sherry bright with gold ; Marsala, too, in bottles dusty— Proof that the wine is old. I’ve exquisite and choice Madeira, Round which the cobwebs twine, As if to mark the distant era Of laying down the wine, I’ve Cape from fifteen pence or lower, If tastes should that way tend ; I of the vines can trust the grower— I’m proud to call him friend. When Merrernicu, amid the fury Of Revolution’s shock, Was hurl’d to London, I assure you 1 purchased all his Hock. His terms were cash, and I consented : ‘Those terms are therefore mine ; But you will be, like me, contented, When you have tried his wine. A Political Malaria. M. Crémtevx, the Ex-Minister of Justice under the Republican Government, declared, a few days ago, that “the Revolution arrived because it was in the air.” The air in question seems to have been one of those very ill winds that blow no good to anybody. It stands a very fair chance of going away by the medium which brought it, and dis- solving into air of the thinnest description, though not without some breezes of a very heavy character. Most great scourges are accounted for by saying that they are in the air. The Cholera is, we are told, in the air, and we are not surprised at the French Revolution being a creature of the same element. Child’s Dissolving Views. THE above series has been enriched within the last fortnight with a valuable addition, that is likely to be very popular amongst all judges of chiaro-scuro. The subject was “The Hon, Cuartes FitzwitiiaM expressing his views to the Electors of the West Riding.” ‘The prin- cipal figure came out at first very boldly, standing prominently on the | foreground; then it got fainter and fainter, lost colour, became very | confused, gradually grew obscure, kept retreating more and more, till all of a sudden it disappeared, and no one could tell where. It is sup- sed it was withdrawn by the hands who were pushing it forward. - a | The exhibition was a very short one, but afforded a deal of amusement to those who witnessed it. * Poetical for ‘‘ several hogsheads.” o— SRERTAR Ee

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 235 AN ASTROLOGER’S FORTUNE TOLD. , E notice that a certain Astrologer, whom we will call Sim- » ROPHEL, has published a Prophetic Annual, in which he i redicts all manner of calamities—war, pestilence, and famine Us eing the least of them—to fall on this country during the ensuing year. In the same work, MR. SipRoPHet offers to answer “horary inquiries” at five shillings per answer, and to cast nativities at a sovereign each; remittances to be sent in cash, and stamps objected to. p For his wholesome suggestions to the public, and his honest pro- posals to individuals—for his comprehensive benevolence, which woul take everybody in, we owe something to this respectable pundit, and shall endeavour to pay the debt in kind, by a judicial opinion on his own particular horoscope, as displayed in his annual. We have there the Sun in the Seventh House, threatened by Saturn. Our Astrologer himself is under the Sun, and may be regarded as one of the greatest humbugs beneath it. By the menace of Saturn may be understood an intimation from an officer of the detective police, who has an eye upon Mr. Smropuet, and tells him that he had better mind what he is about. In the Fiith House, the Moon appears in conjunction with Mars, which signifies that a cook-maid, under lunar influence, has reposed her affection upon a Grenadier Guardsman. The relations of these planets show that the cook willconsult the Astrologer on the subject of her attachment to the soldier. In the Sixth, Mercury is lord of the scheme, denoting that Mercury, asthe ruling star of roguery, will preside over the design of the fortune-teller on the servant’s pocket. ‘he Seventh refers to the success of the swindle, which appears doubtful. Jupiter, afflicted in the Eleventh House, shows that the master of the domestic is suffering from depredations on his larder, and other larcenies, committed by the young woman’s military follower; many legs ot mutton mysteriously disappearing ; unaccountable consumption of butter and cheese; divers chickens and lobsters run away with by the cat. Mars on the cusp of the Fourth, squaring Venus in Taurus, foretokens the Grenadier in the Bull Inn, carousing on the proceeds of his court- ship—the money out of which he has done the confiding maid. Doubts and suspicions on the part of the girl’s master, who is applied to for an advance of wages. The conjunction of Saturn and Mars in Aries foreshows the meeting of the policeman and the soldier at the area, whence the former is ascending with a roast duck under his arm in a napkin. This combi- nation of malefics will occasion woe to the Astrologer. All is discovered. It turns out that the cook has for a long time been robbing her master, in order to feast her grenadier, in the expectation, fostered by Mr. S1- DROPHEL, that the fellow would ultimately marry her. She has spent her jast farthing, and pawned her clothes besides, to meet the Astro- loger’s demands. Mars, afflicted in the same House with the Sun, indicates the soldier and the fortune-teller together at the House of Correction, whither the former is committed for theft in a dwelling- house, and the latter as a rogue and vagabond, and a receiver of money under false pretences. In short, we plainly read in the aspect of the stars a disastrous “six months” for Mr. SipROPHEL. May common sense preserve all simple folks from quacks and im- postors! Let them employ their reason to conjecture the future, and not consult those cozening knaves who call themselves Astrologers ! A CHURCIL AS COLD AS CHARITY. To the Fart oF GUILDFORD. My Lorp, Your Lordship’s name, I am sorry to tell you (in a letter signed “ JustiT1a”’) has again appeared in the columns of the Daily News. I believe you do not like to see it in print. Your Lordship has long possessed a seat in the House of Peers; but nobody, from having read the Parliamentary Debates, would be aware of that circumstance. You are evidently, my Lord, averse to notoriety. The rogue Justitra, my Lord, to give him his due, writes somewhat poetically. ‘That is, he mingles a certain amount of truth with fiction. He avers that “the Church of St. Cross, which is large, and not fur- nished with a stove, is at this season of the year extremely cold and somewhat damp.” This, my Lord, I understand is true; although your Lordship, for the best of reasons, may not be aware of the fact. Could you separate your secular from your clerical personality, your cloth from your coronet, your Lordship from your Reverence, and occasionally come and edify from the pulpit that brotherhood over which you _pre- side, you would be satisfied of the coldness and humidity of St. Cross Church. Thus far Justit1a does not belie his name. But, my Lord, he proceeds to say:—“ The parishioners lately petitioned the church- wardens to remedy this evil; and the churchwardens, in their turn, applied to the reverend Earl,” meaning your Lordship. His con- siderate and charitable answer to the application was, that “ since the parishioners have always done without a stove they may do so now.” That your Lordship, as a nobleman and a clergyman, could have returned so ungracious a reply, even to arequest which it would have cost you a little money to grant, is quite incredible. I am confident that no application of the kind can have been made to your Lordsbip. Nevertheless, my Lord, the Church at St. Cross is really very cold and uncomfortable, ‘The reason is, because it is large and thinly attended. Your Lordship—as Master of the Institution with which it is connected—may possibly be aware that it is as big as a moderate Cathedral, It was formerly filled by the recipients of the Charity, who were much more numerous then than they are now. The congregation, in those days, kept the Church warm; and thus it was that they “did without” a stove. Exclusively of the few parishioners of St. Faith, d| that congregation, at present, consists of no more than thirteen old men, How this is, your Lordship can perhaps explain; but of course it can- not for a moment be supposed to be in any measure owing to the Earu oF GUILDFORD’s appropriating the lion’s share of the revenues of St. Cross Hospital. IT am, my Lord, Your Lordship’s most determined and unflinching Advocate and Defender, , PUACH. PICTORIAL CONCERTS. Ir this is an illustrious age, it is illustrious chiefly for its illustrations. Nothing goes down, or, rather, nothing can be got up, without pictorial aid, and to take effect a hit requires to be made a “palpable hit,” by tableaux and such tangible means of taking the public. Some vocal professors have been, or are giving, a series of illustrated concerts in the provinces, each song being accompanied by poses plastigues of an appropriate character, and “ Here’s a health to the Queen, God bless her,” has been got up with a bumper of real Burgundy and for “those who prefer it champagne ;” while the rare old ballad o “Ye shall walk in silk attire’? bas been superbly mounted with the interior of a silk mercer’s for a sort of background, to which the singer points with extreme tenderness in the direction of a large bale of oa ticketed “Look here! real Spitalfields, five and tenpence three arthings.’ ** He loves and.he rides away” is being prepared as a sort of scene in the circle with a rea’ horse, richly caparisoned, and “ Rise, gentle Moon,” will shortly be produced, with a superb illustration of day going down, on a broad billow imported expressly from the Baltic, to give com- pleteness to the illusion. “‘ Upon his heel he turned,” which turns upon a truly pathetic pivot, will be relieved of its more sorrowful features by an effect something like the following. UPON HIS HEEL HE TURNED. That’s the way the Money goes. In the midst of an eloquent article on Ireland, the Zimes the other morning drew a fearful picture of the death of an Irish tenant’s pig, and it followed up the mournful description by the startling exclamation— ** With his pig goes his rent,” We have heard of the dish running away with the spoon, and, for the future, we shall look upon the pig going away with the rent as a companion incident, WPsts A PLACE—Tue Imprrit Eacte.—It can have a good character from its late master, one NaPoLEON Bonaparte, but is disgusted with its present service. It can boast of having never shown the white feather, excepting on ene occasion at Boulogne, where its disgraceful flight was owing to a chain of circumstances over which it (the Imperial Eagie) had nocontrol. It is still strong, and capable of achieving the highest flights, Any one who has a vacancy for it, and wiil only promise to treat it with common respect, will be conferring a great favour on an old bird, who can stand fire, hunger, cold—anything but ridicule. A line dropped at the Colonne, Place Vendéme, will be attended to as soon as the Imperiai Eagle has recovered trom a slight attack of pip, under which it is at | present labouring. N.B, No objection to travel, having been inits time all over Europe.

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236 Up, sculptor, painter, one and all, from the grand prize of Rome, To seediest rapin, spoiling paint and canvass nearer home, For bare life and bright laurels, to work, each mother’s son ; Paint us Republics by the mile, and mould them by the ton. Canvass and clay—fit stuff, methinks, for such Republic be, That best may match the poplar stumps, her trees of Liberty ; But speed your work—for an ye shirk, before her likeness done, The goddess may have disappear’d from underneath the sun. So, as ANACREON invoked the Rhodian painter’s art To set forth in her loveliness the lady of his heart, Let Punch invoke the skill that lies in Paris’ arts and arms, To show the world La République in all her various charms. Come first, young RAFAEL, moyen age of vest and hat and head, You ’Il dash in your Republic in a rusty ground of red ; A red-capp’d dame, half fishfag, half fiend in mould and mien, And in the distance Manat’s bust, crowning a guillotine. Flung at her feet, Humanity, crush’d ’neath “ the rights of man,” To Reason’s blindfold goddess lifts his blind eyes as he can ; Force, on her right, from Justice the balance wrests, and shows Her sword to the old lady, red with blood—but not Aer foes’. And here another picture—of a more decorous hand, Whose Republic is more lady-like, with attributes more bland ; | Whose artful drapery scarce conceals the lilies on her shield, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PICTURES OF THE REPUBLIC. ** Six hundred designs in painting and sculpture have been sent in for the allegorical figure of the Republic, intended to adorn the Hall of the Assembly.” | While from beneath the Jonnet rouge a crown peeps, half revealed. THE REPUBLICAN MEDAL, That third red cap surmounts a face, which tho’ of whiskers bare, Methinks that we have seen before, in a different kind of wear ; A Republic to the red one that owns neither kin nor kith, May be heard of about Claremont: address plain “ Mr. Smiru.” And yet one more, whose Phrygian cap somehow assumes the form | Of a small three-cornered hat, that once beacon’d through battle’s storm; | With tunic loop’d above the knee, that to the curious gaze | A high historical jack-boot unblushingly displays. Observe the attendant Eagle, “as natural as life,” With 4on-bon thunderbolt, inscribed “ Boulogne and Strasburg strife.” The one fault of the picture is, it shows, beneath its hat, No head ; but hark, the crowd’s remark—“ C'est vrai ; but what oi chat ?” | And here, in rear of all the rest, the true Republic see, No figment vain of artist’s brain—sad, stern reality ; A painted harridan, whose show of strength but mocks the tale Told by those palsied hands and cheeks, thro’ all their plastering, pale. That which she wears for armour, is a strait-waistcoat, meant To keep from harm those frantic hands, ’gainst her own entrails bent ; The gag that rends her frothing lip is kindly used to tame The blasphemies she would put forth in Freedom’s sacred name. So paint her, painters, as she is—your Republic in her youth, Graced by no senseless symbols that lie against the truth; Fence her with swords from her own sons, and let her motto be— “ Behold, all nations of the Earth! what I am, be not ye.” John Bull taken by the Hand. | Somesopy adverlises something for everybody’s hand, which, if it | possesses half the virtues imputed to it, should not be allowed to slip through anybody’s fingers. ‘The nostrum which professes to make the | hands perfection itself, should be invaluable to such men as Lorp | Broveuam, who is a bad hand! at statesmansbip; Mr. Peter Bortu- | WICK, who is a bad hand at a speech; Mr. CuisHotm ANsTEY, who is a bad hand at an impeachment; and a few others we could name, who are jo bad hands at everything. The new specific undertakes to fix | the seal of elegance wherever it is applied ; but we do not see how seals | are to be affixed to our hands without burning our fingers. The in- ventor of the preparation undertakes to restore delicacy of touch to those who have lost it—a quality which must render the article in- valuable to those engaged in pursuits of a light-fingery character. ES —— oR SE Poor Boy! Tue following letter was not published, but we do not see why it should not be. It is addressed to the Electors of the West Riding :— “ GENTLEMEN, “Sirs,—Pa says I mustn't stand. He knows best ; and I’m sure I didn’t wish to offend you, and he’s a very good governor to me, and allows me lots of pocket-money, and I don’t care about Parliament—not I, indeed— so, if you "ll excuse me this once, I *1] promise you never to doso again. But I do think you were a little too hard upon a young fellow like me. It was all Pa’s fault, not mine. However, I don’t care a fig now; so no more from “ Your M.P. (that was to be), * Tue Honouraste Cuaries” &c. And then follow all the other names, ending with Firzwitt1am.

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| A ogive ry | Hi! ele ROTION | PRESIDENT ——————————— a \} Ler ; ] uw Au t an | mrway vy ile Vv lV {\\ AVA || tN 4A Val Ba was AM / UTM a J / / , as Mssmsnaaa bet h / | F \ } , i \ , THE YOUNG REPUBLIC OF FRANCE CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 239 ADVERTISEMENT. A® GELA has merely to observe that THEODORE’ may, possibly, judge what she suffered on Tuesday week, when she could not take the Brixton “bus. The horrid Influenza had decimated the family, and ANGELA was a sufferer: even now she drops a tear to think of it. REPORTS OF OUR FINANCIAL REFORM ASSOCIATION. Economy and retrenchment are great things’ and very much wanted in all departments’ We are delighted to see the higher offi- cials, Under-Secretaries, Assistant-Secre- taries, Senior Clerks, and so on, showin the deepest conviction on this point, an a perfect willingness to diminish the expenses of their various offices by a most vigorous and disinterested reduction in the salaries of their under-clerks,'porters, and messengers. An excellent public servant contributes this evidence to the Report of ow Finan- cial Reform Association :— Mr. Penevitiian examined :—‘Is Assistant-Secretary of the Treasury, at a salary of £2,500 perannum. Has very important duties to discharge, and dis- charges them. Thinks himself uncom- monly cheap at his salary, but has no ae doubt that the expenditure in his depart- + ae ment is profligate and unnecessary. A great many clerks are employed. Their salaries vary from £80 to £400 per annum. There are also a number of messengers fully employed at £1 per week. Their hours are from eight till eight, or as long as there is anything to do. ‘Has a pian for reducing the expenditure in his department. It is to take F 25 per cent. from all salaries under £80, and between £200 and £400. “Would not reduce those between £80 and £200, as they are received by young gentlemen of family, who generally get diplomatic or other appointments after a few years’ practice in the office. important to have such a class of young men in the public service. ‘They are very regular at their offices. “ Believes they read the newspapers very diligently. It keeps them out of mischief. Looks to the older clerks to do the work. The latter are not a class expecting or requiring large remuneration. They are modest men in their way of living. Thinks they would gladly consent to the proposed reduction, as it is for the public service. * Would reduce the messengers to 15s. per week. Has no doubt they would be more active at lower salaries, and that they feel it the duty of every poor man to make any sacrifice which lightens the burdens on the oor. “ Would not propose any reduction in the salaries of heads of depart- ments. Considers himself the head of a department. The prospect of ultimately attaining such places is very encouraging to the inferior clerks, and therefore the places ought to be good ones. Believes there is an instance of an inferior clerk having risen to an Assistant-Secretary- ship, but will not be sure. A very superior class of men is required for | It is very | Assistant-Secretaryships. Believes any reduction whatever in the salaries of Assistant-Secretaries generally, and himself in particular, would be attended with very mischievous consequences.” It is truly delightful to find this active spirit of retrenchment abroad in one class of our public officials. But the clerks themselves, as a body, are by no means actuated by the same admirable zeal for economy which distinguishes their superiors. The subjoined letter, trom one of this profligate order, shows at once their ingratitude to those above them, and their inability to comprehend the true interests of the country :— (Confidential.) * Treasury. *Srr,—I_ have been a clerk in this office for twenty-two years. T began at £80, and have got up to £300. I married Mrs. D. when I reached £250, and we are now the proprietors of a happy family of five little D.’s. I grieve to say, it has lately been rumoured in the office, that we clerks are to be cut down twenty-five per cent. Mr. Pen- GUILLIAN told me so, with regret and indignation. Upon my word and honour, Sir, this is too bad. do not consider myself an over-paid man. I should have done better in the Bank of England. There’s not a merchant’s house in the City whose stools ain’t better stuffed, literally and metaphorically, than those the nation finds for us in the Treasury. And [I find it hard enough to get along as itis. I’ve done my duty, as the office books will show, and have healer up my arrears regularly to the end of last week. I don’t deny the nation is heavily taxed, and am as ready as any man to do my best to ease it. But it zs bitter, Sir, to come down from £300 to £250, after twenty-two years’ hard, honest, and regular service. “After all, if they half-starve the batch of us, the reduction won’t tell as much as if they knocked off acouple of Lords. There are five of ’em, and the Black Book will tell you what ¢heir salaries come to; and what they do but sign warrants, and stir the fire, an hour or two per diem, most of ’em, would puzzle a wiser man than I to tell you. “* However, it’s a comfort to think our excellent Assistant-Secretary will cheerfully submit to the same privations as the rest of us. Ah, Sir, that’s a man! ‘The way he works, to be sure—and the style he refuses anything like extra pay for it. Lorp Jouy little knew his man when he offered him £2500 for the Irish business of last year. He took it, to be sure, for we all saw it in the Estimates, but you must have remarked the number of small sums paid in since to the CHANCELLOR oF THE Excurquer as ‘Conscience money.’ J could guess where they came from, | think, I wish the country could have the benefit of his advice in the matter. We shouldn’t be having the poor clerks and messengers cut down then, I know. “ Meantime, Sir, Economy is a good thing; but Economy isn’t Shabbiness—it isn’t getting work done under the market price—it isn’t pinching the little people, that the big ones may go on at large pay and small work. In short, Sir, 1 wish you to ask Joun Butt to look, not only at the sum total, but at the items—and as he is anxious that the saddle should be put on the right horse, to take care that the salary is not taken away from the wrong man. * Yours, respectfully and resignedly, “ Joun Docket.” This letter, we say again, appears to us prompted by a most abomi- nable spirit. LIGHTS! LIGHTS! I SAY! InstEap of there being the slightest chance that wonders will ever cease, we have strong reasons for thinking that wonders have only just begun. Tbe last new marvel is a Company for lighting our streets, our shops, our houses, and even our bed-candlesticks with electric fluid, so that we may sit, and read or write by flashes of lightning, and go to sleep with a column of electric fluid doing duty for a rushlight in our room. The new lights that have sprung up within the last few years The first breath of science blew out the dips, which fell prostrate under the wax of discovery, and “metal more attractive” than the cotton its nostrils and its patronage. DS. supersede all, and considering the universal use now made of electricity, we should not be surprised at the formation of a Company to fix a light- ning conductor instead of the ordinary conductor to every omnibus. ‘BLESS HIS OLD HEAD.” Tv Father Thames should ever be turned out of his bed, there is one comntent for him,—he can always have Westminster Bridge asa “‘ shake- own,” have been extinguishing and snuffing each other out in rapid succession. | then came the metallic wicks, offering | of whose existence ingenuity | has at last cut the thread. Chemistry then took the candles in hand, | and superseded with the composite fashion the once popular ‘“‘mould of | form,” until the public, having nosed tle presence of arsenic, stopped | The electric light now threatens to |

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240 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AUTHORS’ MISERIES. No. Vil. SA 4 : lin } is A Oe MO) sl by 71,4 ill i | { Y he (Ly Z DWdtttittps oA Aa 74 \ NY \ “stirs! KJ LT —- SiS Hz: Mr. Tims and a Good-natured Friend. G.-N. F. “Have you ReaD THE ‘ MacaDaMISER,’ Tims ?” 7. “Hem! no. Do PEOPLE READ THE ‘ MacaDaMISER ?’” G.-N. F. “He, HE! I say, Tims, THERE’S A MOST UNJUSTIFIABLE ATTACK UPON you 1n 17. Look HERE.” (He kindly takes out the ‘ Macadamiser.’) T. (reads.) “* THIS PERSON IS BEFORE US AGAIN. HE IS IGNORANT, VULGAR, AND A cockney. HE Is ONE OF THAT MOST CONTEMPTIBLE RACE OF MEN, A PROFESSIONAL BuUFFOON. He 1s, &c., &c. (Tims reads ad libitum.) THank you, MY DEAR FELLOW ; IT WAS UNCOMMONLY GOOD-NATURED OF YOU TO BRING THE CRITIQUE.” PUNCH ON THE CONSTITUTION. CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. PROGRESS OF THE CONSTITUTION UNDER ELIZABETH AND JAMES THE FIRST. WE are compelled to linger a little longer than may be agreeable to ourselves, and perhaps even to our readers, over the historical portion of this great work; but when we come to contemplate the British Constitution in its entirety, the feast will well repay the trouble and pains of preparing it. As we cannot eat our Christmas pudding until our suet has been shredded, our raisins stoned, our e beaten to the utmost extent of battery, our lemon-peel subjected to the grater till nothing can be smaller, and our sauce or gravy made with an anxiety equal to that of the Queen described by Viacu as “gravt saucia curd ;” so is it impossible to banquet upon our Constitution as a delicious whole, until the parts are cut and dried—a process in which the driest parts shall be cut as short as possible. Our “ great and glorious” Constitution is generally admitted to have been in the course of construction until the “ditto and ditto” Revolution of 1688, and we must a proceed by progressive steps to that important epoch in our national ry. Exizazetu is said to have advanced the cause of liberty, though it must be admitted she did so on the old scholastic principle of thrashing the child to promote its happiness; for she was about as arbitrary as she. well could be; and, among other things, she forbade the Com- mons liberty of speech; though this attempt to get all the talk to herself was more the act of the woman than of the sovereign. : : Parliamentary garrulity has always been an evil, as it is at the present day; and if Queen Victoria were to emulate ELIzABETH in the attempt to abridge the length of the legislative wind, her present Masesty would have the thanks of her subjects for an endeavour to cure the Mem- bers of the Commons of that chronic flatulence to which they all seem painfully liable. The Virgin Queen, if she knew when to storm out, had the tact to know when to draw in: and though she checked the loquacity of the Parliament, she could not stifle the voice of the zoe. The clamour against monopolies caused her to abandon several of them, particularly that relating to salt, which was very unsavoury, aud was ever in the public mouth; and another on the subject of ruffs, which appeared to take people too much by the throat, and caused them to be not a little ruffled. It was in this reign that the Commons first asserted their right to decide on matters touching their own elec- tions—a right which has degenerated into the practice of treating every disputed return as a mere question of party, to be settled by the Committee in favour of the side that chances to be the strongest. : James came to the English throne intending to play the part of an absolute king, but he must have been little better than an absolute fool to expect that sucha game could be played by himself, when a very suverior sovereign had so recently failed in the effort. met, which,’ according to Rymer, who never wrote a rhyme In 1620 a Parliament | but was full of reason, “took the shine out of this Jem,” | by a most spirited reply to a royal threat of punishment. The Commons told him plainly that they should say and do exactly what they pleased, which so displeased James, , that, sending for the Journals of the House, he tore out, without a “ with your leave” or “ by your leave,” the leaves | containing the protestation alluded to. He dissolved the Parliament, caused Coxe, a Member who was burning with patriotism, to be shot down into the cellar of the | House, and imprisoned several others. These proceedings | were so arbitrary, that an opposition to the Court was, for | the first time, raised in the Upper House; and among others, Say declared himself ready to do, while SPENCER hung on at the skirts of the liberal party formed among the Aristocracy. Instead of tearing pages out of the House of Commons, Journals, it would At. a leaf out of his predecessor’s book; for ExizaBeTH knew how to use power without sacrificing popularity, while JaMEs, who was perpetually babbling about his divine right, was rapidly sending the monarchy to a destination we cannot think of mentioning. Something that is better Felt than Described. een better for James had he taken | Tue little émeutes that take place every evening at Drury Lane, whenever God Save the Queen is being drummed, ophecleided, piccoloed, and fluted through, have had a great effect upon the Hat-trade. We need not tell our readers that there are numerous individuals, for whom we can find no better term than Polar Bears, who object to remove their chapeaux when the National Anthem is played. The con- sequence is, that the democratic hat is instantly taken, well shaken, and tossed, in less than a minute, into a pancake. Bulletins might be published every morning of the number of hats that have been killed or wounded in the campaign of the preceding evening. The slaughter lately among the beavers has been very terrific; and the hatters intend, as a mark of gratitude, to present JULLIEN with five new hats —that is, a hat api@ce for each of the bands that are | engaged every night to make more noise than has been heard since Verpi’s Aftilia. There never was known an instance, perhaps, of so great a flatness in any trade being succeeded by such a rapid rise as that which has lately fallen upon the hat department, for the flatter hats are overnight, the higher they rise the next nemne. Many Aabitués, in the fast walks of life, go now with gibuses, which they allow persons to flatten as much as they please. But others, of an elderly turn, do not take it sosmoothly. In the meantime, JuLtren is delighted with the great success of this new issue, in Numbers, of the | Heads of the People.

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ie re ene | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 241 CEASE, RUDE BOREA(LDS. WE have been all last week dreadfully haunted with a Bore-alis, which has been flitting about the country in a most extraordinary manner. A reverend gentleman at Stonyhurst has been reading let- ters by it at nine o’clock at night, without the aid of a bit of rushlight, or even a morsel of moon, and other people, in other places, have been sitting up until the dawn of Aurora herself, in order to watch for Aurora’s friend, the Borealis, who has been forming a series of brilliant back-grounds to our country’s scenery. We ourselves were thrown into a state of excitement and alarm the other night, in driving up to our own door, to | find a luminous appearance at the back of our abode, which | caused us to imagine the whole of the southern side of our premises was in flames; and, without asking a ques- tion we rushed to the nearest fire-office—three miles off —and returned accompanied by an engine, the pumps of which were on the point of being brought to play upon the Aurora Borealis, when the truth, and a meteoric streamer, flashed upon our eyes. These Aurore Boreales have presented themselves under very different circumstances, and in one case the eye of science found its socket suddenly filled with a large _stick, while contemplating a quantity of fiery streamers accompanied by cracking noises of a most mysterious character. The stick, on examination, proved to resemble that of the rocket, and tends to show how much the fireworks of nature resemble our own. We ourselves, while rambling in the recesses of Rotherhithe, were deceived by a grand halo, which we had booked as the Borealis, until closer inspection convinced us it was the finale to a grand display of fireworks, on the occasion of the last gala of the season, at the Cow and Cribbage Board, in the neighbourhood of our stroll. A NEW TURN IN MENDICANCY. Tue kerbstones of the Metropolis are now invaded by a squadron of hearty, jolly-looking sailors. They are in the regular T. P. Cooke cos- tume—the glazed hat, the two curls, the ruled shirt, the loose tie, and the full breeches without any braces. There they stand, with their hands in their pockets, which they only take out to paton the head occasionally a poor shivering child, whom they station before them. The child is generally very pretty, with a clean pinafore, and carefully curled hair, and has a ened tied with a silk riband round its neck. This cardboard informs the spectators that the child is “ motherless,” or that his “brothers and sisters are starving at home.” At night, the hardy sailor holds a candle, to make the mockery of misery all the more apparent. The child then shivers with cold in reality, and the pennies flow in most abundantly, the brave British tar holding his hat to collect the stream of charity. The exhibition is a most painful one, and, however profitable to the parties interested, ought to be suppressed. There must be an infant training school for beggars, somewhere in London, with regular appointed professors, to instruct children in the cunning tricks of mendicity. These sailors are evidently Masters in the art, who have taken all their degrees of roguery, and grown fat upon them, and the children evidently are their pupils. It is time that some inquiry were made into this School of Vice; and, in the meanwhile, there could be no hom in examining one or two of these sturdy nautical, beggarly- professors. It is very curious that the Mendicity Market is “rigged” almost exclusively with sailors! Does this arise from the fact that when a ship has oe off its crew, that all the men are literally sent a begging ? or is it the only employment on land that is open to a sailor? It is —— however, that they should be allowed to drag children along wi em. THE “BRITISH LABOURER” AT ANDOVER. I’m SrerHen WitcueER, labouring man—of Andover I be, A pauper of the workhouse, and a cripple in the knee; The Guardians there have sent me out, here, in the cold and rain, To zit all day, a breakin’ stones in agony and pain. I’ve arn’d my living honestly and fairly all my life, And zo, till lately, did suppoort a vamily and wife; I broke my thigh some time agoo, but still I struggled on, Notwithstandun that ’a left me wi’ a ’largement o’ the bone. But, twelvemonths gone come Christmas, I was cuttin’ of a tree, When, by ill luck, my axe did slip, and open laid my knee; The neighbours put me in a cart and took me whoam to bed, Wherefrom ’twas full five months afore I lifted up my head. Lame as I was, I couldn’t work; zo what was I to do? Unto the Boord o’ Guardians I at last was foced to goo. “Oh! WitcHeEr,” says the Chairman—he’s a parson, I should say— **We’!l relieve you for a vortnight, but no longer—not one day. “ For when that time is up, you must turn to at breakun’ stones,” “* Why, Sir,” says I, “‘ you can’t tell what I suffers in my bones ; If I do but put my foot to ground it pierces to the heart.” “We aint got nought to do wi’ that,” he says, and bids me start. Then I went unto the Doctor, for to beg and pray of he For to spake a word o’ kindness to the gentlemen for me— For my wife and little children’s sake some pity to beseech : He said he shouldn’t alter. That was Mr. Doctor’s speech. Zo then I went to Captain Poorg, an order for to beg For the Hospital at Winchester, to cure my dreadful leg: The Captain—thank him kindly—took and wrote un then and there, By which means I got admitted under Muster Mayo’s care, Five weeks I bid in hospital, and there I had, Ill own, The very best o’ tendance and o’ skill as could be shown; But, erysip’las breakin’ out, as I was ill and wake They zent me whoam again, for fear the fection I should take. I left wi’ a certificat from Doctor Mayo’s hand (Long life to un), which gave the Union Roord to understand I wanted warmth and nourishment, in clothin’ and in food, If ever they expected for to do me any good. To the workhouse on my crutches then I hobbled back again, And begg’d and pray’d for mercy, but my words was all in vain ; So here be I a crackin’ stones in misery and grief, ; And this here treatment ’s what they calls their “System of Relief.” Oh! gentlefolks, I don’t purtend to be a larned man, But I’ve lately had the newspeapers read to me now and tan, Them goins on in Vrance, I thinks, should tache ye to beware How ye drives the lower classes, as ye calls us, to despair. Think well upon’t, ye Lords and Squires, and rulers o’ the land: As ’tis, there baint much love that’s lost between us, understand ; The time may come when you may wish that you had know’d afore, That kindness is the only means of keepun down the poor. The New American Liner, Now sailing daily between London and New York. Tue astounding phenomenon of two vessels having seen the American Sea Serpent within so short a date, (almost the same day) and yet at such extraordinary distances from each other, is accounted for now, by the very simple circumstance that one vessel saw the head, whilst the other only saw the tail of this decidedly the longest monster that is known—on record. NEW PROVERB (SUBLIMELY RIDICULOUS.) TrerE is but one step from Navroteon Bonararte to Lovis- NAPOLEON.

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THE CAREER OF “THE COMING MAN.” An anxious public has long been patiently awaiting the “ Coming Man,” and in all probability will have to wait for him considerably longer. In the meanwhile, imagination may expatiate on the prospect of the wonders which are to be worked by this Wizard of a yet unde- termined point of the compass. It is generally understood that the object of his mission will be to set all things to rights, and to arrange | affairs, political and social, to the entire satisfaction of everybody. ‘To this end, he will necessarily perform the following prodigies :— He will increase the incomes of farmers, and augment the wages of | agricultural labourers, so as to enable them to support themselves and | their families in comfort, and to lay up a provision for their old age, | them in the slightest degree in the pursuit of gain. without in the least diminishing the rents of the landlord. He will provide constant employment and ample pay for all opera- tives, at the same time not limiting the profits of employers, or checking i it of gai He is to confirm Capital in all its advantages, and invest Labour with ail its rights. He must render unlimited competition compatible with universal success, and individual aggrandisement with general prosperity. He will secure legal redress alike for rich and poor; nevertheless allowing forensic ability to command its price in the market. He will combine the encouragement of British industry and the con- sumption of British produce with the freest importation of manufactures and luxuries from abroad. He will guarantee, in perpetuity, the payment of the interest of the National Debé without any inconvenient demand whatever on national exertion. He will gratify every desire for the reduction of taxation, and yet maintain the revenue, and our civil and military establishments, on a scale commensurate with our greatness as a nation. He will make Ireland happy and prosperous, independently of any co-operation from the Lrish themselves, or of pecuniary assistance from this country. He will give a simultaneous predominance to all sects and parties one over | the other; and thus, it may be hoped, he will effect the pacilication | of that hitherto distracted land. He will cause the prerogatives of the | Throne and the privileges of the Aristocracy to coexist with the fullest. | popular rights ; to the contentment of all classes of politicians. He will reconcile the extreme of luxury on the part of the few with the absence of privation on that of the many, and will furnish a subsistence to the helpless and the unfortunate at no cost whatever to the able and the opulent. He will fully supply the wants of everybody, without obliging anybody to practise the least self-denial. “‘May we ne’er want a Friend,” &c. One of the Professors who are engaged to make science popular at so much or so little a week, is giving daily lectures on the philo- sophy of an empty bottle. There does not seem to be a great deal in an empty bottle at a first glance, but we dare say the Professor will contrive to put a little spirit into the empty bottle if he determines to go regu- larly into it. A good deal of philosophy is sometimes required in reference to a bottle which bas been paid for as a quart, but which turns out to hold scarcely a pint, and is indeed compara- lively an empty one. We shal) be very glad to havea crack with the Professor over his bottle; and, though the subject may be a difficult one, we dare say we shiall be able to break the neck of it, * BOYS WILL BE BOYS.” Ir is supposed that the young Candidate for the West Riding was induced to offer himself to the electors by the popular saying, “There’s a good time coming, boys.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | templation, he will suffer himself to be exhibited in a shrine Having accomplished these marvels, he will retire from the world, and contract: himself, publicly, amid the acclamations of the multitude, into a quart-bottle ; wherein, absorbed, like Brana, in beatific con- rovided for the purpose by a grateful nation, to an admiring posterity, for ever ! Walking on the Slopes. Wuat are the Slopes which the QuzEN and Prince ALBERT are said to be continually walking on? We are by no means levellers, but we nevertheless should like to see these Slopes put in such a state that Her Masesty and Consort could pursue “the even tenour of their way” in their matutinal perambulations. To say nothing of the diffi- culty and the discomfort of walking continually on the slope, we are sure it must cause the royal pair to take occasionally a sort of one-sided view of things around them. By way of exercise, a promenade on the Slopes may be all very well, for it must require a hopping movement that would naturally create a wholesome muscular action; but on the whole we think an even surface would be preferable for the morning walks of the Sovereign, No Work, no Victuals ! _“** Ty any man,’” says Mr. Cuares Pearson, writing on the subject of prison discipline to the Court of Aldermen, ‘ will not work, neither | shall he eat,’ is a law of Gop, as applicable to a prisoner as to any other member of the community.” Does the rule also apply conversely ? Only suppose it to be enforced in Belgravia. Alas! how many of the inhabitants of that fashionable district should we behold extended on | the pavement in front of their own areas, the flagstones beside them | emblazoned with the piteous inscription, ‘I am starving!” Anticipations of Christmas. THE small wine-merchants are already putting forth their large placards, announcing their “ Golden Sherries at 28 shillings,” and their ** pale ditto,” full of anything but “ineffectual fires,” at twenty-five the dozen. Our private vintner has intimated to us that he has some prime Port at six-and-thirty, “just fit for laying down.” We have | tasted it; and, though it is certainly “fit for laying down,” it is by no | means worth picking up, and we have declined it accordingly. The World Taken by Storm! M1D the crash of crowns, the agonising throes and overthrows of thrones, the seeing of Sea Serpents, the lights of Sovereigns and the scarcity of gold, the fail of royalty and railway scrip, the nothingness of everything, the social extinction of Joseru Avy, the kicking of Vienna against Jwutacnicu, aad the rest of the rest- lessness which has well shaken and completely overtaken the present age, it was naturally to be expected that atl means Of further excitement were exhausted; but the most startling intelligence of all is now about to be given. Electric teleyraphs must own their communications to be thin and wire-drawan in comparison with that which we now impart, in a clap of typographic thunder that will spread milliards of echoes over the land—We are shortly about to publish PUNCH’S ALMANACK, Price 34, We ave aware that the million will require to take breath after this anti-hulitant and periculo-pulmonic We will therefore allow time for the public organs of respiration to resume their regular announcement, action, before we take away the national breath a second lime by an announcement of the contents, which will be given in a few days

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' always fire gold shot, with bank-note wadding. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 243 NAMES OF SHIPS.—H.M.S. “NATIONAL DEBT.” eRtES the Post is fortunate in its correspondents. One is very indignant that— ‘* There are two ships building, to be called the Sanspareil and the | Niobe. Now. Sir, why should a new ship have a French name to be pro- | nounced by a Bri ish tar ? How awk- | ward it will! be, too, for the Sanspareil to be passed atsea, or beaten! And as for Niobe, it is at best a most un- fortunate name; and, if omens go for anything, does it not tell of striking «n a rock, from the sad me- tamorphose of Niobe into astone?” | This is really very fine—very | suggestive; and awakens a) train—long as the sea-serpent —of salt-water thought. We say to the Lords of the Admi- ralty, reform your ships’ names ; re-christen your ships; and when we say re-christen, we mean give them names worthy of a Christian nation, and of | the meek, well-beloved Christian | clergyman who is rated on the | ship’s books. Let us have a nomenclature soft and sweet as oil and honey. Be there no more | Thunderers, and Devastations, | and Furies; but Lambs. and | Lady-Birds, and_ Turtle-Doves. | Why should a bomb-ship be! called the Blazer? Why not| the Balsam? The Cornucopia would suggest sweeter thoughts of peace and plenty, as she threw her) shells upon roofs and magez'nes, kindling a town into one huge bonfire—much prettier thongh’s than | the Hecla or the Strombolo. Why have we the Sulphur? Why not the Heart's-ease fire-ship? Is it not | } consideration, no doubt, but to keep a hard-working body of men a year- and-a-half in suspense about their means of existence, is rather incon- siderate. We have taken up the post- men’s cause, and shall always be found at our post when our good offices may be required. MORE LAST WORDS. Wuo killed the sea-serpent ? “1,” said Proressor OWEN, In Zoology so knowing ; * And I killed the sea-serpent !” Who won’t say “die” to the serpent? | “T,” said Cartan McQunaz, | j “T stick to what I say ; And I won’t say ‘die’ to the serpent.” | ; | Why couldn’t it be a serpent ? | ’Cause OWEN’s never seen one. | Has there, therefore, never been one! } Why couldn’t it be a serpent ? What was’t if not a serpent ? We know it wasn’t a seal, And ’twas too big for an eel, And it certainly was a serpent. There’s six of us saw the serpent, With a mane upon its back, And a tail and not a track ; And we’ll all swear to the serpent. PUNCH ON SOLITUDE. = ‘a —— preposterous—indeed, a matter of mockery—to float a clergyman of the Kstablished Courch on boardthe| Tue Solitudes of Southend are ' Thunderbolt, when his creed and his office only assort with the Balm of Gilead? These things must be} about to be invaded by a railway. We altered. We propose a general re-christening of all Hzr Masesty’s ships that carry bad names; and! recollect we were the first to lay down beg the established Clergy—(of those members especially, who talk of the ‘‘ God of Battles” as though this projected branch. The Surveyor | the true weight and odour of religion were to be found in ball-cartridge)—we beg of them to select a|was the Buoy at the Nore. He batch of beautiful names, so that all Hea Mavsesty’s navy may, in our association, sit like so many pointed to the Pier as the finest bit of | halcyons on the wave. | wooded country that could be picked And Punch, in return for this large suggestion, merely begs this small privilege: the right to give a! out, ready cut and dried, for such a name to one ship; and the name he proposes is the—National Debt. This, of course, must be a ship of | purpose. Its length, he held, was so the line, and the longest known line. The weight of metal to be carried will be enormous. She will) extensive, that some communication | Her gunpowder will be corn of the very finest grain, | was absolutely necessary to make both transmuted by the magic of the tax-gatherer. Her crew will be picked men—picked from the highest!ends meet. His valuable hint, it names and deepest pockets of the Civil List. Very detinguleted pensioners and sinecurists must | seems, is to be carried into effect. compose the body of her officers, ‘I'hese will wear an uniform peculiar to the ship; the cloth of patriot’s | Trains are to run every time a fresh blush (if the colour can be hit upon), worked in various places with little vermicular £ s. d.’s in gold lace. | Such men as the Duke oF | a torn and the Duke or Sr. ALBans will, of course, bear | commissions. There being no Royal hawks, St. ALBANS will be rated on the ship’s books as Hereditary | Grand Albatrosser. Now and then, we should compel the CHANCELLOR oF THE ExcHEeQuer to turn his attention to the Sinking Fund, which, in our amended terms, we would call taking a hand at the pumps | We think this magnificent ship, the Nadional Debt, would please all parties; for the eminent men who | declare our National Debt our National Safety, would behold their opinion magnificently embodied in Punch’s mighty three-decker. Moreover, there are many meanings and qualities in a ship of the line called the National Debt. No power in the world would think of touching her. No power would think of depriving us of her—of boarding her—of cutting her out, and cutting her down; and again, the a Debt would never be paid off; though occasionally she might, oddiy enough, be found upon the Stocks. THE REPUBLIC OF LETTERS. Tue postal population has been thrown into a state of grateful excitement by our exposure of the wrongs of the letter-carriers, whose case completely destroys all our pleasing illusions of a life of lettered indolence. The London postman has his grievances, but they appear to be light in comparison with the burdens imposed on the letter-carriers of the provinces. The metropolitan func ionary does get his guinea for his hundred and eighty miles of walking per week, but the rural Mercury has to “ go further and fare worse,” for he obtains only fourteen shillings a week, and his promenade is greater in extent than his London fellow-sufferer. There is every reason to fear a general rising of the general postmen, for the purpose of establishing a republic of letters, and effecting their own early delivery from their present } state of ill-paid serfdom. They are resolved, like the letters they carry, to be “free,” or at all events, they will no longer consent to be treated as mere dead letters, and ignominiously stamped upon. The authorities may soon be awakened to a sense of justice by a tremendous postman’s rap—for even a letter-carrier’s patience must be nearly exhaus'ed, when the application for an increase of pay has been “hung up” for the last eighteen months, under an assurance “that the subject of fixing a scale of pay is under the) consideration of Her Magesty’s Post-master General.” ‘I'nis dignitary is entitled to the utmost! packet comes in, that is to say, once a day. Cheap excursions, we have no doubt, will in time be started, and nur- sery-maids and children will be taken by these easy means out to sea without experiencing any of the unpleasant effects of sailing. ‘These aquatic trips —for they belong more to the water | than the Jand—will bring Southend much nearer to London, for it took | formerly almost as long to walk the full | length of the pier as to go by steam —_ Nicuoxson’s Whart to the top of if, This mode of conveyance wil! be a very great improvement upon the old arm-chair with the sail at the back, which was the only vehicle that for- merly connected Southend with the Ocean, and was certainly the most cruel method of being driven to extre- mities that a patient man could be subjected to. We are sure Southend will advance rapidly into something like a civilised watering-place as soon as the immense distance that divided it from the approach of man, and kept all human intercourse completely at bay, is cleared in suflicient time to | enable a visitor to reach the Royal | Hotel in time for his dinner. | VoL, XV. BB

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ENGLISH WITHOUT A MASTER. * Mi DERE Poncuz, “T vILt to you be much obliged, if you shall tell to me the explication of this English idiotism, which I vas seeing in what the one calls the Long Walk at Vindsor, there exalted on a long timber :— Gentlemen are required, and Servants desired, to keep on the Gravel Road; and not to break out on the Turf. _ “Ven I did see those words ‘required’ and ‘desired,’ I was thinking it must be some of your poesy Eng ish, which no man may comprehend, and by consequence I was not about to attempt to explain it to myself; 80 i did inquire a jentleman for what on had it wrote inrime. He said in smiling that it vas not poesy, but that S.M. Vicroara did not like her subjects who vas breaking in their horses, to “break out” on the grass; and ven I did savy I not understand him, he parted in great laughing. Now, mon cher, asI know you not laugh never at any question to you put, [ have had the audacity to enquire this of you, and | do hope that you shall quickly give me one explication, “ With all sentiment of respect and love, mi dere Ponche, “T am all to you, “TI. Nicgaup.” POTTED DEFINITIONS. Tre Gentlemen-at-Arms are the Royal Police. JuLtien’s Concerts are the Crush-room of the Mobility. The Bourbons are the Wardering Jews of Rovalty. The Rarri-cade is only a brother, on the French side, of Jack Cane. The Vernon Gallery is the Black Hole of British Artists. The American Sea Serpent is the CuisHoim Anstey of Boas. The Quadrant in Regent Street is said by the Zimes to be the most shameful retreat that ever disgraced the British Columns. The Gypsies in Spain have been highly extolled for their cleverness; but we should instance the Spanish Bonds as the most finished work of Bornow. St. Paul’s and Westminister Abbey are the greatest exhibitions of meanness ever shown ova country. “La Propriété ¢ est le vol,” is certainly the only property that appertains to American literature. THE ELECTRIC LIGHT.—SHAMEFUL EXPOSURE OF TRAFALGAR SQUARE. “Mr. Puncs, “1, with thousands, have to complain of the Electric Light. It is an invention impertinent and presumptuous. No other than a clear attempt to destroy the vested interests of a revered institution of darkness, old as Nox—and an undisguised intention to abolish the stars in a twinkling, and take the entire shine out of the moon. “And where is this Electric Light displayed as ‘a first experiment out of doors?’ Why, Sir—(I take my authority from the newspapers) —‘in front of the National Gallery.’ Now, there is something heart- less, cruel, in the choice of sucha place. Why, as a sweet poet says, why ‘drag its frailties from their dark abode,’ buried as they are for some hours of the four-and-twenty in the obseurity of the sky? And yet, ‘the light was so placed as to illumine the whole of Trafalgar Square, the rays reaching as far as Northumberland House. The very lion at the top winked at the blaze.’ This is shameful. Is it gentlemanly ? at leas'—the National Gallery was covered up in darkness, and so pro- tected from the sneers and laughter of the hordes of foreigners who crowd our streets. But with the Electric Light, the Gallery is sport for the stranger any hour of the four-and-twenty. And this evil is by no means properly balanced by a few of the advantages said to be ebtained by the light over gas; though, as a lover of justice, I will not suppress them, as, strangely reached me. “One gentleman (by the aid of the Electric Light) said—‘ He could read writing that had entirely escaped his naked eye. Standing in the Square and pulling out his washing-bill, he saw written at the bottom, |the word paid. Thought very highly of the Electric Light.’ * Another gentleman, who betcre bad the highest opinion of his cook, saw, as far as the Horse-Guards, the aforesaid Mary JonrEs handing up a pigeon-pie to the mounted guardsman. Could swear 'to the pie. Thought the Electric Light would be a great agent in | public morality. * Lorp Ne son, by the aid of the Light, could see so inconceivably | far into the future, that he saw his Pillar completed. | “All the pictures in the Vernon Pit saw themselves most infa- mautly placed. Hitherto, they had been wholly in the dark upon the subject. | ‘ GeorGE THE FourtH (in bronze) saw himself as he is seen in | history; and thought the Electric Light impertinent and disgusting. | “The Doxe or York (on the top of his Column) saw all his unpaid | bills, and conceived the Electric Light to be a shameless invasion on the sanctity of private de»lings. “Mrs. Stupss saw Mr. Stupes smoking a cigar in a shop at Charing Cross, a* the very time when Stusss declared he should be at a ‘heavy consultation.’ Believes the Electric Light will bea blessing to families | “Mr. Bensamrn Disrattzt, standing opposite the Treasury, by the | astonishing power of the Electric Light saw himself—in office. | “With this, Mr. Punch, I close my list; and I leave it to you to determine whether or not the evils of the Light do not cast its alleged excellencies into utter darkness. Not that I have any interest in the subject, being merely one of the public, and * A Gas ContTRACcTOR.” ADVICE TO SPANISH BONDHOLDERS. Spanish Bondholders, robbed by Spaniards—who are so prond that | they scorn to pay—listen to the advice of Punch. Listen; be righted; | be remunerated. Genera. Narvaez, President of the Council, has prigged, since 1543, a quarter of a million of money. Moy, the Minister of Finance (avers the Zimes) has prigged no less. Sartorius, the Minister of the Interior, no less. This, then, oh Spanish waste-paper holders, is the advice of Punch. Set up acrucible. Catch Narvazz, Mon, and Sartorius, and (after | the manner of the Jewess) pitch them into the aforesaid crucinle. Blow the fire; and when the Ministers are dissolved, skim the dross, aud pocket the gold that has run from them. If we say nothing of Queen IsaBeELLa, it is from no squeamish gallantry ; no desire to save her; but from the fact that she is beyond the test of the crucible, inasmuch as she was never known to melt. Are the | fountains of the Square to have no peace? Are the nymphs that reside | there to be compelled to confront a light that makes them, as the writer | declares, ‘conspicuous as at noon-day ?’ Is this fair? Is it humane? | i It was some consolation to think that—at night, | from the mouths of certain people, they have |

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245 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ROGUES AND REVOLUTIONS. Some fellows are going about the country with a lot of inferior goods, which they declare they are commis- sioned by the Quren or Enc- LanD to sell off in consequence of the Reign of Terror in France, and which they will have the honour of offer- ing ur der deed of forfeiture, “ BY ORDER OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE FRE\CH REPUB- uc.” It so hap- pens that there 1s . no reign of terror just now; nor is there any President of the French | Republic, for the elec‘ion has not, at the present writing, taken place; | but if it had, we do not see why the President should commission a party of British Doos to go about England “ selling off;” nor do | we know how Her Masesty Queen Vicroxia could be a party to | such a fransaction. Thee things are not very closely inquired into by a gullible public of the softer sex, and it is not impossible that the knaves may be reaping a ha: vest, which we must prevent them from con’ inuing. Their stock consisis of everything, from “Enamels of ancient , Limoze,” down to gloves, shoes, and stockings. One of the items ; consists of “ Priests’? Vestments,” to be sold off in consequence of the | French Revolution; though we had not heard that the Church was ' rediced to the necessi*y of parting with its wardrobe, and placing it in ; the hands of Dippie & Co., to be disposed of “ by private treaty.” | ‘To add to our astonishment, we perceive that the Catalogue contains **700 Cuinese Washable Dresses three tives the ordinary wid h.” But. unless there has been a revolu‘ion in China, we cannot understand why the na‘ives should be letting all their washable a'tire go at an alarming sacrifice. ‘The Chinese must have been going to greater lengths than we were aware of; or perhaps, as the dresses are three times the ordinary width, the people of China have been allowing themselves extraordinary latitude. Russia, too, has contributed 3500 of her richest Cour; Dresses to this Sale, if we are to believe the placarc—which we don’t—for we have yet to learn that anything has occurred to break up the Court of St. Petersburgh. It would seem, also, that the Bushmen of Africa had been involved in a “ Revolution,” a “ Reign of Terror,” and an “ Alarming Sacrifice,” for 500 of their hearthrugs—we were not aware that they had hearths, and a fortiori were we ignorant of their indulgence in rugs—are adver- tised. ‘he placard containing all these astounding announcements, repudiates any connection with Howe anp James, EvERINGTON AND GrauaM, or other London houses. ‘I'nis is something like a Brumma- gem BruMMeL cutting a real Grorce THE FourTH; or the constant scavenger, who at Christmas repudiates all connection with everybody and everything. ELLIPTICAL ADVERTISEMENT. THE subjoined advertisement lately appeared in the Zimes. We greatly fear that it has not been answered, for we very much doubt that it can have heen understood :— \ EDICAL PARTNERSHIP.—Aged Practice. £1100 annually, within 30 miles of London. Equal working shar- for disposal ; applicant fund of field sports would tell; patients increasing; hence partner. Price £1000; part credit if required. Returns last year, £1600. Connexion the cream. £400 guaranteed, if desired, by the wealthy owner. To this, Punch, on the part of all whom it may concern, offers the ' following reply :— * Aged Practice ””—no idea of what meant. Can’t understand what to take it for, except £1000. “Applicant fond of field sports would tell.” —Query, on partridges or patients, or both alike? Suspect that. all last year’s returns were smoked. More credit offered than is likely to be got. “Connexion the cream”’—vulgar expression. Should not think Society was “the cheese.” Deficiency in articles, conjunctions, prepo- | sitions, and verbs, necessary to make sense of sentences, bespraks | illiterate person. Terms highly objectionable in point of grammar. | Style evidently that of snob; advertiser probably shocking “‘ do.” WEST RIDING SQUIBS. TWO BARGAINS; ONE BAD, THE OTHER BITTER BAD, THERE was a young man of the West Riding; So, when a new candidate was to be found, The Firzwiti1aMs thought it a natural thing That this young man should walk over the ground— With a too-ral, o0-:al, o0-ral, 00, Ri too-ral oo-ral-a ! Now this young man had no principles got— As how should he have at twenty-three ? So he wrote an Address, which showed he had not A will of his own in the least degree. With a too-ral, vo-ral, &c. Then the Yorkshire yeomen, so long i’ the head, And the Yorkshire spinners, so cute and keen, They thought to themselves, as the letter they read, “* His colours be blue, but his sen’ he be green.” With his too-ral, oo-ral, &c. So then the young man a canvassing went, And when his credentials folks asked to see, He showed them his name, and the roll of the rent Of the great. FirzwitLtaM propertie. With his too-ral, oo-ral, &c, On the Suffrage, Economy, Church, Free-Trade, They begged he’d a bit of his mind let fall; But he couldn’t give ’em a bit, he said, Of his mind, ’cause he hadn’t got any at all. With his too-ral oo-ral, &c. If the Whigs had a notion, why, his was the same; If the Whigs had none, why, no more hai he; So they snuff-d him out, and so settled the game O{ this wou'd-be Member of twent) -three. With his too-ral Go-ral, &c. Who once was Tory, then turned Whig, Who is hal! puritan, half zrig, Sour face and sanctified, like Stic- GINS always pulling ? Who only from the truth ne’er stray’th, Infallible to judge eac’ fai’ h Save that wherein himself he pray’th ? Six Earpiey CuLiine. Who, when poor Ir-Jand’s wounds we search, Would leave ten Irelands in the lurch, Rather than take from Irelana’s Church (So called absurdly) Wealth, which, if truth the text inspire About the labourer and his hire, Priests, and not parsons, should require P— Sim Cuniine Earpuey. What thins our schoolrooms of the young ? What whets to wrath our old men’s tongue? What down on England’s board hath flung Discord’s own apple ? What, preaching peace, still breedeth jar? What Charity’s fair work doth mar? What is it but that fatal war— Church versus Chapel ? Tf Lib’ralism be worth a fig (For which you Yorkshiremen talk big), Nor gets on, like an Irish pig, By backward pulling, You will not give the cause to shame, Nor back the bigot’s bitter game, Trusting your hich trust to this same Sir Earpiey CULLING, Quite as much spirit you may find, Without the bitters, which combined In Barnes’s dose, you seem resign’d To gulp absurdly— Viz. :—take of Whig and Tory stuff, Jumble ’em well, till mix’d enough: Add Odium Theolog., quant. suff.— That ’s Cuttinc HARDLEY.

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246 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | D“ivESTIC BLISS. BAITING THE CANDIDATE. (igi te yt | | Tats is a new game, very much played in | Yorkshire, and is considered very great fun for | the baiters, if not for the baitee. In order to play it, you must first catch your | | candidate—if you can get two at once it is still | better—and shut him up ina hustings, open in | front, or in a large room wi'h a balcony. or you | may let him run loose on a platform. You then | send in the baiters upon him—one at a time, if | you wish to give him fair play, though, we regret | to say, several are often turned in on him at |once. The baiters are then allowed to throw all 7 | sorts of questions at him, and to poke him up / | with interrogatories, while he wards them off as | well as he can, or dodges them. He is not allowed any books of reference, and must en- | counter the haiters without any defensive armour of facts and figures. All questions are fair, and | the more they defy a short answer the better. The candidate is not prevented from parrying with nonsense or humbug, and is expected to keep his temper. He may be baited as long ¢ | as the electors like, or until his wind is com- | pletely gone. When two are baited at once, | additional fun may be produced by encouraging | them to worry each other. Lae —_—— ling 7 | What is the Sea-Serpent ? } 1. The Mrs. Harris of the ocean ! 2. An offspring of the adder tribe! 3. Amare’s nest found among MorHER Cary’s | chickens ! | 4. A great seal, dropped from Davy JonEs’s | midnight watch ! 5. A tenant—in tail—of the deep ! 6. An infinite deal of nothing ! | | | Paterfamilias, “1 CAXNOT CONCEIVE, MY LOVE, wHAT IS THE MATTER WITH MY WATCH ; I THINK IT MUST WANT CLEANING.” Pet Child. “Ou no! Papa pear! I DoN’r THINK IT WANTS CLEANING, BECAUSE BaBy AND I HAD IT WASHING IN THE BASIN FOR EVER SO LONG THIS MORNING !” “‘ Accident to the Duke of Richmond.” His chief delight’s a line that’s paying, Though where to find one there’s no saying ; But, such the mania that attacked him, Even the West London could attract him, Heedless if a scheme was rotten In this manner the penny-a-liners head the account of “a serious | accident” happening to His Grace on his way to the Aberdeen Station. | His horses fall, and the leading postboy “is not only stunned by the | fall, but is very much bruised, and bas his shoulder dislocated and some | of his ribs broken by the heavy coach being dragged over him. truth, a sad accident this to the Duke or Ricumoxp. However, upon | inquiry at the last moment before going to press, we are happy to! inform the world that the Duke or RicuMonp shows ro bruise what- | ever; that his shoulder is strong enough to bear all the honours of the | peerage ; and that his ribs are as whole as Apam’s when ADAM was a/| bachelor. It is delightful to think that this “accident to the Duke oF Ricumonp ” has been of such very brief calamity. By-the-way, we know not whether it is worth while to observe that | the post boy—spoken of somewhere above—still lies at “the Montrose Infirmary.” » Tn So that scrip was to be gotten. What he’ll come to you may guess. WM -m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-m’-n’, What he’ll come to, | What he’ll come to, What he’ll come to you may guess. | { —————S | THE RAILWAY DON JOHN. Ais —‘' Madamina, il catalogo é questo.” Ieporello, Lavy mine, this sea-serpentine list is An account of Joan Buiv’s speculations In all manner of lines, of all nations ; Please you, Madam, peruse it with me. 1n Italian he holds shares in plenty, In Dutch, Belgian, and French full as many ; | But would they were worth balf a penny ! ¥ In our English oh! millions has he. "Mong these lines are sundry bubbles, Schemes suspended through his troubles, Count Barrnyany, of “6, Lower Grosvenor Street, London,” Branches, junctions visionary, writes to all the newspapers “ his gratification” that “ Louis Kossutu”’ } Atmospherics—very airy— is threatened with “ well-deserved punishment.” This is very chivalrous ! Bond fide undertakings, — What a noble picture,—Count Battuyany, looking fiercely from the Paying nought, or paying less. | first floor of “No. 6, Lower Grosvenor Street,” and—safe as Mars On the Great Western, something quite tremendous when sold out—crying, “Go it, Emperor Frrpinanp; pitch into | Are our hero’s operations ; Lovis Kossutn.” There is nothing nobler in all medieval (or any evil) On the South, bis work’s stupendous, history. We hope Ferprnanp will send the Count an Order, if it And on all, his obligations. be only the Order of Come Back To Hungary.

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TLLit rrr ry riiy ee ee! ) oe ¢? 1 ,/} H} . >| & i aw Hh HH} =) = j // e . y H -_ “ — ~ <= ox / Cc le f cD ar VN Oi td! 0 eg IZING" al

LEPORELLO RECOUNTING THE RAILWAY LOVES OF DON JOHN. Elvira . Brrrannta. Leporello . Mr. G. Hupsox, M.P. Don John . Mr, Joun Bow.

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 249 ADVERTISEMENT. a is relieved, but agonised. Influenza is rapture, com- pared ‘with indifferenee. Still, is Ancexa convalescent? Will she brave the "bus on Tuesday next ? boots. And, for the love of love, let her not despise thick Let her believe Tuzopore’s peace of mind depends on cork soles. THE TURF IN IRELAND. Nor many have had the luck to see Donnybrook Fair ; and still fewer the good fortune to witness Jrish Races. This peculiar description of sport has been lately introduced, very much to his credit, by Lorp Gezorce Hii, on his property at Gweedore, county Donegal, a place which, thanks to his Loidship’s spirited exertions, is quite a little garden in the howling waste of Ireland. ‘The following are the particu- jars of the last meeting. We must premise that, as the race was an Irish one, nobody need be astonished at discovering that the runners were not horses :— Burres-Corp Sweepstakes of 20 sovs. each, given by Lonp Suamnocx, churned for by from eighteen to seventy year-old Shelahs, one year heats, the winner to be tne producer of the greatest weight :— Mrgze Watsn’s . . . Biddy ° Pat. Hocan's ..4#.« ~.« 2a ° 34 y:s,, churned 1200 lbs, TERENCE O’SHAUGHNESSY’s Sweet Heart, Molly Malone, 24 yrs., churned 900 Ibs, Beiting 7 to 4 agst. Biddy, and 5 to 2 agst. Norah. Molly took the lead at starting ; but for want of spurring on was dis- tanced by Norah and Biddy. Norah ran a-head for ten months, and then gave in, and Biddy churned away, a clever winner by 300 bs. 20 yrs., churned 1500 Ibs. Stockine Stakes of 24 sovs. each, the gift of the EArt or SKIBBEREEN, to be knit for by spinste. s under 30 yrs. old. Dazrsy Keviy’s Honey 19 yrs. knit 100 pairs. Tim. ScLiivan’s Dartint 21 yrs. knit 98 pairs. Dan. SHEENY’S Jewel 25 yrs. . knit 84 pairs. Betting 10 to 1 on Honey. Won easily by Honey by a length of 2 pairs. Susscnirtion Proven Stakes of 50 sovs. each, to be ploughed for by labourers of 21 yrs. and upwards. THe Maxrgquts or Connemana’s Phil. Murphy . 23 yrs., 10 st.11b. ploughman A 1 Lorp Bantry’s - « Dennis Macarthy 33 yrs., 10 st.4lbs,ploughman 2 Sin Lucivs O’Rourke’s ° Corny Caliaghan 40 yrs., 12 st. ploughman 3 Cartaln BANAGHER’s Phelim O'Grady 45 yrs., 15 st.5lbs.ploughman 4 Betting 6 to 1 agst. Murphy. The competitors vied with one another in good earnest, in acting on the approved maxim of “Speed the Plough.” At starting, O'Grady was foremost, and got over his ground in good style; but Macarthy went a-head of him, and in his turn had the go-by from Corny Callughan, over whom, however, Pail. Murphy ultimately triumphed, the umpires awarding to him the palm of superiority for neatness and expedition in turning up the roots of the daisies. Tue work was up bill; but it was done very cleverly. The candidates were all in prime condition, and when the sport was over, were provided with a good substantial feed, including plenty of corn (which answers much better than potatoes), whereat, in sporting parlance, they all pegged away like four-year-olds. Some of the nobs, we understand, netted a good round sum by betting on their respective favourites ; but all of them are certain to reap a large profit from the in petus which the introduction of these sports will give to the cultiva- tion of property in Ireland; and they will also assuredly benefit by the good feeling and understanding which this noble pastime is calculated to engender between the landlord and the labourer, _ A Truly German Name. Tue President of that turbulent body of legislators, the Prussian Chamber—himself the professor of very extreme opinions—is named, by the Journals, M. Unrun. There must be some mistake here. We believe that the proper name of this gentleman is UNRULY. NOTICE. ISSING.—The GREAT SEA SERPENT. Had on, when last met with, a bunch of sea-weed round his neck, a se#l-skin coat, with a very long tail, and ‘‘con'inuations ” of a most exiensive character. He had been going lately to very great lengths ; but his friends fear that he may have come to an untimely end, for when last seen, he appeared to be almost at hi. last extremities. He need not be afraid to make his appearance again, and unfold himself without scruple ; but he must embrace the present oppuriunity, or he is for ever lost. THE SONG OF THE SOCIALIST SISTERS. (As sung at the Ladies’ Democratic Clubs in Paris, with great applause.) Lixe Muffs the men to work have gone, And Europe’s:sad to see, With kinge a-tottering on the throne, And Empires all a-gee. : The world must be “got up” again, Its creases smoothed away ; Uprouse ye then, my merry womén, It is our mangling day. Onur husbands they may scold or snore, Or bake, or fry, or stew; While we this man-spoiled world restore, And make it good as new. Lords of creation—vice men, At last we have our way ; Uprouse ye then, my merry women, t is our mangling day. No husband’s mission own we now, To bully or to bore; “Obedience” of the marriage vow Shall form a part no more. Till now we’ve ruled by stratagem, Henceforth we ’ll rule by sway ; Uprouse ye then, my merry womén, For this is Lady-day, The Right of Labour we’ll proclaim In favour of the male; Our new couleur de rose shall flame The Red Republic pale. Latch-keys or Clubs, who dares to name, With life shall forfeit pay ; Uprouse ye then, my merry women, For this is Lady-day ! KITCHEN STUFF. Aw advertisement in the Glole a few days ago informed us of the establishment, at Bristol, of a School for Domestic Servants, and the piano was mentioned as being taught at this novel establishment. We have no objection to a School for Servants—a class requiring to be schooled rather severely sometimes—but what they want with the piano somewhat puzzles us. Perhaps it may be useful to them to know how to play quadrilles when, the family being out, there is a réunion of the policeman, the lamplighter, the greengrocer, and other friends of the culinary department; but for ordinary use, a knowledge of music seems to be somewhat de ¢rop in an education intended to fit the pupil fora career of domestic service. Cooks, housemaids, and nurses are crotchetty enough already, without putting musical, as well as other crotchets into their heads; and unless the pianos used for teaching are semi- grands and semi-dressers — forming a sort of half-and-half between har- fa fa AHausmyen mony on the one hand and household duty on the other—we do not see how the new scheme of education can be at all justified. We presume the instruments will be supplied with metallic plates; but if our plan is carried out, earthenware plates may be added. There is perhaps after all some affinity between music and pots and pans, for the comparisen of a piano to an old tin kettle is by no means unus

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| nature. | onslaught of atroop of heavy | action we think the broadsides 250 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. WAR TO THE (PAPER) KNIFE. Tue contest now going “on in France for the Presidentship of the Republic is being carried on by caricatures and squibs, which are certainly very prefer- able to the mcde of hostility which has lately beea popular in Paris. We should be very glad to see all war superseded by paper war; and our Army Estimates would certainly be very much reduced, if literary and artistic.) powder and shot were sub- stituted for the ammunition of a mre costly as well as more deadly charac’ er. One of our m dern advertisivg car's, loaded wi'h caricatures, wou'd form a van-guard of the most effective kind, and we shou!d be delighted to see the ar' ist instead of the soldier follow- ing the word of command to draw, and dealing out cuts of a humorous rather than of an inhuman We can fancy the advance of a regiment of light satirists producing an effect more per- manen!ly triumphant than the cavalry ; and even in a naval of the printing press would be more damaging than the broad- sides now used for hostile pur- & poses. The lead of the artist’s pencil leaves, at all events, a . more lasting impression than the lead of the warlike missiles hitherto in use; and, in boarding the ship of a foe, a party of literary board- men, inclosed in their customary armour of posting-bills, would be quite irresistible. THE SPELL-BOUND ENTHUSIASTS. Mapness has adopted a variety of methods, and run the round of almost everv absurdity; but decidedly the most insane thing out of Bedlam in the present day, is a scheme for the anuihilation of Mavor, the demolition of Ditworts, and the utter or unutterable confusion of all orthography. A Socie’y has started for the purpose of promoting bad spelling and wrong writing; for knocking out half the public Is, depiving us of a great portion of our Ees; multiplying our mutes without hearing a word in their favour; absorbing some of our liquids; depriving us of our Vs without a Y or a wheref re; and vowing vengeance on our vowels. It seems we are to read and interpret everything in future according to its sound; but we are not told what we are to gather from that “sound and fury” proverhially “signifying nothing.” _ A newspaper has been already advertised under the hieroglyphical title of the “ FONETIC NUZ;” which is to contain twelve pages “de siz ov doz in de Eyzaminer.’ We presume that this mystic prt will be intended chiefly for circulation among old clothesmen and Jew orange-boys, with whose peculiar dialect it seems to chime in very bar- monivusly. The prospectus of this aff.ir calculates upon “mor dan a — wun undreed an fifti tousend supporterz,” which is as near as possible the amount of the orange and pencil population of the Empire, including the denizens of the large-bladed penknife districts, and the sons of the clothes-bags of Israel. The objects of the paper are said to be “ educashun,” not only moral and intellectual, hut “ fizical;” and “‘fizical” it would indeed become under the new system, by keeping the mind ever on the fiz, or in a state of effervescence, to comprehend the meaning of the mis-spelt lessons placed under the bewildered eyes of the pupil. Who would think that people were mad enough to expect to facilitate the art of learning to read by such sentences—or rather, by such mysterious or! hography—as the f llowing, which we print, as well as our civilised types will allow, from the prospectus of the Fonetic Nuz-paper :— “ Lerning tue red iz, at de presnt da, so dificult and lengti a tasc, dat a nolej ov redin and ritin haz bin recn’d de gol ov a puur munz educa- shun.” Arter an octavo page of this truly speluncular spelling—for it hurries us into the Cave of De-pair when we try to make it out—the prospectus goes on to say :—“* dis iz de grat, de nob’l, de holi coz in hwich we ar engajd;” and the projectors add, that of this “holi coz” they are resolved to record the “triumfs in de columnz ov de Fonetic Nuz.” The editors threaten to come out strong, also, on “de grat cwestunz ov Parlimenteri reform,” and to ‘‘cwolifi ol vor de ecsersizj ov de electiv franciz.” If writing and reading are to give a vote, and the qualification is to | be tested upon such an incomp'ehensible combination of sounds and , | symbols as constitute the language of Phonography, we an‘icipate the > | distranchisement of nine-tenths of the population, who would never / | master the mysteries of capital P’s turned upside down, to do duty for | “Th,” or c’s and o’s run through the middle with daggers or asterisks. FINE ARTS. Tue Morning Post has a very noble notice of the Portrait of George Hudson, Esq.; noble and slightly pathetic. The picture was painted hy F. Geant; engraved by Georce RapaaeL Waren; published by P. and D. Connacui; and to be purchased by every true-born Briton who would wish to lay his hand upon his heart, and feel his bank book there (with a good balance) in his breast-pocket. Englishmen are frequently told (especially at elections) that any of them may, if they will, be a Commander-in-Chief, a Lord High Admiral, a Prime Minister, or a Lord Chancellor. This is all very well. But we would have a copy cf the Portrait of George Hudson, Esq. in the house of every humble Englishman, as an incentive to a yet higher position in social dignity. We would have it preached to every hedger, ditcher, and stone-breaker,—“ You may be a Hupson.” And to this end, we would multiply the copies of the portrait, till Hupsons were plentiful as sprats, with the like suggestiveness of gold at the gills, and silver all over. We do not see why good stout copies of the portrait (on brown paper) should not adorn every cottage, and every Union. How admirably has the critic burnt his incense (we may say in his sim- plicity, his frank incense) to the gilt original !— name of Hopson honourably known among a people who are slow in their recog- nitions, and tardy in their acknowledgments, are not denoted by the placid but somewhat vacant look of the image which is now before us.” This is so true; at least the early part of it. For it is happily well understood, at least by the select, that Mr. Hupson is not known and honoured by a people “ slow to recognise” the power of money—(there was no subscription, none, to gild the ears of Mipas)—for his wealth ; but for his studies in abstract science; for his continual self-devotion to anything but himself. ‘The combination of courage, prudence, foresight, and determination which seized fortune where too many embraced despair, we in vain strive to discover in the we/l-fed and contented genticman, who looks as if he had nothing in this world to think about, and even less to do.” Hunson “ well-fed and contented.” A pictorial libel. Like all the ascetic philosophers, it is known that Hupson lives upon pulse and dates; and—ere he addresses Parliament—drinks nought save waters from the well of Truth. The artist should have painted the face of Hupson, that it might have appeared— * Before the Times’ effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.” Whereas half the lines are gone; and all that remains—according to the critic—is “a placid, but somewhat vacant look.” The critic finely says :— ** The mere obtrusion of skin and bone is therefore no evidence of intellect ; nor is the fact of the human skeleton being somewhat softly clothed, proof that the brain has lost its firmness ; and those who are offering ; remiums for the encouragement of art wou'd do well to reward the first l\ving painter who can execute the portrait of a corpulent person, and make him appear an object deserving of respect.” _A fine notion. We should like to see the portrait of a four-pound dip. One of the greatest lights of the worid, “ deserving of respect!” | | | | ‘The naturally strong mind and marked individuality which have made the |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 251 BOW STREET BALLADS.—No. Il. JACOB OMNIUM’S HOSS.—A NEW PALLICE COURT CHAUNT. The dreadful day of trile In the Pallis Court did come ; The lawyers said their say, The Judge looked wery glum, And then the British Jury cast Pore Jacos Hom-ni-uM. One day this genileman’s groom This willain did spy out, A mounted on this oss A ridin him about : * Get out of that there oss, you rogue,” Speaks up the groom so stout. The thief was cruel whex’d To find hisself so pinn’d; The oss began to whinny, NE sees in Vite- | Yard, Vere pleacemen do resort ; A wenerable hinstitute, Tis called the Pallis Court. | | A gent as got O a weary day was that For Jacos to go through; The debt was two seventeen, his i on it, 4 alae I think it’ The honest groom he grinn’d; (Which he no mor owed than you), make some And the raskle thief got off the oss And then there was the plaintives costs, | sport. And cut avay like vind, Eleven pound six and two. And phansy with what jo e The natur of The ronan be did noch | , And then there was his own, this Court His dearly bluvd lost oss again Which the lawyers they did fix | My hindignation riles : Trot in the stable yard. At the wery moderit figgar A few fat legal spiders e Of ten pound one and six. | Here set & spin their viles; Who was this master good Now Evins bless the Pallis Court, Of whomb I makes these rhymes ? And all its bold ver-dicks ! To rob the town theyr priviege is, In a hayrea of tweive miles. The Judge of this year Court Ts a mellitary beak, He knows no more of Lor Than praps he does of Greek, And prowides hisself a deputy Because he cannot speak. His name is Jacos Homntum, Exquire ; And if Z’d committed crimes, Good Lord! 1 wouldn’t ave that mann Attack me in the Zimes/ Now shortly after, the groomb His master’s oss did take up, There came a livery-man This gentleman to wake up; And he handed in a little bill, Which hangered Mr. Jacos. For two pound seventeen This livery-man eplied, For the keep of Mr. Jacon’s oss, Which the thief had took to ride. : a **Do you see anythink green in me?” Good sport it is to you, Ma. Jacos Homnivm cried. _, Lo grind the honest pore; l'o pay their just or unjust debts With eight hundred per cent. for Lor; | Make haste and git your costes in, They will not last much mor. I cannot settingly tell If Jacos swaw and cust, At aving for to pay this sumb, But I should think he must, And av drawn a cheque for £24 4s, 8d, With most igstreme disgust, O Pallis Court, you move My pitty most profound. . A most emusing sport You thought it, L’ll be bound To saddle hup a three-pound debt, With twe-and-twenty pound. Four counsel ia this Court— Misnamed of Justice—sits ; These lawyers owes their places to Their money, not their wits; And there’s six attornies under them, As here their living gits. TE These lawyers, six and four, Was a livin at their ease, A sendin of their writs abowt, And droring in the fees, When their erose a cirkimstance As is like to make a breeze. ** Because a raskle chews My oss away to robb, | And goes tick at your Mews For seven-and-fifty bobb, Shall J be called to pay ?—It is A iniquitious Jobb.” Thus Mr. Jacos cut The conwasation short ; The livery-man went ome, Detummingd to ave sport, And summing-d J acon Homntum, Exquire, Into the Paliis Court. Pore Jacozs went to Court, A Counsel for to fix, And choose a barrister out of the four, An attorney of the six; And there he sor these men of Lor, And watch’d ’em at their tricks. Come down from that tribewn, Thou Shameless and Unjust; Thou Swindle, picking pockets in The name of Truth august; Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy, For die thou shalt and must. It now is some monce since, A gent both good and trew Possest an ansum oss vith vich He didn know what to do: Peraps he did not like the oss, Peraps he was a scru. And go it, Jacos Homntum, And ply your iron pen, And rise up Sir JoHN JERVIS, And shut me up that den; That sty for fattening lawyers in, On the bones of honest men. This gentleman his oss At Tatrersatt’s did lodge; There came a wulgar oss-dealer, This gentleman’s name did fodge, And took the oss from ‘TATTERSALL’S : Wasn that a artful dodge? { PLEACEMAN X. A Short Dialogue at “ Mivart’s.” Scenz.—The Babylon Bedchamber. Moutx Macuree airing a Scarlet Bed, (WAITER without.) The Imperial Style. _We know not whether Nicnotas of Russia—like an undeserving bishop—has been shamefully translated; if not, he writes a style worthy of the statesman-like metaphors of LonponpERRy’s “ late lamented relative,” who was wont to speak of “features upon which questions hinged,” and “ men standing prostrate on the floor of Parlia- ment.” Here is a sample of Nick’s letter to JELLACHICH, with an Order (for one, children-in-arms of course, admitted) :— “* Your noble endeavour generally to rescue from shipwreck the principles of social order and equal justice, which were trodden under foot by a lawless party, guilty of the most rebellious excesses, have gained you just claim to my esteem.” Waiter. Motty! Monty Macuree. Molly. Whisht, then; what is it ? Waiter. You needn’t air the Scarlet Bed. Molly. And it’s to meself you say that? Needn’t air the bed? Waiter. No. Molly. Why no? Waiter. There’s another message from the ’Lectric Telegraph, and No Italian boy ever carried upon his head a greater confusion of | the Porz isx’¢ coming. images than NicHoLas here carries iz it. Kings have been punished as schoolmasters, What a pleasure it would give some of Lorp Dupuey Stuarr’s Poles if Nicos were, for a year only, exiled in London ; his sword sent to Birmingham to be cut into pens; and he, the autocrat, being compelled, for just one year, to live upon them. “MY PROPHETIC SOUL! MY UNCLE!” _ Or all men no one has been more indebted to his Uncle than Lovis Napo.eon ; for it is very clear he never could have gained the smallest advance without him,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. MRS. HARRIS’S TREMENDOUS DISCOVERY. Mrs. Harris. “Yau! Parts? ask Lewis PHILLIPS TO SPEND CHRISTMAS WITH YER; WHICH IT’S A Merry Curistmas I wish YER—OVER THE LEFT—YaAuH ! "— MORE NOVELTY AT ST. PAUL’S AND WESTMINSTER ABBEY. NotwWITHSTANDING our continued notices of the Exhibition at St. Paul’s, the twopences, we understand, come in but slowly, and the Dean and Chapter murmur horribly at the tightness of the times, the that used to pour in upon them most abundantly. The door-keeper WHO CAUSED ALL THE DISTURBANGES IN FoRRIN | Way You, YOU BAGE CREECHUR ; AND WELL MAY YOU GO AND Vide “ Standard,” Nov. 30th. pecuniary pressure, and other causes which mulct them of those coppers | A coiffeur, celebrated for the variety and curliness of his wigs, will undertake to furnish appropriate head-gear to the statues forming the Exhibition, and all the field-marshals, admirals, poets, and other celebrities will be suited to a hair with scalps, scull-caps, fronts, crops, or ringlets, as the case may be, of the most soft and silky texture. We shall watch with intense interest the progress of this great plan for getting up the grand spectacles of St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey with those dresses and decorations which have been brought to ; such perfection by MapameE Tussaup, who can mex object to the competition, for the two great ecclesiastical shows will hardly hurt her | by the rivalry, at so great a distance from her old established concern 'in Baker Street. HERALDRY FOR THE BILLION. We wonder King-at-Arms does nof, like unfortunate Miss Balzey, hang himself in his own garters; for the trade of Heraldry must be in a state of sad.depression, when we find crests engraved, “and found” into the bargain, for 10s. 6¢.—a fact we learn from numerous adver- tisements. The Heralds’ College enjoys the monopoly of finding the | public in coats-of-arms; but England must be crest-fallen indeed, when half-a-guinea will make any one a legitimate gentleman. | We presume the pressure of the times will be pleaded for this fearful | reduction in the price of heraldic bearings, and the determination of {Garter to place an Esquireship within the reach of the humblest—or, at all events, the poorest—individual. Sadler’s Wells Theatre has lately been performing, in its usual style of excellence, a piece called 4 Blot on the Scutcheon, But the British | Scutcheons seem likely to be covered with blots, or converted, in fact, |into mere dabs of ink, by the lowering of price to a degree so base, feos we fear it will be utterly impossible to “ keep the thing respect- | able.” | | | | | | | | complains of its being the worst season he ever knew, and the great | whispering professor, who wheezes out the measurement of the nave, | and other interesting particulars, grumbles grievously over a dreary | | succession of empty galleries. Instead of the “continued overflows” anticipated from a “ reduction of prices,” which had induced the authori'ies to think of letting out the cathedral stalls for the season, to insure seats for those requiring them, the attendance has been growing gradually less, until the vergers, verging on despair, have arrived almost at their wits’ end—no great length after all—in a search for novelty. One of the most ingenious of the Cathedral functionaries has, we understand, proposed a scheme to the Dean and Chapter for adding to the interest of the present | exhibition. The project recommended is to combine the great features | of Mapame Tussaun’s collection with the existing attractions at St. | Paul’s, and thus achieve that most desirable triumph familiarly known | as “two exhibitions in one,” which we sometimes see placarded on the walls of the metropolis. The object will b2 to dress the various statues in “ costumes of the most costly character,” so as to compete with the “magnificent addi- tions” continually advertised by Mapame Tussavup, when she brings out a new lad of wax, and lays in a new piece of silk, satin, sarsnet, or velvet, to render Lim presen’able. We have heard that a: negotiation is already pending with a celebrated costumier, who is remarkable for the great value of his dresses, which are usually so costly that a tunic and trunks originally purchaseable “out and out” for three pounds, will | Tise in value at the rate of a guinea a day, if the hirer neglects to return the articles, or the lender omits to send for them. This great dresser and redresser of the age will be happy to place the whole of his superb stock of cocked hats, admirals’ coats, general officers’ uniforms, with at least, 5000 entire suits of fleshings for the undraped sculpture, at the service of the Dean and Chapter of either St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey, by the day, week, month, or year, at a price extremely moderate. Literally a Shame. We are dreadfully behind other nations. If a proof be wanted how little England is advanced in its letters, we might point to the Cata- logue of the British Museum, which shows at once, upon the face of it, that we have not yet got beyond our A BC! “FAREWELL TO THE MOUNTAIN.” WE are happy to have it in our power to state that the Mons | JULLIEN disclaims all connection with the Mountain party in Paris, and | has declared his determination to adhere to his old principles, so that | he may never deserve the odious title of Justin the Apostate. A Trirtz rrom Soyer.—The Irish Rebellion had its goose cooked at the Clarendon Hotel. William Braibury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newingtoa. and Frederick Mullett Evans, . 7, Church Row, Stoke New:ngton, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office in Lombar: Street, in the Precinct of White‘riars, in th- City of London, and Published by them at No.3», Fleet Street, ia the Parisa of St. Brde,ia the Decemser 9.h, ISS. Printed by of No City of London.—Saturpar,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 253 THE GREAT SQUATTLEBOROUGH SOIREE. oop Mr. Puncx, “JT am an author by trade, and in confi- dence send you my card, which will satisfy you of my name and my place of business. If the de- signer of the series of cuts called ‘Authors’ Miseries’ will take my case in hand, I wiil not ask to plead it myself; otherwise, as it is one which concerns most li- terary persons, and as the annoyance of which I complain may be a source of serious loss and evil to them, I take leave to cry out on behalf of our craft. “The system of op- pression against which I | / desire to protest, is one which has of late been exercised by various bodies, in various parts \V of the kingdom—by the aoe harmless, nay, most laudable Literary Societies there established. These, under the name of Athenzums, Institutes, Parthenons, and what not, meet together for the purposes of literary exercitation ; have reading-rooms, supplied with magazines, books, a. and your own invaluable mis- cellany; and lecture-rooms, where orators, and philosophers, and men of science appear to instruct or to amuse. The Sea Serpent, the character of Hamlet, the royal orrery, and dissolving views, the female characters in Mrs. Jonzs’s novels, &c.—whatever may be the subject of the lecturer. Iam sure no friend to his kind would wish either to revent that honest man from getting his bread, or his audience from istening to his harangues. Lecturers are not always consummately wise, but that is no reason wiv audiences should not listen tothem. Myself, Sir, as I walked down Holborn the other day, I saw placarded (amongst other names far more illustrious) my own name, in pretty much the following terms :— *L. A. HUGGLESTONE, ‘ARE THE WRITINGS OF HUGGLESTONE MORAL OR IMMORAL?’ * ProressoR GRoUTAGE will deliver an Essay on this subject, on the 25th Instant, | at the Philosophical Arena and Psychogymnasium, Cow Lane, Smithfield. Afcer the Lecture, the Arena will be opened for free discussion. Children 1d.’ “T, of course, did not attend, but female curiosity induced Mrs. HUGGLESTONE to pay her money. She returned home, Sir, dissatisfied. Lam informed the Professor did not do me justice. My writings are not appreciated by Mr. GroutaGE (nor indeed by many other critics), and my poor Louisa, who had taken our little James, who is at home for the Christmas Holidays, by way of treat, came home with mortifica- tion in her heart, that our Jemmy should have heard his father so slightingly spoken of by GrouracE, and said, with tears in her own eyes, that she should like to scratch out those of the philosopher in question. “Because the Professor has but a mean opinion of me, is that any Admission 2d., discuss the writings of that philosopher, and to have a plain supper andasmoke. I and some others used to attend pretty regularly, but only at the smoking and supping part, which caused Hurry to say, with a look of considerable scorn, ‘that there were some minds not capable of sustaining or relishing a philosophical investigation.’ The fact was, we were not anxious to hear Hurry’s opinions about Pxato at all ; and preferred scolloped oysters to that controversy. “T submit that, in this case, both parties were right,—Hurry in indulging himself in Platonic theories, and we for refraining from them. We doubted our lecturer—of our scolloped oysters we were sure. We were only sceptics in this instance, not in all; and so in the multifarious Institutes throughout the country, where speechifying is performed, I own I sometimes have doubts as to the wholesomeness of the practice. But it is certain, that if there may be stupid lectures, there may be clever lectures ; there may be quacks or men of genius; there may be know- ledge good and sound acquired ; there may be but a superficial smattering and parrot-like imitation of a teacher who himself is but a pretender ; and also it is clear that people should talk, should think, should read, should have tea in a social manner, and, calling the fiddlers and their wives and daughters, have a dance together at the Parthenon, Atheneum or Institute, until they are tired, and go home happy. And if ina manufacturing town, of course it is good that the master of the mill should join in the sport in which his hands are engaged; or in the country districts, that the great man or Squire shouldaid. For example, I read last year in |the Sgvattleborough Sentinel, how the heir of the noble house of Yawny, the Honourable Mr. DRAWLEIGH, came over ten miles to Squattleborough in the most slushy weather, and delivered four lectures there on his travels in Nineveh, and his measurements of the tombs of Baalbec. Some people fell asleep at these lectures, no doubt, but many liked them, and Mr, DrawLeIcu was right to give them. “He represents the borough. His family are time out of mind lords of the neighbourhood. Nothing is more certain than that the heir of Dozeley Castle should do his utmost to give pleasure to his faithful constituents and the children of the quondam retainers of his race. It was he who set up the Squattleborough Parthenon, his father, Lorp Yawny, laying the first brick of the edifice; the neighbouring clergy and gentry attending and delivering appropriate orations, and the library beginning with two copies of DRAWLEIGH’s own Travels, in morocco gilt. This is all right. But the Squattleborough Parthenon is not, for this, ‘the Beacon of Truth, the Centre of Civilisation, the Pharos in the storm, which the troubled voyager sees from the dark waters, radiating serenely with the Truthful and the Beautiful,’ as Proressor Jowis said at the Inauguration Meeting,—the Squattle- borough Institution, I say, is not in the least like this, but an excel- lent good place enough, on every man can read the paper if it is not in hand; or get a book from the library, if nobody else has engaged it. Let things be called by their names, Mr. Punch ; this place at Squattle- borough is a good literary club, and that is a good thing, and it pro- motes the good fellowship, and aids the reading ‘and education of numbers of people there; and, Heaven send every such scheme pros- perity ! “But now the Squattleborough folks are bent on following the fashion, and having a grand tea-party at their Institute. Amongst others, I have been favoured with a card to this party. The secretary writes in the kindest manner; he says the directors of the Institute are going to give a grand soirce, which many noblemen and gentlemen of the neighbourhood have promised to attend, and where they are most anxious ‘to secure the leading literary talent.’ — * Noblemen and Gentlemen of the neighbourhood, @ /a bonne heure— and it is-very complimentary, doubtless, to be mentioned amongst the i leading literary talent; a noble Lord, a couple of most reverend prelates, a great poet, and so forth, we are informed, are asked. But | why the deuce does Squattleborough want ‘to secure literary talent ?’ | Gentlemen, do you think men of letters have nothing todo? Do you reason why free discussion should not be permitted? Far otherwise. | go three hundred miles to a tea-party, spend five or six pounds on As Indians make fire with bits of wood, blockheads may strike out sparks | railroads and inns, give up two days’ work and a night’s sleep at the of truth in the trituration of debate, and I have little doubt that had my | request of people hundreds of miles away, of whom you have no earthly poor dear girl but waited for the discussion in the arena, my works knowledge? ‘There are one or two men of letters who, upon a great would have had their due, and GrovtaGe got his answer. The people occasion, and by a great city, are rightly called to help and to speak ; may be lectured to by very stupid quacks (perhaps, Sir, it may have been your fortune to have heard one or two of them); but, as sure as they are quacks, so sure they will be discovered one day or other, and I, for my part, do not care a fig for the opinion of the Professor of Cow Lane. I am putting merely my own case in illustration of the propo- sition, which is, that public debates and fair play of thought among men | these men are great orators—whom it is a privilege for any community to hear—but for those whose gift does not lie that way, why drag them out from their homes, or their own friends, or their desks, where their | right places are ? we ea “*T, for instance, who write this, have had a dozen invitations within | the last few months. I should have had to travel many thousands of are good, and to be encouraged. Those who like to read better out of | miles—to spend ever so many scores of pounds—to lose weeks upon a book, than to listen to a long-haired lecturer, with his collars turned | weeks of time—and for what? In order to stand on a platform, at this down (so that his jaws may wag more freely), those who prefer a pive | town or that, to be pointed out as the author of so and so, and to hear at the neighbouring tavern to a debate, however stirring, at the Cow | Lord This or the Archbishop of That, say that Knowledge was Power, Lane Gymnasium, are welcome and right, but so are the others on the | that Education was a benefit, that the free and enlightened people of other side. What-d’ye-call-’em were daily advancing in Civilisation, and that the | “T will mention a case which seems to mein point. In my early days, | learning of the ingenious arts, as the Latin bard had observed, refined | my friend Hurry, the dentist, with myself and several others, belonged | our manners, and mitigated their ferocity. ; to the Plato Club, meeting of Saturday nights in Covent Garden, to} ‘‘ Advance, civilise, cease to be ferocious, read, meet, be friendly, be | _. VOL. XV. cc

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254 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. happy, ye men of Squattleborough, and other places. I sayamen to} 4. I will. Churchmen don’t ask for admission to Coward College, all the: but if you can read for yourselves it is the best. If youcan be| or Highbury—Why should Dissenters to Oxford or Cambridge ? wise without bragging and talking so much about it, you will lose none} ©. What do you understand by meum and tuum? of your wisdom ; and as you and your wives and daughters will do the} 4, Meum, is all I can get. Zwum, is all others can prevent me from dancing at your own ball, if you must have a talk likewise, why not get | setting. your native lions to roar? Q. What would you teach the poor ? * Your’s, dear Mr. Punch, most respectfully, Z A, Their duties. LzontIus ANDROCLES HUGGLESTONE. Q. What would you teach the rich ? A, Their rights. ecmetes : Q. What is your object in seeking for a seat in the House of Commons ? MEDICAL JOURNEY-WORK AND WAGES. A. To advocate your interests and push my own. : —_ : . What is your opinion of the Ballot ? Ir is to be hoped that few professors of physic will adopt the doctrines Q ran . : . of physical force; but there is great fear that many young medical men i wt! ——. oe to withdraw the voter from the will turn Chartists. The main object of Chartism, after all, is to obtain owe > a good day’s wages for a good day’s work; and the existing relation Q. Will you oppose any Extension of the Suffrage f between medical labour and wages may be too correctly estimated from| 4. 1 will. the subjoined advertisement in the Lancet :— any price in the market. O MEDICAL ASSISTANTS.—W ANTED, by a General Practitioner in : . +s . the County of Hants, an assistant who has been accustomed to visit, dispense, It will be obvious how this idea may be applied to other schools of keep the books, and take charge of Union patients. He must either be a Licentiate | politics. If carried out, it might save young gentlemen from that sort | of the Hall, or Member of some College. As the situation is one in which he will be | of painful exposure to which the Hon. Cuartes Firzwitiiam was | treated as a gentleman, it is quite indispensable that his character will bear striet lately so cruelly exposed in the West Riding. , therance of the views of Curry, and throwing his bottles at the head of | society. In other times he might have been tempted to take to the | road; in these he might almost as well take to the crossing—and sweep investigation. To save trouble, replies will only be sent to those applications which appear likely to suit, Salary, £30 per annum. Punch suspends his cudgel over the head of the ‘‘ General Practitioner in the County of Hants.” If it is a part of that individual’s general — to give his assistants £30 a year for visiting, dispensing, eeping books, and attending Union patients, Mr. Punch will not at once beg leave to tell him that he isa shabby fellow. He may be, and most likely is, not an active but a passive screw, merely transmitting the pressure which is applied to him by the public and the Poor Law. But this does not mollify the case of his unfortunate drudge. Why, the doctor’s journeyman earns absolutely less than the bricklayer’s! The helper at any decent livery-stable makes more than the assistant of the medical man. The aggregate “tips” of an ordinary Boots exceed £30 per annum. Nothing but high moral feeling can be depended upon to hinder so ill-paid a workman from converting his pestle and mortar into mischievous weapons,—from employing his chemical knowledge in fur- it—as follow his profession. Who would be a medical assistant, that could obtain a place as footman or butler? We expect soon to see! young surgeons in want of employment at a statute fair, parading them.- | selves, with their diplomas in their hats, for hire, professionally or otherwise. On whomsoever may rest the blame of the above advertise- ment, it is a great disgrace to somebody. CATECHISMS FOR THE HUSTINGS. We have serious thoughts of publishing a series of little manuals, under the above title, that should contain a summary of questions likely and unlikely to be asked of Candidates, with answers calculated not to DESIGN FOR A BANNER FOR MR, DENISON. satisfy the minds, but to stop the mouths of the querists, the latter being the great object in such cases. Of course, there should be sepa- | ———————— rate manuals for different parties. ‘Ihe following may serve as a specimen :— >LEDGES FOR SALE. TORY MANUAL. Q. How do you define our glorious Constitution in Church and Louis Naroxeon has been severely taunted because he has given no pledges, whereas the pledges he has drawn from his Uncle must be | If votes were given to all, they would cease to command State ? | obvious to everybody. For fear they should not be generally known, we A. That state of things dictated by the wisdom of our ancestors, for | subjoin a short list of them :— the advantage of ourselves and the amaz:ment of posterity. THE Tarer-CornERED Hat.—Formerly there was a great deal in this little hat, Q. Are you prepared to stand upon the old paths > but it is greatly to be questioned if the inside is worth anything now, more especially | when Lovis Napoizon has it on his head. J : c | ; $ le ; j 4. Lam; and to keep off all trespassers 2. La Repincote Grise,—This has been so soiled, so pulled about, and dragged Q. What are the old paths ? , : in the mud, that it is scarcely recognisable, from the numerous stains tliat are A. Those which begin, like charity, at home, and lead, like officers of | upon it. the army, to glory. The Nobility, Gentry, and Dignified Clergy are| 3- T#® Oxp Boors.—Very much trodden under foot, and trampled out of all shape, from haviug been worn by a person whom they evidently have not fitted. 4. Tue ImpeRiaL Sycurr-sox.—Quite dry—not a pinch left in it, to throw into the eyes of a single person. their trustees; they are paved with good intentions; their “pikes” | must be paid, and therefore none but those with a money qualification | can trave along them. 7 | 5. Several proclamations, a telescope, a fur coat worn at Moscow, aswerd used Q. Who pays for keeping up those paths ? | at the bridge of Lodi, a tin model of the iron crown of Lombardy, the imperial The Public. sceptre flourished at the coronation at Notre Dame, two or three of the crosses | displayed to ‘‘les braves” on the memorable return from Elba, one of the flags | embraced at Fontainebleau, and other articles, far too numerous to mention. “ “i ; The only question is, whether France is likely to be redeemed by Q. Will you maintain the Church ? pledges of the above second-hand nature. A. 1 will—comfortably. _Q. Will you keep up the Exclusion of the Dissenters from the Universities ? “Wrat’s in a Name? ”—All that Louis NAPoLEon possesses. Q. Who has the administration of the road fund? A. The Aristocracy.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 255 THE RAILWAY LADY-KILLERS. Dm youever? No you never did, I’m sure, young ladies, hear, Such a tale as one [Il tell you from the Liverpool Courier ; ’Tis about affections trifled with, confiding girls betray’d, And heartless hoaxes, ruthlessly on tender bosoms play’d. There are some gents in Manchester, whose avocations will — Send them sometimes on the railway, from the counter and the till ; Each sports his large Mosaic rings, his breast-pin, and his chain, And, in the stead of shop-yard, bears a natty little cane. The object of each fellow—for we will not call him man— Is but to captivate as many victims as he can, As many head—or heart—of game as possible to bag, And of his booty afterwards to go away and brag. His carriage in the railway train should some fair maiden share, He eyes her sentimentaliy, but with respectful air ; From time to time he heaves a mild and melancholy sigh— Ob, dear, how very easy ’tis without a word to lie! At length the object of his wiles he ventures to accost, Says that the day is wet or fine, or there will be a frost, And then too many answer him—the base, perfidious one— Engage in conversation, and are, consequently, done. For remarks, when once they’reanswer'd, though the merestnothings, oft Lead to the further interchange of nothings sweet and soft ; She who assents, at starting, to a speech about the day, e May end the parley with the word which: gives her heart away. And thus it fared with one who was of Liverpool the belle, Her name—but that let asterisks alone to Scandal tell— Thus hoaxed was she by one of those young Snobs of whom I spoke; And now the puppy shows about her letters, as a joke. There is a scamp among them who eleven dupes can count ; The victims of another unto twenty-three amount ; And these two varlets chuckle, with their ribald gibes and jests, O’er the fond effusions of no less than four-and-thirty breasts. Then, all fair railway passengers, a timely warning take, Cut short all smirking, simpering gents, advances who may make ; Be deaf to the soft speeches, blind to all the killing looks Of Brown and Jonzs and Rosinsoy, of Simpkins, Smit and SNooks. JENKINS AT THE CATTLE-SHOW. STERNE upon a dead ass is a nincompoop compared with JenKINs on a live bullock. JxNKrNs visits Baker Street in the quietude of | evening, and melts in sympathy with the gross result of oil-cake. | There is a sweet simplici'y in this passage. It breaks upon us witha | plaintiveness, breathing of the pastoral pipe. “The quiet of the scene was not rendered cheerful by the numerous gas-lights, and the silence, broken only by the husking or panting of some of the fatted brutes, was oppressive to the spirits.” _ Does Jenxins ever visit Guildhall on the 9ih of November? We hope not; if he suffer so much for fatted brutes, what would be his sympathetic wretchedness for corpulent aldermen ? “The full clear eyes of the poor sheep and oxen, [no calves ?} that looked so confidently into ours, and with an eloquence that was not dumb, invited sympathy we could not be insensible to, and the stillness of the place permitted thoughts which were not complimentary to the pride in which the show originated.” There is a touching incoherency in this. The heart of Jenxuss is distressed, subdued by the confidential sheeps’ eyes cast upon him ; _ and his mind wanders in a maze of words. But, we can respect the compassion—albeit a little maudlin—of JENKUNS ; for it has its legitimate source in disgust of the tyrant of Tamworth. If oxen grown beneath a weary load of suet—if moun- tainous sheep look with confiding eloquence into the eyes of a reporter of the Post—if over-larded pigs, like plethoric wealth, are blinded by their fatness, why, the brutality, the atrocity, the torture and the tyranny, all, all lie at the door of the Tamworth traitor, the apostate Peet. With all our ports open to foreign cattle, what remains to the English farmer but to increase his live stock? And how is this to be easiest done? Why, by enlarging every bullock into two—and fatten- ing every hog into his own double. PLAIN AS A PIKE STAFF. Ove of the latest discoveries informs us that gunpowder can be made out of wood. This may, in a measure, account{for the most wooden- headed persons being generally the most explosive. CHILD’S-PLAY. Tue latest novelty introduced into the game of Revolution “‘ over the water,” has been an Infant Pnenomenon. She talks like a woman, that is to say, as long as they will let her, and jumps - to demand the equa- lisation of sucre-d’orges, and the division of galetie shops into equal electoral districts. She made her dédit a short time ago at one of the barriéres, and drew down the applause of a crowded, but not very respect- able dinner, at 8 sous a-head, children at half price,—which must have been a “‘ consommation” not altogether to be most devoutly wished by the restaurateur, considering the little profit he could have got out of it, if these specimens of Za Jeune France only ate and drank in the same destructive manner that they talked. Really Za Jeune France should be ashamed of itself, and deserves being whipped and put to bed. The poor little thing should be at school or with its nurse, making little paper soldiers or cocks and hens, instead of rearing social fabrics, or lisping constitutions, whilst its own is not yet developed. However, it is very strange that. Frenchmen, who are always putting themselves forward as “le peuple le plus spirituel” in the world, should not see the absurdity of these juvenile exhibitions, and when a baby Genius begins prattling they do not stop its little mouth with confitures, or drown its squeak amidst loud cries of “‘ 4u lit! Au lit!” Kvery great cause has its hero ; but what are we to say of the Republic when its advocates are little boys and girls? It is true that their national songs call upon all exfans de la patrie to defend it ; but really some limit should be = to the age of these blessed‘‘ enfaxs,” and none under twelve should be allowed to deliberate in any public assembly, or children-at-arms permitted to have a voice in the nation elsewhere than at home in their nurseries. Abdication of the Beadle of tre Quadrant. Tus Adlas omnibus, in anticipation of the Overland Waterloo, has brought the intelligence of the abdication of Frederick the beadle of the Quadrant‘, after a reign of twelve years. Grief at the withdrawal of the iron pillars of his state, and anguish at the prospect of being abandoned by his trusty, though sometimes rusty columns, are the alleged causes of the step on which he has resolved, He abdicates in favour of his nephew Lopez, usually known as Lopez de Vigo, or Lopez of Vigo , Lane. I+ was an affecting sight to behold the aged autocrat ——— the cane of office on his youthful relative, who appeared to feel the ful force of the responsibility. “Rule Britannia.” Tue Glasgow Citizen states that a floating railway, in connexion with the Edinburgh and Northern line, is to be thrown over the estuary of the Tay, where it is about a mile and a half broad. Now, indeed, Britannia is ruling the waves, and that with unmistakeable lines. In - ing down rails over the billows, she will literally rule them with rods of iron.

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256 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. SPLENDID DAY WITH THE “QUEEN’S.” ' | | | ae — Mil |! = Us WLLL “hy TON = |e 7a ANI ob, ~ ~tees a First Sporting Snob. “ Writ, Bit, WHAT SORT OF A DAY HAVE YER HAD?” | | | NEW BELL FOR ST. PAUL’S. Descripinc the new Cathedral of St. Isaac, at St. Petersburgh, the J//ws- trated News says, “The great bell is made out of worn-out and recalled coin, weighs 1800tbs., and in diameter is about 8 feet.” We have long | wondered what the lessees—we mean incumbents—of St. Paul’s Exhibition |—we beg pardon—Church—do with |the twopences which they collect at {the doors, and the sundry shillings | which they charge for showing the remainder of the building. | We can now guess to what use they | mean to apply the money. We suppose | they design to cast a new bell with it. |The small change now rung in the | sacred edifice is but a prelude to the | bob-majors hereafter to resound from its belfry. Yes, they must intend to provide for the Great Bell of St.Paul’s a companion with the consecrated cash. What a monster it will be! How attractively the money-bell will chink to a commercial city! Hence, no doubt, the Dean and Chapter calculate on a great increase of their congrega- tion. If the end justifies the means, they may perhaps be excused, on this consideration, for their conversion of a Church into a Show. _A GIncER-BEER merchant, in the vicinity of the New Cut, has been doing lately a wonderful business with his new effervescing Imperial Pop. Second ditto. “ Ou, MAGNIFICENT, MY BOY! I SBE THE ’OUNDS SEVERAL TIMES ; AND NONE OF YER NASTY | He calls it “The Real Louis Napo- EDGES AN’ DITCHES, EITHER ; BUT A PRIME TURNPIKE ROAD ALL THE WAY.” LEON.” HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. “Dear Mr. Punca, ** As you are such a friend to us, of the Rising Generation, and always stand up for our rights against them that I won’t say anything more about, I hope you will put this letter in your paper, that it may meet the eyes of our parents, who we know regularly take you in. “I write for the whole school—there’s 79 of us—and we always have three Punches a-week; so it may be worth your while not to for- get to print this letter. “Yesterday, we wrote home to all our ‘Honoured Parents,’ telling ?em that the Christmas Holidays began on Wednesday, and ended on the 30th of January (a precions sight too soon for any chap). But that letter was set for us by Dr. Mavor, of Birchblossom Hall; and if he should come to your office, I trust to your honour not to show him what I’ve wrote to you, as he knows my hand, and wouldn’t he—after holidays—nei' her ? “There’s 79 of us, and I tell you, Mr. Punch, upon my word and honour, that our ‘Honoured Parents’ do not understand how to make home happy, while we are with ’em in the holidays. “To begin. Why should our mothers take us shopping with ’em ? Isn’t it dreadful to do nothing but sit on a stool, seeing ’em roll out all sorts of gowns, when there’s so many pastrycooks, where we could wait for ’em a good deal better? _ “Why, too, should we be always taken to St. Paul’s Church, spend- ing money, when there’s Astley’s, and Wnricut, at the Adelphi, that cost so very little more ? “Then, again, there’s a lot of money always goes for pulling out teeth, when we don’t see half the Pantomimes, that wouldn’t come to half so much. Poets’ Corner’s slow, and the wax-work at Westminster Abbey— which costs sixpence—isn’t near so nobby as Mapame TussauD’s. “Do speak up for us young chaps. We arn’t at all treated as we ought to be in the holidays. I want a cornet-d-pistom, and the back- parlour to practise in; and if the noise is always too much, why, I don’t mind going out to a shooting-gallery. “T remain, Mr. Punch, your Constant Reader, “ BrrcHBLossom Hat.” “P.S. If the governor doesn’t do the right thing these holidays, do let me show him up, there’s a good fellow.” THE HORSE GUARDS CLOCK. La papers of Monday contained the following remarkable para- graph :— “Court oF QueEN’s Bexncn.—Upon Lorp Denman taking his seat on the Bench, | he called attention to the state of the Horse Guards Ciock, which he said had | stood at six for the last fortnight, and he was desirous of bringing it under the notice of the proper authorities.” | There can be no doubt that Punch is the proper authority which Lorp | DENMAN so gravely alludes to; for, in the celebrated St. Clement’s | case—we mean clock-case—our jurisdiction was universally recognised. | We shall be happy to take the matter in hand—hands and all; but we | must in fairness admit that the delinquent shows some sense of its own | position in standing at six, whereas its notorious predecessor stood at | nothing, aye, and stuck at nothing, for a very considerable period. __ The Horse Guards Clock should, we think, be proceeded against in | aregular way, by motion; and we are sure Mr. Brrertess will be | happy to move the Court, calling upon the Clock to show cause why a | summons for farther time should not be immediately served upon it. | We regret that a clock standing so high as that at the Horse Guards, should have fallen into these irregularities, which have ultimately brought it to a stand-still. Mr. VULtiamy, who has undertaken the defence of the Clock, seems to think that the damp weather, by its vexatious action on the case, has so injured defendant, that to stay proceedings until its affairs can be wound up, was its only alternative. We shall certainly instruct Counsel to move for a rule to compute the time already elapsed, and to | settle the minutes, in conformity with the principle of time being of | the essence of the contract between the Clock and the public.! | Ill News in an Instant. A SUBMARINE communication, by means of electric telegraph, is, we understand, about to be established between Holyhead and Dublin; which will afford the means of instantaneous communication between the Irish metropolis and London. We very much doubt the utility of this undertaking. Ill tidings always travel fast enough without being expedited by the electric telegraph; and no news is good news, or at least the best, that we are likely to receive from Ireland; therefore, | intelligence, the better. the more slowly and less frequently we are furnished with, Irish.

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—=s, Who is to be President ? OR, “AS YOU MAKE YOUR BED, SO YOU MUST LIE ON IT.””——A Hint to Youna France.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 259 ADVERTISEMENT. .— trusts she may flatter herself with the prospect of a ride in | the Brixton "bus Tuesday : the one that reaches St. Paul’s at twelve. Will | wear Chinchilly Victorine and Mantle, with (mind) a Feather, not Roses, in Cottage. Dear little Cuerry, being ill, will be left at home. But Ancrra must say, she only thinks she sees herself in thick boots! Cork soles, indeed! A TRIFLE FROM BRIGHTON. I roox the train to Brighton—I walked beside the sea, And thirty thousand Londoners were there along with me. We crowded every lodging, and we lumbered each hotel, Sniff ’d the briny for an appetite, and dined extremely well. The Cliff it shows like Regent Street come down for the sea-air ; Not in Hyde Park’s self do ladies more becoming bonnets wear ; In enchanted “ upper circles ” one seems to move about, When the sunshine brings the flies and private equipages out. To Brighton the Pavilion lends a lath-and-plaster grace— Fit shrine for fittest God of this pleasant watering place ; And against the show and shallowness, the vanity and glee, With his hollow, hushless murmur, comes up the solemn Sea. I sat there in the Bedford, and in the Times I read Of the West Riding Canvass, and a thought came in my head: How England’s one Great Brighton—we all so rich and gay, While at our feet and in our face a sea comes up alway. Our wealth is vast, our gains grow fast, we are dealers fair and free ; Our goods tempt every market, our ships plough every sea; Our lords are great, our traders true, our priests good men and grave, Our women fair, our sailors staunch, our soldiers blunt and brave. We have a brilliant lot for some, a bustling lot for all; Our hold on lite seems manful, our fear of evil small; But underneath this surface, with all its strength and shine, The hoarse and heaving sea of toil doth chafe, and moan, and mine. For I saw how in that Canvass, were it Whig or were it Tory That talked to the Electors, it was always the same story: . Whate’er the hustings said in praise, or self-congratulation, Produced a comment from the crowd of aught but approbation. | It was Capital a-preaching, out of plump and prosperous men, And Labour’s hundred hungry throats refusing their “ Amen : When Riches mentioned “ Industry,” s answered with “ Despair,” And Fustian rapp’d a curse out, when Broadcloth talked of prayer. I dropped the Zimes to look upon the Cliff with all its life, And that stern sea, that now ’gan curl its white waves as for strife— And | felt to seek tor appetite trom the briny, ’twas in vain, And so took my place for London by the earliest fast train, VEGETABLES AND THEIR VICTUALS. To Mr, Cowsur, Farmer, Oldbarn Grange, Hants, “ DEaR VEATHER, likewise pegs away by the roots, and you’ll stare when I tells ’ee what their meals is, which you’d fancy was meer manoover. They ates Zillicur, Potash, Zoder, Lime, Mooriatic, Zulphuric, Nitric, and Fosforric Acids ; zo that this part o’ their diet seems to be chiefly salt and vinegar. And this here ’s how plants is always a stuffun theirselves, like hogs. Zo, this Crismus, while we enjoys our beef, and beer, and plum-puddun, we mustn’t vorget the wuts, and whate, and barley, out in the vields, and I only hopes we ’ve zupplied um in time wi’ plenty o’ Zillicur and Zul- ae Acid, which is as good to they, I dare zay, as mince-pie randy is to we. Depend — *t, the poor crops, as well as the poor people, ought to ha’ their bellyful; and wishun one to both on ’um, *T remain, till det: h, “Your dootiful Son. * Zaracen’s Head, Dec. 12, 1848.” ‘** Simon Cowstir.” “ P.S. I hopes to find the a wi’ a tolerablish appetite, and the mangel wurzel a playun a good stick.” AWFUL DESTITUTION IN LEICESTER SQUARE. - a oo We i Wp g J \ Ay 1h f Ori) Zz eo, ® nd V 1) $ihp LercesterR Square, for the last month, has been disturbed in its length and breadth by a rising of the Poles. These Poles have main- tained their ground stoutly for a few weeks, but the strong arm of the law has been called in to disperse them, and those who refuse to “ move on,” will very quickly be taken up, and bound down not to disturb the small piece of vegetation in Leicester Square any more. The interior “THIs cums hopun ’twool vind ’ee in good health, as I left ’ee when I come up to zee the vat cattle-show. Moor about that when [| returns whoam; all I shall zay at present is, that the bastes baint quite | sich mountains of blubber as I’m told they used to be, and be like to | veed more Christians, and to make fewer taller-candles than they was | afore. What I got to tell ’ee about in this here letter, is a lectur as || heerd t’other night at a instootion they calls the Polly Ticnic, top a Regent Street, nigh Langum Pleace. ’A was read by a larned physician, one Doctor Ryay, and was one of a lot which I zee by the bills he’s a givun to instruct we varmers as be up in Town at this sazon | in Agriculterral Chimistery. This here one was ‘On the food of plants, | and the sources of that food.’ ‘What!’ you’ll zay, ‘do plants ate?’ How can that be? Who ever seed one wi’ anything in the shape of a mouth, ’cept a Snap-dragon?’? Ah! but they do, though, accardun to the Doctor, and as to mouths, they be mouths all over, and zucks up their nourishment for all the world like a spunge. be? In the fust place, they gits a good bit out o’ the air, at which you’ll € ‘stonished, never having heerd of anything as lives on that air diet, | savun the camaliun, that gurt eft as turns all manner o’ colours, and | you may mind havin’ zeen at Vair. °Tis true; they actually brathes | bon vittles ; and in this manner goos on tuckin in Carbun, and Oxygun, | re Hydrogun, and Nitrogun, all day. If the vittles was as hard as| . I’m afeard they ’d break their jaws. You wun’t belave, | per ane that there is sich things in the air, from which sartunly ’tis | nateral to suppose that they could only git a blow-out o’ wind. How-| sumdever, this is strange, but true. Next, you must know that plants | shows all the signs of a civil war: here a barricade with an overturned wheelbarrow, there a summer-house turned inside out, and everywhere there are heaps of stones, remnants of clay pipes, paper caps, and aban- doned pickaxes; whilst oyster-shells strew the ground in every direction, and a flattened pewter-pot, the shape of which is scarcely recognisable, shows at one coup d’euil how fierce has been the strife. e poor King, too, whose name is buried in the dust of ages, looks sadly forlorn and ashamed of himself, pointing in melancholy dumbness to the Poor Man’s Guardian Society, as if he should like a basin of soup un- commonly, to comfort him in these hard times. : It is said that “a divinity doth hedge aking.” But the only thing that hedges the king in Leicester Square, is a wilderness of deal hoards, which screen His Majesty, it is true, from the public eye, and prevent the vulgar foot from approaching him, but are scarcely the retinue one expec's to see grouped round a royal head. This poor statue is sub- jected to many indignities. Little boys have lately invaded its territories, and play at see-saw with the planks, and would doubtlessly, if they could, scale the pedestal on which his Majesty is trotting, and ride ickaback with him. The most charitable thing will be to get an order rom the workhouse, and have the poor statue removed to another arish. It might find an easy resting-place in Trafalgar Square, and e a partner to Georce THE Fourtu. ‘There is one comfort—it could not possibly disgrace the place, whereas its removal would certainly improve Leicester Square, and free it at once from those ne which we are sure neither blood nor stone can stand much onger.

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260 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE LAND FOR THE LASSES. — Oe “_—_—e= ~ “ aes An Australian newspaper contains the following, to those whom it | that another ditty popular here will be thus slightly varied for adapta- may concern, interesting intelligence :— | tion to the climate of the Antipodes :— *“ ATTRACTIVE NEws FOR OUR CoUNTRYWOMEN AT Home.—Out of the female | Oh, dear, what can the matter be ? immigrants who recently arrived at Melbourne by the William Stewart, eight were | Oh, dear, what shall I do ? married within twenty-four hours after their landing.” | Thousands are coming to marry me, | ha 3 Australia indeed is a land of promise to the Wives and Daughters of — earns , , England: to as many of the former as have more of the latter than they, If any young woman wishes to know when she will be married, she know what to do with; and to as many of the !atter as are vainly desi-| may satisfy her curiosity by a very easy process. Let her take her | rous to be included among the former. We expect that many young | passage for Australia. calculate the length of the voyage, and add to it

ladies who have been hitherto singing, There’s no place like Home, will | twenty-four hours. Within that time she will be a wife—or a voluntary now change their tune, and sing ‘‘ There’s no place like Australia,” and | spinster.

A SNAKE IN THE SEWERS.

Te Sanitary Commissioners are up to their ancles in the sewers, and | phib-ious. We must entreat Mr. Caapwick and his zealous coadjutors up to their hose in cesspools: or at least, their hose may be seen | to remove, as soon as possible, from the public thoroughfares, those falling along the ground in such a mysterious manner that by many | leathern monsters, that, like an Alexandrine, or a Serpent, “drag their it has been thought that the Sea Serpent has found its way to land; | slow lengthalong,” to the terror of the timid, and to the inconvenience and that, instead of being the mere creature of a fib, it is in fact am- | of all.

t. Bocket’s Weabp Blow and | . | first, not to hurt the feelings of Lorp Jony, who is a connection of = Heavy Dore Discouragement his. Indeed, I didn’t think he was capable of extra zeal. He has : (Confidential.) “Treasury. | always given us to understand that his common zeal was wearing bim **S1r,—Lirrie did I think you were going to publish my last letter. | out as it is. Still less did I expect it would fizure alongside of that startlg evidence| ‘As to the chance of any of ws reaching an Assistant Secretaryship, of Mr. Pencuiiian. To think that the cutting down of our salaries | we are just as likely to furnish a Prime Minister. Bless you, Sir! we should have been recommended by him! Murs. D. says she suspected | are not men of the family interest to aspire to such things. it all along; but I feel as if my last stay of confidence in man was| “My suggestion of the possibility of getting on with a couple fewer struck from under me, and I have not had the heart to pest my books | Lords, has caused me many black looks and cold shoulders already. since last Thursday. Mr. P. looks very black at me, and has been heard J shall be only too happy if they don’t find out that there’s one clerk hinting to the head of our office that it is very unbecoming in public | too many in the Treasury, and that his name is— servants to write to the papers, especially a scurrilous publication like | « Yours respectfully. Punch; and he spoke of the heinousness of clerks being satirical on their | “J D : ” superiors. Satirical! I’m incapable of such a thing, and I can’ttbink| ,, : ‘ . o 99 -S. For my sake, don’t publish this. money. But I was assured it did come from Mr. P. bythe HonouraBLE| (We feel obliged, by a sense of duty, to disoblige our Correspondent. Georce Suysoors, of our office, who said he had it from the Cuan- | It is right the authorities of the Treasury should know what a snake CELLOR OF THE Ex—Q—n, whose wife is Lavy Siyxoors’ first cousin. | they are fostering in their bosoms.—Ep. P.) “Of course I couldn’t suppose that Mr. P., with ali his anxiety for | economy in the public service, would have taken an extra year’s salary - for extra zealous discharge of his arduous duties, without managing to| Sicns or A Harp Winrer.—A pamphlet was recently seen in put it delicately back into the public purse, even if he accepted it at ' Albemarle Street, written by Sir Peter Laurie.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 261 EDUCATED FRANCE—THE PRESIDENCY. Scrnz.—/ Village Cabaret. Jocrisse and Puiirrot drinking. Philippot. Vive Navotzon! Vive ? Empereur! 1 shall vote for the petit chapeau. Jocrisse. Vive Navotzon! But—tiens/—how Emperor? The petit chapeau is at the Invalides. Hé? Philippot. Point de tout. The Emperor is not dead. The Emperor never will die. All the mensonge, the ruse of perfide Albion. The petit chapeau, the redingote, has never been dead. Still the Emperor has watched over tle destinies of France. Jocrisse, Vraiment ? Philippot. Vraiment. The little corporal never can die. [Agent of Louis NaPoLEon comes forward.) Agent. C’ est juste. The Emperor has been wickedly scandalised. He has never died. He only withdrew from France—sa belle France—that he might return like a thunderbolt upon the heads of his enemies. Philippot and Jocrisse. Vive ? Empereur ! Agent, See here, my friends, what is written of the hero who solicits your votes for President. See what is written of him by France’s noblest pen. What? Youcan’tread? (Aside), LTthoughtnot. Then, citizens, I’ll read for you. Heoutez. ([Zukes Turers’s “ Histoire du Consulate de ? Empire” from pocket, and reads (with emendations) various passages]. “ NAPOLEON has upon his side genius, and the auspiciousness of circumstances.” Philippot. Sans doute. Agent (reads). “He has all society to organise; but society that desires organisation ; and desires it through him; because it has in him the fullest confidence, inspired by unheard of success.” Jocrisse. C’ est vrai, Agent (reads), ‘‘ We have in NaPoteon a master who knows how to do everything—who can do everything—who will doeverything. There- fore, it is wisdom to let NarotEon do as he may ; for at the present moment, personal rivalry may be the destruction of France.” Philippot. C est excellent! Vive Naro.eon! Agent. Ecoutez, mes amis. (Reads). ‘“ NarotEon desires the triumph of the Revolution; he desires the glory of establishing it—of consoli- dating it upon a state of things pacific and regular: and he desires to remain its chief—it is no matter under what title—it matters not under what form of government. But toimagine him the instrument of any other power save that of Providence—he has too deep a sense of real glory, too great a consciousness of his own force, to consent to be so.” Philippot and Jocrisse. Vive Navotzon! We vote for /’ Lmpereur ! Agent. Allons, mes amis! (Aside). These are not the only tools who really belive they vote for the petit chapeau and the redingote grise. (Puiuirrot and Jocrisse exeunt for the Ballot-Ura. A CURATE ON SUNDAY SHAVING. Tue extremely reverend Mr. Kent, curate of Upton-on-Severn, has laid an information against the local barbers for shaving on Sundays. As beards cease to grow upon the Sabbath, it is manifestly wicked to shave them on the seventh day. However, there was a flaw in the information, and the magistrates, warning the barbers of Upton-on- Severn not to shave after half-past ten on the Lora’s day, dismissed Mr. Kent to his hermitage to ponder on the iniquity of Sabbath soapsuds, Mr. Kent himselfi—we speak upon the authority of our own corre- spondent—always shaves on the Saturday night, so that he may, under the circumstances, appear as bare-faced as possible in the pulpit on Sunday. Mr. Kenr has, of course, been reviled by the scorners of Upton-on-Severn; but, on the other hand, he has been highly honoured pty: elect, who look upon a Sunday razor as an instrument no better than the scissars of Datitan. A testimonial has been presented to Mr. Kent; a testimonial—the product of subscriptions of many worthy wives and spinsters of Upton- on-Severn. A complete set of shaving-tackle, charmingly illustrative of the KENTEAN piety, was yesterday presented to the curate. (Regard- less of expense, we have obtained the intelligence by electric telegraph.) The gift is very pertinent—very handsome. The shaving-brush is of good, stout, mortifying hedgehog, set in hiccory. The soap-dish is very massive, cast out of pewter pots con- demned for short measure. The soap is real Naples, with a sulphurous odour. The razor, a scraper begged from the door-step of Sin ANDREW Anew, and ground to the finest edge. The strop is made from an old cover of Fuz’s Book of Martyrs. Mr. Kent received the testimonial with mixed feelings of piety and gratitude. Calling for hot water, he begged to be permitted to show his thankfulness, by shaving in the presence of the deputation. This touching request was handsomely accorded; and it says no little for the feelings of the curate, and no less for the hedgehog brush and razor, when we assure our readers, that the deputation left the reverend and respected gentleman with tears rolling down his cheeks. KNOW’ST THOU THE LAND?—(NEW VERSION.) Know’st thou the land where the kangaroos bound, And the queer-looking ornithorhynci are found ? The land of the South, that lies under our feet, Deficient in mouths, overburdened with meat ; Know’st thou that land, Jomn Butt, my friend ? hither, oh! thither, poor people ought to wend. Know’st thou the land, my dear Joun Butt, Where thousands of flocks are reared only for wool, And sixty-four million good pounds, as they say, Of mutton, are cast in one twelvemonth away ? Know’st thou that land? Thy starving brood Thither, oh! thither, should rush in quest of food. Know’st thou the land where the cattle and sheep, For the mere want of hands are too many to keep ; And what to do with them their owners know not, But to slaughter them off for the melting pot ? Know’st thou that land? To save such waste, Thither, oh! thither, ye hungry creatures haste. Know’st thou the land where a sheep-shearer’s pay, Or a reaper’s, is ten or twelve shillings a day ; Where a labourer may earn thirty pounds by the year, With a ration, per week, of the best of good cheer? Know’st thou that land—that jolly land ? Thither should Labour repair to seek Demand. Know’st thou the land that thy paupers may reach At the trifling expense of six pounds or so each, There in plenty to live, whilst their gruel and bread Cost near eight in the workhouse, per annum, a head ? Know’st thou that land? Jonn Bott, if so, Thither, oh! thither, help those poor souls to go! STRONG CLAIMS TO A SEAT IN PARLIAMENT. “A Mr. Carman has expressed his opinion that Sm CuLiine Earp ey will be a better Member of Parliament than Mr. Denison, because the former is the stronger and healthier individual. We know that physical strength is rather necessary for an M. P. in these days, when legislation is the work of nights; but we are not quite prepared to admit that animal power, or in other words, physical force, is the one thing needful in the House of Commons. If this were the case, the strong man from Greenwich Fair, who lifts a ton weight with his teeth, and pitches it over his head with a toss of his chin, would be the most eligible person for a seat in Parliament. We know that there are a good many heavy measures to be carried, and a great quantity of dead weights to be thrown off by the energy of our M. P.’s but we might as well return a Parliament of coal-whippers, or send Barciay & PEeRKns’s little army of draymen into the Lower House, as accept the principle on which Sr Cuiiine Eanrpiey is recommended to the electors of the West Riding. A portrait of Sir C. E., with the ladder of Parliamentary ambition on the tip of his nose, and a chair or comfortable seat at the top of the ladder, would form a very good subject for an election squib, and we suggest the sub- ject to his Committee, with our full permission to make use of it.

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262 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PUNCH’S ALMANACK! | s£eas.* Novel application of the Electric Telegraph. e\NVE HAVE a tender regard for the public nerves, and are fearful of causing them too great a shock by the publication of our ALMANACK. We have there- fore resolved on breaking, as it were, the force of our annual explosion of volcanic wit, by communi- cating a few specimens of the jokes through the medium of the electric telegraph. We despatched a small parcel of the very smallest of our witticisms to a railway terminus in Yorkshire, and the effect was so exhilarating that the waiting-room became a scene of the most boisterous merriment. A Director, who happened to be waiting in the office, was thrown into such astate of mirthfulness that he forgot for a moment the state of the Share Market, and a small spaniel on the spot was so struck by the electric force of a prize pun, that “the little dog laughed” in a style for which, according to the nursery rhyme, little dogs are remarkable. The specimen thus com- municated to the public, though comparable only to a grain of corn, offered as a sample of an entire stack, will, in some degree, prepare the public for what is to be expected on, the appearance of PUNCH’S ALMANACK. OVERFLOWS AT THE OLD BAILEY, Tue Old Bailey officials ’are reaping a splendid harvest from the succession of crowded courts that have been attracted by the recent performances. The Chartist trials, embracing the talents | of the ArroRNEY-GENERAL in the leading business, with Mr. BaLuaNTINE as a highly respect- able second, and Mr. Ciarxson, the acknowledged “heavy man,” brought into play a phalanx of forensic strength that drew together very numerous audiences, while the interesting legal | drama of the Baroness St. Mart has given to this usually dull part of the season a very werful impetus. We have received a complaint from a simple youth, a member of Lincoln’s- nn, who, having heard of students’ seats in the courts of law, went the other day to the Old Bailey in the capacity of a student, expecting to receive the privilege of the entrée. On applying to the door-keepers his claim was coolly ignored, and half-a-crown was demanded as the price of his admission. Not satisfied with the fees, the Old Bailey functionaries have taken to the undignified process of touting, and have commenced the practice of describing what is going on inside, for the purpose of tempting the public to walk up, and pay their money. Our student correspondent was assailed by all the arts of puffery, equalled only by the celebrated appeals of the showman, whose steutorian cry of “ Alive! alive!” calls the atten- tion of the public to some alluring alligator who is to be seen inside, with an entirely new set of teetb, and an extra joint to his tail; or the Norfolk giant, with six additional inches of gutta pee on his boots, to add to his stature. Our student was tantalised by the assurance rom the door-keeper that “‘CocknuRN was knocking the maid-servant all to bits,” and that if the applicant for admission wanted to hear the best of it, he had better pay his half crown_at once, or he would miss the cross-examination, which the janitor described as “a right down smasher, and no mistake.” It seems to be such a regular practice to charge for admission'to the Old Bailey, that we think the prices ought to be printed at the bottom of the true Bills found by the grand jury. As it is the fashion to reduce the admission to public entertainments, we must confess we look upon half-a-crown as rather too much for the gallery of the Old Bailey, even when CockBURN has got a servant girl in hand, or WitKrns has seized a dubious policeman between his forensic teeth, and is tearing him and his testimony to tatters. As to the students’ seats, we begin to believe that they are mere myths, and that the students are as seatless in the Old Bailey as the angels are when cut in stone on the monuments of antiquity. We understand that the traffic in places at the Old Bailey is carried on to such an extent by the lower officials, that it has been proposed to iet the Jury Box as a ay eon and turn in the twelve honest men anywhere on the floor of the Court, or amongst the barristers. THE COST OF “GREAT BARGAINS.” Ir is an alarming fact, that the malady of short-sightedness is very prevalent among the | ladies of England. Messrs. HowE1t, James, AND Co. have written a letter to the Times, complaining of some rogues who go about the country selling worthless goods under an assumed commission from their firm, They observe :— ** We have endeavoured by all means in our power to prevent the use of our name, but cannot succeed, and we regret to say, that these parties are much encouraged in their proceedings by the very unfor- tunate, but strong feeling in the minds of English ladies, to secure what they are told is a ‘great bar- gain,’ but which always turns out to be a something that would be dear at half the price paid for it.” This defective vision of the British Ladies arises entirely from weakness—from a debi- lity of intellectual perception and the moral sense. The latter renders them desirous to et goods for less than they are worth, the ormer blinds them to the fact that the con- verse desire is as natural to the vender. If they would but consider that sellers may be as fraudulent as customers, and are robably very much deeper; that there is as ikely to be a “do” on the farther as on the hither side of the counter, the one behind it being considerably more cunning, they would always deal at a respectable shop, and eschew those “great bargains” and “tremendous sacrifices,” which only result in themselves being greatly sold, and their money tremend- ously sacrificed. LOUIS-NAPOLEON ON THE SUBLIME. | Tue library of Prrxcz Louis Narotzoy, who, now that he aspires to govern a great nation, would seem to think any further cul- tivation of his mind unnecessary, has, accord- | ing to the Morning Post, been sold by auction. | The literary treasures included a copy of Lamartine’s poem of Jocelyn, On the inside of the cover the following annotation had been written by the princely proprietor :— “*Undertook the reading of this book at Florence, Snaday, the 7th of May, 1837. Abandoned it as being too sublime forme. Undertook the reading for the second time, Monday the 8th, without being more fortunate. Recommenced by a new effort, Tuesday, | the 9th, and abandoned it definitively.” Substituting “the Presidency of the French | Republic,” (and we wish “the reading of this book,” and making the requisite alterations of place and dates, we think it by no means improbable that the above critique will have epitomised the future political career of Prince Louis Napo.eon. All Stuff. he may get it) for | ‘Tue juniors of the Equity Bar comolain, | with some justice, that the present Lorn | CHANCELLOR has made no silk gowns, and the consequence is that, the space below the bar is over-stuffed in the most inconvenient | manner. It has been suggested that his Lordship will not give the elder juniors silk —or in other words, silk ’em—because he is naturally partial to COTTEN EM. N.B. The forcing of this joke into Punch’s pages is a flagrant act of trespass, and we hereby instruct anybody who will take the trouble, to apply for a certiorari to move the said joke out again as early as possible. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, aad Fr ick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office in Lombard Street, m the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by them at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, iu the City of London.—Satvuapar, DecemsBer 16th, 1848.

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| | PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 263 THE FRENCH FEMALE SOCIALISTS. Ir may be expected that in the next French Revolution—come when | it will—the women will be in the first rank, and the washerwomen, if | we may believe the Semaphore du Sud, will be ready to plunge into hot water with an alacrity characteristic of their calling. The next barricades of Paris will be formed of the washing-tubs and mangles of those whose feelings have been already mangled by a refusal to recog- nise their claims, and they will show themselves impatient of their irons by throwing them—flat as well as Italian—upon the soldiery. We shall find the d/anchisseuse opposing the approach of cavalry by drawing up a detachment of clothes-horse, and she will show herself no less expert in getting up a fine row than in getting up fine linen. The authorities must not be soporific in presence of these viragos of the soap-suds, who are eager to form a lather for the purpose of lathering the authorities, INTERESTING CORRESPONDENCE. Ir was natural that, at a juncture like that of the Presidential Elec- tion, L-u-s N-p-L-N should seek for counsel from his friends on this side of the Channel. We are enabled, by the kindness of certain parties, to lay before the public some extracts from the very interesting corre- spondence of the P—sr and his English advisers :— 1—From P—z L—s N—p—1t—n ¢o the C—u—t D’Ors—y. (Translation ) “ Cuer Comte, “Ir is very embarrassing. The accounts, as they come in, swell my majority more and more. I shall certainly be returned, and by the absolute majority. Then, you see, I am President at once, and the Assembly will not be called in to decide between me and my rival, this excellent Cavarenac. Itis too much honour forme. My dear friend, I have been too calm, too prudent. ‘They have found out, they say, that Iam a man of vast capacity. They discover ideas in my bulletins, of which | had no conception. The Invalides insist upon it, that I am to restore the armies, wars, and glories of the Empire; the Legitimists, that I am to overthrow the Republic; the Orleanists, that I am to rule through a Dynastic Ministry, and so pave the way for the amiable Pr-n-E DE JO-Nv-LL-E; the Gpiciers, that 1 am to restore trade; the rentiers that I am to raise the 5 per cents. to par; the Red Men, that I am to open the career for the talents, remodel society, substitute the sense of duty for the sense of sel!-interest, set up association for competition, and extirpate vice and misery. “All this isa vast mission for a single man; and J begin to feel unequal tothe actual situation. What is to be done? [I repeat, it is embarrassing to sit with the eyes of Europe upon one. Furnish me, my dear friend, with a programme. You have much experience of society. Perhaps you might be willing to aid me here in person. At least open to me your heart. Iam indeed in an embarrassment, * But still entirely yours, “L—s N—p—1i—n.” |) without fatuity IL.— From C—u—t D’ors—y to L—s N—?r—1—n. “ CHER PRINCE, “Your position reminds me of an anecdote told of the man who won an Elephant in a raffle, and was much perplexed what to do with his large prize. You have won your Elephant. ‘Tt is indeed embarrassing. You cannot satisfy everybody. Pardon me, if 1 say rather, 1 do not think you can satisfy anybody, for every party expects of you something different from the other. “ For your obliging offer—I must answer no. The Arts engross me wholly—I have taken to religious painting in the great style, and find it attracts wonderfully. Apropos—if the port-folio of the Embassy to St. James’ be to dispose of, 15 might be well to have one who may, But you will understand me, & demi-mot. * | embrace you a thousand times. “Your devoted . D ors—y.” IlL.—From L—s N—p—i—n to Mr. GomeERsAt. (Translation.) ** DEAR AND ILLUsTRIOUS ARTIST, “‘ STANDING on the pinnacle of success, on which thirty millions contemplate me with astonishment, I fly to you, worthy repository of hallowed recollections, illustrious successor of that mighty uncle who in you has lived again on the boards of Astley, amidst the cruel and haughty insulars (unworthy of a genius like yours)—I fly to you for inspiration, as to a source of historic tradition, a living record of the departed great. “France has chosen me her chief, as forty-four years ago she chose that hero to whose memory you and I have dedicated ourselves. such a moment I feel that the uncle should revive in the nephew. “Come, then, to me—to the Tuileries. There I may place myself once more under your tuition, to fit myself for my great task of restor- ing to France its Emperor. Come, and do not forget the properties. Soon it may be necessary for me to make a tour of the Departments, to present myself to the country that, in choosing me, does honour to a recollection, which your lessons alone can assist me to call up before them in living, moving majesty. Quit, then, Astley’s, that scene of your triumphs. Leave that modest retreat in which you brood over the recollection of Austerlitz and Marengo. Come to my palace and my heart. Rooms shall be prepared for you, with trophies and memorials of him, “ With respect and affection, “T—s N—p—t—Nn.” 1V.—From Mr. Gomersat fo L—s N—P—1—n. “My DEAR P—z, “Tr does my heart good to find, at last, that the French are going in for the legitimate business, and choosing one from the acknow- ledged stock to be their manager. I was delighted to find your election had been a bumper—crowded houses—immense hit—and, in fact, a blaze of triumph. Indeed, from your first appearance on the stage, I knew you would do it, and exclaimed—aside—with Hamlet, ‘Oh, my prophetic soul, his uncle!” “T need not say how your success comes home to my business and my bosom. To think that the hat, boots, and grey surtout, that will hardly draw a house at Astley’s now, except on an 18th of June, can still pull ’em in, in your Circuits—I mean Departments—in millions, is ‘acomfort to my age,’ as Wolsey has it. fan glad to see you are not like some other stars I could mention, jealous of all other talent, and ready to forget former lessons. “T shall have much pleasure in doing anything I can for your benefit, in the genuine Emperor line—and I thmk that between us, what with your Napo.eon ideas, and my Naproteon togs and props, we may ‘win golden opinions,’ as Mucheth styles ’em, which are the ‘sovereign’st thing on earth’ as Hotspur would say, for one whose reputation, hitherto provincial, ought now to aspire to become European. As to my coming over to give lessons in the real thing, or to make a tour of the Provinces with you, I shall be delighted ; but ‘ Hal, an thou lov’st me,’ ‘ put money in my purse’—as in the distracted state of your treasury I should’nt. be surprised to find myself on half-salary— ‘a thing most tolerable and not to be endured.’ At | “So no more from one, who, tho’ now in ‘ his sear and yellow leaf,’ is | still, in regard for your late uncle, “ Sincerely yours, “ GoMERSAL.” “P.S.7Don’t forget the magnanimous business. You remember that scene with the Scotch Prisoner. Pitch in your clap-traps—bits of fat’ we call’em.—I take it, your’s is a gallery audience, and wants something ‘hot and strong.’ ” AN UNFEELING MONSTER. We know an Author (he writes long poems) who always gives his own Books as Christmas Boxes. If this cruel practice is still iaflicted this year upon little children, we certainly shall publish his name. Vol. XV. Dd D

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‘ALLS FOR THE PRESENT MONTH.—This is to give notice that ‘ acall of Threepence per head, on the whole of the British population, will be payable on or before the Ist of January, 1849, at the Punch Office, or any of its agencies. Scrip, in the furm of PUNCH’S ALMANACK. wiil be delivered on payment of the Call, which will entitle the holder to a Consolidated Stock of the best things in Art and Literature, which will bear interest on every day throughout the year. A CRUEL ATTACK UPON ATTORNIES. WE are surprised, and something more, at the Zimes. It. is evident that, for tho most part, that well-conducted and generally delightful print has a malevolent intention to dip attornies in the black dye of its own ink, making them much more dark than they are ordinarily painted. This is vulgar —shameful. Only last week, we saw one respectable man—he must have been three-score five, at least, with a blue bag beside him—a respectable old gentleman, smelling a little of | pounce, and looking a little of parchment,—we saw him, we say, | indignant and affected, as he sat with the Zimes newspaper in one | hand, a piece of biscuit in the other, and a glass of brown sherry on ‘he | table before him. We like to be particular, and will give the time and place. It was on the 13th of December, 2 p w.—the third box upon | the right as you enter the Gray’s-Inn Coffee House, Mr, Reptare (we inquired the name of the waiter) reads a letter in | the Times. The writer speaks of a “system of robbery, which consists of small attornies purchasing small debts and bills uxder £20, and suing the parties upon them in the superior courts for the sake of costs.” | “And why not; why not ?” asks Mr. Reprars of a gentleman opposite (evidently a country client). “ Did you ever hear the like, Sir? “‘ The attorney claims the privilege of suing for a debt due to himself in his own court, and of being out of the jurisdiction of the County Courts either as p'aintiff or defendant! This evasion of the sprit of the act surely was never intended by the Legislature, and calls imperatively for attention.” _“ Indeed!” says Rentape. “ And so we’re to be stripped of all our little rights? We are to have no privileges? An attorney is not to be allowed to speculate a little, buying up small debts for the sake of dearer practice, but is to be compelled to go into the County Courts, and get dirty, cheap law like any paltry individual out of the profession. Why, Sir, carry this out, and what a blow will it deal upon many most | energetic attornies of the Hebrew persuasion—of men of enterprising | habits, who buy small debts, as graziers buy lean sheep, to fatten ’em ' into profit? But just hear the fellow.” | And this—this little privilege—they would deprive us of (And REpTAPE reads)— ** A debt of £16 was speedily magnified by costs, &c. into £32, of which I have paid £24, and having unfortunately made default ‘on the day’ in payment cf £8, the balance, the next morning was served with a fresh writ for that amount, with £1 15s. costs, and in a few days after a declaration, thus creating £4 more expenses, and whicb, if not paid in four days, will be increased to £9 or £10 costs only.” “ And why not?” asks Reptapg. “Is not a law—at least proper law —made for the use of a'tornies? Look here, Sir. I pay an annual sum | for my certificate. Just, Sir, as you pay for your shooting license. And my certificate is as your gun,—I am to bag as much game as I can with it. The County Court is a shabby, paltry place; not fit for a| gentleman to practise in. There’s no game—no game, Sir. I might as well ask you, with a license, to pop only at may-bugs and cock- chafers. And so, being duly certificated to kill, I, as an attorney and gentleman by Act of Parliament, bang away in the superior courts. ! All I say is this ; I respect the laws of my country, so long as they’re profitable; but if they attempt any more of what they call their reforms, L only hope I shall not be found with my coat off, throwing up a barricade.” THE PILOTS THAT ARE TO WEATHER THE FRENCH STORM. THERE are some doubts about the Ministry of Lovts-Napotzon. We give the following as the most correct, for it has been forwarded to us by the Electric Telegraph, which is known never to exceed the truth. None other, consequently, is genuine :— Mons. Vipoce, Map. Lota MONTES. Mons. Sorer. Le Comte CaicarD. Le Pere Mayecx. FRANCONI. Cou. PELissier. Minister of Justice ° Minister of Foreign Affairs . Minister of the Interior Minister of Finance ° Minister of Puolic Works Mini-ter of War ° Governor of Algeria The President of the Council will be Moysreur Goxent, the cele- bra‘ed Napoleon of the Cirque, and every theatre on the Boulevards, and who, for the last month, has been giving instructions to Prince Louis; and the Vice-President, it is rumoured, will be the equally celebrated GomErsa, who is so identified now with the Emperor and all we habits, that he takes snuff quite naturally out of his wais‘coat- pocket. The above distinguished criebrities have only accepted cffice upon the PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. distinct understanding that Privcz Lovts is not to speak a single word—which he has most handsomely promised; as he declares, very innocently, that he has nothing to say, and is not particular about saying It. The Ministry has been already honoured with a nickname, which, in a country like France, where only the highest things are ridiculed, is a sufficient proof of its popularity. It has been called the Ministry “ de toutes les Incapacités ;”” but this is evidently a joke, if not a libel, and Prince Louis, when he puts himself at the head of the Cabinet, will soon prove that there is nothing in it. THE NEW FLOATING RAILWAY. Some ingenious gentleman, who seems to think that capital does not get. sunk rapidly enough in Railways, has proposed a floating line, which tuations to which these things are liable. The scheme may work well or a bill-ow—to take up, and Boreas may be raising the wind to help him out, we fear the traffic on the floating line would be entirely in taking their levels. FASHIONABLE TRANSLATIONS. Out (mostly) . ° means In, Any day (decidedly) No day. A general invitation ‘ ‘ ” No invitation, Pot luck ‘i . ‘ 4% am Cold meat, or hashed mutton. Songs all the evening. ° About a hundred people or so. Engaged three deep : Rather not dance with you. “ Will you have any more wine?” % It’s time to go upstairs, “ We do not visit now” . e « ‘i A decided cut. Residing on the Continent for the Extreme economy, or evading your benefit of your health creditors. | Breaking up one’s establishment Outrunning the constable. { Insolvency, or aslight bankruptcy, | oran elopement, or a marriage { with a tradesman, or a bit of | shoplifting, or any other fashion- |. able casualty. ° ‘ 9 Married for love. Married for money. Any year between 50 and 100. Dying poor. Dying rich. | A little music A few friends | “ A little misfortune ” Threw herself away | Comfortably settled ° « ” Past the meridian of life . , Not dying so well as was expected e Universally respected , oa ” “NO SKETCHING ALLOWED.” Antists are not permitted to sketch in the Temple. Those excellent friends of ours, the stout gentlemen in the aprons and brass badges, whose arduous duty it is to drive out dogs, and do nothing about the corners of the courts im sunshiny weather, have lately been driving away all persons attempting to carry off (in their sketch-books) any of be of opinion that the only copies that ought to be permitte under what a folio of (artist’s) copies usually fetches. and we accordingly beg to move for a guo warranto, to show on what authority those functionaries interfere with sketchers, or rather a pe- remptory mandamus, to order them to abstain from doing so in future. will of course, if carried out, be exposed to more than the ordinary fluc- | enough when matters go on smoothly, but when Neprune has a bill— | swamped, to say nothing of the difficulty the engineers might experience | the ornaments of the Temple Church. The Benchers may, ro 1 _per { within | their precinct, are those charged twopence a folio, which is considerably | In fact, the Temple is a drawing academy already, Curtty supplying the models, in the shape of very common forms, and all the drafts | drawn having one quality—colour—for which the English school has | always been famous. Still, we cannot think the Bench are aware of the | prohiition recently issued by the honourable Beadles of their courts, |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 265 My name is Pieaceman X ; Last night I was in bed, A dream did me perplex, Which came into my Edd. 43 I creamed I sor three Waits A playing of their tune, At Pimlico Palace gates, All underneath the moon. One puffed a hold French horn, Anu one an old Ba: jo, And one chap seedy and torn irish pipe did blow. They sadly piped and played, Dexcribing of their fates ; Anu this was what they said, | Those three pore Christmas Waits :— ** When this black year began, This Eighteen-forty-eight, I was a great great man, And king both vise and great, And Munseer Guizot by me did show As Minister of State. * But Febuwerry came, And brought a rabble rout, And me and my good dame And children did turn out, And us, in spite of all our right, Sent to the right about. **T left my native ground, I left my kin and kivh, | T left: my royal crownd, | Vich I couldn’t travel vith, ’ j And without a pound came to English | ground, In the name of Mr. Suir. “Like any anchorite 1’ve lived since I came here, I’ve kep myself quite quite, | I’ve drank the small small beer, | And the vater, you see, disagrees vith me And all my famly dear. *O, Tweeleries so dear, | O, darling Pally Roy), Vas it to finish here That I did trouble and toy] ? | That all my plans should break in my ands, | And should on me recoil ? | My state I fenced about Vith baynicks and vith guns; | My gals I portioned hout, Rich vives I got my sons; | O, varn’t it crule to lose my rule, | My money and lands at once ? | | ** And so, vith arp and woice, Both troubled and shagreened, I bid you to rejoice O, glorious England’s QurEenD! And never ave to veep, like pore Lovis- PHILEEP, Because you ou’ are cleaned. | QO, Prins, so brave and stout, I stand before your gate; Pray send a trifle hout To me, your pore oid Vait; For nothink could be vuss than it’s been along vith us, In this year Forty-eight.” “Ven this bad year began,” The nex man said, saysee, “T vas a Journeyman A taylor black and free, And my wife went out and chaired about, And my name’s the bold Curves. “The QuEEN and Harzert both, I swore I would confound, I took a hawfle hoath To drag them to the ground ; And sevral more with me they swore Aginst the British Crownd. * Aginst her Pleacemen all, We said we’d try our strenth ; Her scarlick soldiers tall, We vow’d we’d lay full lenth: And out we came, in Freedom’s name, Last Aypril was the tenth. “Three ’underd thousand snobs Came out to stop the vay, Vitu sticks vith iron knobs, Or else we’d gained the day. The harmy kept quite out of sight, And so ve vent avay. ** Next day the Pleacemen came— Rewenge it was their plann— And from my good old dame They took her tailor-mann : And the hard hard beak did me bespeak To Newgit in the Wann. Tn that etrocious Cort The Jewry did agree ; The Judge did me transport, To go beyond the sea: And so for life, from his dear wife Tney took poor old CuFFEE. “© Harpert, Appy Prince! With children round your knees, Ingraving ansum Prints, And takin hoff your hease; O think of me, the old Curres, Beyond the solt solt seas ! * Although I’m hold and black, My hanguish is most reat ; Great Prince, O call nek 4 And I vill be your Vait ! And never no more vill break the Lor, As I did in ’Forty-eight.” The tailer thus did close (A pore old blacky:xore rogue), A Lady’s “ Views.” THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS. When a dismal gent uprose, And spoke with Hirish brogue : *1’m Smita O'Bring, of Royal Line, Desccnded from Rory O6veE. * When great O'Connxet died, That man whom all did trust, That man whom Henglish pride Beheld with such disgust, Then Erin free fixed eyes on me, And swoar I should be fust. “The glorious Hirish Crown,’ Says she, ‘it shall be thine: Long time, its wery well known, You kep i in your line; That diacem of hemerald gem Is yours, my Smituy O’ Brine. “Poo long the Saxon churl Our land encumbered hath; Arise my Prince, my Ear, And brush them from thy path; Rise, mighty Smiru, and svecp em vith The besom of your wrath.’ “Then in my might I rose, My coun'ry I surveyed, I saw it filled with foes, 1 viewed them undismayed ; Ha, ha! says I, the harvest ’s high, 1’l) reap it with my blade. “*My warriors I enrolled They rallied round their lord; And cheafs in council old 1 summoned to the board— Wise Doneny and Durry bold, And Meacuer of the Sword. “T stood on Slievenamaun, They came with pikes aud bills ; They gathered in the dawn, Like mist upon the hills, And rushed adown the mountain side Like twenty thousand rills. “Their fortress we assail ; Hurrco! my boys, hurroo! The bloody Saxons quail ‘Yo hear the wild shaloo ; S'rike, and prevail lovely Lunisfail, O’BrixE abvo, aboo! ‘Our prople they defied ; They shot at ’em like savages, Their blocdy guns they plied With sanguinary ravages ; Hide, blushing Glory, hide That day among the Cabbages ! ** And so no more I'll say, But ask your Mussy great, And humbly sing and pray, Your Majesty’s poor Wait: Your Smitu O’Beine in ’Forty-nine Will blush for "Forty-eight. Good Prince Alvert His Roya Hie:ess is determined, in his own person, to have a taste of all the English Courts of Law, that he may fecl “ what | wretches feel.” With this benevolen: view, after a short repose from the | fatigues of Chancery, the Price will take a spell at the Palace Court. “A Curistian Lapy,” advertises in the Zimes for a partner in a school ? “* A lady of Evangelical principles, and who could attend to the general routine of the pupils’ studi-s, and undertake the Music, French, Writing, and Arithmetic. The school is small, as the advertiser, from ber health, relinquished several of her pupils ; but a lady of energy and ability would no doubt soon succeed in increasing the number. [Of pupils.) The advertiser requests that no lady with Zractarian views will apply.” . fay objection — Punch wonders—to a lady with Attract-arian lews ?” OUR-AND-TWENTY JOKES to a SQUARE INCH will be found packed in paragraphs for tamily use, in PUNCH’S ALMANACK. AmerRIcAN THEATRICALS.—The last New York packet brings the following news :—Mr. Epwin Forrest had advertise: himself—for his benefit night only—to act like a gentleman. Heavy bets were laid against him. - Tue We.uncton Dispatcues.—The Duke has given away another | Dride.

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| consists in battering each other; and |

266 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

FRENCH AND ENGLISH CONSTITUTIONAL COOKERY. Tue British Constitution may be compared, in some respects, to the British Plum-pudding; for it isa mix- ture peculiar to the country, and i* forms a magnificent whole which foreign nations have vainly endea- voured to imitate. France has lately been incessan'ly occupied in a frui'- less attempt to make up the com- pound upon the English pattern, but our neighbours, in spite of all the proverbial excellence of French cookery, have hitherto made a sad mess of it. Having got hold of the idea that we commence our plum- pudding by tearing a quantity of suet into shreds, they have been pulling all the fat of the land to pieces; but unfortunately so much of it was already in a rancid state, that it is of very little use, and has, to a certain extent, tainted all the other ingre- dients. The English Constitutional Pud- ding requires a proper distribution of the plums; but the French have had too many of their plums crowded into one place, at the top of their pudding, and in their recent attempts to rectify the error, their Constitu- tional cooks—of whom too many have had a finger in the pie or pud- ding—have been for the most part eager to secure the plums to them- selves, and the fruit has been greatly diminished by the number of attempts to get some good pickings. Asa substitute for the well-beaten eggs in the British Constitutional Pud- ding, from which the yolk is care- fully rejected, the French have

adopted a system of battering, that | | the milkfwe use in this country to give softness to the compound, is | turned, by all the’ bitterness peculiar to our Gall-ic neighbours, into some curdled stuff, which gives a sourness || to their entire mixture. But even if France had been per- | fectly skilful in the choice of her | riment. ingredients, there is one omission that would utterly prevent the suc- cess of her Constitutio-culinary expe- She has forgotten the small quantity of flour that is required for binding together all the rest; and . this little essential we ‘happen to | | possess in our limited monarchy. | Enough is wanted just to give con- sistency and coherency to the whole Constitutional compound, without ' making it heavy and indigestible.

The attempt of France to find a substitute for this valuable material —this spoonful of flour—is shown in the selection of Lovis-Napo.eon, who may unfortunately turn out to | be the spoon without the flour; or at all events, if he should happen to represent any of the latter material, it will seem to be produced from | i || DIVERTING. | NOISES OF ANIMALS)

INNOCENT AND AMUSING LITTLE TRICK FOR LITTLE BOYS.

AN OLD LADY IS CROSSING THE STREET, WHEN A LITTLE BOY SHOUTS out—* Hi!” AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE. THE OLD LADY (ALTHOUGAR | INDEED THERE 18 NO REAL CAUSE FOR ALARM) STARTS, AND BECOMES | OMNIBUS. .%

ANOTHER. CA CAUTION TOW | (iD. DOGS 7 . Ny N : \ \ \ ths “ QD

TRIS, ALTHOUGH DIFFERING SOMEWHAT FROM THE FORMER, IS EQUALLY A LITTLE BOY (WHO SHOULD BE CLEVER AT IMITATING THE * YowLs,” THE LITTLE RUSHES BY AN OLD GENTLEMAN, AND | LIKE A DOG, AS THOUGH HE WERE TRODDEN UPON. | MAN IS TFRRIFIED BEYOND MEASURE, AND EXHIBITS THE MOST FAN- | Tastic AND LUDICROUS SIGNS OF FEAR. ** YowLs THE OLD GENTLE- INDEED, HE MUST HAVE COURAGE, AND MUST BE VERY ADROIT, OR HE MAY | | CHANCE TO GET A GREAT BANG FROM AN UMBRELLA OR STICK, | GREATLY AGITATED, AND IMAGINES THAT SHE IS RUN OVER BY AN | THIS 18 AN EXCEEDINGLY PLEASANT TRICK.

la slip of Mummy-wheat, containing more chaff than grain, with a great | preponderance of straw, and re- sp2cted only on account of the origi- nal seed from which it is a coliateral offshoot. There is a story of a Frenchattempt to make an English plum-pudding, which failed from the omission of a damp cloth; but we fear the recent experiment of our neighbours will not succeed, although, by way of substitute for the damp cloth, they have resorted to a wet blanket, by allowing their Constitutional Pud- ding to be wrapped up in a—Lovis- Napotzon. The pudding being | made, we fear it will take a very | long time boiling, and that it will | remain in hot water for a consider- | cade Ir AT THE SAME TIME HE | BOY SHOULD ALSO PINCH THE LEG OF THE OLD | GENTLEMAN, THE FORCE OF THE JOKE IS MUCH HEIGHTENED: BUT THEN able period, amidst that ‘« Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble” with which the French are only too familiar. If they do not know ex- actly how to make their pudding, they seem to be impressed with the utility of keeping it on the continual stir, and if they do not know how to boil it toa nicety, or to determine when it is done enough, they appear to have a notion of putting it on to the fire, or—to use a technical phrase —going to pot with it, in the very promptest manner. the AMALGAMATION OF THE THREE GREAT RAILWAY COM- PANIES sinks into a mere bagatelle in comparison with the amalgamation of PUNCH’S own peculiar and various iines in his ALMANACK for 1849.

The Paris Road to Glory. ALL persons seem to agree in con- sidering the election of the French President as only “ paving the way” to something else. This unanimity is certainly very complimentary to the Prince, as it pulls him down at | once to the level of a mere stone, | which, we think, is rather hard. But considering the very great antipathy the French have to old travelled roads, that the first effect a Revolu- tion in France always has is to make the stones rise, we doubt if “ paving the way” is the right expression. We submit that “erecting a barri- ” would be much more in the way of the French.

Too Good by Half. Now Ferprnanp the Second—a few Viennese having been shot, Brum murdered, and so forth—now | FERDINAND has abdicated the throne of Austria, he is eulogised to the sixth heaven, as a marvel of justice, benevolence, and meekness. It would seem Ferpinanp, like a guinea | twelfth-cake sacrificed for five shil- | | | | lings, was much too sweet for a crown.

THE LADY’S GUIDE TO THE MISLETOE. Don’t look at under it. it; but walk

ans Ae gua epee a o> 4 ae aE 42 a Gr amp es owe™ 64 OOOO wr ee U6 e.,hUCUC —.e se. eee «<e

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J )~ WS BOLLS . huyN . Sa / Ww ae Vio XS Se Ws S HM AY) Bo, ‘ e = ue Liberty °f / . \ Lo Sih joka. ~ ~ ~~ Saw

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 269

ADVERTISEMENT. ao presents his regretful Compliments to ANGELA. He did not attempt to discover her in a Brixton "Bus on Tuesday. Having from the earliest dawn of reason determined never to marry any woman who thought herself above Thick Boots, or believed in her superiority to Cork Soles THEODORE cannot continue a correspondence that might otherwise have ended in a wedding-ring, and the employment of the noblest emotions of the human heart. ~’

A CHRISTMAS GAME COCK.

From a recent work on “Ornamental and Domestic Poultry,” we learn that there is a certain amusement in the country, called ‘‘ making the cock drunk,” much prac'ised by stable-boys. The game consists in seizing the poor unfortunate bird by the legs, and whirling him round and round inthe air. The great fun (stable-boys have as yet but cruel notions of fun) is in seeing the cock stagger and reel when placed upon the grourd, and gradually recover as it unsteadily walks off. Now, is not Le Cog Gaulois somewhat in the same position? The poor bird has been whirled round and round by so many revolutions, that it has clearly lost its head. It has become quite unsteady in its movements, reeling in all directions but the real one, till it becomes a matter of doubt whether it will not fall every minute off its legs, and scarcely have a feather left, but what is soiled with mud and dirt, to plume itself upon. It may he good fun to us, who quietly look on, to watch and laugh at the ludicrous movements of the fine old bird; but too many of these revolutions may one day be the death of it. The old Coq must not get drunk so often, or else it will be dragged eventually through such a quagmire as will take years of washing to make it clean again. It really should learn to grow a little more steady. SECOND-CLASS COMPANY. _» A LETTER signed “A TravetteR,” which lately appeared ¢ in the Zimes, will afford a useful lesson to all persons in moderate circumstances, who are mean enough to think of #:, travelling in second-class carriages. he writer, with his We family, was journeying on the GreatWestern Railway, having <# taken places in the second-ciass. They had not gone far before they discovered that their fellow-passengers were a drunken man and woman, who annoyed and insulted them. As soon as they could, they quitted this carriage for another, in which they found themselves in company with a madman; paying thus the usual penalty of getting out of the frying-pan. The upshot of the matter was, that these contemptible, economical people were driven into a first-

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class carriage. Very right and proper. Railway Companies, in these hard times, are justified in resorting to any legal means for the purpose of obtaining the highest possible fares. The poverty which cannot afford the first-class, ought to make folks acquainted with strange companions. We venture to suggest to the parties concerned, the expediency of ——— all chimney-sweeps gratuitous admission to second-class carriages, and of making scavengers, fresh and redolent from their employment, free of the same. ‘There is not a sufficient number of drunkards about, or of maniacs at large, to render the cheaper seats necessarily intolerable. Nevertheless, they would help the scavengers and sweeps in obliging the public to travel by the first-class. No law exists to prohibit this arrangement ; although it is to be apprehended that an Act of Parliament will shortly compel Railway Directors to establish lunatic and tipsy classes of carrixges; or at least to protect Her Magsesty’s rational and sober subjects trom outrage ard intimidation, by assigning to the insane and the imebriated places in the train by themselves. The Poetical Remembrancer for Christmas. [The subjoined Poems are intended to serve as models for the metrical form of application for Christmas Boxes. It is hoped that they will in some meagure conduce to the improvement and elevation of that class of compositions. } REMEMBER THE BEADLE, SacRED to Memory is the buried Past; The inward Eye beholds it as a Dream, Whose hazy Forms are softened by a gleam Of golden radiance, like the splendour cast By Winter’s Sun, about to look his last O’er wocdland valley, and majestic stream, On a mild evening. ‘Thou, whose mind doth teem, A magic mirror, crowded thick and fast With Images of the departing Year, Behold among them One—a Vain bright, Which in blue, gilt, and crimson vesture flames. Ah yes! amid the Shapes that Memory frames, ‘The BEapDLE hopes to captivate your sight, Not vainly suing for a pot of beer. THE TURNCOCK. The Cataracts rush from the Mountains, Lavghing loud, ho, ho, ho! in their mirth; And with frolicksome gambol, the Fountains Bubble up from the bowels of Earth. . The Waters glide on to the Ocean, From the Main to the Cistern they flow ; And the Turncock, who sets them in motion, For a Christmas Box waits down below. THE REGULAR DUSTMAN. I blame not Nature that she gave mine eye A certain tendency towards my nose, And bowed my legs; for hence 1 ean defy Unprincipled endeavours to impose. Should any person unpossessed of those Certificates, present himself as me, Your palm against the base imposter close. The Ree’LaR Dustmn asks his Christmas fee : Those blemishes will serve to show that I am he. DOCTOR JENNER—DUKE OF WELLINGTON. The Shvdes, Dec. 21. Doctor Harvey (the person who discovered the Circulation of the Blood) presents his compliments to Punch. AS Doctor Harvey perceives by the public prints that— Zi somehow—contrive to come down here, that F.M. Duke or ‘, _. Wetxtneton has had another statue raised to him; a statue "“" in the Tower of London. Doctox Hanvey has no objection to this. How cum he object to it ? But Doctor Harvey begs to ask—through Punch—when it is pro- posed to erect a Statue to Doctor JENNER? The Duke, there is no doubt of it, in the way of business, has—with rockets, shells, &c. &c.—spoilt a few thousands of human faces. How many millions of faces has |)ocToR JENNER preserved P Is not this (Doctor Harvey would inquire) emphatically a lady’s question ? When women set up brorze to the soldier (there’s some- thing of the sort in Hyde Park) ought they so long to forget the Vaccinator ?

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270 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE FALL OF THE QUADRANT. Never, since the decline and fall of the Railway Share Market, or of the Roman Empire, has there been a greater tumble than the recent overthrow of the Quadrant. The decadence of the family of the Colonna may be compared to that of the Colonnade of Regent Street. Both had reached a high elevation, and both sunk under the ingratitude of those to whom they had afforded shelter and protection. “Already, however, have the destroyers begun to regret their work of devastation, and the unhappy foreigners who once used to nestle under its friendly wing are wandering in damp and wretchedness, cursing the perfide Albionism of those who, in reality, meant mort aur Francais, when they cried out for the destruction of the Colonnade of the Quadrant. It is not, however, without a struggle that the ill-used foreigners will resign the’ friendly roof ; and they have reared a shade of umbrellas,

which form a kind of moveable colonnade, obstructing the light | almost as completely as before, and thus defeating the very objects of | those who caused the work of demolition to be performed. They have raised against the rays of the sun a barricade of gingham, | almost as impenetrable as that of lead, which has been removed; and | so dark are the designs—we mean the parapluies—of the foreigners, that to see through them is almost impossible. Considering the horrors of over-crowding, against which a movement is on foot, we begin to shudder at the local congestion that is likely to be occasionefl at the entrance of the Bur rlington Arcade, by driving the French and Italian loungers at the West End, during the London Season, into the | only covered promenade that is now left for them. The Burlington and Lowther Beadles must be something more than men, and their dé¢ons something more than wood; their nerves must be more than iron, and the heads of their staves something more than brass, to enable them to stem the tide of over- population that is likely to flow in upon them. if Penh? aiek Satie i x like hk ao

AN ‘Bees PropHecy.—We would not mind betting any odds, that the first act of Lours-NapoLeon, when he gets into power, will be— | Sas Exrvutsion or Pusxcu From FRANCE.

THERE’S A BAD TIME GOING, BOYS. THERE’S a bad time going, boys, a bad time going, We’ve got our Christmas Bills to pay, But with them soon will pass away The bad time going. Business has been at a stand, But credit’s getting stronger ; Prosperity is now at hand, Wait a little longer. Chorus. There ’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time going ‘there ’s a bad time going, boys, Wait a little longer. There ’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time going; Railway shares have seemed to be A sink for all men’s property, In the bad time going. Lines which used to quarrel then, To prove whose purse was stronger, Shall be controlled by honest men; Wait a little longer. Chorus—There’s a bad time going, &c. There’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time goin When men, by right of family, The public "servants claim’d to be, In the bad time going. Talent with birth shall fairly cope, And show itself the stronger ; For its reward it soon may hope— Wait a little longer. Chorus—There ’s a bad time going, <c. There ’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time going ; Silly lordlinzgs, free from cares, Have filled too long official chairs, In the bad time going. Turn’d adrift in parks or fields, Their minds may nag grow stronger ; Nepotism slowly yields— Wait a little longer. Chorus—There ’s a bad time going, boys, &c. There’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time going, Anarchists intemperate, Fair complaint deprived of weight, In the bad time going. Sense shall supersede abuse, And make a strong cause stronger, True Reform it will produce— Wait a little longer. , Chorus—There’s a bad time going, boys, &c. There’s a bad time going, boys, a bad time going, Help to drive it off who can, Every woman, child, and man, The bad time going. Humblest aid, if rightly given, Makes the impulse stronger ; ;, Move then, statesmen, ere you’re driven ; We can’t wait much longer. Chorus—There’s a bad time going, boys, &c. PUBLISHERS’ FINE ARTS. Wauat will Count D’Oxrsay do unto Mr. HoGarts, printseller, o the Haymarket? How can he best acknowledge the delicate, the tasteful mode with which the tradesman invites an enlightened public to “ walk in” and see the D’Orsay Picture, which— “In its high intellectual character, and the simplicity of its conception, has excited an extraordinary sensation. The picture was only intended for private view, but on account of the emotions which have been elicited by the contemplation of the work, Mr. HoGarrtu has prevailed upon the Count to allow it to remain at his house, where it may be eeen during tue present week.” It is sweet to know that there are publishers who may be influenced by “the emotions.” ‘They care not about subscribers’ names to the prospectus of a work “ in the line manner ;” they are only influenced by the solemn effect of “contemplation!” Hence, Mr. Hocarrs, who has no intention tomake a farthing by a subject “ suggested to the Count” by St. Luxe’s Gospel, ch. xxi., v. 33, nobly invites the world, to bestow upon it a cheap, delicious treat of “the emotions.” Gold goes for nothing ; all’s for the feelings!

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| | | | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 271 THE CHRISTMAS-BOX NUISANCE. ‘« The Doxe or St. ALBans, Hereditary Grand Falconer, is a great goose-breeder. He employs a vast number of gosherds to tend the birds upon one of his estates — , upon the fens. Last autumn, his Grace—he is distinguished for his condescension | : H dh —presided one Saturday at the payment of his people. Simon BLurr—an intelligent boy, a gosherd of some ten years old—was called to the table to receive eighteen- pence, his week’s wages. The boy refused to take the money. Upon being pressed for the reason of his denial, he ingenuously replied, ‘ Why, ’cause all the geese on Monday morning flied away, and how could I take money for looking arter birds, when there was no birds to look arter?’ The Duke, returning home, immediately sent in his resignation as sinccurist Falcorer. In humble imitation of Smom Buvrr, he even refused to take the current quarter’s salary. This is true nobility.” Soitis: Punch says ditto to Mr, BurKE. | The second anecdote is not so pungent; but touching withal :— | | T ERMINATION OF THE ELECTION FOR PRESIDENT of the | REPUELIC OF LETTERS, in favour of Mr. Punch, whose claims to the | distinction will be found in his ALMANACK for 1849. A MIDWINTER NIGHT’S DREAM. Screnz.—The Bois de Boulogne. ' Enter Titasta (La Liberté Frangaise) and Borrom (Louis NaPo.Eon), | Emperon behind, unseen, Tita. Come, sit thee on this Presidential seat, While I at thy prodigious “ cheek” do stare; Yet plant my ¢ricolor on thy soft head, | In spite of thy long ears, my gentle joy. Bot. Where’s THrTERs ? Thiers. Ready. Bot. Tell me what to do, Turers. Where’s Monsieur OpILion Od. Bar. Read eee : | . Bar. , How much longer, we ask with indignant sorrow, isthe humbugof| Bot, M om 4 Barrot, good Monsieur, take you your bill in your Boxing-day to be kept up for the sake of draining the pockets of | hand, and get me a vote of supply in the National Assembly; and, good struggling tradesmen, and strewing the strects of the metropolis | Monsieur, bring me the money-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in with fuzzy beadles, muzzy dustmen, and intoxicated—but constant—|the action, Monsieur: and, good Monsieur, have a care that the scavengers? We have received the usual intimation from our pertina- | money-hag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a cious ‘riend who eases us of our dust, that he expec!s us to come down | money-bag, Signor. Where’s Monstzur GIRARDIN ? with our dust in another sense, at what the fellow sarcastically calls| Gir, Ready. “this festive season.” The gentleman who boasts of his “constancy” Bot. Give me your pen, MonsteuR GrraRDIN. Pray you, leave in scavenging—as if he loved the mud and stuck to i:—has apprised us, | your fine writing, good Monsieur. according to his annual custom, that we are to ascertain his genuineness | Gir. What’s vour will? by a dog with a black eye, a white nose, a red ear, an absent tail, a! Bot, Nothing, good Monsieur, but to help Cavatero Barror to swelling on his left cheek, and other little symptoms of his having lived | support me. | must to my Ministers, Monsieur; for methinks I am the life of a busy dog rather than of a particularly lucky one, | marvellous ticklish in my position, and I really am so incompetent a The Christmas Box system is, in fact, a piece of horribly internecine | President, that unless they back me up potently, I must fall. strife between cooks and butchers’ boys, lamp-lighters, beadles, and all| 7i¢a, Wilt re-establish harmony, sweet Prince ? classes of society, tugging at each other’s pockets for the sake of what! Bod, T have a reasonable love of harmony; let us have “Ok/ c’ est can be got under the pretext of seascnahle henevolence. Our cooks | Pgmonr? bully our butchers for the aynual Box, and our butchers take it out of | - 7i#z, Is there, sweet Prince, aught thou wouldst fain discuss ? us in the course of the year by tacking false tails on to our saddles of| Bod. Truly a mild cigar. F IL should enjoy your prime eheroot. mu‘ton, acding false feet to our legs of lamb, and chousing us with | Methinks I have a great desire to a genuine Havannab. Havannah large lumps of chump in our chops, for the purpose of adding to our! old Havannah, hath no fellow. , bills by giving undue weight to our viands. Puxchhasresolved onthe! ita. I howe a sapient fairy that doth seek overthrow of the Boxing system, and down it will go before 1849 has! His coun'ry’s good; he’ll frame thee wise laws. expired, | Bot. L had rather have a box or two of fine Regalias. But, I pray ee you, let none of your people stir me; for have an exposition of | Empire come upon me. 7 4 PUNCH’S REVIEW. Tita. Reign thou: 1’ll crouch at thine Imperial feet ; Republic, fall, inevitably fall. So doth the negro to his wooden f¢/iche Blindly bow dewn; the Chinese heathen so | Offers insensate homage to his Joss. Ob, how I idolize and worship thee! ** Anecdotes of the Aristocracy :’”—CoBURN. | We seldom review books, we read so many. But when a volume like the present comes Sy us, though we do not read it, we feel it our _ duty to review it. Mr. Burke, the historian of the Peerage—we know | this by the comely appearance of the work—has put all his soul in‘o this production. Here are a couple of extracts, highly honourable to Fe a ee the Aristocracy. They are the newest anecdotes; fresh and new as morning eggs. We quote them alike for their substance and their A Clerical Trio. style :— ‘ Ms ‘ : ed Tre papers inform us of a wedding cere nony which was performed _ His Grace THE DUKE oF Man.nonoven is, it is well known, a person of the| hy the REVEREND GERALD WELLESLEY, assisted by the REVEREND F. simplest manners, the most unostentatious habits. No one, unconscious of his | FAITHFUL, Rector of Hatfield, and the Reverenp B. Stackry t ’ ; q - pension, would for a moment think him a nobleman. Hence, last summer, as he : stood at the outer gate of Blenheim, he was accosted by a party of three Londoners. | Three parsons to one happy couple would seem to be a little de trop, ‘I say, Mister,’ said one of the vulgar Cockneys—evidently a shoemaker—‘I say. incident remi i ay, A : 2 3 oemaker— y,| and the incident reminds us of the old story of a temperate trio who how much to see this?’ The Duke—for he is a wag—to keep up the joke, said— ordered one cup of coffee and three pond “ Half-a-crown for the three.’ Whereupon, the money was given into the Duke’s ites ‘ hand, and his Grace, still enjoying the jest, showed the strangers the grounds. ‘I mee gen pen of aay we rv — of the walk, ‘I think, as we pay the Duke a on, and moreover bought this place for his ancestor, he might put the people { = the free list!’ The Duke said nothing at the time ; but when he had pared me P pees : nd by to seturned to ane. of — the nalf-crows, saying, : My good Mr. Turner, in a recent Lecture et Manchester, averred, with , ] fi you, at least, may congratulate your- t g * selves —here the Duke, unbuttoning his great-coat, showed the Fleece at his vt oa cmeenes wg brass bands, that O° Ban eS Coe known fo blow the that you came in with an order.’ The astonishment of the vulgar visitors may be | 44Test horn and live beyond a period of three years. It is, however, more easily pictured than printed.” otherwise with man and his own trumpet. Fairies (MM. Tuters, Opitton Karrot, &c.), the Shadow of the |

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¢ Ir this very mild weather continues, it will have a very curious effect upon Christmas—and not a pleasant effect either. One thing is certain, no fires will be wanted: the heat will be too much; and can you fancy a Christmas without a good, roaring, blazing coal-fire? The chesnuts may congratulate themselves upon escaping a good roasting; but they will be the only parties benefited by the emptiness of the grate. There will be no kettle singing on the hob, and every time more hot water is wanted for the negus, or the punch, or the bishop, the bell will have to be rung, and the servants pulled away from their amusements down in the kitchen, to bring up a niggardly pitcherful at atime. The plates will be cold, also, for dinner, instead of their being drawn out from the plate- warmer so hot that when the mince-pies are put upon them,they smoke, jump, and hiss again. And, worse than all, there will be no family circle round the fender, when the last dance is over, and the musicians have taken their supper and left, and the lanternman outside has gone home; there will be no inducement to hang over the mantelpiece, and bring your chairs as close as possible to the chimney, just to havea quiet chat before going to bed. 7 It will be a strange Christmas. If the mildness is drawn still milder, we shall be gradually going back to the Dog-days, and be obliged to eat our turkey and Christmas pudding with the windows wide open; and, instead of screens to the backs of the chairs, ladies will be calling out for fans. Ices will be served round, the gentlemen will come in white trowsers, and spring muslins will supersede silks and satins, and old ladies will be obliged to discard for once their heavy velvet dresses, and to carry on their heads something lighter than a massive tarban loaded with more bugles than there are in Ke@nie’s shop. And where will be the romps, the es, and the furious gallops that threaten to break down the drawing-room floor, and annihilate the cosy party of old gentlemen who are having their grog underneath? Why, the weather will be so mild, that not even one of the handsome Guards, who seem to dance more than anybody else, will be able to find a partner. ‘The universal excuse will be, “ Really it is too warm to dance!” It will be a strange, out-of-the-way, unseasonable Christmas! One might as well be at Sierra Leone, or give a ball in the crater of Vesuvius. Decidedly, we shall watch the barometer, and put our hand out of window every morning, to feel if it is any colder; and unless there is a small touch of the frost—we do not mind how small, as small as Tom Tuums if you like—before the 22nd, we shall make up a pic- nic party, and go and spend Christmas Day in the heart of Iceland, or on the summit of Mont Blanc. Persons who are anxious to join our frost-party are requested to enter their names forthwith at the Punch Office. None but jolly, good- humoured persons need apply. JOKES FOR JUNIOR BARRISTERS. smallness of the supply of Jokes in the Courts of Law, Mr. Brierxess has resolved on forming a class of his young friends—jolly Old Juniors of not less than ten ie years’ standing—for the purpose of exercising them in the art of joking, an art in which he hopes they will obtain proficiency under his system, in six easy lessons. Mr. Brierwzss refers with pride to the following specimen of a joke made by one of his young pupils— a bald-headed Junior of fifty-five—after a short course of m study. Having been called upon to examine a witness ! in an undefended cause, he found that the evidence was getting rather vague, and made the following happy observation :— , “Since, Sir, you can say nothing def-in-ite, I think you had better be dumb-in-t¢. You may stand down, Sir.” Mr. Briervess flatters himself that the above result of his system is a very superior article to that which is usually produced in a Court of Law or Justice. . Mr. Brier.zss contemplates carrying his method to such perfection that he will be enabled to teach the difficult art of joking in two and three parts, or in other words, harmonising a joke so that the leader and the junior, with occasionally even the opposite counsel, may have a share of it. Specimens of these comprehensive jokes are bing pre- pore’ and will shortly be submitted to the attention of the profession. hould his idea be generally approved, Mr. Barertess will make arrangements with Mr. Huxtau for the alternate use of his singing- hall, so that there may be ample room for the formation of classes on a scale of the utmost magnitude. ExtRaonDINaRy Event.—Last week a French eagle hatched an egg; when, oddly enough, the thing produced was a gosling ! N consequence of the largeness of the demand and the | HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. “Ou, wasn’t I glad, old Punch, to see that letter from the chap at Birchblossom Hall about the Christmas Holidays? And didn’t we all here, at Cane Brake House, give him three cheers ? Do go on, Mr. Punch, and put a letter in every week, ’specially *bout us little boys who aint at all treated at home as little boys— not that we’re so little, neither—ought to be. I tell you how they served me,—and a good many more chaps upon my form. “I don’t know when I’ve had a new jacket; not but what I’m ‘old enough, and more than that, to go into tails; but J mean that the governor’s always cut down for me, and one of his coats—threes into ones, you know—always makes me three jackets. And the boys know it. Same with trowsers.. Same with waistcoats. There’s an Orleans plum-coloured velvet that I’ve worn this last half year, that the governor wore hisself when he first brought me to school; and a coat of pepper-and-salt; and I’m’bliged to wear ’em both, and the boys call me sometimes pepper-castor, sometimes damson jam. Our gov’nors don’t know what it is to get a name at school. I’ve had three fights; one black eye about the pepper, and such a nose all along of the damson. Therefore, l hope you'll put this in; and I remain (not my own name) but one that only some of us know me by, your constant reader and admirer of your pictures (‘specially the Rising Generation—so nobby). “ Lirre Pinker.” “P.S. If my mother should ask you to tell her who sent this, you won’t blow upon a chap—will you ?” HE ONLY PERFECT SUBSTITUTE FOR SILVER is the Stamped Edition of PUNCH’S ALMANACK, which will be exchanged at any book- seller’s for a Fourpenny-piece. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 6, York Place, Stoke Newington, and Frederick Mullett Evacs, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, aod Published by them at No. 89, Fleet Street, in the Pariss of St. Bride,in the City of London.—Saruagpar, Decamsza 23rd, 1848. ————

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL John Bull Kicks the Old Year And the Old Year reads him a Moral. Now get you out, and join the rout Of all bad years gone by, And don’t believe a soul will grieve When with the past you lie. A sadder year, a sorrier year, T never look to know; In blood more rife, in sack and strife, In war, and want, and woe. All o’er the earth, with mocking mirth, You dashed old thrones about ; Made monarchs run from pike and gur, Put Ministers to rout. A desperate year, a drunken year, With wine of madness stung— You scattered words more sharp than swor¢s, And firebrands of the tongue. Tn cellars rag by stealthy lamp, In garrets bleak and bare, You crept and cowered, you Jurked and lowered, To plot, and plan, and snare; You tempted fools, the traitor’s tools, To put their trust in knaves, Urged Chartists on to Kennington, And served out Specials’ staves. You bade the mean detest the high, The high distrust the mean, All steps you staid that had been made To bridge the gulf between ; You used to alms hard, honest, palms, And closed them up from toil, Cursed Labour’s rest with dreams unblest, Of slaughter, strife, and spoil. A cruel part in mill and mart, In forge and field, you played; Laid Riot’s knife to Traffic’s life, The feet of Commerce staid. Ships, bound for sea, at idle quay You bade still idly stay— Stoppered the crane, unhorsed the wain And locked the bales away. A year of hate from man to man, A year of threatened war, OF hopes undone, and gains unwon— A bankrupt year you are. And as you lie, in act to die, No pious hand I lay On eyes that cast a blight and blast, Since first they saw the day. So get you gone—for drearicst one Of years yet passed away. The Year answers. The breath apace ebbs to my face, Shadows about me throng— Then hear a rede may challenge heed, In answer to thy wrong ; We years are things that move on wings Guided by higher Powers; What shade we throw o’er worlds below Ts at their will, not ours. Small gift have I—hast thou—to spy Into that hidden will; But this believe—that we have leave From Good, and not from IIl. The shadows black that mark my track, Have light within their breast ; My sorest hour hath healing power, My curses even are blest, Fierce is the fire through whose red ire Nations must pass—nor quail ; But Trath’s a gem doth fire contemn— *Tis counterfeits that fail. What toil secures, that most endures— Worthless, what’s easy gained ; *Tis mighty shocks that rive the rocks, With gems and treasure veined. Out, Old Order ’s dead—but in its stead New Order see hegun— . The ruddy night where sinks my light Bespeaks to-morrow’s sun; Then ease my head upon my bed, And close my glezing eye; My evil day will pass away, My good will never die. SWEEP! SWEEP! Wer thcught the ery of “Sweep!” was put down by Act of Parlia- ' ment, but it has lately come up im another form. You cannot passa | shop without a big Sweep calling out from the window. Sometimes it | asks you to “STOP!” sometimes it invites you to ““ LOOK HERE!” These Sweeps seem to have the management of all the retail London business. Nothing is too high or too low for them to Jay their dirty fingers upon. In one street it is a piano, in another it is a plum-pud- ding, which is not exactly the article we should like to take from the hand of a Sweep. They ere general dealers in everything. The Sweeps - been swept from our chimneys by the Ramoneurs ; but they have fallen down upon Trade, and you will find a Sweep now on almost every counter. They have taken to sweeping the pockets of customers clean, instead of their flues. They have introduced them- selves into every chanvel of Commerce. We should not be astonished to see advertised, “ A handsome young lady, worth £300 a-year,” to be disposed of in so many shares by a Sweep. Members of Parliament will be returned by their agency, and we shall be having our Legislature a more perfect system of Lottery than ever. In the meantime, nothing goes off unless it has a Sweep to back it. | Our race-horses are ridden by Sweeps,—our grocers, publicans, and little haberdashers are all under the thumb of a Sweep—and you will see the Pavilion at Brighton taken off the hands of the Commissioners of the Woods and Forests by means of a good powerful Sweep, of the strength of £1,000,000 in shares of £1 each. ‘These Sweeps are getting quite a crying nuisance, and we hope a sweeping measure will soon be devised to brush them indiscriminately from all the large, and especially the small shops of the metropolis where they have got a foot- ing. They are universal gay deceivers. They make the finest promises, get your money, and then laugh in your face. They carry off all the booty they cay, and leave nothing but a dreary “blank” behind. The poor people who trust their shillings to them, should be warned against their winning practices. The old law should be enforced, and every shopkeeper who cries “Sweep!” should be immediately teken up. JHE HWOUSE-KEEPING CLUB. LuB3! Clubs! This is_ the age of Clubs; and one Club, | a wonder how so many con- is a House-Keeping Club, the menibers of which are to bers and their families. This might answer very well if the families were all of a size, and the appetites of the members about upon a par; but it will certainly never pay for the very small eaters to contribute the same sum of money as those who are given to gormandise. It will be awkward, too, if the tastes of the members shonld agree to such an extent that all should be eager for the same joint at the same time, and there should one day be such arun upon legs of mutton, and another day such acut into chops, that there should be a quarrelling amongst the members for the tit-bits of the establishment. We fear the House- Keeping Club will end in that monstrum horrendum, “a house divided; ” for the proverb concerning a multiplicity of cooks, must equally apply to a multiplicity of housekeepers. Wuist.—In the game at present going on in France, will Louis Napo.eon lead up tothe King or play the Deuce? An answer will! oblige. trive to prolong their exist- | ences. The latest new scheme | VOL, XY, EE in these days, knocks another | Club on the head, until it is | have access to a common | larder, and club together for | the provisions of all the mem- |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A SIMPLE QUESTION ANSWERED. nt epee y Lo/A\VVY LO — — = Boy. Para, What’s an In-ter-rog-a-to-ry ?” _ Father. “My dear, an Interrogatory is a very explicit method, used principally in Chancery proceedings, for obtaining a correct answer to a simple written question. Thus:—‘ Whether Joun Jongs, on such a day, and at such a place, did, should, could, would, might, or ought; or whether he didn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t wouldn’t, mightn’t, or oughtn’t; or if he didn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t, | wouldn’t, mightn’t, or oughtn’t, why didn’t he, shouldn’t he, couldn’t he, | wouldn’t he, mightn’t he, or oughtn’t he; and if not on such a day, and at such a place, then whether at some other, and what, day and place he did, should, could, would, might, or ought; wouldn’t, mightn’t, or oughtn’t; or under some other, and what peculiar, or if not peculiar, under some other and what circumstances; and if not, why not, or how otherwise, do 7.’ ” PITY THE POOR INDEX-WRITER! Onty consider the everlasting industry, the indomitable patience, the curious talent it requires to constitute a great Index-writer. Oblivion is his fate— silent contempt his only reward. His work is referred to probably more than any other in the book; he is always a friend in need when you are in search of a good article; he is ready at a moment’s notice to point out some particular subject you long to cry or laugh over, and still his work is uncared for, his serried columns of interesting figures are looked over with dry indifference, and not, one person in a hundred thousand who takes a valuable volume, such as the Encyclopedia Britannica, or Punch, is actually aware there is such a person employed upon it as the Index-writer. It is too bad. Talents like his deserve a higher recognition. coolness of head, the firmness of hand, which his work requires! Consider the mischief he might cause if he inadvertently put a 9 instead of a 6! The Index-writer gets blamed, and many are the bitter denunciations vented some- times upon his anonymous head—but he never gets praised. He is thought nothing of when he is right—and yet when, by the strangest accident, he happens to be wrong, Gracious! what an outcry there is, and nothing is too bad for him. Man is allowed to err at times, and is forgiven; but an Index-writer must be without a fault—he must be perfection itself. He is the virtual President of the Republic of Letters, and universal sufferage is the only return he gets. But “ Wait a little longer.’ The position of the Index-writer must one day be appreciated; the contempt has lasted too long. ‘The brilliant merits of the index-Writer must shine through the fog that for ages has enveloped them, and the World will, with its future adoration, repair its past neglect. Mankind is not naturally ungrateful. We are proud to announce that the first step will immediately be taken towards this mighty vindication, A young man of great talent, who has long distinguished himself in the difficult walks of Index-writing, is about to republish a large collection of them! They will comprise 163 Indexes, selected from all styles of literature, including both the light and the heavy; and the or whether he didn’t, shouldn’t, couldn't, | Think of the ! {mass of learning they will exhibit will literally astonish the jmost contemptuous. This work cannot fail to be incalculably valuable to our collection of elles lettres. The Index in the present Number may be taken as a fair specimen. | | } Youne Love has a fancy inclined to vagaries, Which could we with form and with colour endow, The show might resemble a mask of the Fairies Which Cuptp beheld in the Mistletoe Bough. All under the leaves tiny couples were wooing ; What beating of bosoms, what heaving of sighs ! What kneeling and suing—what billing and cooing! What breathing of vows, and what making of eyes! With bride-cakes each spray thick as berries was cover’d, And studded with rings, shedding flashes and sparks ; And legions of elves in the foliage there hover’d, } That bore a resemblance to parsons and clerks. And jewels were gleaming, and satins were glistening, And orange-flowers blooming the branches between ; And many a marriage, and many a christening, Appear’d going on in the Mistletoe green. There shone a bright planet, beatitudes raining, To gladden the union of husbands and wives ; The honey-moon there, at the full, never waning, l'ransporied each pair for their natural lives. And Forty and Fifty, reclined in the gloaming, Were gazing aloft on Love’s beautiful star ; Ani Sixty and Seventy by streamlets were roaming, And Eighty to Ninety-five iwang’d the guitar. A matron of three-score and upwards was shopping : Her elderly spouse held her shawl by her side ; An octogenarian the polka was hopping, As brisk as a bee, with his agile old bride. And husbands, unlike egotistical gluttons, Were helping their wives to the prime of the joint ; And wives were attentively sewing on buttons— Of conjugal duty a capital point. In short, the whole scene was supremely Elysian ; And haply, if wedlock were true to its vow, There might be a shadow of truth in the vision Which Curip bekeld in the Mistletoe Bough. THE GALLIC (WEATHER) COCK. A Parts correspondent of the Zimes informs us that the | Council-General of the Gironde is urging the National Assembly to retire, and that the Departmental press concurs in the request. The République de Tarbes says, that “if the 900 members of the Assembly represented the opinion of France in April, they nowise represent that of France in December.” To paint the picture of the chameleon, or the dying dolphin, or to take a daguerréotype of Proteus or Lord BroveHam, |WHAT CUPID SAW IN THE MISTLETOE BOUGH. | | would be an easy task in comparison with that of representing | French public opinion. France, for the faithful expression of her sentiments, requires a fresh Parliament at least every five minutes. The emblem of France is said to be the Cock; but the French Cock never crew. There is no such bird in the poultry-yard. The Gallic Cock exists nowhere but on the house-top or summit of the steeple. It is a weather-cock. Time’s Up. Why should the good time that’s coming be only for the “boys?” Why should the “girls” be excluded? Or why should men and women not be allowed to have a share in the good time that is so long in coming? By the bye, there was no particular date fixed for the coming of this good time ; but unless it makes a little more haste, very few of the Boys will live to see it. The portrait of the rare old Boy who sees the ‘‘ Good Time ” (when it does come) will be a fine antique a | hundred years hence. He will be the Oldest Waiter on record. | Christmas-box. Heicut or IupupeNce.—The Tax-Gatherer calling for a dd

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NEW CHRISTMAS GAME FOR MINISTERS—FUN AND FIGURES. uNcH’s attention has been directed to an invention of a Mr. Ryrret, called Calculating Cubes. These cubes, says the Zimes, are intended ** To teach children the rudi- ments of arithmetic, and to avoid, whilst they are in pro- gress of being taught, the creation of that distaste for the science of figures which so frequently prevents the proficiency of the pupil, and makes so many adults inca- pable of comprehending the combinations and the results = the combinations of num- ers,” During the present vacation, these Calcu- lating Cubes may afford agreeable amusement, blended with useful in- struction,tothe Ministers, now home for the holidays. They would furnish Lorp Joun Russet and his colleagues with a good game, with which to play the old year out and the new year in. ‘This pastime would be an excellent preliminary to the preparation of the Budget. Let the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER take a hand in it. The Calculating Cubes would perhaps enatie Government to apply Addition to the rewards of literary and scientific men, Subtraction to sinecures and to the excessive salaries of ex-Chancellors and other over-paid officials, Simple Division to ecclesiastical property, and Reduc- tion to the Estimates generally. They might also teach it to adjust taxation, and especially the Income-tax, according to the rule of Pro- portion. They would thus remove that ignorance of the science of figures which incapacitates so many adult statesmen from making calcu- lations which present no difficulty to any schoolboy who is a tolerable accountant, Assuredly, the Calculating Cubes would afford the Cabinet a much more seasonable recreation just now than the old-fashioned sport of Blind-man’s Buff, by which they are pleased to amuse them- selves and the nation. THE GRAVITY OF A JUDGE. Durine the late Liverpool Assizes, on the trial of the prisoners charged with riot at Manchester, one of the witnesses, an approver, having been hissed, Mz. BAkon ALDERSON is reported to have made the following speech :— ‘‘ Where is the man that hissed? Let me see any one who defies the law! I sit here alone, and with the whole majesty of the kingdom of England upon me ; and let me see the man who dares to face it !” We do helieve that the worthy Baron is an upright judge; but how he can remain so with the tremendous weight of the whole majesty of the kingdom of England upon him is wonderful. Perhaps a sporting con- | temporary can tell us what is the weight of Junge AtpeRson? It would be worth while to convert the seat of Justice into a weighing- machine, to ascertain, when the learned judge si's in it, how many stone the index marks off on the register. From the above statement, it is evident that the gravity of his Lordship is inconceivable—by any | one who never saw Liston. The Garden of Eden. Tne Daily News contains the following announcement :— ‘* Within the last five years the Rev. J. P. Epen has been presented to four bene- fices in succession, by the Bishop oF Dunnam, The last is Bishop Wearmouth, value £2000 a year!” All doubts as to the exact locality of the Garden of den are now, of course, sei at rest. It blooms in the County of Durham! Too Bad to be True. Tue poet tells us that “Bright things can never die;” but the worst of it is, that the brightest thing, yar excellence, of the present day—the Electric Light—is found to die with most annoying rapidity. You are one moment in a blaze of sunshine, and the next minute in the dark, which causes some over-critical people to declare that the merits of SraitTe’s patent have been a little over-stated. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. THE BALANCE OF POWER. Tue following paragraph furnishes a curious illustration of the amusements and occupations of Royalty at a fashionable watering-place. The extract is from the Brighton Herald of Saturday, Dec. 2, 1848 :— “The Duke and Ducness of CAMBRIDGE and the Princess Mary, in the course of their promenade on the Pier on Monday last, visited Penny’s Royal Bazaar for the purpose of being weighed. The result was most satisfactory, especially as regards his Royal Highness, who weighed exactly 16 stone. At a later period of the week, being again on the Pier, the thought struck the Royal visitors to try what effect the air of Brighton had had upon them ; again they seated themselves in the machine, and our readers may smile, but it is a fact, that their Royal Highnesses had all increased in weight since their first experiment. Prince METTERNICH was also weighed on the first occasion ; he was little more than 10 stone, and we do not know if the like increase has taken place in his frame.” We do not quite see what there was so very “satisfactory” in a “result”? which showed that the Duke or CamBrince weighed 16 stone, unless we are to look at a Prize Royal Duke, as we should upon a Prize Ox at the Smithfield Cattle Show. His Royal Highness isa warm admirer of living suet on the sides of over-fatted cattle, and has frequently honoured a wheezing brute at Baker Street, as Jago would have honoured old Brabantio, “yerking him under the ribs ;” but we were not aware that the Duke's devotion to fat had induced him to force himself and family into a state of pinguidity. The rate at which the royal party are gaining flesh, and their anxiety to add to their bulk, may be judged by their having rushed to the pier, and plumped themselves down in the weighing-machine a second time withim the same week, when they found they had been “ taking on so,” that they all weighed more than they had done a few days previous. We do not know whether the Dukr or CamBRIDGE imagines that he derives additional weight in the social ecale from the extra ponderosity he is encouraging ; but if this is really the case, we sincerely pity pest Prince Metrernicu, who weighs six stone less than his Royal High- ness, and whose increase of frame remains a matter of painiul uncer- tainty. Considering that the Austrians have so receatly weighed Prince Mertrernicg, and found him wanting, we are surprised at his venturing so soon into the scale, where his deficiency would be easily ascertainable, It must be very gratifying to the Duke Or Camprince to find that, notwithstanding the cessation of the Public Dinner Season, he still keeps up his substance, and has even been increasing it, though be has occupied no other public chair than the weighing-chair on the Brighton Pier for the last four months. As his visits are frequent to PENNY’s Bazaar, we think it would be a graceful compliment to elect his Royal Highness to the post of perpetual chairman of the weighing-chair, —_ = should think, there is no one in Brighton could fill more efliciently. THE OPERA TELAKOUPHANON. Our attention bas been directed to an article made of Gutta Percha, called the Telakouphanon, or Speaking Trumpet, a contrivance by which it is stated, that a clergyman having three livings might preach the same sermon in three different churches at the same time. Thus also it would be in the power of Mr. LuMuzy, during the approaching holiday time, to bring home the Opera to every Jady’s drawing-room in London. Let him cause to be constructed, at the back of Her Majesty’s Theatre, an apparatus on the principle of the Ear of Dionysius, care having been taken to render it a good ear for music. ; Next, having obtained an Act of Parliament for the purpose, let him lay down, after the manner of pipes, a number of Telakouphana, connected —the reader will excuse the apparent vulgarism—with this Ear, and extended to the dwellings of all such as may be willing to pay for the accommodation. In this way our domestic establishments might be served with the liquid notes of Jenny Linp as easily as they are with soft water, and could be supplied with music as readily as they can with gas. ‘Then, at a soirée or evening party, if a desire were expressed for a little music, we should only have to turn on the Sonnambula or the Puritani, as the case might be; an arrangement which would provide us with a delightful substitute for a deal of execrable singing, besides being in general highly conducive to the harmony of private families. The Owl against the Railway. Tue Kelso Mail says that the irain on the Newcastle and Berwick Railway was attacked, the other night, by a party of horned owls, one of which severely pecked the fireman in the face, and displaced one of his teeth. ‘Such an assault,” observes our contemporary, “at such a lace, and during the dark, was rather alarming.” Yes, indeed. Toa heme in the transmigration of souls, an owl attacking a railway would suggest a serious apprehension that something had happened to the hon. and gallant Member for Lincoln.

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276 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

WE ALL’ HAVE OUR HOBBIES. Ir anybody were to set himself up for any- Nl @¢/, oN “ oh Pan en | thing, there would be sure to be somebody who “ \ \! ee 8 ‘i ” : 3 would think nobody could be fitter than this any- x ~. ' / | so ‘ | body for the position he might aspire to. The | late election for the office of President in France, | proves our position at once; for Vipocg, who is }remarkable for his aptitude at catching, and | ABD-EL-KaDER, renowned for being caught, had | each an adherent, who wished to see his favourite elected to the post now occupied by Lovis | NAPOLEON. hone | We should like to have seen the individual |who desired to see ABD-EL-KADER at the head |of the Kepublic, and the other individual who | was anxious to make Vipocg the chief of the | Executive. These two objects of a literally sin- gular choice may congratulate themselves upon enjoying the confidence of one Frenchman each, wu A a By) jas the celebrated Henry Hunr fell in tears ay ~ AWA A fi | upon the neck of JERomE the sweep, for having Wily hai 4 : = | plumped alone, in the orator’s favour, when he . started for Westminster. THROWING STONES THROUGH ICE,

SN us SA We y ] ae R= The Christmas Waits. | Lovis-Paiiipre, Henni-Cing, Guizot, Lovis- | Buanc, Lepru-Rotty, Raspalt, all waiting for | an opportunity in France. : Smithfield Market waiting to be removed, ple nae ae “We - = City of London waiting for another ~ #4 = —f.__._ —G-_— ™_ wl Member. ation i — — > i —< bis butterman. There was, however, | notice, all the Cuurts of Europe with suitable spouses and brides— something so extremely inviting to| kings and queens—and that references of the said important fact can \ his ingenuity in the accompanying | easil be given : ~*~ case—something so tempting to his| “That the Royal House of Coburg has not yet provided any Court legal acumen—that he could not! with a Presidentess, but it would feel the most ineffable pleasure in forbear from writing upon it. The | so doing: following is the “That the earliest measures be taken to assure His REPUBLICAN CASE :— Hicuness Prince Louis Napoteon of the above resolutions, and that

If A. B. is swallowed by the Great | the utmost readiness be displayed by the House of Coburg in assisting Sea Serpent, would A. B. become a tenant in tail after the possibility | him in bis matrimonial views." | say barn |have already been despatched to the Elysée Bourbon, The most The following is the : “vag - . OPINION :— | sumptuous wedding-dress is in a forward state of readiness. The question submitted in the above case is rather nice, though the | <== = position of A. B. is rather otherwise. Much depends upon the fact | ts whether A. B. is regularly in, or is merely in de son dort, or whether | As Broad as it is Long. he has suffered an entry in the usual manner. It is true that if he is | ‘The late constituents of Mx. RozBuck are going to present him with tenant in tail and the tail remains by way of jointure, there will be 80 | a Jarge piece of broad-cloth as a token of respect. It seems rather | far a joint tenancy. As, however, my opinion is required on the entire | absurd to give him the Saxony after having given him the Sack. | case, I feel disposed to say conditionally, “No,” if the premises hold;| Mp. Rozsuck did more honour to Batb, than Bath—remarkable for | but if otherwise, positively ‘* Yes. J. BRIEFLESS. | its bricks, its buns, and its chaps—can ever do to him; and we regret | | | following startling announcement :— | the degradation of the city in having turned out Roesvuck, who, having }a due contempt for those who have turned their coats, will scarcely THERE’S NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTE. | thank them for their cloth. Tue Zines quotations of the West India markets contain the ae . ; Tae Last Aspication.—His Majesty, the Sovereign People of “TorcuEs.—Irish are wanted!!! there being none of this descrip-| France, has just abdicated in favour of Prince Lovis-NaPougeon

Portraits, testimonials, pedigrees, valentines, and numerous verses |

tion in the market.” | BUONAPARTE.

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Zo ) 1] Pager EHS IL.NAPOLEON. | C ASC Se: 0 AGE .922 THE PRESIDENT’S PROGRESS; Or, the Life and Adventures of Prince Louis-Napoleon.

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Page 283

| ApMIRAL Van Trump, 19 | Advertisement, 187, 191, 210, &c | Advice Gratis, 207 Alarming Prospects, 166 Albert the Great, 44 Alderman and the Apothecary, 172 All Stuff, 260 Anonymous Scribblers, 192 Another Cry from Another Blue Coat Boy, 56 Anticipated Speech, 13 Anticipations of Christmas, 242 Areades Ambo, 136 Arms for the Irish Agitation, 54 Arms Found Here, 86 Arson Extraordinary, 86 As Broad as it is Long, 276 As Good as a Play, 84 Audacious Boy (An), 108 Austrian Automaton (The), 36 Awful Destitution in Leicester Square, 259 Bap Job for Baden, 153 Bailing the Candidate, 245 Balance of Power (The), 275 Balmoral Gazette, 119 Barbarous Treatment of the Bar, 42 Baron Nathan on the Bench, 156 Battle of the Oysters, $1 | Battue of Bills (A), 52 Bear and the Bee-Hive (The), 157 | Beauties and Beasts, 106, 115 Beauty of Forgiveness (The), 179 Better Late than Never, 57 Blacking Bath (The), 23 Blackguard Grenadier (The), Bless his Old Head, 239 Boring for Water, 42 Bottled Climates, 168 Bow Street Ballads (A), 229, 251 Break Down on the Ballot, 8 British Archzeological Association, 83 British Labourer at Andover, 24! Brummagem French Emperor, 3 Buckles and Ties, 46 Buonapartist Press, 9 Cargesr of the “ Coming Man,”’ 241- Case for Counsel (A), 276 Catching Grey Hairs, 178 Catechisms for the Hustings, 254 Catering for the Million, 6! Cavaignac’s File for Newspapers, 117 Cease Rude Borea(li)s, 241 Chartist Heroes :The), 86 Cheap Army Clothier, 108 Cheap Noise for the Navy, 84 Cheap Shirt Market, 72 Cheap Tours, 45 Child’s Play, 255 Christmas Game Cock (A), 268 199 | Education in the Army, 232 | Ellipticai Advertisements, 215 | Emigration for the Upper Classes, 73 English Painted by the French (The), | English Without a Master, 244 Christmas Waits (The, 275 | City of London in Danger, 187 Clothes without a Tailor, 62 Coining like Blazes, 146 Coining through Thick and Thin, 109 Cold Earth Cure, 45 | Commerce Run Mad, 10 | Commons Alphabet, (The), 125 | Conscience Money, 81 | | Consolation for the Loyal, 67 Constitution Francaise, 233 Continued Success! St. Paul's, 222 \ Contract for Glass, 54 | Council of One (The), 156 Court at Drury Lane Theatre, 32 | Court Martial, 82 | Crowning Evil (The), 143 | Cruel Attack upon Attornies, 264 | Cruel Hoax, lé¢ | Cruel Imposition, 94 Cry from a Blue Coat Boy, 31 Curate on Sunday Shaving, 261 | Curious Discovery, 35 Curiosities of Advertising Literature, 228 Carling on the Ice, 210 ** DANIEL! yea, a Daniel” (A), 61 | Dear Neptune, 133 Death of the Earl of Robinson, 23! Deputation Mania, 77 Descent of an Eagle, 153 Designs for Shop Fronts, 168 Diet of the United Kingdom, 228 Donkey Driver’s Dinner (The), 137 Dragon’s Blood Orange Club (The), 217 Dramatic Defamation, 39 Dramatic Life Insurance Office, 71 Dreadful Assault, 126 Duality of the Critical Mind, 105 Dying for a Medal, 35 Ear.y Twankay Movement (The), Elbow Room, 42 Educated France, 261 157 123, 166 *« Excuse for the Glass”’ (An), 146 Faw and Decline of Regent Stree Family Quarrels, 77 Farewell to the Mountain, Fashionable Translations, eo ** Feast of Reason” (The), 182 Female Poltroonery, 86 Few Knocks on Knockers Figuting for a Song, 155 Five Arts, 259 Fine Summer Cabbages, 109 t, 195 95% (A), 15 Flowers ‘‘ Out of Piace,’’ 110 Flunkeiana, 6, 16, 36, 58, 88, 97, 126, 136, 140, 159 Force of Statistics, 92 Foreign Gems, 189 Fortified Policemen, 64 Found, Two Conundrums, 53 French and English Constitutional Cook- ery, 256 French Female Socialists, 263 Frenchmen who Stick up for Everythisg, and Stick at Nothing, 135 Friend Indeed (A), 133 GALLIc (Weather) Cock on » 274 Garden of Eden (The), 27 Gems of the “* Hue and Cry, ” 201 G hos t of Good Intent (The), 22 a Companion to the Bottle ( The), 79 Golden ‘acecthaite (A), 167 Goosey, Goosey, Gander, 77 Governesses—Sisters of Misery, 24 Grand Launch at Hungerford, 26 Gratitude and Grouse, 192 Gravity of a Judge (The), 275 Great Mob-Disperser (A), 56 | Great Sea Serpent (The), 177 Great Shakes, 197 Great Squattleborough Soirée, HamestEAD Road, 30 Handsome Offer to Lord John, £3 253 | Handy Phrenology, 105 Hard Names, 198 Haunted Pillow of Parliamect, 113 Head of the Army, 77 Hecatombs of Portraits, 175 Heinous Humbugs (The), 16 tHlemigration made Heary, 143 Heraldry for the Billion, 252 Here ’s an Honour, 104 Here ’s to You, 155 Hero of a Hundred Statues (Tie), 146 Hero Desecration, 223 Hint for Holloway, 53 Home for the Holidays, Honour to Joinville, 110 Hopes for Herne Bay, 165 Horns, 271 Horas of a Dilemma ( The), 219 Horse Guards Clock, 256 Houses Carefuily Removed in Town or Country, 76 Housekeeping Club (The), 273 ‘* How Happy the Soldier,” 68 How to Treat the Female Chartists, | Humble Petition and Remo: anaes of the Vernon Gallery, 170 IpgEs Louis- Napoleoniennes, 189 Ill-fated Revolution (An), 45 One 255 | | Illustrated Duel (An), £3 | Imperial Style, 2 Impromptu ceenetie, £3 Improve your Wines, 64 | Index-Writer (The), 274 | Indignant Irishman (The), 63 Indignant Policeman (The), 14 Innocent Irishman (An), 172 Instinct in Grouse, 75 Interesting Correspondence, 263 Invasion of Folkestone, 139 Investment for Humbug, 55 Irish Abd-el- Kader, 72 Irish Emigration Society, 76 Irish Military Tactics, 68 Irish News for Yankee Readers, 120 Irish Quaker (An), 58 Irish Rebel Melody, 55 Irish Unanimity, 97 **Is there Anything in the Paper?” 144 JENKINS at the Cattle Show, 255 John Bull’s ‘‘ Ateliers Nationaux,’’ 46 John Bull Kicks the Old Year Out, and | _ the Old Year Reads hima Moral, 273 ar Bull’s Last Bargain, Price£1,100,000, 28 Seen for Junior Barristers, 272 | KIDNAPPING in Leicester Square, 149 Kindly Caution to Trespassers (A), 217 | Kitchen Stuff, 249 | LA Presse est Morte; Vive la Presse, 178 | | Labours of the British Museum, 175 | Lady Coronets of Westminster, 82 | Land for the Lasses (The), 260 | Lass of Wax (A), 19 Last New Pathy, 190 Last of the Claptraps (The), 21 | Latest from the Continent, 87 | Lend us a Bark, 9 | Les ‘‘ Sweets” d’une Révolution, 135 | Letter from a Sleepy Member (A), 82 Letters to a Nobleman Visiting Ireland, Q's 107 Liberty’s Vision of Louis-Napoleon’s Eutry into Paris, 149, 150 © Lies like Truth,’’ 58 Lights! Lights! I say, 239 Little Dinner at Timmins’s(A), 5,13,33,&c. | Little Lesson for Stammerers, 228 Logic of Debt and Credit, 42 Looking into the Middle of Next Week, 35 Lord Brougham’s Pamphiet, 171 Lord Morpeth to his Love, 65 Lost, a Planet, 145 Loves of the Poets (The), 222 Mac-Bu tt and the Railway Witches, 214 Man of the Sword (The), 82 Manager and the Players (The), 160 March of Morality, 153

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280 INDEX. Margate without Fiattery, 113 Matrimonial Market (The), 276 Medical Advice for Aldermen, 170 Medical Journey Work, 25% Mes Impressions de Voyage, 193 Midwinter Night’s Dream (A), 271 Military Changes, 65 Military Correspondence, 62 Milking the Bull, 97 Milksop Heroes, 123 Miserable Warm Christmas (A), 272 Miseries of an Omnibus Conductor, 183 Misrepresented City, 2!4 Missing—the Great Sea Serpent, 249 Model Clerks, 71, 77 Model Debtor (The), 6 Model Fast Lady (The), 128 Model Fast Man (The), 19 Model Lodging House Keeper (The), 55 Model Mother (The), 51 Model Mother-in-Law (The), 29 Model Tailor (The), 41 Model Waiter (The), 103 Modest Merit, 167 Modest Wish of a Worn Out M.P., 125 Monkey that went up in a Balloon (The), 14 Mons Jullien in a Dilemma (The), 220 Monster Cab-age (The’, 189 Monster Session (The), 76 Monstrum Horrendum, 209 More Archeology, 72 More Monstrosities, 3! More Republics, 32 More Treason, 160 Morpheus among the Members, 96 Mortality for the Million, 41 Moving Extravaganza, 170 Mr. Anstey’s Remorse, 107 Mr. Dunup’s Affairs, 200 Mr. Houdin’s Bottle, 23 Mural Contrast, 93 ‘* Marder most foul, most,”’ &c., 67 Music for the Nursery, 227 My Uncle, 188 Namsy-Pawmesy Titles, 19? Names of Ships—H.M.S. ‘“ National Debt,” 243 National Anthem Out of Tune, 129 National Cellar-ius (The), 208 Natural Mistake (A), 203 Ne Puff Ultra (The), 84 New American Liner, 241 New Architectural Works, 177 New Christmas Game for Ministers, 275 New Floating Railway, 264 New School of Smuggling (The), 72 New Turn in Mendicancy (A), 24! New Sigos of the Times, 98 News for the Excursionists, 65 Nice Young Man for a Small Party (The), 116 No Light Matter, 57 No Sketching allowed, 264 North Woolwich, 158 Not Worth an Old Song, 39 Nursery for Nurses, 46 Ositvary, 119 Qoe on the Thames, 136 Officer’s Tear (The), 68 *“*Ohdear! What can the Matter be?” 53 Old and New Cantab (The), 223 Old Favourites Returned, 160 Old Iron for Sale, 3 Omnibusology, 35 On the Moral, Social, and Professional Duties of Attoroies and Solicitors, 190, 191, 2¢8 One Shower ’s Enough at a Time, 26 Opera Telakouphanon (The), 275 Our Committee on the Public Business, 132 Our Gallant Tailors, 104 Our Indian Arrivals, 67 Our Own Electric Telegraph, 53 Our Owa Little Railway once more, 135 Oar Railways and our Kespectabil.ty, 107 Our Relations with Rome, 104 Our Prorogation Speech, 85 Ont for a Day and in for a Night, 96 Overdoing it at Boulogne, 136 Overworked Doorkeeper (‘The), 56 Owl Against the Railway (The), 275 Oxford Mxture, 213 PainFut Prophecy, 204 Peris Clubs in London, 74 Paris more Frightened than Hurt, £19 Paris Road to Glory, 265 | Parliamentary Cold Water Cure (The), 16 Passenger Catching in the Park, 30 | Pattern Catechism for Youthtul Candi- dates, 211 | Peep at London through a Telescope, 160 Persons who want no Retorm, 30 Phoebus at Hide and Seek, &6 | Pickford, a Myth, 231 | Pick up the Pieces, 165 | Pictorial Acts of Parliament, 199 | Pdgrim of Change (The), 153 Pilot that does not Weather the Storm | (The), 130 | Playhouse Prospects, 93 | * Please, Turn Over,” 114 Pledges for Sale, 254 | Plange ioto the Thames (A), 53 | Poetry of Prize Catt'e, 36 Poetical Remembrancer forChristmas, 2€9 Poisoning Made Difficult, 188, Polite Inquiry, 72 Polite Speaker for Parliament (A), 1¢9 | Political Siamese Twins, 54 | Pons Asinorum (The), 106 Poor Boy! 234 | Post Office Robberies, 200 Postman’s Benefit, 15 Potted Definitions, 244 Pretty License Indeed, 165 Prize Conundrum, 64 Prolix Orator (The), 123 Prospects of the Harvest, 74 Public Physician’s Vade Mecum, 9 Publisher’s Fine Arts, 270 Punch among the Celestials, 12 Punch ia the East, 75 Punch on Solitude, 2:3 Punch on the Constitution, 137, 147, 157, 169, &c., &c. Punch to the Rev. Ear! of Guildford, 219 Punch’s Birthday Ode, 1 Panch’s Conundrum, 98 Punch’s Little Bird, 61, 105 Punch’s Poems of Parliament, 4 Punch’s Popular Phrases, 86 Punch’s Prizes for the Session, 116 QvseEN in Scotland, 130 Queer Quadrilles, 26 Query, 21 Question of Conscience (A), RapgrTsxy Decorated, 1/8 Railway Don John (The), 246 Railway Invasion, 193 Railway Picnics, 39 Ramsgate, 9! Rather Showery, 230 Rather Unsatisfactory, £5 Ray of Sunshine at last (A), 214 | Remonstrance from Cuffey (A) 230 Reports of our Financial Reform Associ- | ation, 239 | Republic of Letters (The), 243 | Republican Myth (A), 130 Respectable Cruelty, 139 ** Right About” St. Stephen’s, 98 Rival to the Sea Serpent (A), 181 Rogues and Revolutions, 245 Royal Complete Letter Writer (The), 198 | Royal Etchings, 212 | Rubbish, 207 Run for Change (A), 64 Rural Grumbler, ¢5 SABBATH Lollipops. 167 Sale of the Season, 96 Sanitarianism and losanitarianism, 127 Sanitary Police (A), 207 Satisfactory Taxation, 65 Scene from Othello (A), 41 | Scenery and Costume of the Stage, 134 Schoolmaster very muchAbroad(The),187 Science at Cambridge, 201 Sea Serpent in the Thames, 210 Second Class Company, 269 Self-Government, 78 Sempstress at Home (The), 140 } Serpentine Report (Tne), 148 } Seven Ages of the Republic (The), 224 | Shakspeare Birched, 84 Short Pipes to Smoke, 200 Shroud as well as a Shirt (A), 76 Sibthorp Serious, 7 Sibthorp’s Speeches, 103 Simple Question Answered (A), 274 Singular Occurrence, 83 Sink and the Deuce, 172 Sisters of Misery, 78 Sketches in Salt and Fresh Water ,66, 91, | 133, 158 | Slandered Army Tailors (The), 67 Smith O’Brien’s War Song. 67 Snake in the Sewers (A), 260 Southend, 66 Soyer Rewarded, 106 Special’s Banquet, 2 Special Constable Testimonia), 20 Spellbound Enthusiasts, 250 St. Stephen’s Martyrdom, 22 State of France, 109 Statesman’s *‘ Last Resource,”’ 138 Subjects for the Easel, 120 Suffering Foxes, 52 Sunday Bill (The), 40 Sweep! Sweep! 273 TALKING by Telegraph, 94 Theatre Royal Newgate, 159 23 | Theatre Royal, Old Bailey, 34 There ’s a Bad Time going, Boys, 270 ** Three Cheers *’—for What? 107 | Three Christmas Waits (The), 265 | Three Groans from an Old Guy, 210 Throwing Stones Through Ice, 27 | Time’s Up, 274 | Times were never so Bad (Tne), 221 To Cuffey in Misfortune, 154 To Jenny Lind, 103 To the Editor of the Times, 54 | Traitors to the British Government, 218 Trifie from Brighton, 259 Trifle from Soyer, 252 Turf in Ireland, 249 Turf Pressure, 54 Two Louis (The), 126 UNANSWS8RABLE Correspondent (An), 15 University Intelligence, 29 Usefal but decidealy not Ornamental, 173 Vacancy in the Public Amusements, 18 | Value of Ridicule, 85 Vauxhall in Chancery, 44 Vegetables and their Victuals, 259 Vegetarian Movement (The), 182 Vegetarians (The), 140 Vernon Gallery, 138 | Vernon Gallery—Artistic Sympa‘hies, 221 | Very Bad Ambassador (A), 11 | (Very) Rum Duties (The), 52 Visit to Kew Gardens (A), 181 Voice from ‘* Brompton” (A), 175 Voices of a Nati_n (The), 57 WAnrtT Places, 9 Wanted, a Judge, 116 Wanted, a Librarian, 134 War to the (Paper) Knife, 250 We all Have our Hobbies, 276 | We are none of us Safe, 181 | We twa ha’ done a Little Bill, 1£0 | We want no Reform, 25 Weaker Sex, and the Weakest Police, 170 Weakness of Human Nature, 57 | | Wellingtcn Weddings (The), 52 West Riding Squibs, 245 | What an Idea, 182 | What Cupid Sawin the Mistletce Bough, 274 What is a Pound ? 230 What is the Matter with the Earl of Cardigan ? 229 What may be Bought for Five Pounds,143 What is the Sea Serpent? 246 | Whatever is the Matter with Leicester Square ? 220 What’s to be done with the Serpentine ? 221 2 | * Where shall we go forthe Summer?” 75 | | Whig Phenomencn, 39 | | Why not write Children’s Books for | | . Children ? 117 | ‘'indsor Park Exclusion Bill, 21 “ onderful Transformation, 11 Work first, Play afterwards, 32 “orld taken by Storm (The), 242 W orsest of the Worsers, 153 Wreck of the Royal George, 175 Write and Wrong, 145 | Y2 Lorp Mayors, his Show,202, 203 You and J, 204

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