Punch 1850: Vol 19

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Sant " Sila Was ~! Hk RS) in Wine 4 PTT TTT MAT AY LONDON: AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET. AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1850.

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TONDON : BRADBURY AND EVANS, PR'NTERS, WHITEDEFARS.

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R. PUNCH presents his profoundest sense of admiration and respect to His Royan HicHness Prince ALBERT. Mr. Puncnu, having completed another Volume—always a national event—ventures to address His Royal Highness, as the originator of the Exhibition of the World’s Industry in 1851; convinced that, as His Royal Highness is deeply interested in the successful issue of that great endeavour, His Royal Highness will learn with peculiar delight the intentions of Mr. Puncu with reference to his own proposed contributions on that eventful occasion. Mr. Puncn proposes to send, to be enshrined in the Crystal Palace, his Nineteen Volumes, superbly printed on sheep Vellum—the sheep segregated and fed on the aromatic herbage of Mount Hymettus— and illuminated with colours of gem-like lustre. The Nineteen Volumes will be bound in the skins of unicorns; with, at least, one phoenix feather in each, by way of marker. But the pageant contemplated by Mr. Puncu—the procession from his cell, 85, Fleet Street, to the Great Glass Hive in Hyde Park—will, Mr. P. humbly believes, afford to the foreign nations, awhile boarding and lodging in England, matter of most valuable instruction and most abounding amusement. Even as the Camel carries a copy of the Koran to Mecca, so will each and every of the Nineteen Volumes be borne from 85, Fleet Street, by some animal of significant species, (the animal richly caparisoned, and duly mounted and paged,) to the Palace in Hyde Park. Will your Royal Highness vouchsafe to Mr. Puncu two little minutes, that he may just hint, in general phrase, at his preparations for the great event ? Vo.tvume I. will be deposited in a superbly carved chest, to be borne upon an Elephant; the Lorp Mayor himself—as Puncn’s fellow-citizen—having offered to ride on the neck of the beast, and to take every

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| iv PREFACE. charge of the precious tome. The Elephant is selected as typical of the united strength and gentleness of Puncu—of the power that can root up the upas, or play with a rose-bud. Votvme II. wili be carried by an Ostrich. And wherefore? Is not the pen of Puncu as white as the primest plume of the bird ? Votume III. upon a Lion—descended in a direct line from the original British; and though, when roused, pouring forth a roar quite equal to the ecarlicst note of his great progenitor, nevertheless, a Lion in whom silent magnanimity is the greater quality than noise. Vo.tvme IY. will be consigned to the Hippopotamus: only a just tribute to the good-nature that redeem ugliness, and turns what would otherwise be a monster, to quite a pet. And thus, Mr. Puncn proposes to lay his Nineteen Volumes ‘on the backs of beasts and birds, too various for your Royal Highness’s patience to be particularised. Suffice it to say, there will be the graceful Stag, the grisly Bear, the massive Brahmin Bull—ditto Joun, represented by a distinguished amateur from Smithfield ; the Giraffe, the Alpaca, the Porcupine; and, saving your Royal Highness, the very cream and pith of the animal world, for the nonce made active members of the Parcels’ Delivery Company ; and guided and waited. upon by a whole army of riders and attendants,—all of them living representatives of the thousands of pictorial individuals that at the present moment people the pages of Puncu, as thickly as fire-flies burn in a tropic night. When the procession shall have reached its Crystal destination, the Nineteen Volumes—to triumphant blasts of trumpets—will be duly deposited within the shrine prepared for them. A guard of honour, composed of individuals of all nations—so that all the inhabitants of all the globe shall be represented, clustered around the marvellous work—shall take their post, to be duly relieved, pending the Exhibition. Already Mr. Puncna has a thousand letters, from writers in every nook of the world, supplicating the enjoyment of such honour. from the admiring and loyal zeal of Puncun— And thus, your Royal Highness, you may assure yourself of a new glory for the Exhibition of 1851. And that the thought of it may cast an added light, and impart a newer pleasure to your yet merrier Christmas, and your still happicr New Ycar, Is the wish of your Obedicut humble Servant, Qs Ae wich.

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HERE’S TO THE VOLUME. A T one of the recent banquets given by Punch to himself, in comme- moration of the commencement of his Nineteenth Volume, he had the honour of proposing his own health, and returning his own thanks for his own compliment. In reply, he begged leave to excuse himself from rising, as he was already on his legs, and always meant to be, but, with his own permission, he would sing himself a song, if he would permit himself. The proposition from himself having been acceded to by him- self, with a hearty inward cheer, or chuckle, Mr. Punch proceeded to chaunt, with a voice as clear as chanticleer, the following Bacchanalian :— Here’s to the Volume of jolly Nineteen, For June, yp ey hundred and fifty ; Here ’s to old Jupy, of humour the queen, And Topsy, the house-dog so thrifty. Let the wine flow, Rapid or slow, I warrant ’twill prove an excuse for bon mot. Here’s to the artist whose cuts we so prize, Here’s to the writer of fun, Sirs, Here’s to the brain that the satire supplies, Here ’s to the man with the pun, Sirs. Let the wine flow, &c. Here ’s to the Srstuorp, who lets his tongue go, As if he were playing bob cherry ; Here’s to the Hume, that very “old JOE,” At which we have laughed and made merry. et the wine flow, &c. Let them be clever, or let them be dull, I tickle them all with my feather ; So, pour me a bumper of ink out, quite full, And I’ll toast them and roast them together. Let the wine flow, Rapid or slow, I warrant ’twill prove an excuse for don mot. Who’s my Uncle?. A various and important controversy is now raging in the Chronicle —whether Louis-PuiuirPe, when he dropt upon his knee at Stowe to Louis XVIIL., was addressed as “my nephew,” and whether the said Lovis-Puruirre replied “my uncle!” Certain correspondents affirm that the Duke could not call the King his “uncle,” there being no avuncular relationship between them: others maintain that, “ particu- larly as regards Royal houses,” the term uncle is indefinitely used on the continent, as a term of affection; even, we presume, as it is some- times used in houses, not Royal, in England; when folks speak of certain objects bearing peculiar interest, they name them as being under the especial guardianship of their “ uncle.” B

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a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. DESIGNS FOR THE PAVILION OF 1851. EVERAL persons are of opinion that the prevailing character of these designs—which have been shown by that eminently Civil Institute of Engineers—is the absence of any character at all. There is the long design—of the early English Shed character, extremely plam—ugly in the highest degree. There is ditto with domes, looking like a system of gigantic rat-traps. There seem to be only two ob- jections to a dome of the size proposed in most of these designs. The first is, that it is very doubtful whether it can be erected at all, and the second, that it will be of no possible use if erected. The Com- mittee have, therefore, determined on having such a dome. Then there are the florid composite designs, which are in no style at all, being of all styles together. Soyer has of course sent a plan, which ought, properly, to be called a recipe. The illustrious man 1s bent on becoming an Architectural as well as a Gastronomic Regenerator. His design is remarkable for the prominence given to the culinary department ; and mm if the dome proposed by the Committee could be turned ide down, the illustrious chef might make it useful as a soup-kettle of all nations. Soyer clearly sees in the Exposition a glorious opportunity for exhibiting the industry of the kitchen on a gigantic scale; colossal casseroles are already simmering in his in, and monster marmites are bubbling beneath his velvet cap. There is a modest feature in Sorrr’s plan which deserves notice. He purposes to take the marble arch as a portico to his pavilion. On the top is to be raised a colossal emblematic group, “‘in honour of the proposer.” We cannot refram from exhorting our country, “Soyez Généreux au Généreux Soyer,” and turn the marble arch into a pedestal for the great man whom the ungrateful and suicidal Reform Club have allowed to depart—the man who has civilised them. “ As Avuustus,” one day observed the illustrious ALEXIs, with that humility which distinguishes true genius, “found Rome of brick, and left it of marble,—so I found the Reform Club ‘aur gigots,’ and left it ‘au béchamel. ” THE INSOLENCE OF BEADLEDOM. BEADLEDOM has been for some years growing upon us, until at last it has come to be looked upon as one of the Institutions of the country, and as such it is liable to abuse, for the guarding against which all our vigilance is required. Beadledom, once confined to the parish, has crept into our squares, insinuated itself into our arcades, and, mdeed, become so general, that to say we are literally swarming with beadles would be no extravagant figure. As an Institution, when it grows with vigour, is liable to run into prurient excess, so the increase of beadle- dom has been attended with results, in some respects, deplorable. The cocked hat has been cocked up somewhat too high, and the staff has been brandished a little too boldly in these latter days, when, indeed, we might have expected that one of Carty e’s latter-day pam- hlets would have been devoted to beadledom. Its insolence has, 1owever, received a blow at the hands of the respectable Court of Aldermen, whose wives and daughters were, in a recent instance, treated, by mistake, as if they formed part of the public in general. It is the usual practice of beadledom to cringe to authority, and play the Jack- in-office to the outer world; and as a flunky may not know all the members of a numerous family, so a beadle may now and then make a mistake, by acting the bully where he would otherwise have played the sycophant. We are rejoiced at seeing the humbled head of abashed beadledom bruised by the hand of superior authority, and though it is only civie in- solence that has felt the blow, we feel that Jack-in-office-dom all over the world has received a lesson which will not be lost upon the whole universe of underlings, who generally act upon the principle that the less authority they legitimately possess, the more will they assume to add to it. A Vehicle for Satire. THERE were, of course, hundreds of equipages of all sorts at the House of Lords on the night of the grand debate on Lorp StranLey’s motion, but it was remarked by ourselves as a very odd coincidence, | that the carriage of the CuEvaLieER BuNSEN was immediately followed by a very shabby BrovcHam, which gave the idea of a most disrepu- | table turn out. Prize Medal for the Exhibition of 1851. WE are informed that the legend selected for the Prize Medal is, “England hopes for peace with all the world.” The obverse is to be Brrranyia with a Young Lamb, vice the Old Lion. What if, for the reverse, the ‘Committee chose a head of Patmerston, sparrant, with the legend, “ Nemo me impuné lacessit.” ENCOURAGEMENT TO ENTER THE ARMY; OR A SCARE- CROW TO FRIGHTEN RECRUITS. Masor-GENERAL NaPrer writes a letter to the Jimes, Which, we consider, at our hands requires a few short rhymes ; He gives the touching story, line for line, and word for word, Of Ricuarp Oepev, lately private in the Forty-Third, Who served in the Peninsula—is now an aged man— And has just been discharged as a disabled veteran. Now what should you imagine is the worn-out hero’s pay ? A war-medal, and fivepence to subsist upon per day. When he from his parish asks what Government denies, _ ‘Nonsense! you’re a pensioner!” the Union Board replies ; Two-and-elevenpence a week have OGDEN and his wife ; That ’s all between the pair to keep together soul and life. Out of this pittance, which can’t find them half enough to eat, Rent, and (of all things) Taxes, this old soldier has to meet. Masor-GENERAL Napier asks if Coppen, Bricut, and Sturee, From ALBERt’s Show of warlike arms who the exclusion urge, Would probably object to OcpEn’s being there displayed, A sample English veteran by a grateful country paid ? Easy is the answer: Messteurs Coppen, Sturce and Bricur, Could not possibly desire a more persuasive sight, To hinder _ enlistment any spirited young man. Than Ricuarp OepEN, shown as “ The Rewarded Veteran.” LORD SACKCLOTH-AND-ASHLEYS. CWeHEREAS,—On consideration of our desire to commemorate the pious services of our dear cousin, the Member for Bath, and heretofore known as LorpD ASHLEY,— ‘ It is our pleasure, that, in consideration of our dear cousin’s successful attempt to shut up, put down, and otherwise confine and castigate Sunday, that he shall henceforth assume the title and name of— LORD SACKCLOTH-AND-ASHLEYS ; And further, that he shall be empowered to quarter a cinder-sieve with his armorial bearings,—a cinder- sieve with a Pilgrim’ s Shirt of Sackcloth proper. 3 mee re Given under our hand, at our Office, 85, Fleet Street, June 24, 1850, PUNCH.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 3

A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE NINTH. MRS. MOUSER POLITELY BEGS THE ATTENTION OF LORD ASHLEY. Well, with this—we’ll call it eight hundred pounds, for of course many people won’t think of taking change out of their five-pound-notes —with this eight hundred pounds, I propose that we shall buy a eo of ground in the very heart of London—if it has a heart, which doubt—and having bought it, that we (that is, a Society, that’s as easily hatched out of the Hall—the beadle assures me—as a dove’s egg’s hatched under Mr. CantTeE1o) that we make over the whole plot

Hearine, Mr. Puach, to my great pride—and what aunt Peacock called a syne pride, I was always proud to confess to; for pride, as| she used to say, to human creatures, is like wings to a bird, there’s no | to Lorp AsHLEY, to rear a mm Sunday upon after his own heart, entirely for the carrying out his own will and pleasure, and to the con- fusion of the stiffnecked and vain-glorious of all Sabbath-breaking getting up in the world without i —hearing, Wr. Punch, that my little | England. ; : Sunday Bill of Parliament, with which I was so bold as to trouble you) “ Mouser,” said I, wanting a name. “When we’ve bought the plot, last week, has. been taken in the most affable manner by Lorp AsHLEy, | and what the Exeter Hall beadle calls his Lordship’s Bird of Paradise | Tail, meaning, as: he says, no disrespect to Mn. De Neweats, Mr. | StuMPTREE, and such © ;—hearing, as I say, that what I must | call my little maiden effort at a Bill—for Mouser says it’s a word I’ve | still a right to.in such a matter—has set Lory Asuuzy and his friends a-thinking how to: give proper effect to every one: of my claws, I am | still more emboldened to go on, putting Sunday in decent mourning, for | the benefit of my fellow-creatures, whether they will be benefited or no. | Supposing Lorp Assxey is determined to put Sunday into a. strait- | waistcoat, what has Sunday to do, but to sit down and accommodate | itself to the clothing? His Laas best what is fittest for | Sunday in this worlif: and has, no doubt, as they say in the nenanyen, | intelligence, private and exclusive, from the next. We ought to bless | ourselves, as the beadle says, that we’ve such a pillow of camphor | among us—such spi in House of Commons, such Bank incense to keep P: ent from corruption. And therefore it is—whatever Mouser might say to the contrary— that I’ve kept awake and restless these two nights for the good of my country, and out of the highest respect to Lorp AsHLeEy in particular. I feel, as I tell Mouser, that every female ought to be with his Lord- ship in his struggle with the Sabbath. When the dear good man has ilroads and steamboats against him, we of the weaker sex—as man in his conceit (and it’s just like his impudence!) calls us—we of the tenderer sex ought never to rest until to a woman we’re with him. The proper way to begin with Sunday—as I say to Mouser—is in the kitchen! Cold meat is the first step to a pure state. The roasting jack, as I observe, is the prime mover of carnal sin: it works, thoug’ nobody sees it—but it does work for all that, with the steam-engine on railways, with steamboats, and with the penny post. Stop the Sabbath roasting-jack, and you bind Rowtanp HI over in chains to keep the peace all the Sunday. ; And, therefore—at the Fancy Sackcloth Sabbath Fair, which is about to be held, but of which I shan’t say another syllable at this moment —therefore arn’t Lorp Asntry’s blade-bones nat’rally expected to carry all before *em? For it is well known to all his Lordship’s kitchen that he always—out of example to the nobility and gentry we somehow, won’t follow him—always keeps a cold Sunday. I’d defy any living creature, with the sharpest of of eyes, let him watch the whole blessed day, to see a single whiff of smoke come out of any of his Lordship’s Sunday chimnies. With his Lordship, for these five years past, a cold shoulder of mutton is the Sunday dish—and all to his glory ! Which brings me to the blade-bones. When I was a girl, I remember reading about a Baron Trenck who married some Emperor’s sister against his will, and was seized upon in the very first step of the honey- moon and shut up in a cell, where he cut all sorts of fancy-work upon his tin mugs; which mugs fetch more than virgin gold. Well, the beadle of the Hall tells me—and though Mouser won’t believe it, I’ll be sworn for every syllable—that there ’s Exeter Hall, with portraits of Lorp Asutzy, Mz. De Newcate, Mr. Srumprrer, and others, beautifully cut on each of the cold shoulder-of-mutton blade-bones of his Lordship, which, with a running text going round ’em in a hemlock border, is expected to bring any amount of money; no really pious family being expected to feel comfortable without one. But, Mr. Punch, supposing that at the Fancy Sackeloth Sabbath Fair about to be held, as I hear, in the Thames Tunnel—being a com- fortable and serious place, quite away from flaunting giddy daylight— supposing that the Hon. Miss Versuice, who has kindly undertaken the -bone yey all his Lordship’s bones for the last five years, why how many will that be? Let’s see; for after all, as MoussEnR says, not that I quite believe him, “the basis of every moral object is arithmetic;” let’s see the number :— A shoulder of mutton once a week for a twelvemonth 52 Multiply by five years 5 ; : : sg Total blade-bones . ey ee ; ‘ . . 20 Now, taking, as Mouser says, morals at the lowest ebb, and sup- posing every cut and carved shoulder-blade fetches only three nation 4 this will give us— * Price of blade-bones at £3. . . ‘ £780

what shall we call it ?” “ ASHLEYOPOLIS,” said Mouser; and though I don’t know what it means, it sounds well, and, as the ‘beadle observed, rolls full out of the mouth, like double XX out of a. bottle. ; AsHLEYOPoLIs—built upon Sunday blade-bones—will have a moral in the very foundation that is quite reviving to think of when we remember the beginnings of some places. Why, Mr. Punch, there’s nothing in all Pilgrim’s Progress like it. And won’t it in a space of London—don’t you think we could get Smithfield ?—like a lump of = help to <eep all sweet and wholesome about it? Then his Lordship can really show us what he means to make of Sunday—and folks be edified and converted accordingly. Whilst the Fancy Sackeloth Fair is only upon the carpet, I can’t be expected to go fully into it; but as I feel my thoughts upon the matter growing like mustard-seed, you must allow me—money being the great matter—to offer another notion that’s come into my head, to show how a handsome sum might be raised upon his Lordship’s. Fancy Portrait. And—if you please—in this way. It was only yesterday that I went to the Zoological Gardens to see the doings of the ‘Arab friend, with the horrid reptiles of the establishment. It was altogether curious, and pleasant, and dreadful to see Japan take up adders and rattlesnakes and tie ’em into true lovers’ knots, and put ’em round his legs, like any Knight of the Garter. As for boas, minded ’em no more than tape-worms ! ; Well, Mr. Punch, the thoughtless and giddy world, with mouths wide open, wondered, and that was Not so with your humble servant. No, Sir; I flatter myself I looked a little deeper. Not asingle snake that, as the poet says, I didn’t pot a moral with his tail! And for the charmer himself, I saw no Jaan Azou Hawap from stony ae but in my mind’s looking-glass, Lorp Asutzy, Member for ath | Yes, Wr. Punch, there was his Lordship, and there—that Post-Office Snake, only in the shape of the worst serpent of the lot—RowLanp Hitt! There was the Charmer from Bath, making no account at: all of the speckled reptile—(and if I didn’t see thousands and thousands of Post-Office heads worked and embroidered in his skin, I never saw any thing !)—but twisting him round and round ; and at last, tying him in a double knot—(as he has done in the House of Commons) and throwing him in a corner, to untie himself if he can! That is what I said, Mr. Punch; and that is what I should like the people of all England to see. Therefore, J humbly propose to one of your artists, or any other Royal Academy man, to draw a portrait of Lorp AsHuzy, the Post-Office Snake Charmer: showing his Lordship tying up the Serpent Rowranp Hutz in a Tyburn Knot, as a Sunday Moral for all Chimney Pieces. : ; ; This, Mr. Punch, would be a beautiful thing—an affecting thing ; and upon Indy paper would go off in any number at the coming Fancy Sackcloth, to a held for the foundation of AsHLEyoro.is, (I believe I’m right in the spelling,) a settlement upon which I shall make bold mo = you with another line, the week that’s coming; and am therefore The Honeysuckles, Yours, to continue, Ametia Movser.

In Medio Tutissimus. Dunriné the late trial sittings in the New House of Commons, it was remarked that Str RoBert Pret shifted his seat repeatedly, sitting alternately on both sides of the House. , What a pity it is that no special accommodation has been provided for Sir Rosert, who, with his accustomed relish for “three courses,” 2% only “two courses” provided for in the benches of the New ouse. There ought to be a Peet Bench, which would enable the occupant to sit.on both sides. of the House at once. TURN, GENTLE BROUGHAM. Lorp Brovenam has characters, but who woul tinguished Lords ? ared in at least five hundred different ve thought of his turning out a dis- foreigner after all, as he did, the other day, in the House of Snake Charmers, JaBAn Anou Hisggzas and his |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI “MUSIC HAS “ Highbury, June 21, 1850. “My pear Mr. Punce “In my very ~ of heart, I cannot resist writing to ou a few lines. You will sympathise with me, I know. Yes! He oe left at last. He has csmnell te the country. He has gone home to his friends, and I am free. Oh, my dear Sir! how can I descri the delightful feeling of relief, the—the sensation of almost (if I may use such a term) rollicking quiet that I experience, after the tortures I have endured for this month past? You may think me mad for writing in this strain to a perfect stranger, (indeed I am perfectly acquainted with your admirable works): but no; whatever my mental disturbance may have been, I believe my mind to be in a tolerably healthy state now. I feel at peace with all mankind—I can open my window—I can sit at it. Ican go Seoneh my —— oe transact my business ; and—what bliss !—in quiet HY, Sir, He WOULD BE AT 1T FOR Hours TOGETHER. Regardless of the feelings of his neigh- bours he would go from tune to tune, (he never had the perseverance FA S| sli AY A MY wy ke |) il vapid y } pe = SS Wh “= oo | A cs Wi det h NEE Treat ss CHARMS.” (?) ————= to learn one throughout); he would make the poor instrument asp, grunt, sques ak, puff—and what not; and sometimes — evi- dently made impatient by his own ridiculous incapacity—finish off an attempted sentimental air with such a flourish of his own composing, that I positively shudder when I think of it. Well, Sir, all this I have endured ; and, I flatter myself, like a martyr: and now I am rewarded. e is gone; and with him, his very unpleasant Cornet-a-piston. Excuse me, my very dear Sir, for the liberty 1 have taken in addressing you; and believe me ever, “Your constant, and now happy Subscriber, “To Punch, Esq., §c., §¢., Se “ FREDERICK IsLINGTON.” PROTEST. “We—Rosert Keerey and Epwarp Wricut—find in the Times the subjoined ag" in reference to the motion of Lorp BroucHam to turn M. Bunsen, the Prussian Minister, out of the Peeresses’ Gallery of the House of Lords. “Our brief report of Lorp Brovenam’s speech can give but a faint idea of the scene. Imagine Wricut at the Adelphi, or KEELzry uttering a tissue of coarse drolleries, and giving effect to every point by contortions of face and figure; and still the image will fall short of the reality. The gaunt figure of the noble and learned lord, as with his strong Border “burr” he delivered his points, must be brought before the imagination.’ “ Whereas the above-drawn parallel, in which it is attempted to place us in the same point of view, as professional comedians, with Henry Lorp BrovenaM, amateur low comedy man to the House of Lords, is highly detrimental to our professional character as actors, and singularly unpleasant to our feelings as men, we protest against the repetition of any such parallel as untrue to the purpose intended, and cruelly unjust to ourselves. And for these, among other especial reasons :— “We materially differ from Lorp BroveHam, inasmuch as we consci- entiously keep to our own line of business, never interfering with the characters of others. “We only say what is set down for us; and therefore are not, like Lorp BrovexaM, answerable for all the nonsense that may come out of our mouths. “We do not waste the time of the public; but, on the contrary, improve it, to the public profit and amusement. * Moreov er, we endeavour to hold the mirror up to Nature ; and are not best satisfied, when we are cutting the most extravagant capers, and | making the ugliest faces at her. “ Finally, if we do chance occasionally to’ make zanies of ourselves, lay the fool at a moderate cost, receiving very much less than per annum pension for the extravagance. “a: Rosert Keetey, Theatre Royal, Ha arket. (Signed) {ioe yarpD WricHt, Royal Adelphi. ” 85 THE NEW ROYAL GAME OF GOOSE. THis amusement derives its title partly from the circumstance that the scene of it is one of the Royal Parks, partly from its fun consisting in making fools or geese of ‘the British Public. The present long evenings afford great facilities for the diversion under notice; which is got up by the gate-keepers of the Green-Park, for, the delight of the rabble. The game is played in the manner following : :—As many pas- sengers as may present themselves are let into the Green-Park at yde- Park Corner up to 10 o’clock. At 10 precisely the gates are closed, and the gate-keepers take their departure. The Park remains shut until 12, when a gate is opened to relieve guard, and the imprisoned Public may take the opportunity of obtaining relief at the same time. In the meanwhile they are confined like birds in_a cage, and some antiquarian in after times will perhaps discover that Birdcage Walk was so called from its affording a promenade to the ngamufins collected of an evening to enjoy the vexation and annoyance of the unlucky persons caged in the Park adjoining, and gesticulating and vociferating on the other side of the railings, or making ludicrous efforts to clamber over them amid the derision and execrations of the beholders. Mr. CampxIn, the Librarian to the Reform Club, who called attention the other day to ‘this waggery of the Woods and Forests in the Times, well remarks that ‘ written notices seven or eight feet high are not very legible at dusk.” We may add, that if the notices stating the hours of closing the Parks were ever so conspicuous, it is not every vbody that runs who could read them in the present state of pular education. The New Royal Game of Goose may be very ; but surely the Woods and Forests, and the Gatekeepers, and the’ Ranger, might devise some practical joke more harmless than that of cooping people up in the night air from 10 to 12, in this country of bronchitis and consumption. THE CITY ARTICLE, A WELL-KNowN Alderman was taken to see the Hippopotamus. He looked at it intently for a quarter of an hour, and then ‘ton out of his reverie with the following remark :—“ I wonder what sort of soup it would make! ” eee

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Puritan. ‘‘ VERILY, BROTHER ASHLEY—BETWEEN YOU AND ME, AND THE POST—WE HAVE MADE A NICE MESS OF IT.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 7 THE PROSER. ESSAYS AND DISCOURSES BY DR. SOLOMON PACIFICO. VI—ON AN AMERICAN TRAVELLER. As you sit in the great drawing-room at the Megatherium or any other club, I dare say you will remark that as each man passes the great mirror in the middle room, be he ever so handsome or homely, so well or ill-dressed, so hurried or busy, he nevertheless has time for a good survey of himself in the glass, and a deliberate examination of his | clothes and person. He is anxious to know what the glass thinks of him. e are anxious to know what all reflective persons think of us. Hence | our constant pleasure in reading books of travel by foreigners : by Hagst | Bazas and Persian Princes; by Lepru_Roxtrxs or German _phi-| losophers ; by Americans who come to England; and the like. If the| black gentleman in St. Paul’s Churchyard, who was called away from | his broom the other day, and lifted up into the Nepaulese General’s | carriage in the quality of interpreter, writes his account of London life, its crossings and sweepings, I have no doubt we shall all read it; and | as for the Americans, I think a smart publisher might bring over a traveller from the States every season, at least, so constant is our| curiosity regarding ourselves, so pleased are we to hear ourselves spoken | of, of such an unfailing interest are We to Us. Thus, after reading Lepru Rotry’s book the other day, and taking the dismal view supplied of ourselves by that cracked, and warped, and dingy old Estaminet looking-glass, I, for one, was glad to survey my rson in such a briglit and elegant New York mirror as that of Mr. ARKER WILLIs; and seized eagerly, at a Railway Station, upon a new volume by that gentleman, bearing the fascinating title of “‘ People I have Met.” _ Parker WItus is no other than that famous and clever N. P. Wixus of former days, whose reminiscences have delighted so many of us, and in whose company one is always sure to find amusement of some sort or the other. Sometimes it is amusement at the writer’s wit and smartness, his brilliant descriptions, and wondrous flow and rattle of spirits ; sometimes it is wicked amusement, and, it must be confessed, at WILLIs’s own expeuse—amusement at the immensity of N. P.’s blunders, | amusement at the prodigiousness of his self-esteem ; amusement always, with him or at him; with or at Writs the poet, WILLIs the man, WILLIs the dandy, Wixu1s the lover—now the Broadway Cricutoy, once the ruler of fashion, and heart-enslaver of Bond Street, and the Boulevard, and the Corso, and the Chiaja, and the Constantinople Bazaar. It is well for the general peace of families that the world does not produce many such men; there would be no keeping our wives and daughters in their senses were such fascinators to make frequent apparitions | amongst us; but it is comfortable that there should have been a Wixuis ; and (since the appearance of the Proser) a literary man myself, and anxious for the honour of that profession, I am proud to think that a man of our calling should have come, should have seen, should have conquered, as Wiis has done. “There is more or less of truth,” he nobly says, “in every one of the stories ” which he narrates in “ People I have Met ’’—more or less, to be sure there is—and it is on account of this more or less of truth, that I for my part Jove and applaud this hero and poet so: and recommend every man who reads Punch to lay out a shillingand read Wituis. We live in our country and don’t know it: Wituis walks into it and dominates it at once. To know a Duchess, for instance, is given to very few of us. He sees things that are not given to us tosee. We see the Duchess pass by in her carriage, and gaze with much reverence on the strawberry leaves on the panels and her Grace within: whereas the odds are that that lovely Duchess has had at one time or the other a desperate flirtation with WiL.is the Conqueror: perhaps she is think- ing of him at this very minute as her jewelled hand presses her perfumed cambric handkerchief to her fair and coronetted brow, and she languidly ~} to purchase a ruby bracelet at GunTER’s, or to sip an ice at HowELL and James’s. He must have whole mattresses stuffed with the blonde, or raven, or auburn memories of England’s fairest daughters. en the female English aristocracy reads this title of “ People I have Met,” I can fancy the whole female peerage of Wiu1is’s time in a shudder: and the melancholy Marchioness, and the abandoned Countess, and_the heart-stricken Baroness, trembling as each gets the volume, and asking | of her guilty conscience, “ Gracious goodness, is the monster going to show up me?” “The greater number of his stories,” WriuIs says, ‘ embody such ep im the personal history of the eminent men and women of | urope as the author came to the knowledge of, by conversance with the circles in which they moved”—and this is the point, rather than their own liveliness, elegance of style, and intrinsic merit, which makes them so valuable to English readers. We can’t hope for the facilities accorded to him. As at Paris, by merely exhibiting his pass- port, a foreigner will walk straight into an exhibition, which is only visible to a native on certain days in the year; so with Englis aristocratic society, to be admitted into that Elysium you had best be a stranger. Indeed, how should it be otherwise? A lady of fashion, however benevolentiy disposed, can’t ask every body to her house in Grosvenor Square or Carlton Gardens. Say there are five hundred thousand people in London (a mederate calculation) who have heard of Lavy P.’s Saturday evening — and would like to attend them : where could her Ladyship put the thousandth of them? We on the outside must be content to hear at second hand of the pleasures which the initiated enjoy. . Z With strangers it is different, and they claim and get admittance as strangers. Here, for instance, is an account of one Brown, an American, (though, under that modest mask of Browy, I can’t help fancying that I see the features of an N. P. W. himself) : Rrown arrived in London with a budget of introductions like the postman’s bag on Valentine’s Day; he “began with a most noble Duke” (the sly rogue), and, of course, was quickly “on the dinner-list of most of the patricians of May Fair.” “« As I was calling myself to account, the other day, over my breakfast,’ said Brown, filling his glass, and pushing the bottle, ‘it occurred to me that my round of engage- ments required some little variation. There’s a “ toujours perdriz,” even among lords and ladies, particularly when you belong as much to their sphere, and are as likely to become a part of it, as the fly revolving in aristocratic dust on the wheel of my lord’s carriage. I thought, perhaps, I had better see some other sort of people. “‘T had, under a presse-papier on the table, about a hundred letters of introduction— the condemned remainder, after the selection, by advice, of four or five only. I deter- mined to cut this heap like a pack of cards, and follow up the trump. “*Joun Mimpson, Esq., House of Mimpson and Purrs, Mark Lane, London: “The gods had devoted me to the acquaintance of Mr. (and probably Mrs.) Joun IMPson.” M | After a “dialogue of accost,” Brown produced his introductory | letter to Mrurson, whom he finely describes as having “that Aighly- |wushed look peculiar to London city men;” and Muwpson asked Brown to lunch and sleep at his at pstead the next day, whither the American accordingly went in a “ poshay” with “arpair of Newman’s posters.” Brown might, as he owns, have performed this journey in an omnibus for sixpence, whereas the chaise would cost four dollars at least, but the stranger preferred the more costly and obsolete contrivance. | | “ Mrs. Mmpson was in the garden. The dashing footman who gave me the informa” tion led me through a superb drawing-room, and out at a glass door upon the lawn, and left me to make my own way to the lady’s presence. “Tt was a delicious spot, and I should have been very glad to ramble about by myself tili dinner; but, ata turn in the grand walk, I came suddenly upon two “TI made my bow, and begged leave to introduce myself as ‘Mr. Brown.’ | “With a very slight inclination of the head, and no smile whatever, one of the ladies | asked me if I had walked from town, and begged her companion (without introducing me to her) to show me in to lunch. The spokester was a stout and tall woman, who had | rather an aristocratic nose, and was not handsome ; but, to give her her due, she had made | a narrow escape of it. She was dressed very showily, and evidently had great preten- | sions ; but, that she was not at all glad to see Mr. BROWN, was as apparent as was at | all necessary. As the other and younger lady who was to accompany me, however, was very pretty, though dressed very plainly, and had, withal, a look in her eye which assured me she was amused with my unwelcome apparition, I determined, as I should not otherwise have done, to stay it out, and accepted her convoy with submissive civility —very much inclined, however, to be impudent to somebody, somehow. “The lunch was on a tray in a side room, and I rang the bell and ordered a bottle of champagne. The servant looked surprised, but brought it, and meantime I was getting through the weather, and the other common-places, and the lady, saying little, was watching me very calmly. I liked her looks, however, and was sure she was not a MIMPson. “*Hand this to Miss ArnmstronG,’ said I to the footman, pouring out a glass of champagne. “* Miss BELLAMY, you mean, Sir.’ “T rose and bowed, and, with as grave a courtesy as I could command, expressed my pleasure at my first introduction to Miss BeLLamy—through THomas, the footman! Miss Betitamy burst into a laugh, and was pleased to compliment my American manners, and in ten minutes we were a very merry pair of friends, and she accepted my arm for a stroll through the grounds, carefully avoiding the frigid neighbourhood ot Mrs. Mimpson.” There ’s a rascal for you! He enters a house, is received coolly by the mistress (and if Mrs. Mrurson had to receive every BRowN in London—ye Gods! what was she to do?) walks into chicken fixings in a side room, and, not content with Mrrson’s sherry, calls for a bottle of champagne—not for a glass of champagne, but for a bottle; he catches hold of it and pours out for himself, the rogue, and for Miss Betitamy, to whom Tuomas introduces him. And this upon an in- troduction of five years’ date, from one mercantile man to another ; upon an introduction, one of a thousand which —_. Brown possesses, and on the strength of which Brown sneers at Mrpson, sneers at Mrs. M., sneers at M.’s sherry, makes a footman introduce him toa lady, and assumes a bottle of champagne! Come, Brown! youare a stranger, and on the dinner-list of most of the patricians of May Fair ; but isn’t this wn peu fort, my boy? If Mrs. Mimpson, who is described as a haughty lady, fourth cousin of a Scotch Earl, and marrying M. for his money merely, had suspicions regarding the conduct of her husband’s friends, don’t you see that this sort of behaviour on your part, my dear | Brown, was not likely to do away with Mrs. M.’s little prejudices ? I should not like a stranger to enter my house, pooh-pooh my Marsala, order my servant about, and desire an introduction to my daughter ithrough him ; and deferentially think, Brown, that you had no right to be impudent somehow to somebody, as in this instance you certainly were. The upshot of the story is, that Mrs. M. was dying to take her | daughter to Almack’s, for which place of entertainment Brown, through | one of the patronesses, Lapy X., “the best friend he has,” could get as

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| 8 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. many tickets as he wished; and that, to punish Mrs. Mrmpson for her rudeness, and reward Miss Berxztamy for ier kindness, Brown got tickets for Miss} CONVERSATIONS OF THE SUNDAY-BOUND Betiamy and fer Mamma, but would get never a ticket for Miss Mimpson and LETTERS hers—a wonderful story, truly, and with a wonderful moral. : We have received a communication, signed St. Martin- situation, we think a reporter will not be over-paid upon being presented with five | LE-GRAND, of so wonderful a nature that, if it had come f 7 |from anybody but a saint, and from any saint but Sr. THE HOUSE OF LORDS’ ORDERLY. | Mantrn-LE-GranD, we should never have believed it. Sr. Martin avers that the letters detained in a provincial It has long been known that a| Letter Box, have been, in the interval between Saturday certain noble and learned | and Monday, owing to the stoppage of postal communica- lord is able to turn his}tion in the meanwhile through puritanical legislation, so hand to any thing; but | impatient of the delay, that they could not contain them- few, perhaps, were aware | selves, and have been actually heard to compare notes. He that the grasp of that/gives the following as a few out of many of their con- marvellous organ is s0|versations :— comprehensive as to in-| To letter A—which excites attention by heaving a deep clude the truncheon of| sigh, as if from the heart of the writer—says letter B the policeman or the| What are you about? You seem very sentimental; and beadle’s staff. By order-| you are sealed with a heart skewered on anarrow.” “Ah!” ing CHEVALIER BUNSEN, | replies A, “I am addressed by a poor mad young fellow, however, out of the|head-over-ears in love, to the object of his affections, who Peeresses’ Gallery in the | has unaccountably neglected to answer his last six billets. House of Lords the other! He writes to say that he will destroy himself unless he \ Ve night, > aoe has | hears from her by return of Post. What is your news?” 2") Nenad come out in a fresh cha-| “Mine?” answers B, “why, rather urgent, { should say ; ey }, Tacter, which no doubt briefly this:—‘ Your father has had a fresh attack—put yy) - F alll: i will commend him to! yourself into a postchaise and come up instantly, if you f ; some highly select vestry | want to see himalive.” ‘Anything particular?” asks \\ in want of an illuminated | letter C of letter D. “No,” answers D. “1’m only from sarochial officer, or to MR. | a wife who writes to tell her husband that an execution , ComMMIssSIONER MAyYNE,| has been put into their house in his absence, and that he ; ‘ if the situation of A. 1/ must return home directly, and not wait till the next day, \\ should unfortunately be- | or their goods will be all sold off at a loss, and she and her ff t ~—> Wy!) come a vacancy in his) children turned into the street.” “ My tidings,” remarks XS \\ corps. Some say that|(, “are of some little importance.” “So I should judge,” : the noble and earned | observes E, “from your black seal.” “They are these,” lord in question has ap-/says C:—‘Dear Tom. Your poor uncle has died suddenly proved himself the prsiioane of the Supreme Court of Justice. All agree| He named you as his heir. Come up instantly, or that old 1 lt that he has signalised himself in such a way as to deserve promotion for it; but} woman will make away with everything in the house.’” — differ as to whether he should be created Lorp Hicu ConstaBxe, or| “And I,” says E, “am to a surgeon of Bartholomew’s, now elevated to an Earldom under the title of BuMBLE and Varx. in the country, begging him to come up instantly, as the danger is imminent, and a patient’s only chance is an operation.” Saint Martin-Le-Granp says, that such news as that A NATIONAL RELIEF, above instanced won’t keep, and ought not to be kept even on Sunday; and we would take the word of Sr. Ir seems very probable that England will be effectually relieved in a short time | Manin against that of Sr. Asuuey, or St. PLuMPTRe. from the heavy burden she has been labouring under for some years, of reading the Parliamentary debates. The House of Lords is reduced to such a state of deafness, that it is quite impossible to hear a single word, and the new House of Commons is, it seems, equally hard of hearing. Under these happy circumstances —as the complaints, instead of improving, only grow worse—we may hope to see the joyful day when there will be no more Debates in the land, from the simple fact of its being no longer possible to report them. But in our joyfulness we should not forget the claims of a very intelligent class of the community, who will be suddenly thrown out of employment by this improved prospect of things. Their trials have been as severe as their patience in enduring them has been sublime. We know of no body of men who, in their painful course of business, suffer more and complain less. We allude to the reporters, the laborious gentlemen whose hard vocation it is to weave into long ropes of sentences the flimsy yarns which Honourable Lords and Members spin every night. But if those gentlemen cannot hear a word of these interminable yarns, it is very clear that there must rapidly be an end to their weaving; for newspaper proprietors, with all their liberality, will soon tire of paying a large corps of contributors in proportion to their talents, when those talents are only exercised in the difficult art of doing nothing. They might as well be sent to report a Quakers’ meeting as sit for hours in the gallery of either House, in the hopes of hearing a word of the causes that are facetiously “set down for hearing.” hn the joyfulness of our own escape we must not forget the price which others will have to pay for it, and we only trust that, THE PURITAN PENNY POSTAGE STAMP. in the event of the Debates being shortly occupied, according to our best hopes by a congenial blank, every reporter will receive such compensation from Government, as will not only make his old age comfortable, but allow him to look back with some degree of complacency upon the sufferings of his past youth. If a| mere solicitor of the lately-deceased Palace Court receives £2000 for the loss of his | Our Own Report of the Drawing-Room. At the Drawing-Room held by the QuEEN on Thursday, ! / : . last week, the following persons of distinction had the times that amount. Martyrs must be paid for, and we do not consider £10,000 by | honour of being presented to HER Magesty :— any means too much for a person who has been condemned for years to listen to} “VWygcouxt PALMERSTON, on having had his policy cen the speeches of Parliament every night during the lingering session. We are sure the oy tay Sel ae Fp ‘ os a , : = ae oe _ sured by the House of Lords, by Lorp ABERDEEN. country will not object to pay this large sum, if it is only relieved from the Debates.|~ Torn BrovcHam AND V ‘vx, on having turned Cue- VALIER BunsEN out of the Peeresses’ Gallery, by Lorp JoHN MANNERS. Dramatic MoveMent.—From Drury Lane to Her Majesty’s Theatre, the Statue} Mr. Punch, on having commenced his Nineteenth of SHAKSPEARE in a new coat of Plaster of Paris. Volume, by Mz. Piumptre.

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day, the cen 'HE- ORD nth rUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL OT) 2 S Oh DAN ey Poa dS PRIA ys , a e’ Y S| ly (} IN eS Excited Gentleman. “THeEy ’RE OFF !—THEY ’RE OFF!” Quiet Lady. “Ane THEY, Deak, Wown’r You HAVE SOME \ A QUESTION PUT TO LORD FREDERICK FITZCLARENCE. My Lo RD, You have lately done a very handsome ELSON. A = pa course an ill-natured fellow who lived in a vinegar-cask—has said, “to pay honours to the dead, is ‘the surest way of making bubbles of ‘the living.” I acquit your Lordship of any such sneaking motive: no, your trim statues are a pure offering of an heroic heart, paid down to heroism. It is right that Netson should be so honoured ; but having so lately set up Newson in stone, may I beg to ask you when—to the best of your knowledge—it is the intention of the two services to set up Netson’s daughter in alittle gold ? Accept the assurance of my consideration, PUNCH. thing, as the Governor of Portsmouth; in fact, \ two handsome things; for you have at once : patronised art one to naval and A S| Sie military glory. On the Ys Bra pps and braying of S, you €x- Bil \ hj ibited to the delighted folks Portsmouth \ 4 two statues—done, it is said, out of your own | rivate pocket—one of WELLINGTON and one of i | i K| Wi i A Srrone Surr m1 Diamonps.—The Dress Pir?” of the Nepaulese Ambassadors. FROM AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW PLACE. “Dear Mr. Ponca, “As the Echo of the House of Commons, I don’t know to whom I can better address myself than to you, who are the Echo of Public Opinion. “T have been shamefully abused of late. I am accused of not do g my duty of fetching carrying the utterances of the collecii\. wisdom of the country. I am charged with dropping all manner of words in their passage from ‘the floor’ to ‘ the gallery,’ with making the with losing the points of CotoneL SrsTuorr’s jokes, and shamefully mutilating Mz. Hvse’s grammar. — : “Sir, it is sometimes very lucky to have an Echo to fall back upon. But I appeal to the past. Do I deserve this? I, the old and tried servant of the Commons, who have had the honour of acting as repctiteur for every House since the time of Simon DE Montrort; who saw through all the hard work of the Long Parliament ; who assisted at the last dying speech of the Rump, and carried CroMwELL’s message, Take away that bauble!’ to the scared ears of Mr. SPEAKER; = saw James out and Wiu1am in; who reported the Debates all through the reign of Gzorce THE TuirD; and have had the honour of bemg word-bearer to a SELDEN, a MarveLt, a Pitt, a Fox, a Burke, and a Gratran—ZJ to be accused, in my old age, of failing to do my duty ; of allowing Honourable Gentlemen to be ‘ inaudible in the gallery ! “No, Sir—I throw back the accusation with scorn. I am as service- able, and hard-working, and able-bodied an Echo as ever I was. I have not lost that power of discrimination which I have acquired through nearly five centuries of wearisome experience. I still know nonsense when I hear it. I have heard enough, and not now, any more than ever, do I repeat more than is absolutely necessary. If the country only knew what I do not carry, they would feel proper gratitude towards a public servant who has saved them from more false grammar, bad jokes, verbiage, rhodomontade, and Billingsgate, than any gentleman of the press who ever ‘took a turn’ in the gallery. “T repeat it, Sir; the fault is not with me. In the Painted Chamber at Westminster I did my duty in the days of the Plantagenets. In St. Stephen’s Chapel I was generally acknowledged to be irreproachable, down to the recent calamitous fire that burned out me and my employers. Tn the late a amy | House I made myself at home, and satisfied Honourable Members ; but I confess that Mr. Barry has been too much for me. one word, Sir, it is all that new House! What with panelling, and crocketting, and finnikin, and finial, and arched recesses, and tracery, and slish and slash, and snip and snap, and filagree-work of ali kinds, I cannot keep my sounds in decent order. I defy any | Echo going to carry a message safely from any part of that room to | CHANCELLOR oF THE ExcHEQUER commit fearful blunders in arithmetic, | Ch ! ‘any other. They wid be off, playing hide-and-seek among the fret-work and frippery, lurking in the s of the st ’ gallery, bolting, on the sly, in among the ladies who sit behind the up there, like so many doves ina cage. It was only the other day I found the darlings all in a titter at a bon-mot of Mr. Starrorp’s which had got up there, the sly thing, undetected by me or the House, and was having it all its own way among the ladies. “T don’t know how many withering sarcasms of Mr. RorBuck may be at this moment taking it out in the sunk panels of the ceiling, or how many of Sir Cuartes Woop’s Stamp Bill calculations may be | groping through the dark in the unexplored recesses behind the Speaker’s | air. “Tn short, Sir, I will not be answerable for any message that may be entrusted to me in the new House. If any other o can be found to do the business, let them engage that Echo. There is one at Exeter Hall, who has had a good deal of experience in the Evangelical and BoaneERrGEs line of business; and perhaps now that Lorp AsHLEY’s Resolution is carried, he may have no conscientious objections to work for the House of Commons. They talk about the Echos employed at the theatres. I should like to see the Covent Garden Echo in our new House. You might just as well set Mario in Stk Grorce Grey’s place, and tell him to make a speech on the Interment Bill. “No, Sir; depend on it; Z am all right enough, if Mr. Barry will only give me fair play. “T don’t know whether that gentleman is a friend of Mr. THomas Cartye’s. But if the architect had considered how he might best bring about the consummation so much desired by the ingenious author of the Latter-Day Pamphlets, of reducing Parliament from a speaki to a silent body, he comiert have hit upon a cleverer or more effectu: | way of doing it than by building such a House of Commons. They don’t hold their tongues in it, it is true. But what they say can’t be heard, which comes practically to much the same thing. ting that this will meet the ear of the Public, “T remain, Mr. Punch, your obedient Servant, “Tye Ecuo or THE House or Commons.” CROWS SHOULDN’T PICK OUT CROW’S EYES. THERE is something inconsistent in the opposition of the Under- takers to the Intramural Interments Bill. The worst thing they say of it is, that it is “a black job,” though it is precisely by “ black jobs ” that they have hitherto secured their own livelihoods. Wantep, ror THE New House or Commons.—A discriminating Echo, to drown nonsense only.

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10 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIV ART.

ALBERT! SPARE THOSE TREES. WD SS

Asert! Spare those trees, Where Fashion rides and drives Mind where you fix your show; House not industrial Art, For mercy’s sake, don’t, please, But ’mid the busy hives Go spoiling Rotten Row. Right in the City’s heart. That Ride, that famous Ride, And is it thy request We must not have destroyed, The place that I’d point out ? For, ne’er to be supplied, Then I should say the best Its loss will leave a void. Were Smithfield, without doubt. Oh! certainly there might There, by all votes approved, Be for your purpose found The wide world’s wares display, A more congenial site l The Market first removed Than Hyde Park’s hallowed ground. For ever and a day.

PATHETIC APPEAL OF 42-POUNDERS. “Mr. Punca, “Tow BINNACLE writes this for us, the long guns of the Victory, Portsmouth, and we do hope that your honour will so put our case afore the Lords of the Admiralty, that they ’ll take pity on us, as 42-pounders that have feelings, and what is more, characters to consider in Her Masesty’s— Heaven bless her !—naval service. “ Mr. Punch—We’re not the sort of fellows to brag, whatsumever noise we may have made in the world; notwithstanding and for all that, it does seem a little hard to us! that we, who blazed away at Trafalgar, should be called upon to salute the Ducness or Kr NT, a quiet old lady, every time she} ; goes to take tea, or dinner, as it may happen, with her Royal daughter and Royal grandbabies, crossing from Portsmouth to Osborne. I’m sure, when we ’re thundering away, we must do her more harm than good; and when we think—for, after such a long peace, even guns are beginning to think—that we ’re lowing away some of the taxes in blank cartridge, and all for nothing but to bother and stun a gentle- woman that can’t do her any real honour sumever, we put it to you, Jr. Punch, to put it to Her Gracious MaJEsTY THE Queen—Heaven bless her again! say all of us—to order the gumner’s mates to leave us in peace and quietness, saving the ears of the Ducness or Kent, and the gunpowder of the people. * Yours (Tom —<% for Portsmouth.” “Tue Guns or H. M. S. Victory.’

GENTLE LOPEZ, TELL ME WHY? Way was the Cuban Exrepition not put an end to by the retreat of the American buccaneers ? Because they went away with much more Exprepition than they came! | ARTICLES INTENDED FOR THE |list of the following articles which he |intends to exhibit as specimens of his ‘industry during the year 1851 :—

EXHIBITION OF INDUSTRY. Our Fast Maw has sent to the Com- missioners of the Grand Exhibition the 11 Knockers, of the admired Lion’s Head pattern, taken from the doors of the Nobility 2 Gross of “ Fun of the Fairs,” or scratchers. 1 Portrait of Prixce ALBERT and VicToRIA (2ft. by 6in.) in gilt gingerbread—reck- oned very good—early impression. 23 Pincushions and Wooden Pears, won at Greenwich. Handle of a Pump, and Iron Ladle, com- plete—very rare. 25 I O U’s given at cards, with autographs of several distinguished young menabout town. 366 Genuine Letters from a rich assortment of tradesmen, all having “a little bill to take up next week.” Painting in Oil, with inscription “ Milk sold here.” 1 Free Admission to JuLiren’s Concert for 1850, with Jutuien’s sign manual (written with the twol’s) in the corner, and a private memorandum “ Not Trans- ferable.” Richly-coloured clay pipe, not more than two inches long, intended to be worn in the waistcoat pocket, with bowl perfectly black—quite unique. 8 Tickets in various sweepstakes; which, if the respective horses had won,would have given the lucky holder prizes to the amount of £15,000. 25 Bad sixpences taken from ’bus conductors on wet nights.’ 14 Hats of different sizes taken away in mis take from evening parties. (Names of makers inside). 14 Coats to match. 2 Shares in the Frankfort Lottery, with prizes, payable at Frankfort, of 2s. 2d. each. Pewter pots, highly embossed, found late at night on area railings, and never reclaimed. Garden Roller(once the property ofa fashion- able Square). 1 Mortgage-deed of a valuable stop-watch duplicate movement). 2 Checks tothe Haymarket, Adelphi, Lyceum, and Strand Theatres—all admissible at half price. 4 Refreshment Vouchers for Cremorne Gar- dens, entitling the fortunate possessor to refreshments not exceeding the value of sixpence each ticket. Return ticket from Rosherville, dated July 1850—the memorable night of Baron NaTHAn’s benefit. ' — _— _ ~ on i) SINCERITY IN BLACK. Now that the metropolitan Inter- ments Bill has passed the House of Commons, a stigma will have been re- moved from the character of under- takers. These gentlemen will no longer be chargeable with hypocrisy in wear- ing mourning. 0, SI SIC OMNES.” Tuere has lately been started on the Thames a new steam-boat with the old title of the Hmmet. It certainly is the very worst name for a sea-going craft, since no one will go on board the Emmet without thinking of an Emet-ic. ANIMAL MAGNETISM. Tue great attraction of the Hippo-

potamus.

"Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at ‘neir Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Wh:tefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street in the Parish of St. Bride’s in the City of London.—Satuspar Jun 20th, 1850.

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THE RY. ‘Com- on the ich he of his s Head of the atchers. ICTORIA i—reck- a. won at le, com- ographs enabout ortment e bill to “ Milk Concert manual corner, t Trans- ore than worn in verfectly which, if uld have } to the nductors yr in mis vames of Ta" 2a. und late d never fashion- yp-watch Lyceum, ssible at me Gar- sessor to value of ted July ' BARON Inter- use of een re- under- longer 1 wear- ted on t with rtainly 4-2oing boar of an PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 11 | means second to a fiery furnace. | in their proper light, wouldn’t they—says the Be A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE TENTH. MRS. MOUSER PROPOSES AN EXHIBITION OF LORD ASHLEY’S MODEL SUNDAY. Tue finger of fortune is in it, Mr. Punch, and points out Smithfield as the very place for the model Asnteyorots. I’d hardly put my last “Bir” in the post when I saw the Parliament Report that recommends the repeal of Smithfield as a market-place for cattle; which leaves it beautifully open for our moral experiment on a grand scale; for the large and wholesome exhibition of Sunday, according to Lorp AsHLEY ; which bri me to a notion that, at once, as with a pair of tweezers, I feel it my duty to nip in the bud. Which is this. There’s that Mrs. HornBLOWER—if she could only hear what people said of her, I think she’d look a little more after her family concerns : mending public morals is very well, when there isn’t a single hole ina stocking at home—well, there’s that Mrs. H., I hear, has writ a letter —and like her impudence !—to Prince ALBERT, to ask for a few acres in the new Exhibition, which they’re weeding Hyde Park for at this minute of all the British oaks—to show a Model British Sunday, as a specimen of Parliament Manufacture, for the improvement and con- version of all the foreigners that’s coming. A Model Sunday, as she says, that will put all Paris to the blush, and not leave Brussels or Vienna asingle leg to dance upon! Now, Mr. Punch, if this was granted —not that it will be, the dear Prince has too much sense for that—a grand idea would be cut up into a little kickshaw—just as though a mag- nificent venison pasty for Guildhall should be frittered away into nothing better than | pies. No, Mr. | ; Smithfield is to be hired, and it will be a beautiful satisfaction to the calves and sheep that have suffered there, to have their market turned into a place, where the wickedness of human nature may be rebuked—as the Beadle of the Hall says—by the hockey- stick of Mr. Stumprree. It will be sweet and refreshing, where bullocks have been baited, to put an iron-ring in the noses of worldly pride ; charming, where little lambs have bleated for the water-brooks and didn’t find ’em, to mortify the flesh of Sunday sinners, thirsting for country air, and—it may be—a steam-boat on the Thames. I should be ashamed of my fellow-creatures if I could doubt that the money taken at the coming Sackcloth Sabbath Fair would not be enough, and more, to hire Smithfield for once a week—for the Exhibition of the Model Sunday would, of course, only be wanted every seventh day while the Park Show lasts—and then as for the building, all we want would be a monster tent, painted black with a sort of doom—an allegory the e says it should be—fire red, to hover above the top of it. Why, I quite burn and glow with the thought. As the Beadle says, my spirit ’s like an axle tree+(not that I know where the tree grows)—that kindles as it turns, with the idea! Again, as money—say twopence, for it wouldn’t be right to go higher than St. Paul’s—as money would be we) at the doors of the Tent, the Exhibition would more than pay itself. There ’s no doubt of it, that five hundred families—running, we ’ll say, five apiece—could be accommodated under the Tent, to carry out Sunday in a way that should preach, as the Beadle says, thunderbolts. In order that the whole day might be properly done, the families should meet, not later than daylight, on the Sunday morning, to begin with the beginning, and not leave before twelve at night, to go through the model day. And first for the people showing themselves. Lorp AsHLEY—as they say in the papers—is expected to preside on the occasion. With him there will be more than a sprinkling of the heads of the Church; with Mr. Stumprrer, Mr. De Neweare, and all the majority that sealed up the Sunday post. Everybody is to show a pattern of py oop helping himself on the Model Day; so that the master shall be his own footman, and the mistress her own maid-of- all-work. As for the time between the hours of devotion—which, of course, is to be according to everybody’s conscience—that is to be passed ina way that will strike home to the hearts and hearth-stones of the thoughtless wicked, for whose good the exhibition is intended. It isn’t for me to give rules outright ; I can only embolden myself so far, as to drop here and there a hint. Iam aware that I approach a delicate subject—shaving. Neverthe- less, in these times, some are to speak out. I think all shaving, and so I have told Mouser, should take place on the Saturday night. Neither do I think that water ought to be set to boil on Sundays; but that people, with a proper interest in their own welfare, will only do what is right to take a serious breakfast of cold tea. A hot , ated is, of course, an abomination—the oven being by no If people would only think of things e of the Hall— wouldn’t they shudder at the very notion of a shoulder-of-mutton baked ; with the gravy hissing among the potatoes beneath? They’d | see in that scorched shoulder, and hear in that bubbling and hissing gravy, a warning and a sermon that is too dreadful to think upon. anything but the deepest black ; silver grey, perhaps, being allowed for infants and the younger branches. As for ribbons, they must be looked As for Sunday clothes, nobody under the Tent will presume to wear upon as carnal ties; and so much as a single flower in a bonnet, little ; better than flower of brimstone. : : The time under the Tent not spent in service is to be enjoyed in per- fect silence; everybody sitting and wondering at and cementing his own goodness—and, as the Beadle says, patting his own spiritual head, and thinking how, in that sweet, sad-coloured tent, he is so much better than the flaunting, forlorn people, who—having bee the fields ; and letting their thoughts, like butterflies, rove from tree to tree, and flower to flower, have in’em no more religion than the larks above their heads, that are singing they don’t know why, and are happy in their ignorance because they can’t help it The Beadle of the Hall tells me—an with the broom that is now the esquire to the Nepaulese Ambassadors been to church—go into | he had it from the black man | —that there’s an Indian God that does nothing but sit cross-legged, | thinking of nothing soever but his own sweetness and goodness—his own elevation above all other creatures. Now, that’s the state I wish to get into: that’s the state that everybody who—with proper earnest- ness—makes one for Lorp Asutry’s Model Sunday, must hope to arrive at. For why does his Lordship, Mr. SrumpTreE, Mr. De New- Gate, and so forth, take the Sunday .Post out of the hands of. the wicked ? Why, for this humble reason; they know best what is right, and therefore—with a beautiful boldness that comes of true piety, says | the Beadle—will make the Seventh a for other people. I hope, however, that when his Lor mith field Tent, he will “improve” upon the Sunday, to the profit of this wicked land, and to the further delight in particular, of his Lordship’s faithful servant, The Honeysuckles, Ametia Movser. NOT TO BE DELIVERED UNTIL MONDAY. NEW DAILY SUMMARY OF THE DEBATES. When both Houses of Parliament will be finished. Tue House of Lords met yesterday at a quarter-past four, and sat for six hours. As not a word of the Debates was audible, we are saved the trouble of reporting them. ; The House of Commons assembled early in the afternoon, and did not adjourn till long past midnight. We are sorry we are not ina aoe to say what the Debate was upon, for though we were in the gallery all the time, we did not hear a single syllable. Editor’s Remarks on the above Summary. We are spared the necessity of offering any comments upon the sub- ject of the b Legislature for so many hours last night, from the simple fact that we are perfectly at a loss to conjecture mo the subject of those Debates was. We could not ascertain, nor could any one inform us. Under these circumstances our task is very slight, for we have only to act upon the old rule which enjoins every rational creature never to talk unless he has something to talk upon. As we have oe ee to say, we congratulate ourselves upon the great prudence we display in holding our tongues. ebates that occupied the attention of our two Houses of VOL, XIX. Cc hip takes his place in the Smith- |

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_PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. THE FOOLERY OF FASHION. uR daily experience teaches us that, Nemoomnibushorissapit, and it is equally a fact that everybody is playi ing the fool at all hours. The resent practice of what is called the fashionable world is to kill time, not merely in the old established modes, but to shuffle the hours together i in such an extraordinary way, that it is quite impossible to form any notion of time’s having any existence what- ever. We find the beau monde dining when it ought to go to bed, dancing when it ought going to bed when it ought to be. getting up, and having its breakfast when it ought to be taking its dinner. There is such an inde- scribable confusion of hours, as to remind us of the or that disgraceful series of Clock, escapades in which the timepiece of the Horse Guards indulged whe n worst days of St. Clement’s it used to resort to the figure of “hands across, and back again,” or indulge in a “ grand round” of all the hours at once in the course of twenty minutes. We are in hopes that the reductio ad absurdwm that has been effected in the hours "kept by the world of fashion will soon work a cure, or lead to an essential improvement, inasmuch as it is quite impossible that the present practice of dining between 9 and 10 P. M., dancing at noon, and breakiasting 3 in the evening, can be persisted in much longer, if the Jean monde is to claim credit for sense of the ve ry commonest character. We confess ourselves also thoroughly nauseated by the names given in the fashionable papers to the entertainments of what are called the higher classes, who have introduced what they term ¢hées dansantes, or dancing teas, and other similar absurdities. If we are to have a series of dancing teas, why not a course of musical dinners, lyric hensbeee, scientific milk-and-waters, literary bread-and-cheeses, or any other ridiculous combination of ‘what the vulgarians would call “grub” and gaiety? We shall be hearing-shortly that the Viscountess WHIRLIGIG has give n an eau de vie dansante oases s CapTaIn Jounson would have said, “ Why not?” for it w ould be quite as rational as a dancing tea, and far more spirited. We have never yet been to a dancing tea, but the subject always brings to our,mind:the magnificent tableau of BARON NatHaN and his popular fandango among the eggs and breakfast- -cups THE PENNY-POST-CARRIER-PIGEON-SUNDAY-SOCIETY. A new society is about :to be organised with the above title. Its object is to deliver parcels on a Sunday between neighbouring towns. At a distance of every thirty miles there will be a fresh relay of pigeons. By this means a letter—we mean a parcel—will be convey ed from Lon- don to Manchester very much quicker than if it had been sent through the post. A pigeon will start every two hours,—thus enabling a person to send a letter and receive an answer on the same day. It is calculated that each pigeon can with the greatest safety carry twenty-four letters, the size o da which will be limited by a scale; and as some hundreds of pigeons would fly off at once, it is easily caleulated how enormous the returns will be in the course of a day, for the number of pigeons would only be restric by the number of letters. Pigeon-holes would be established at different parts of the metropolis fer the reception of letters,—only when we say letters, of course it is understood we mean parcels The only difference would be, that the letters would have to »e strung round with coloured thread, for fear the Post-Office might ery out against an interference with its monopoly, and prosecute private individuals for deriving any emolument from the execution of a duty which it refuses to carry out itself. We wish this new Carrier-Pigeon- Sunday-Society every success. A.WNice Little Volume. Amone new works lately advertised, we find— “The Great Gorham Case : a History, in five books. In gne vol. 3s..6d..¢loth.” We ean confidently recommend the perweal of this book—by way of penance for heresy on the subject it relates to, provided. the Court of (Arohes. and the Privy Council, between them, can agree .as to what 1eresy 1S. to be taking its luncheon, HYDE PARK IN JEOPARDY. We live in an age of mutation, And a warehouse as big as an Ark, To exhibit the goods of each nation, Will illustrate that truthful re mark, By the pleasant and nice alteration [ts erection will make in Hyde Park. No more the superior classes Will parade their vain elegance there ; But your blithe lads and frolicsome lasses Give the place quite a different air : *T will be crowded, in fact, by the masses, And by Greenwich instead of May Fair. No longer fine ladies shall amble, With their delicate airs, in the Ride; The soft Guardsman no longer will gambol At the frivolous horsewoman’s side, But the holiday-mob push and scramble, Sceorning all ostentation and pride. With tobacco the gale shall be loaded, Now so fragrant with bouquets and scents, And the Waterloo eracker exploded, Mid much noise like the tearing of rents ; Whilst we’re rather—not much—incommoded By our backs being rasped by the gents. The gentle and mild conve rsation, whois ned down by Society’s law, Vill give place to the rough exe lamation, Mo ‘the live ly and boisterous jaw, To the loud, jolly, bold imprecation, And the roaring and hearty guffaw. The flowers will no longer their sweetness In the Gardens of Kensington waste ; They “ll be plucked with surprising completeness, And the grounds will be somewhat defaced. Never care for their order and neatness— After all, that’s a matter of taste. The great human tide will ebb nightly, And its scum in the Park leave behind, There to harbour—nice characters, slightly, It may be, unto pillage inclined If Belgravia and Pimlico lightly Weigh this danger—w hy then, never mind. THE DEEP AND ARTFUL IN FOREIGN POLICY. Puncu hereby gives notice of a motion to have the following passage from Mr. Rorsuck’s pach in defence of Lorp Patmerston’s policy printed in letters of gold :— “ Now, Sir, I at once acknowledge that I wish the people of England would entirely withdraw from these miserable consultations and diplomatic relations with all nations. (Hear, hear.) I feel degraded when I see the name of England prostituted in such dis- cussions. (Hear, hea~.) I want no representative in the shape of an ambassador to any Foreign Court, to protect our rights—let it be the great name of England—and let it be on the Mediterranean our ships and nothing more.” _ That ’s the plan for Brirannta in dealing with foreigners, to-abandon the artful dodge, and.conduct her manceuvres only on the deep. Shakspeare a la Francaise. To some tastes SHAKSPEARE, like railway accounts, mast be cooked in order to be made pleasant. On the oecasion of some recent festivities, | M. Soyer, as we learn from the Morning Post, produced an invention in gastronomy. Our contemporary informs us that “the new oulinary innovation ” (a rather peculiar kind of innovation that must be), “was named Croustade Shakspearienne a la Hatévy Seri Croustade, friend SoyER? Oughtn’t it to have been. salmi ? Surely, if you meant to.concoct a Shakspearian dish in the style of Scnipe and Hatévy, you should have made a‘hash of it. A JOKE FROM .MR. .SPEAKER. As the tellers on the Vate of Confidenee division advanced to declare the numbers, the Speaker—with doubtless a prophetic sense of the majority of 46—said, with a benignant smile at Ministers—“ Gentle- men will be pleased to a their Lomi

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ely ns. lis- any | be ion ed on iry ly. ni are he le- PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. MR. SEESAW’S CONDUCT IN PARLIAMENT DURING THE LATE DEBATES. Tue conduct of Mx. Seesaw in the circumstances which have been of late engaging the attention of the country, and calling forth the eloquence of both Houses of Parliament, has been exceedingly puzzling to Mr. Sexsaw himself, and such as all his friends expected of him. Unbiassed by party, his motto, “ measures not men,” his firmly expressed determination being to “rally round the British Oak,’ the oe fi electors of Noodleborough, of which town the distinguished gentleman is a native, chose him lately as their representative, in place of the veteran Dapptzs, who thought that, because he had represented the borough since the Reform Bill, he might dispense with treating and the usua ceremonies which he had performed at the previous elections. Having signified his intentions to this effect, Mr. Pounce, Solicitor, and Mayor of the Town of Noodleborough, discovered with regret that Mr. DappLEs was no longer a fit person to be returned to Parliament by such a con- stituency as that of Noodleborough, and proposed the oo mg an wealthy Mr. Seesaw in opposition to the former member. Mr. Dappies was vanquished in the contest, and Mr. Seesaw has been in Parliament for the last three years. ; Five or six courses were open to Mr. S. on his commencing his parlia- mentary career: to join the ministerial party, or that of the opposition, or that of Sir Rosert Peet, or that of, the advanced liberals, or to be himself a party open to all and fettered by none. This latter line Mr. Seesaw chose, and sometimes voted one way and sometimes another, with a praiseworthy impartiality which had its merits and advantages. p ; A man who has his vote in his pocket is always an interesting character. When you see Mr. Wicssy goimg down to the House, or Str Jonn Hawsuckx, nobody cares to know how ¢hey will vote. Their opinions are the opinions of their party, and Dow Pacirico is either an injured individual who merits redress, or an old rogue who deserves to ~~ his house turned out of windows, according to the opinion of their eaders. Now Seesaw is not a thick and thin Protectionist like Hawstck, or a mere ministerial minion like WiesBy. He has lodgings in Saint James’s Street, half-way between Brooxs’s and the Conservative ; and when he first entered Parliament, he declared that one club, the Oxford and Cambridge, was quite sufficient for him, and that he must wait for a year or two, and economise after his electionecring expenses, before he could afford to pay the entrance-money to any other club. He always said, he was free to avow, that he thought the Govern- ment of the country should be wisely liberal, and cautiously, though energetically, progressive. The Corn-Laws being repealed, it was his firm opinion that the Free Trade system should have a fair trial : at the same time, if it was found that our agricultural interests (and our manufactures through them) suffered so much that some protection was absolutely necessary to maintain them; he, for one, reluctantly but firmly, would consent to a modification of the present system. An enemy to religious cant, and a friend to tolerance and freedom, Mr. Sexsaw could not but see, was proud to see, that ours was emi- nently a religious country; and admiring as he did the honesty and epee of Lorp AsHey, and the great and good party whom e represented (with some of whose extreme views he could not how- ever take upon himself to concur), and subscribing from the depths of his heart to the doctrine that the Government officials—and_ by conse- quence those in the Post-Office—should have every possible labour spared to them on the Sunday; Mr. Sersaw, though he would not vote with the noble lord, yet certainly on that subject would not vote against him—and warmly complimented Lorp Jory upon his resolution not to interfere—a compliment which must have surprised and delighted his lordship, and given him a high opinion of Mr. Szgsaw’s consci- entious patriotism. From the day of his entrance into the House of Commons, Mr. SEEsAw made a point of cultivating the acquaintance of gentlemen of all parties, and being an agreeable person of much anecdote, and ms humour, had soon a pretty large acquaintance. Good eavens! what a brilliant wit, what a tearing invective, what a consummate rhetoric, Mr. Disrkartt possesses! he would say, when the Honourable Member for Buckinghamshire spoke, whom Mr. SeEsAw invaribly cheered with frantic enthusiasm. What a spirit there is about Lorp Joun,—the same panegyrist would remark—what a high-minded English statesman, what a plucky man he is! which remark he made with special enthusiasm with regard to his Lordship’s contest on the Sunday Bill. He cheered the chivalry of CotoneL Srsruore : he would goa hundred miles to hear CoppEn, and Mr. Fox was as great an orator as his-illustrious namesake. He admired honest men of all opinions, Mr. SzEsaw generously said, but Sir Ropert and Str James he did not like so well, their opinions were zot ——-. and he did not like: vaeillating men. _As Mr. Szxzsaw had always a case of the very best cigars in the kingdom in his pocket, and offered them liberally to the young fellows of all parties in the House, he became speedily acquainted with many, cementing.the acquaintance by many handsome dinners at Greenwich, wither he invited the young Whig and: Tory gentlemen; and, after a brief space, he became on terms of friendship with some of the young men’s families, and his name might be seen as among the company at | some of the most fashionable parties in London. It is impossible to say how keen was Mr. SEEsaw’s anguish when he heard that Lorp Stantey (a man whose honesty and admirable powers /as an orator he thought could not be too highly praised,) was determined | ito push his motion against Loxp PatmersTon in the Lords. His own | opinions on the case had always been delivered in a perfectly straight- forward manner. No man could doubt the integrity of Lorp Patmerr- |ston; that our fellow subjects had been insulted, robbed, imprisoned, and denied redress in Greece ; and that because a state was mean and despicable, that was no reason why it should bully and robus. But | then what a rogue this old Pacrrico was? Ought we to send fifteen | sail of the line to get £150 for his bedstead? Might not conciliation | have been used? and were the good offices of the French (though he | must own they were making a nefarious government job of the quarrel) | to be rejected? It was altogether a lamentable affair, and the right | thing, the patriotic thing, as ‘he thought would have been—to hush it |up! Nevertheless, that we had been insulted, and grossly insulted, | | : there could be no question. | On the night of Lorp Stantey’s speech in the Lords, Mr. Seesaw |}got a place, and after bursting with laughter at the little incident of | |Lorp BrovuGHamM turning out Cuevatter Bunsen, and rushing out }and heartily condoling with his Excellency, he listened with rapt | |admiration to Lorp Stanxey’s wonderful oration. Lorp Cannixe’s / was a masterly oration; Lorp ABERDEEN’s, he thought, was needlessly bitter; and how gallantly Loxp Eppispury went in and tackled to him! The vote of the Lords, he said, was a with grave consequences, and one whic England think, and think deeply. Lorp Patmerston, to be presented to her ladyship; but his opinions about high art were known; no man was fit to paint a great picture of Academician, he thought they were paying but a poor compliment to the wife of a Minister of the Crown. During the debate in the House of Commons, SzEsaw of course was in his place. No man checred more loudly when Lorp PALMERSTON made i noble speech; no man was more delighted when Sir James GraHAM said we have had enough of xisi prius. He thought Sir one was more astonished and pleased at Mr. Cocksurn’s fierce assault upon Sir James and magnificent defence of the Government. Sm | Kopert Pert’s speech, so calm, so statesmanlike, so masterly, so ve matter, most pregnant | must make every man in | | Mr. Seesaw would gladly have subscribed to any worthy picture of so great a statesman but Mr. Soanpso, or Mz. WuHaTpYOUCcALLEM., | It was to the age wd he om and unless they would have a Royal | 1e Witu1am Mo.eswortn’s excellent speech was unanswerable ; and no | /melancholy, filled Seesaw with a sad admiration ; and, at four o'clock | | in the morning, when he was going to say afew words himself and give his own views on the question, and just as he had returned from looking over his notes, whilst Mr. Diskannr was speaking, in the cool dawn before St. Margaret’s church, what was Srxsaw’s astonishment to find that the House had divided, and that Government had a majority of 46! He rushed up to Lorp Patmerston. “ Heaven you, Sir,” he said, “This is a great day for England indeed’! ” —— =] Building Glass Castles im the Aix A nuce dome, 200 feet in dianteter—which, in poist of size, is to make the domes of St. Paul’sand St. Peter’s and tte Pantheon; look like very small dish covers—is run up, or rather; isintended to be run Exhibition. It is a question, however, whether this monster dome can be erected in the short space of time allowed for the construction of the whole building. For ourselves, we have no hesitation in asserting, that if the opening is made dependent on the completion of this great ;DanreL Lambert of a Dome, the Industrial Exhibition will most decidedly never be opened till Doom’s-Day. The Most Liberal Measure of the Session. Tr is said, in defence of the very limited accommodation in the new House of Commons, that Mr. Barry, in return for certain interferences with his plans, made the mistake on purpose, and instead of measuring the bodies of 656 members, simply took the measure of their intellect. Judged by this new standard of measurement, we are compelled to con- fess that not only is there plenty of aecemmodation in the new House, but that it is much too large for any purpose to which the present Par- liament can possibly devote it. LIBERAL PATRONAGE, We are informed that Government has, with the greatest liberality, granted Mr. Bricut the use of Leicester Square for trying, on a small scale, the experiment of Cultivation of Cotton in India. up, as the great feature of the proposed Building for the Industrial |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. PLEASURE TRIPS OF BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON. THE VISIT TO EPSOM.—PART I. BROWN LOSES FIVE POUNDS AT THIMBLE-RIG, “JUST TO TRY WHAT IT IS LIKE.” BROWN TRIES HIS HAND AT KNOCK-’EM-DOWNS.

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post oFGE j cL0seD Juwrie NoNDAY Admirable Working of Lord Ashloy’s Measure. Wife. Ant Gone out, Tom?” Husband, “Yes, Lass, I BE Just GOING OVER TO Rep Lion 10 HEAR WHAT’S A DOING. YOU SFE, SINCE THESE NEW FANGLED Post- OFFICE CHANGES, I CAN’T GET MY BIT OF A NEwspPaPER 0’ SuNDAYS ”» Now? “Dear! Dear! Dear! I wonDER WHETHER WALKER’sS BILL WAS PAID YESTERDAY.” x an “nal Swindler (log.) ‘ EVERY BODY, AND NOW I’VE A CLEAR DAY’S START OF THE BRUTAL PoLice AND MY INFAMOUS CREDITORS. Vivat Cant, no Money RETURNED.” RQ: a PA L it ‘Hurrau For THE Puritans, I say. I’vE DONE

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| PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JULLIEN SEEN IN A MOMENT OF INSPIRATION. HE two Zoological Gardens, .are, at present, full of attraction. There jis the Hippo- potamus .at the one, and JuLiiEeN at the other. Our French Orraeus, who age to | an audience of wild beasts every night, and | has taught many of them to,dance the Polka, | so enlivening are his strains, has lately come | out with a new “Inspiration.” It pro-| mises, we think, to divide the public ear with | his famous Row Polka, for it is in every | measure as noisy. It is called the “Derby | Polka,” but why Derby, we cannot make | out. It is true that JuLLIEN imitates the | action of a jockey, and uses his dd¢on as a} whip; and that many of the instruments run | SS a dreadful race together, to see which shall | come in first ; and that a bell rings to an- nounce that the fiddles have started; and that JuLLIEN drops down on his chair as an intimation that the cornet-a-piston has | won; still so many things are wanting to| complete the picture of the Derby, that the olka was deficient in that striking veri- similitude for which all JuLuren’s Polkas are loudly distinguished. ; In other respects, JuLLTEN acts up to his usual “Inspiration.” His movements, his airs, show the same great master, and his “ Poses Plastiques ” exhibit most imposingly the same great artiste. His attraction is as great as ever. anil ho proudly continues /’enfaut gdté of the “ Maids of Merry En: land,” who resort in thousands to the Surrey Gardens, to admire its eautiful ducks. . : ? He draws fully as much as the Hippopotamus, without resorting to the same artifices for catching applause. Besides, the Hippopotamus has no moments of “ Inspiration ;” excepting when he is in the water, and then he is invisible, he is as heavy as a City Councilman after dinner. He lies on the ground like an immense lump of pig- lead. No! there is no comparison between JuLtien and his great rival, and we prophesy that Junin will be flourishing his /dfon as mercurial as an English barometer, rising and falling every, minute of the day, when his monstrous rival will not occupy, with all his unwieldy frame, half a line in an eighteenpenny advertisement. ‘The Seppo may just at present have got the start, but, in the long run, JULLIEN will - sure to leave his bulky competitor far behind him, and we are prepared to take any odds that he-wins the race, even in spite of the slowness of his Derby Polka. Who'll take a 1000 to 1 on JunLien against the Hippopotamus ? = A BLINDED NATION. Homer was blind, Trrestas was blind, Mruron was blind, Hanpen was blind; but there never was any cataract, or even amaurosis, meal to the blindness of Prussia. The Zimes has already informed an in nant nation, that “ Che London PUNCH has heen prohibited by the Past-Office of Ranigshurgh.” As there is no way for Punch into Prussia by the Post-Oflice, that unfortunate country may be compared (in one solitary respect), to the immortal author of “ Paradise Lost,” having “Wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.” o- J Provisional Arrangements for the Ballet. We observe that the “ Provipent Society or Dancers” held their annual meeting on Thursday, last week, in the saloon of the Haymarket Theatre, the use of which had heen afforded to the Charity by Mr. Wesster. The formation of a Provident Society is one of the best steps that weever heard of on the part of the Terpsichorean body. The knowledge that dancers are actuated by forethought will-give us additional ure in witnessing a ballet, and we shall regard their bounding movements with the ter satisfaction from the eonsider- ation that they look before they leap. We hope that the Public wil] not be wanting in-support to this Assoejation for providing boiled mutton in old age to those who, in youth, have so often gratrfied them with capers. A Miseraste Cnaracter.—“ I tell you, Sir, he isa mean man! I really believe, Sir, that man is capable of robbing the toll-box of South- wark Bridge!” A LITTLE SPEECH FROM A LITTLE BLUE-COAT BOY. Forty boys connected with Christ’s Hospital, waited with a deputa- tion of the Masters upon Her Magzsty, previous to the last Drawing- Room. This is a visit paid, we believe, every year, when the boys exhibit their maps, and pom and drawings, and make a little speech. As this speech has never been printed, we are too happy to have it, in one respect, to give a verbatim report. The speech on this oceasion was made by a youth, whose humble garb showed too plainly the lowness,of his condition. He was dressed, it is true, in the uniform of this school, but his clothes were made of such poor material, that they betrayed ‘the struggle that had evidently been made to attire him, evenespectably. His appearance deeply en- grossed the sympathy of Her Masegsty, who listened with the most lively interest to every werd.of the followmeg address :— “May ir Presse Your Magmery,— “ We belong to.a'Sdhedl which was called by the good Bishop of Caleutta ‘the noblest institution in the world.’ We are all poor boys; there is not a rich ‘boy amongst ms.; we are, every boy of us, the children of poor persons. _ if it were mot for Christ’s Hospital we should receive no education at-all, for our parents are much too poor to educate us. We should be running-about the streets, and getting into all sorts of mischief, and perhaps turn out bad characters, and make our parents ashamed of us. But now they have no fear of that sort,—they know that we are fed and lodged.and edueated all for nothing, and they are happy to get us into so good:an institution. Many rich persons try to get their sons into Christ’s Hospital—which is a great compliment to the school—but it will not do; they only try in vain,—for it would not be fair, Your Magesty, that rich boys should receive the benefits which were intended by our good King and Founder, Epwarp VL., only for ‘ destitute orphans’ and poor boys. Our Governors are often teased out of their lives to give ‘ presentations’ to persons who keep their carriages ; but they laugh at those persons, and tell them there are Eton, and West- minster, and Harrow for those who have money,—but that Christ’s Hospital was built and endowed only for those who have no money for the education of their children. We are at present more than 1200 boys on the foundation, and I can say, without telling a fib, Your Masesty, | that there is not the son of a nobleman, or an ald councilman, or anything of that sort, amongst us. erman, or a common Weshould like Your | Masesry to come and see us and get us a holiday,and then Your Masesty could judge for yourself whether what I have been telling youis not the truth. But please Your Magesrty, I should like you to.come on a week- day—I mean not on a visiting-day ; for Your Magesty might think that the carriages you saw then waiting outside, were the carriages of our fathers and mothers, which mame be dog a great injustice to an Institution of which I ama regular ‘Blue.’ I hope Your Masesty will come, and I will promise Your Masgsry to sing ‘ God save the Queen’ all the days of my life.” The Queen patted the pretty little yellow-stockinged boy on the head, and promised him “she would be sure tocome.” ‘This promise has thrown the boys into the greatest tumult of delight, but the Governors of Christ’s Hospital are in a state of feverish consternation, lest the In- stitution should not exactly come up to the expectation of Her Masesry. | Strange to say, the key of the strong chest, in which is locked up the Charter of Christ’s Hospital, has the last few days been missing. We only hope it will be forthcoming on the occasion of the royal visit, as it may give Her Masesty a key, in more senses than one, to the real intentions of the munificent founder of this much libelled charity. American Independence. THERE never was sucha thorough specimen of natural American Independence as was exhibited at the Botanical Gardens in the Regent’s Park, by the celebrated American plants which were adver- tised to appear in full bloom, at least three weeks earlier than they eondeseended to show themselves. Everyone was asking a month ago, how it was that the American plants did not show according to promise but they obstinately remained shut up in their buds, as if when looke for to blossom, their reply had been “If I do, I’m blowed.” SOMETHING VERY SURPRISING. _ We eannot sufficiently express our surprise. There was a Protec- tionist Meeting at Salisbury lately, followed by a disturbanee. There was nothing so very surprising in that, for the one always follows the other. But Mr. Ferranp was present at the meeting, and yet his name does not appear amongst the speakers. We can only account for this extraordinary accident by supposing that the Hon. M. P. was actively engaged at the time pursuing his new vocation. Depend upon it, he « usy was ‘ wool-gathering.”

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| PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. when the lecture ceased, and I longed for it to continue, so that the pleasure might flow on uninterruptedly to the end. The finish of each act was like the interruption of a ‘bore’ that drops in for five minutes, and makes a black gap in the perusal of some exciting romance. The relief you feel at his departure, when you can resume your enjoyment, was the same I experienced when the curtain again rose, and my ears were enabled to take up once more the broken thread of the melodious narrative. The opera was a long, stirring, musical romance. As I read it, I became conscious of nothing else. I knew no more that I was in the pit of that theatre, than a school-girl who is secretly reading a novel at night knows that she is in bed. My own feelings were interested in the fates of that poor Fides, who, writhing at her son’s feet, more like a worm than a human being, lifts her drooping head, and prays with her eyes to be crushed sooner than to be called upon to deny him. But her son is in danger: a hundred poniards are pointed at his breast, and, with a heart that almost breaks audibly in your ear, she shrieks out the ‘No!’ that saves his life. “Tam afraid to go into extacies, Guss, in case you should laugh at me, but, my dear boy, I shall never forget the interest of that scene. No book ever chained me to its living pages with half the force of that terrible contest between mother and son. I am sure my own existence ceased. I was not in Covent Garden Opera, but in that same Cathedral of Munster, watching the growing intensity of the struggle, and longin to lift up the crushed form of the mother, as she lay humbled to deat upon the pavement. With the shriek of denial, that sounded as if it had been wrung by some iron instrument from her soul, the curtain fell like a portcullis, and I was astonished to find a great chandelier of gas glittermg over my head. I was a prisoner for another half-hour till the rising of the curtain set me at liberty again to pursue my delightful story. The conclusion is mournful, like the conclusion of most romances, but one passage delighted me beyond all limits. Fides and the Prophéte meet in the prison to which she has been condemned. The mother pours her burning reproaches on her son’s guilty head. He, so recently triumphant, cringes now before the just wrath of his disowned mother, and at last falls on his knees, and with self reproaches implores her forgiveness. She, so lately trodden upon, now towers above him. It is her turn now to triumph, and she is about to disown the son who so publicly disowned her, when her rage turns to pity, and she only w triumphs, in opening her arms to fold him to her breast. ————— “‘Guss, I must not make my letter too long, or else you will never read it, and I should like you to read to the end of my stupid rhapsodies, A NIGHT OF PLEASURE AND “PROPHETE.” if it was only to share the exquisite enjoyment, the almost new sensation of pleasure—for music spoke to me that night with almost a new voice a revelled in that same Thursday evening. The music of the Prophéte is the conversation of a cherished friend, who talks to enter- ] | tain you, and not for the mere sake of talking. You listen unconsciously, have taken you to every Exhibition, and made you follow me through | 2° pleased, charmed, and are only aware that it is music when the music ; ang “ | stops. Here and there a pretty expression, a poetical thought rises to every Long Acre of a Panorama, that is ‘at present dragging its slow . : : : te! Ape the Continental streets of London. ten Gan be tired, | pon ay wage of Se oanenees, but, generally speaking, the words fit so old fellow ; for pleasure grows tiresome, even when we have nothing to | aptly bad y rs ate t on are so plain -_ yet so expressive, that pay for it.’ One more visit, and then I will let you off, for really this | ¥°" would feel inclined to call it common-place if it were, not: for the weather is getting too warm for sight-seeing. general feeling of happiness it leaves upon your mind when it is all over. “Tn all my excursions through this fairy Maze of Wonders, I have The illustrations, too, of this beautiful romance are in the most endeavoured to send you the feelings with which I have enjoyed each | Complete and artistic = + as if nothing should be wanting to mar of them. I hope you have seen them in the same light, and derived as | the —— of the whole. Never has Loneman, nor Murray, with much pleasure from the view as I have done. _If so, the many shillings, | 4! their wrofuse liberality, produced a book in all its details so gorgeous the pocket-full of half-guineas I have expended in feasting my eyes, have |®, the Prophefe. The Coronation scene would not disgrace West- performed double duty; and I shall expect you on my return to the | Minster Abbey, and the dresses seem as if they had been dyed in one country, to refund me at least one-half of the handsome little fortune I A FRIENDLY HINT TO YounG LaDIES WHO WEAR THOSE DEAR DELIGHTFUL BaREGE DRESSES. ALWAYS LET THE S.ip (OR WHATEVER THE MysTEeRI0us GARMENT IS CALLED), BE AS LONG AS THE OUTER DRESS ? In a Tetter from a Young Man in Town to a Young Man in the Country. “My Dear Guss, “| THINK by this time I have dragged you all over town. | of Mactisr’s pictures, so vividly bright is their colouring. have disbursed in prosecuting our mutual expedition in search of pleasure. | _ “ Another act was added to the Prophete the evening I was present, “This is a bargain; and, on the faith of it, I do not mind taking you| Guss, and it was an act that materially heightened the enjoyment, the to the Opera. The cab is at the door, so get out your opera-glass, and | Witching surprise, of the whole entertainment, The act in question was as you read this letter, put on a white neckcloth and a pair of white | played by the audience, if playing can be applied to anything so natural, kid gloves, and fancy you are seated in the middle of the pit of the|S0 real, and so unaffected. It was when the QuEEN entered the theatre. Royal Italian Opera. ‘I send you the bill and the book, so that nothing | It was but three hours after she had been attacked by one, whose may be wanting to help the delusion; and that you may be convinced | only excuse for his action is, that he is insane, and so has ceased to at once that it is Thursday evening, June 27th, 1850. Set your watch| have the feelings of a man. Upon her entrance, up rose the whole at eight o’clock precisely, and the charm will be perfect. theatre, moved by the same strong 7, to congratulate the QUEEN ™ fou are a lucky fellow, Guss; for if you look at the bill, you will | upon the happiness of her escape. 1 never heard such shouting. It ’ 2 1 | was the very madness of affection. It was a deafening tumult of love, in which a thousand voives were trying to outvie one another in giving see what a treat there is in store for you. It is the Prophéte—an opera in four acts, which has never been performed anywhere in London, { ¢ v1 but at the Italian Opera House. Iam no musician, you know, and it|the loudest expression to their sympathy. It was a loyal competition is fortunate for you that I am not. Otherwise how I might have|0f sound, in which a thousand hearts were thrown, like so many hats dazzled you with'a grand display of musical fireworks! I would have | simultaneously into the air, every one of them struggling which coulc astonished you with such a discharge of ten thousand arpeggios, mixed |be thrown the highest. Then came God Save the Queen, and soothed with a flying shower of sostenutos, and whirling, whizzing, hissing,|the angry waters into something like a calm regularity of flow, until cracking G alt’s, &c. &c., that you should have heard nothing, seen | the surging voices rose musically together, and formed one loud swelling nothing, and understood still less. As it is, in my profound ignorance | wave of devotion and enthusiasm. The QueEN smiled, and held out of musical pyrotechny, I can only send you a poor, dry, catalogue of | her hand, with outstretched palm, as if her heart was inside it; and, to my sensations, and the effect the Opera’produced upon me. my fancy, it is the very best Ball of State she can carry before her. It “The effect was that of reading a beautiful story, or, rather, of listen-| is Ball and Sceptre melted into one ! ing to a beautiful story whilst it was being read to me by some} “My paper is exhausted, and so must be your patience, Guss; but loved voice. I seemed to read with my ears, The interest began at | I have been so pleased, that I could not keep myself within reasonable | once: I was charmed from the very first page. Events rapidly followed |bounds, Extend your usual good-nature to | events, and were told in such lovely language, that it became a pain “Yours cordially, — — — se ~— = eS A

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it the each utes, nent, ears dious t her t the L me, 0 ‘that ence edral gin, leat. if it n fell gas ] the htful nces, phete ther ently ther, s her 10 sQ only ever dies, ition roice } the nter- usly, 1usle 2s to it so that the ver. nost mar with 20S est- one ent, the > tre. hole | ove, tion | every step I’ve been all the ears seemed waggin’ their heads at me, | sheep’s kidnies than honest English, properly pertected beans. ' must be made with bigger throats to swaller ’em, that’s all I know. | your Grace’s presence as the farmer’s friend, I could knock you down | with. i | on, the sooner the sea rolls over Old England the better. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ALARMING STATE OF THE CROPS. —r o His Grace THE Duke or R**n***p —Private and Con- tidential, * My Lord Duke, —I am just come back from a ride through the crops ; and afore I pull my boots off, saving your presence, | %.-— take up my pen to say they’re dread- ful. Nothin’ but ruin and bankrupt- cy starin’ in the face of the unpertected farmer. First for wheat, — why, it’s heartbreakin’ ! The blessed CoLongn hisself would stare that’s only fit to pison piss with, and not to be thought on in the stomachs of a batt posuere ry, that I’ve heard your Grace at meetins talk so movin’ about. Howsumever, there ’s the wheat—every ear on it, bigger than ever was wheat since seven A VERY BRAZEN “TRUMPET.” Tue Morning Trumpet—may its volume never be less!—is the ac- knowledged, cherished organ of the candid souls that, for a time, have closed the Sunday Post Office; and for the immortal health and safety of Sabbath readers of newspapers, have forbidden The Examiner, Spec- tator, Sunday Times, Illustrated News, &c., &c., to be issued per post on the seventh day. There can be no doubt that these rigid overseers of Sunday have the very best intentions; so, no doubt, had certain, well- meaning, but rather violent people, who onee upon a time roasted their kind in Smithfield. There is, therefore, a sort of best intention, which it is the duty of the selected victim of well-meaning earnestness, to knock down, get rid of, in the shortest and coneisest manner possible. Where best intention will put his nose into the affairs of his neighbours, the more vigorously the said nose is wrung, the better, says Punch, Best intention has, for a time, closed the Sunday letter-box : very well; when his impertinence is sufficiently felt—and the exasperating nuisance ig fast spreading—best intention will be bound over, like a common brawler, to keep the peace. But how about the Morning Trumpet daily newspaper? For months past has the Zrumpet blown upon the Post Office to surrender. Well, there is now no “ desecration” of Sunday post. Is there to continue a desecration of the Sunday printing-olliee? Does the Morning Trumpet continue in its olden way? And if so, how has it the brass on Monday mornings to appear at the breakfast-table of Lorp Asuiey, Messrs. Piumerre, Newpxcate, and other Christian pillars of porphyry? Two questions—only two—to the Morning Trumpet. In preparation fer the Monday’s impression, are the office-doors of the Trumpet thrown open at six on Sunday evening? compositors still attend, wending their way towards Lane, as the bells ring or evening service, to work out the Sabbath for the Monday’s big ears that eat up the seven little uns, aud I only hope somethin’ o” the sort isn’t goin’ to happen now, that ’s all, to bring about starvation prices. The wheat’s in the most aggrawatin’ state I ever see it; and sarcy like, as much as to say—‘ Old unpertected feller! Look at us! We shall he down at 20s. afore September ! ’ “Then I don’t know what’s come to the fields, they ’re cleaner than ever I seed’em. As for the like of poppies that used to flourish among the corn, like standin’ armies in time o’ peace, why, whether it’s the talk o’ that chap CospEn or no, I can’t say—but there’s hardly a poppy or a weed to be seen. Wonderful! and the straw as thick as bulrushes ! What wi// become of us ? “T ve hardly the heart to go on—but only think of barley! Why, if strong beer isn’t twopence a pot afore October, blame the brewers, that’s all! Barleyecorns mustn’t no longer be a measure; for I’m blessed if every barleycorn of itself, in these parts, isn’t an inch! And then the straw,—like crow-bars! And the Sandton it’s ripe)— like any brass wire! What shall we do? “Oats. There, again! They won’t be worth the reapin’—there ’ll be such a glut o’ oats, the very barn-door fowl will turn up their noses at em. As for osses, oats will be quite drugs to’em! They'll be so cheap that—our xciseman says—all Lunnun will be overrun with cabs and “buses, drivin’ people for nothin’ and leavin’ ’em with a bottle o’ wine a-piece at their own doors. If oats climb up to $s, a quarter arter August, I’m not a injured British farmer, that’s all. Only think on it, my lord Duke! Oats at 8s, a quarter! Pretty gruel, eh, for Joun Butt! “Well, your grace, L’ll try to go on—but beans drives me mad. They ’re not beans,—but monsters—unnat’ral beans ; for size more like Beasts “ And then for clover! Why, I’ve seen a stalk of clover that, savin’ Howsomever, all I’ll say is this—if this weather’s gom’ to go Nothin’ can stand against the harvest that’s likely to foller. t, Or,— Is the office closed until Sunday midnight, and a double, treble staff of printers engaged, so that uo single type may go to form a sinful syllable sinful ut together on the th? | é How ean the Morning Trumpet blow a blighting blast against the Sunday postman, yet still employ the Sunday printer ? A HINT TO JOHN BULL. | Take care of your pockets, Jonn Butz, Jonn Butt, Take care of your pockets, Jonn Buty; An opinion prevails that if ALBERT’s Show fails, On your purse there will be a slight pull, Joun Butt, The subscription not being quite full. Encourage your Prince, Jonn Butt, Joun Burn, Encourage your Prince, Jonn Butt; His intent and design is exceedingly fine, It were pity the scheme to annul, Joun Butt, Let us hope it won’t end in a mull. But ere you cash up, Joun Burt, Joun Butt, But ere you cash up, Joun Buy; Get a pledge—don’t be foiled—that Hyde Park shan’t be spoiled, And o’errun by tramp, vagrant, and trull : Joun Butt, You magnificent jolly old gull. Ex-King Hudson at Sunderland. His late Majesty took the chair at Sunderland on the opening of “ My Lord Duke, I shall close with turnips. As if everything was to Hicuness Prrvce ALBERT is goin’ to have a doom for the show-booth | \ of 1851, a doom as big as St. Paul’s, of ironinsheets. Well, if l haven’t | seen a turnip—a bit o’ English Industry as_ it’s called—that ud do for | that doom, I’m not your Grace’s Humble Servant, “ A Ruined, Broken-Hearted, Unpertected Farmer, “Joun Gammon.” “P.S. (And between ourselves, savin’ your grace.) I hear that Jit! t SLOEBUSH is goin’ to give up Pigscheek Farm. give me the refusal on it. England is goin’ to ruin I reas@n—as a man and a unpertected farmer—l think it’s no more than my duty to stick by her. “PS. (No. 2.) I send you my pictur atop, painted they tell me by'| the Sun hisself, that’s brought about in these parts by a painter in a} w box. You will see, my Lord Duke, by that. pictur what the Alarmin’ | “ ~ : ‘ ; , | State of the Crops has brought your Servant to command.” ¢ now, but for that | the Docks. be apiece this harvest, the turnips is enormous. I hear that His Roya }returned thanks. As the late potentate slowly rose, it is said he looked | Mr. Hupson, however, returned grateful ackdowledgments. He said with overflowing heart, “ when he forgot Sutherland, might his right | hand forget its cunning!” | with which he signed railway cheques, “making things comfortable,” J — your Grace will | prodigious. le plus y MTL TOUS : His health was drunk, and—with much emotion—he very like Kuan in Sir Giles-Overreach, when he said— “Some undone widow sits upon mine arm ! My sword to th’ scabbard’s glued by orphans’ tears!” If Mr. Hupson’s right hand be the hand he amount of cwming to be forgotten by that member must be A NATIONAL PARTY. At the Final Dinner, given by the Dramatic Authors to Scrine, there vas a deal of fuss and ceremony, when Scriee_ at last exclaimed, Messieurs, pas tant de géne, ge vous en prie—il n’y a quun Francais 4 “ge

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

a. y ~ SSSMQ7 ‘ i : N ~ ~— \\} N | \i BN i! | | THE DIARY OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. LINES TO HENRY BROUGHAM ON HAVING BEEN GOOD. As many of our country readers naturally feel anxious to know how How much more pleasant ’tis to praise the Hippopotamus passes his time in a strange land, where he is so far Than-to rebuke or blame; away from home and all his relations, we have gone to the expense of pro- We’d rather say “ Well done!” than raise curing the following particulars, which are now printed for the first time. The cry. of “ Fie, for shame !” The Hippopotamus gets up generally about six. The first thing he does is to wag his tail; he then grunts, nodding his head all the while to the Arabian, which is his peculiar method of saying “ Good morning!” At seven he has a pail of porridge and maize, which he prefers to tea or coffee. After that he washes his harids—we mean his feet—in the tank For instance, now, when Henry’s good It always gives us joy— How much we wish he never would Act like a naughty boy! which is put in his room as his washhand-basin. He sleeps till ten, And Henry has been good and brave, when he turns out to receive the numerous company that is always A check to try and put waiting to.see him. He takes several rounds in the park that is attached On Mawworms who, on Sunday, have to his dwelling-house, bowing to his guests politely as he passes along. Our letter-boxes shut. After this exertion, he lies down in the hottest patch of sand he can pick Thus to behave is prettier out, and curling himself up, till he looks like an immense ball of india- Than being, even in fun, rubber, he goes fast asleep. He rarely wakes up till the latter part of Rude to a foreign Minister, the day, when his first thought is to run and tap at the door of the Or rude to any one. Giraffes, who hang out in the next room to him. This act of civility over, he takes .his bath, which sometimes lasts two or three hours. —— ” During this time very little more than his nostrils are visivle above the} w nTED.—Boarp anv Loperne forthe great building for the Exhi- water. The fact is, the ene is of a modest, retiring dis-| jition of Industry of 1851. Proposals specifying terms, either for a per- position, and likes to hide himself as much as possible from the public | manency or a limited period, to be sent in to the Commissioners, White- eye. At six o’clock he leaves his bath and retires to his bed-room, He}},.1) NB. Ireland need not apply ' never sees any one after six. A small bucket of porridge and maize, of | ~~ ~~ * PP: which he is amazingly fond, is brought to his bedside, and the Arab boy == _- feeds him with a spoon. After this he generally feels very sleepy, and lies down. - He lays his head on the Arab’s lap, and, throwing his legs PUNCH TO THE WORLD!! round his neck, is very quickly in the arms of Rossusva, ‘“ x The reader is respectfully requested to remain calm while perusing the Proper Names for Litigante, Following merely preliminary announcement of an intended EXT. RA caine : GPE ge ‘ . | NUMBER, which has been for some time in preparation, and will be Last week there came before the Judicial Committee of the Privy ; ; ; Council, an appeal from the Supreme Court of Judicature at Bombay, |Plished during the month. It is felt necessary to break by degrees the in an action to which the parties were Dotuspass PetremBerpass | particulars of this startling fact. We do not at present feel ourselves AND Orwers rv. Ramon THackoorserpass anp Orners. The re- justified in going further into detail, but we simply intimate to everybody me kably euphonious ae of these Indian gentlemen may peor oke a the necessity of restraining his curiosity and preparing his threepence, until smile; but they ought also to suggest a reflection; namely, that people |. : ‘ d : who go to law are generally quite as much asses as Dotuspass, Per-| #¢ may be deemed expedient for us to satisfy the former and receive ef

a TEMBERDASS and THACKOORSEYDASS. | latter.

Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newinzton, both in the County of Middlesex, Pripters, at their Office, in Lombard Street,in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No.8, Fleet Street iu the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of London.—Satvuapar, Juxx (th, 1850.

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D. xhi- per- te- the "RA | be the ves body imtil the PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 21 great globe itself, as somebody calls it, would be only like a plum- pudding cut in half; and I won’t say—or I could—which half is the richest and the best, with most of the fruit and spice in it. Why not all the women, too?” I repeated in a voice that, I could see it, rather astonished Mr. HornBLoweRr; “if we are to have the Lords of the Mountains of the Moon, why not the Ladies of the Moon too? If the Great CHaM’s to come, as Mouser calls him, why not the Great Cuamess? Are we always to be left at home at gala times ; thrown | into a corner like every-day clothes, as if we weren’t good and handsome | enough to be worn on holidays?” Well, Mr. Punch, this question—which Mr. HornBLoweEr couldn’t answer, and therefore, in a mean way, he shifted his ground, as I after- wards heard, to some tavern ; taking, of course, Mouser with him—this question remaining, I may say, in my mind, went to bed with me; and the consequence was, one of the sweetest dreams that ever came to anybody in the world upon goose-feathers. All the sweeter and prettier too, because it can be carried out, when the world’s wide-awake ; there being nothing in it that isn’t as plain as pancakes. Which is this: I dreamt that the Exhibition, which wasn’t in Hyde Park after all, though, being awake, I can’t be sworn where—was, as it ought to be, a palace of very crystal, the sky looking through every bit of the roof upon all nations under it. And the nations, Mr. Punch, were in my dream, |as they should be, not represented by halves, but men and wives com- plete. Here and there it was like a tulip-bed with beautiful creatures of all colours, from the lily-white Circassian—(though, after all, none of ’em came up to the Red and White Roses of England, as I’m bold to call myself and country-women,)—to the tawny Cherokee. And there they were, some of ’em with their children little and big, sprinkled about—among the goods of All Nations—the Chinese lady on her chest of gunpowder—the Turkish with prize rhubarb—the woman from the Sandwiches with grass baskets—the Russian lady with black fur boas—the maidens of Cachemire with such loves of shawls, like “THERE, BABY DEAR, LOOK AT THE PRETTY SoLpieRs!” being wrapped in Paradise—the Persian Sultaness with otto of roses —and a ~ American lady from California with necklaces of gold-dust and virgin ear-rings to match. It may be said, this is all very well ina dream. But why, I ask—as A BIT OF MY MIND. I asked of Mouser when I woke—why shouldn’t it be carried out in csapaiegnnabareneoras ae gh me Why, on Se ee tay comes to — ark himself—supposing it to be Hyde Park—why should his poor wife BIT THE ELEVENTH. with crushed foot and broken spirit, be left at Pekin at home? I MRS, MOUSER SUGGESTS A DOMESTIC IMPROVEMENT AS REGARDS THE|We’re to have Russian merchants with their beards, why not their EXHIBITION oF 1851. wives with their boas? If we’ve a Cachemire man in a turban, why Mr. Puncu,—At this minute I write in deepest darkness. Whether Hyde Park, as Mr. Mouser says, is to be roofed in as a brick tenement, or whether the world’s to meet in Battersea Fields, is at the moment I and wherefore not a Cachemire maid ina shawl? Without the other and superior sex, as I insist on calling them, it will be an Exhibition of all the World by halves, and the worst halves too, as I needn’t insist upon. ra, at Besides, if the Exhibition’s to be only carried out with men, what it pretends to go for will go for nothing. “The Show,” says Mouse ‘will tighten the bonds of peace; will draw people across seas an mountains close to one another.” I don’t believe a bit of it, if the women of all nations are to be kept at home. Let ’em all come with their fathers, husbands, and sweethearts—let us have a great Petticoat Meeting of all the World, when the Exhibition ’s done—and then, if we hold my quill in the bosoms of the Fates. Destiny, no doubt, has already taken her measures; and all we have to do is to sit quiet, like Patience on her monument, and wait for ’em. Though, if I may be allowed, as a fragment of the female public, to give my mind upon the matter, I would | certainly object to what Mrs. HornBLowenr calls the desecration of | Hyde Park by bricks and mortar, and with ’em no end of chimneys. ; phe } ye yay: dagen ge ag ae hae age anon - — don’t bind the world over to keep the peace ; if we do not send gun- cleanin cin tek T'esenth is an, t's ah coer wah tee der out of fashion; and pluck all the armies of the earth of their Ke, a . S all very well to talk | feathers like geese at Michaelmas—don’t let us ever open ow mouths about Aphrodite coals; but there can be no Aphrodite without fire,— | again, that’s all; and I can’t say more am Fa fire without smoke. But this is not the grist of my present ' pone women are mes mene pa ex nog inoue earthly fing fn, in 5° — : Bye this—they are snubbed with admiring soldiers. To love the fine What I burn to make public is this. Whenever the Exhibition may iclothes—the gold lace—the fluttering feathers—the flags of silk and C ened—and whatever it may have to show, from a piece of the walls ' *broidery that flap so proud in the wind: they are said to dote upon b ina, to we _ from the North Pole—the whole business will | the colour of red ; ne quite the reverse of turkeys, to run after it with e a mocking-bird, an illusion and a snare, if conducted wholly and pleasure and happiness. Mr. Punch, this is only one of the hundreds solely by the monopatists, » T am bold to call ’em, of the creation,— | of unmanly vulgar errors that the other sex invent against us. Give us need I observe, ogee ga Unless the mind of woman sets her mark | ou meeting of the Ladies of All Nations at the Exhibition that’s upon the show, it will be nothing more than a big, selfish bachelors’) coming; and, if we don’t make all the world embrace in peace and arty of all the world; or, what ’s the same thing, a Club House of the | quietness, never again put faith Lor a ¢ the Creation - they give the — = ey ye with ci ills : the ies stopping at home. roposal, throbbing at the heart of . your humble ps carried out me the fullest extent, would make a sie Honsgyoction. very different thing of it. P. 8S. The Nepaulese Ambassador reads Punch. It is translated for r. HornBLowER—(I dislike the man, for I never know—or rather | him, Mouser tells me, with his morning’s curry, by the young man who, I do know, too well—when Mouser goes out with him, when he’ll come | for the last two or three years, swept the Cheayaide crossing. Will you, back)—Mr. Hornstower, the other night dropping in, and as usual | then, beg of his Excellency, the N. A., not to go about as he does from all over tobacco smoke, remarked that the whole world would be packing | party to party with those aggravating emeralds—those heart-breaking up its carpet bag by next April, directed “ London:” men from the| diamonds? Even Duchesses—as I say to Mouser, who, upon my Mountains of the Moon, Timbuctoo, and the Beginning of the Nile. | word, I don’t think quite believes me—Duchesses are but mortal flesh “ There ’ll be a pattern-book of colours ”—(Mr. H. is a tailor in a great | and blood; and it isn’t in either one or t’other to see that shower of way, and inventor of the Butterfly Paletét, though he might, as T say, diamonds on one cap—and that cap a man’s; for, after all, except for leave his shop at home when he comes into other people’s drawing-|a ring, or perhaps a shirt stud, men have no business with diamonds rooms ; especially, who are xof tailors)—“ a pattern-book of colours of | which, in my opinion, were created for women only—it isn’t in mortal all the men in the world.” “And why not,” said I, “of the women | flesh to see those precious jewels, and always to know what to do with too? How, in an Exhibition of all the world, can the women be left | one’s fingers. It was only last week that at the —— féte, I was crowded out? Why, without ’em,”—said I, for I felt my blood rising; and | very close to Juccur Jum, and upon my word—for we ’re wonderfully if I hadn’t felt it, I could have seen it in Mouser’s looks, who, when | made—looking at his diamonds, with the tips of my fingers tingling, I’ve my heart at my lips, too often likes to frown it back again— I did feel myself, whether I would or not, almost getting—as MovsEeR “without ’em,” said I, not seeming to see Mouser, “ without ’em, the | says—very near the Old Bailey. In yours, most faithfully, Ametia Mouser. VOL, XIX. D

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PUNCH, OR TO H.R A. PRINCE ALBERT, This simple Design for the proposed Building in Hyde Park is humbly THE THE TERRORS OF THE THAMES. Ir is alarming to contemplate how many inhabitants of London are | annually drinking themselves to death by imbibing the water of the Thames. We have given to a certain spirit the name of agua vite, and in distinction we should bestow on the river the title of agua mortis, for not even aqua fortis is of a more destructive nature than the stuff which flows through our cisterns into our urns, which might properly be termed funereal urns, from their devotion to deadly purposes. There are many more who find a watery grave than those who come to their end by drowning. We have heard that water will always find its level, but if the Thames water found its proper level it would be banished | from all decent society. Let any one who delights in Rambles by Rivers, take a stroll along the banks of the Thames between Limehouse and Battersea. He would, after going a yard or two, find himself up to his knees in slush—the sort of Black Death which we are daily drinking—and though every step would add mud, there would be nothing to ad-mire. Let him watch the juvenile bathers on the banks, and he will fancy himself just arrived on a foreign shore, whose natives are negroes up to their knees, while from the legs upwards they belong to a white eo If we did not happen to know the source of the Thames, we should imagine it was an arm of the Black Sea, or a leg of the Niger, or a} black eye of old father Nerrune. It is said that every one, on an average, eats in his lifetime a peck of dirt, but we are convinced that every one who drinks Thames water consumes his peck of dirt in a} week or two. It does not require much knowledge of chemistry to analyse the contents of the river, for a mere glance of the eye will satisfy the casual observer that the Thames holds in solution a considerable quantity of dead canine, as well as feline, and other animal matter, together with a strong infusion of cabbage-leaves and miscellaneous vegetable refuse, with the voluntary contributions of the various sewers of the metropolis. Now that the eyes of the public are opened to the state of the Thames, we wonder that their mouths are not peremptorily shut against it. FASHION FOR COQUETTES. In the “ Fashions for July,” Ze Fol/et makes the statement that— “For a young married lady who only goes out in her carriage, aud is proverbial for coquetry, a splendid mantelet of sky-blue taffetas, embroidered in bouquets of roses, of white floss silk, and trimmed with two flounces of point d’ Angleterre, with a narrow ruche of blue ribbon, is now being prepared.” A rather simpler costume than this, we should think, would be appro- priate to the young married lady who is proverbial for coquetry, as the style of dress to make her public appearances in. The attire that would best suit her would be a plain white sheet ; and, instead of a parasol, a large mould candle in her hand would set off the coquettish garment to remarkable advantage. THE LONDON CHARIVARI WHAT MAY, OR MAY NOT, BE EXHIBITED | IN MAY, 1851. | ‘THERE are various wholesome “conditions and limita- tions ” proposed for the great Exposition of 1851, and, among others, there is a clause declaring that “all spirits, wines, and fermented liquors, unless derived | from unusual sources, are inadmissible.” We think there will be some difficulty in acting upon this pro- vision, and that many illicit distillers, ae “do their spiriting gently” in a back attic, may claim to exhibit their productions as having been derived from unusual sources. We can scarcely, perhaps, regard the Cham- yagne yielded by the too generous gooseberry as coming _ an “unusual source,” for, alas! the transition | from the gooseberry bush to the Champagne bottle is | only too natural. Our Port wine, too, must for the same reason be shut out, inasmuch as, although Oporto, as far as its wine-producing purposes are concerned, may be looked for in the map of London, still this does not constitute an “ unusual source,” as the fact is that most of our Port is made at, home by a sloe, but by no means uncommon process, CONTRARY TO COMMONS’ SENSE. Reatty Lorp Joun Russet ought to take the sense | of the House of Commons respecting the propriety of con- submitted by | Unulng the present Sunday arrangements in the Post- — ‘ Offices. We have suffered quite enough by this time from Arcuitect. | the non-sense of the House in regard to that matter. THE SMOKE NUISANCE. Inasmucu as that meddling body, the Commissioners of Sewers, has instructed Mr. Simon, the Medical Officer of Health of the City of London, (and, as such, considerably overpaid in the estimation of London’s wizard, Sir Peter Laurie), to report upon the smoke of London, with a view to putting down the said smoke; and inasmuch as any successful attempt to such effect must be followed by a decrease of income of certain parties, who rightfully consider smoke a vested interest, it is ssnnaned by Puach that compensation be duly made to the under-mentioned individuals :— To all London painters and gilders, to whom smoke is the means of | daily bread ; they consuming the same in the shape of wages for house- painting, gilding of weathercocks, the three balls of pawnbrokers, &c. To all laundresses, to whom London smoke—upon the strictest caleu- lation—is worth two shirts a week per head of the working classes. To all soap-boilers, smoke being at the present time their most profitable patron. To all London florists, London smoke being to myrtles, roses, &c., | the air they breathe, and having it, droop and die. | And, finally, to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s Cathedral, that edifice, after a time, losing its customary coat of coal soot! A coat so significant and distinguishing; inasmuch as the pile having been originally built upon a tax on London coal, it has up to the present |time appeared in Wallsend black. However, with London smoke abolished, the dirtiest spots pertaining to St. Paul’s will be the hands of the money-takers. PUGNACITY OF THE PARTY PRESS. allude to the parties in politics, but to the parties of the fashionable | world, whose chronicles are couched sometimes in language befitting such a circle only as the Prize Ring. We read the other day the account of a party given by that benevo- lent and amiable lady, Miss BurpEtr Coutts, who was, we are told by the reporter, “supported right and left by the ARcHBIsHOP oF Can- TERBURY and the American Minister, and faced by the MarcHioness or WerstMINsTER.” Now when we read about “right and left,” | and “ facers,” we are reminded rather of a passage in Bell’s Life than | of an article in a journal whose ordinary regard to the “ proprieties ” is inconsistent with this unseemly mixing up of archbishops, ambassa- dors, and marchionesses, with “facers,” “right and left,” and other | jargon of a decidedly pugilistic colour. | : | A new Brep ror tue Oprera.—Dona Marta Loreto Martinez |!pDE Moreno, a Cuban prima donna of colour, is promised us. We have already the Swedish Nightingale, and why not the Havannah | Blackbird ? Wuen we speak of the pugnacity of the Party Press, we do not | Pp pug $ J ’ di ne se te on tal de

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f f | h e d if l- st PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE BLACK PRINCE. HE Nepaulese Ambassador and his suite are being drag- ed round the town, and ionised at every place of entertainment to such an extent that their names are beginning to be looked for as part of the attraction in the bill of every suburban tea-garden. They are to be found enjoying the Bag- pipes playing the Hieland sth’ omach-eachat the Scottish Féte, the balloon at Vaux- hall, and the terrific ascent of the intrepid Mapame Some- Bopy at Cremorne. They have been advertised as a strong half-price to the Sur- rey, and we may shortly expect them to be seen sympathising with the re- cognised victim of every- thing unmerited at the Victoria. Such are their ideas of magnificence, that they offer to purchase everything they see, from the services of the crossing sweeper at St. Paul’s Church Yard, to those of the dancing Lords and Ladies at afée given in honour of the strangers by a distinguished member of the aristocracy. So delighted were the Nepaulese Princes with the specimen of the fashionable dad/et of private life which was set before them, that they looked upon the dancing Dukes and Duchesses, Lords and Ladies, as a ¢roupe of coryphées, and enquired of the noble host the terms on which the corps could be transplanted entire to Nepaul, for the amusement of the native Prince in his own palace. Thongh the illustrious strangers are easily amused, it is very difficult to provide them with an entertainment in the truly English sense of the term, which includes the celebrated knife and fork exercise, without which we fancy we can never do the civil thing to a foreigner. The Nepaulese Ambassadors will share in our amusements readily enough ; they will ery, “Oh, oh!” at our Vauxhall fire-works ; they will exclaim “brava” with us at the grace of Carntorta Grist, and the polite offer of a private box would probably bring them to join in the ery of “ Bravo, Ix,” at the Britannia Saloon; but when we come to ask them to dinner, then it is that we discover their uncongeniality with our habits and feelings. If they accept our invitation they walk away directly the meal is served, and the popular notion is that they eat nothing but what they kill at the moment. : . The only way we can suggest in which to entertain them after their own hearts—by setting before them something they can kill and eat at the same time—is to place before them a few dozens of nice fresh, live, unopened oysters, joules they would be able to enjoy the luxury of killing and eating the natives. At all events, in spite of little differ- ences in our habits and customs, it is delightful to see the Nepaulese Princes mixing with all classes of English society, and we have no doubt that, by brushing about, a brilliant polish will be imparted in time to Nature’s blacking. PLATITUDES. (By our Old Codger), Tue French Republic is always represented with a Phrygian head- dress. The fittest ornament for it, I think, would be a “ Mod-cap.” I do abominate all parrots, perroquets, and cockatoos, and the awful noises they make. I am sure they are only tolerated by ladies, because they are such “ delicious creatures” (screechers). : It is very curious that men never know they have grey hairs. The discovery is always made for them by other people. : We are astonished at the Ostrich for swallowing pennies, and yet I know a young man who has devoured £100,000, and, strange to say, he is thought nothing of. ‘ There is no peace-maker in the world like a good dinner. There are partners almost in every business, but I never recollect seeing two partners keeping a public-house. Is it because drinking tends to quarrelling ? ay: We do not dislike men so much who are ruining themselves—it is only when they are ruined. France should be painted, like Fortune, standing on a wheel—for she | seems to have quite a turn for revolutions. | If you wislrto hear all your faults freely canvassed, have your portrait taken, and invite your friends to come and keep you company. The best part of a public dinner is that there are no children after dessert. |appears less of a mountain than a molehill. | THE BELGRAVIANS’ LAMENT. | (Being a MS. which dropped out of Cor—xn—1, S—Bru—v’s hat during | the Debate of Thursday Night.) THERE is a sound of sorrow through Wilton’s Crescent fair ; The Dowagers of Lowndes Street are tearing of their hair ; The muffins stand in Eaton Square uneaten on the plate ; The footmen group in gloomy knots round many an area gate. And rents and hearts are going down in paltry Albert Row, A ghastly line of blank “To Lets” the first-floor windows show ; The white cross on the old Park elms the sorry lodger sees, And straight prepares his trunk to go, like the unhappy trees. The word is spoke—'tis past a joke—Hyde Park the spot shall be, | /here to the skies shall soon arise the House of Industry— | Pile high the bricks, the mortar mix, knock up the noo Tread out the green, cut up the turf, with ruts, and hills, and holes. | | | The Prince commands—in ready hands the trenchant axe is nigh : Soon maimed and marred, upon the sward, the headless trunks will lie. Vain peal law, BroucHam’s power of jaw, and SrsTHoRP’s _ Jolly row— A Prince to please, not only trees, but Woods and Forests bow. When sudden, hark, into the Park wide Albert Gates are flung, And lo! a band that suppliant stand, the noble, fair and young ; Right well we know of Kotten Row the glory and the pride, The Maidens in their habits, the noble Swells beside. Then up and spake a lady—that round her neck did wear A halter for a habit-shirt—a la Eustace St. Prerre: “Our necks are thine, all in a line to string up, if you please ; And none shall cut us down, if you will not cut down the trees. “Spare but these trunks, we give our heads; and ladies, as they ride, In days to come will talk of us for Rotten Row that died ; Tis no plebeian precinct thus rudely you invade ; The sacred ride for noble swells and high-born ladies made. “There’s Regent’s Park is parvenue ; there’s Battersea is low; Wha harm to cut up snobbish turf, and ’sparagus also ? Or is there not the Isle of Dogs by Thames’ salubrious side ? Oh, thither you might cut your stick, and cut no stick beside. * But to come down on Rotten Row, to mar ‘The Ladies’ Mile!’ To spifflicate the railings, where lean the gents and smile! Oh, pale, I trow, sweet cheeks will grow, that, wan from ball-rooms hot, Repair the galope’s ravages with a gallop or a trot. “ Think, cruel Prince, how much there is that with these trees must fall, The scandal of the drawing-room, the chitchat of the ball— Rocers’ last mot unspread will go; Macauxay’s last good thing Like a bad shilling ne’er will pass, because it has no Ring / “Then take our lives, and spare our ride, the only place we know Where ladies, pent in London, for exercise can go. ’Tis not with us as with our Lords ; for they, the Park beside, Have got the House of Commons, where their hobbies they may ride.” The Prince looked grim—it was his whimn—humbugged he would not be ; When lo—a stately Lady is kneeling at his knee. “TI too would ride,” she sweetly cried, “so, ALBERT, if you please, Don’t—there ’s a darling—for my sake—please don’t cut down the trees.” He fain had spurned—and restless turned—but— * ~ * * * x * ~~ (Here the MS. becomes illegible.) THE MOUNTAIN OF LIGHT. Tue presentation of the great diamond, the Mountain of Light, to Her Magesty, at the recent levee, contributed to make it in every sense of the word a brilliant reception. It is said that this magnificent jewel came from the famous peacock throne of the Kine or Persia, and used to adorn the peacock’s head, but all we have to say on this head is, that there is no reliance to be placed on the tale. This valu- able diamond was given to a Venetian Jew jeweller, to be cut as a rose but he seems to have had a cabbage rose in his eye, for he resorted to the untradesmanlike act of cabbaging as much as he could of the recious material. It weighed, before the cabbaging, nearly 800 carats. ince then it has been the subject of some half-dozen robberies, and we believe it has never, until it was made a present to Her Most Gracious ESTY, come honestly into the hands of anybody. Such is our brief history of this Mountain of Light, which, to look at,

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otal PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | i} i} PLEASURE TRIPS OF BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON. THE VISIT TO EPSOM.—PART II. HE IS CAUGHT AND BROUGHT BACK AMID THE JEERS OF THE POPULACE. ON PAYMENT OF ONE SHILLING ROBINSON HEARS HIS FORTUNE. B., J., AND R. ARE INVITED INTO A BOOTH TO TAKE A TURN WITH THR “NOBBY ONE.” -— “FOR THE FUN OF THE THING,” THEY LUSE A PY S| FEW POUNDS AT ROUGE ET NOIR. ‘ THEY SEE A FLIGHT OF PIGEONS, Z— AND ARE SURPRISED THEREAT. PERPLEXITY OF BROWN WHEN ASKED WHICH “ OF EM ERE OSSES IS ’IS.” | “ SOMETHING” MUST HAVE HAP- PENED TO ROBINSON. | | ———f~s — SS LAST APPEARANCE OF BROWN THE NIGHT AFTER THE DERBY. “ONY ZILIO WHHLO ANV SNVIAVHYOTHSD

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| S\ eS ~~ 20 Sh So SSD =r —~ aN Yu = Mi \ Oe SS / Pye P&S Oh ANARIAIABAASES . — A CERTAIN GOOD QUEEN INTERCEDING WITH A CERTAIN PRINCE FOR THE UNHAPPY BELGRAVIANS AND OTHER CITIZENS.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 27 LEAVES FROM THE ARTICHOKE. * Artichoke Hotel, Perriwinks, July 6. “Your PARDON, Mr. Puncu, “For thus breaking in upon your important minutes. But I am the Landlord of the Artichoke Family Hotel, at this rising Watering- place of Perriwinks—(Sands like a Carpet, and donkies, side-saddle or otherwise, quiet as sucking babies, besides Chairs for Invalids, and Flys for Parties)—which is much patronised by the Nobility and Clergy, with a great promise of Members of Parliament, Two having gone away last season, and anxiously looked for to return. And, Sir, as the Landlord, and knowing it is the delight of your heart to give a lifting hand to struggling worth—(not that it becomes me to say so for myself, but being so old as to speak for an innocent wife, and a foals continued every twelvemonth)—I beg leave to call your notice to a habit which is disgraceful to people which call themselves Ladies and Gentlemen,—a habit of making remarks in the Book which lies upon the Table of every Respectable Hotel, for the names, and any little compliment they may choose to taper off, for the Good of the House, and the Credit of the Landlord. What I stand upon is this: if people aren’t satisfied—and I’ve been too long in business to attempt to satisfy everybody—as little as they can do is only to put down their names, and say nothing about it. But no, Sir; they won’t do this—but will go on taking away the cha- racter of everything in a House, from fleas to Bottled Porter. “To show you, Mr, Punch, that I do not complain without a cause, I send you a correct copy of the First Leaf of the Season of the Visitors’ Book of the Artichoke, of this Rising Watering-place of Perriwinks ;— and will, from time to time, forward you other Leaves, that People, seeing themselves held up to this generation, and held down to the next will be Cured of a Habit that is Disgraceful to themselves, and Painful to any Landlord, especially with a wife and rising children; and am, “Yours, humbly, “Joun Buzzwine.” ARTICHOKE TAVERN, PERRIWINKS. VISITORS’ BOOK. July1. The Rev. Mr. Stowcoacu, Mrs. Stowcoacn, Miss Siow coacH, and Miss Teresa Stowcoacn, of Tithesqueak, Pig- Cum-Poke.—The Rev. Mr. 8. can recommend this Inn. People civil; port good; sherry very nutty; salmon, perhaps, a little ante-diluvian ; and where do they get their lobsters ? House commands a noble prospect of the sea, when it covers the mud. Mas. S.—as a wife and mother—would suggest to any lady to assure herself that the sheets of this house are aired. Land- lady civil; but Mrs. 8. cannot refrain from expressing a suspicion that ad/ the children have not been vaccinated. Miss Teresa S. has seen and read of a good many moons; but can confidently recommend the moon of this place, as it edges the rippling wave with a fringe of silver. — Joun Bacer, Esqg., Wideawake Lodge, Brixton.—Never was so bitten in is life. His opinion is, that some Kast India family has slept here, with their luggage ; and crossed the fleas with scorpions. When he gets home, only Aopes his wife ‘ll know him — Feu Dove, Esq, of Nightingale Lane, Highgate. Here all alone, and never sohappy! Beautiful walks; with an uncommon quiet cob; Madeira, astonishing for such a place. AA Jitéle too much of the British Lion in the brandy—but, altogether, delighted. Should anything—(which Heaven forbid !)—happen to Mrs. D., is sanived to spend his next Honeymoon here. — Op Ass!! Hasn’t got out of one Pound, afore he wants to get into another. Wonderful place, this, for geography. Only two steps from the Coffee-room to the Havannah where—in the garden—you see your own Cigars in the leaf. ‘Tea shocking: cruelty to animals ! Cows kept to lick the chalk scores, and that’s how the milk comes. Bos Castxo (and not ashamed of his name), “ By the sad Sea Waves,” Perriwinkles-and-no-Pin-to-pick-’em-with ! July 2. A lovely spot! The weather divine ; the daisied meads and the violet banks delicious. Landlord, civil person; landlady, most maternal creature. The Dove-cot well worthy the attention of visitors. Altogether, not too much to say,—a heaven upon earth. Aveustus De Notes. “ And, oh, if there be an Elysium on Earth, It is this—it is this /” Oh, true! The Dove-cot zs beautiful. Anasetta Ds N—s — Mr. Squareror, Sol. of Size Lane, cannot leave the Arti- the strongest word—his disgust—at what is called soft sugar, served in the house with the coffee. Mr. SquareTOE is per- fectly well acquainted with the elastic properties of the English law of libel; and, therefore, only expresses a hope—a hope, be it understood—that the spittoons of the Artichoke and the soft sugar basins are zo? filled from the same sack. Mrs. Tomss, of the Yew Tree, Bury, in quite a Christian spirit, and loving her neighbours as herself, would suggest to the landlady of the house, if it be a necessary evil, consequent upon keeping hotels, to keep chamber-maids,—that it is not, she submits, equally necessary that the said maids should wear such very emphatic caps, trimmed with such cherry-coloured ribands. | Atrrep Tomps, Jun. (mother being safe in the coach at the door), has run in to write down in this book, that Ae thinks the | caps very spicy, and the cherry ribands quite the bounce. THE MERRY COMMONERS. Hey for the Merry Commoners! the jocular M.Ps. How very little wit it takes their little minds to please ; How rampant is their laughter at each attempt at fun ; And gramercy ! what loud guffaws at every little pun! Hey for the Merry Commoners! who says debates are slow, When at each sentence out there drops a beautiful don mot ? So from the newspaper reports the fact at least appears, For after every paragraph there comes “a laugh” or “cheers.” Hey for the merry Commoners! how jovial their life, With oceans of facetiousness to season party-strife ! Two hundred jolly Momuses upon the adios sit, The country to illuminate with ever-sparkling wit. Hey for the merry Commoners! how nobly they adhere To what’s been handed down to us from distant year to year ! - Attachment to antiquity through all their labours runs ; The spirit of the past pervades their quips, their jokes, their puns. Hey for the Merry Commoners! how pleasant ’tis to know That all that’s novel in their jokes to Punch alone they owe! From the debates, each morning, we might select a bunch Of gems, that prove the Commoners both read and mind their Punch. THE PUFF DIRECT. WE looked through the Official Report on the Smoke Nuisance with intense interest, expecting that the greatest of all smoke nuisances—the cigar—would have been at least incidentally touched upon. We regret to find a total omission of all allusion to the offensive weed, from which our streets require to be weeded, and we have engaged one of our own commissioners to throw into form a few facts with reference to the effects of the cigar smoke nuisance on the health and comfort of the metropolis. In the first place it is ascertained that cigar smoke, like other smoke, covers surrounding objects with a black crust; for when puffed in the face of anyone, the features assume a black look, indicative of extreme crustiness. It soils the linen of the passers-by to an extent that adds | nothing of the wear and tear of the tub which lacerates the bosoms of so many million shirts, and sends home their mangled remains to thousands of grieving families. There is no doubt also, that cigar smoke acts as an irritant, for how- ever much the love of praise may induce us to delight in a puff, when it meets our eye conn none of us can be said to desire it when it is | administered to our very face ina large volume, and thus cigar smoke becomes an irritant, of a very exciting character. For these and other reasons we have come to the conclusion that all persons choosing to convert themselves into walking chimneys in the ublic thoroughfares should be compelled to follow the law laid down or engines, and consume their own smoke description of those “ mortal engines” with SHAKSPEARE has alluded to. “yude throats” that Hyde and Seek. Tr is a pity that so much blindness has been exhibited about the site of the intended Exposition of the year 1851; for it was easy to have foreseen that Hyde Park, as one of the lungs of the metropolis, would not have been willingly surrendered by the Londoners, who require all their lungs for their very little breathing-time. It has been objected to Hyde Park also, that it is approachable by neither water nor rail’; but surely this deficiency has lately been supplied, for no place could choke without expressing his disgust, and it is his wish to use railed against. nearly ten thousand a-year to the washing-bills of the metropolis, to say | as coming under the | have had so much cold water thrown upon it, or been so generally | |

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_ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE LAST MOMENTS OF A CONDEMNED. “DEAR Puncn, “T am the gentleman who used to go every night to the Lions | and Tigers at Drury Lane, in the hope of seeing Van Amburgh devoured. it om fond of excitement. I went every night but one that Mapame Sacqui ascended the tight-rope, from the sts age to the gallery, and never shall forgive myself that. the only night I missed was when the rope broke in the middle of the ascent. I love all the national sports and pastimes of England; but, alas! where are they? Every one is gradually leaving us. Cock -shying has shamefully gone out of fashion ; bull-baiting has followed the same deplorable, mistaken track ; and I cannot sufficiently control my indignation when I mention th if Smithfield is also about to be abolished. 1 was in the habit of attend- ing in Cow Lane every market-day, and many a happy hour of excite- ment have I passed there! How T hav e been elev aakal the enlivening ery of ‘Mad bull!’ How my heart has bounded high into the air as I watched the career of that ‘ mad bull’ down the Street! and how I have jumped, leaped for joy, when he encountered in his disputed path old women, children, apple-stalls, and charity schools. I often longed to see an Alderman, of the rich, fat, old school,—a sort of double-Moon Alderman,—tossed ; but such a treat was never afforded me. Still I should not grumble, and Tam most thankful to the City Corporation for the lively moments of innocent amusement I have enjoyed in the purlieus of jolly Smithfield. But, Sir, that last remnant of our Sports and Pastimes—that last faint reminiscence of the glories of bull-baiting —is about to be snatched from us! Parliament, in its baby stupidity, has decreed in a committee its downfall. I boldly announce that, if Smithfield is taken away, I shall exile myself to Spain, and seek in a ’ foreign land some consolation for the delights I have lost in my own country. But I prefer Smithfield to the best ‘bull- fight, and should be sorry to exchange my bax post in Cow Lane for a seat in the Queen’s box at Seville or Madrid. “T remain, dear Punch, “Yours, always (twice a week in Cow Lane), “A Lover oF EXCITEMENT. Pie-crust Promises. We are promised that the new Building for the great Industrial Exhibition is not to cost more than £10,000, vand that it isto be com- leted before the First of May. This is all’ very well, but we cannot help recollecting that Mr. Barry is one of the great men, if not ¢he great man, on the Building Committee. Houses of Parliament, and that they are not yet completed, and that no one can tell when they will be, much less how many millions they will cost when they are com sleted, we think we are right in presuming that, if the estimate for the ndustrial Building is £10,000, that it will cost at least £2,000,000 ; and that we are equally justified in fearing after the absurd announcement that the Building is to be ready by: the First of May, that, at the most profound calculation, it never will be finished in less than ten years after that date ! Looking at the cost of the | SABBATARIAN SLANDER. My pear Lorp Brovcuam, I am very sorry to be informed that your Lordship is a hater of religion, and not only that, but one of the leaders of the band of infidels. If anything can ‘add to the concern which this intelligence gives me, it is the circumstance that I, myself, am said to be your comrade and associate in command of the regiment of unbelievers. We are in- debted, my Lord, to a newspaper called the Christian Times, for gazetting us two as ™ captains of that profane corps. Says our ” cha- | ritable contemporary , alluding to the House of Commons’ resolution, which stopped the delivery of letters and newspapers on Sunday :— “No sooner had the fact become known, than a deadly, malicious, and calumnious onslaught was simultaneously made by the non-religious part of the press, and by the motley horde of religion-haters, under the captaincy of Lorp Brovenam and Mr. Punch.” Having thus promoted us to \y Commanders of the Unfaithful—an army which a defamatory journal, calling itself Christian, is rather likely to procure recruits for—the § Sabbatarian print continues :-— “These worthies have written in every form of vehement vituperation and slander; they have arrogated to themselves all the wisdom of the question, and credited the advocates of the Sabbath rest with every attribute of folly, intolerance, cant, and selfishness.” Now, my dear Lord, don’t you think that there are some people who coolly “ arrogate to themselves” the exclusive claim to be Christians ? Ido; andIs say that the Sabbatarians are such people ; and I totally deny their pretensions, and assert, and insist, that they have no more reason for maintaining their own peculiar and private views to be Christianity than the Ebionites had, or the Quartodecimans, or the Omphalopsy choi, mentioned in Church ‘History, who believed their souls to be in their navels, or, indeed, than the Joanna Southcoteites, or any other subdi- vision of the great sect of the Lunatics. I contend that their doctrine of the Judaistical observance of Sunday is a mere persuasion, which they have every right to entertain, certainly; but none whatever to enforce their ow n pract ice in regard to it on others. Let them show me one word in support of their tenet — of the Boox, and I am dumb. If they have nothing else to offer me than their own infallible authority, I am much obliged to them, but there is already a Pope at Rome, if “T want proof of that description. Pray enter your protest in the Journal of the House of Lords against being called an Arch-infidel, because you defend religious liberty from the encroachments of Sabbatarian fanaticism, and to your own name adjoin, by proxy, that of the maligned, traduced, injured, innocent, PUNCH. Greens to the Green. A NEWSPAPER a ae ym informs us of a somewhat strange feat having been accomplished by an individual who devoured a large quan- tity of cabbage stumps for a small wager. This man’s love of the stumpy must have been intense, or he never would have undertaken the task of eating a heap of cabbage stalks—unless , indeed, he thought to make himself eloquent, in consequence of his having heard something about CaRLYLE’s friend, the Stump Orator. re ti

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at le it iS UNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. _ 29 @ur “Tin PAemoriam.” Nor in the splendour of a ruinous glory Emblazoned, glitters our lost Statesman’s name : The great deeds that have earned him deathless fame Will cost us merely thanks. Their inventory Of peaceful heroism will be a story, Of wise assertion of a rightful claim, And Commerce freed by sagely daring aim. Famine averted; Revolution gory Disarmed ; and the exhausted Commonweal Recruited ; these are things that England long Will couple with the name of Ropertr PEEL, Of whom the worst his enemies can say Is, that he left the error of his way When Conscience told him he was in the wrong. WHAT A PERSON MAY DO ON A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY, AND WHAT HE MAY NOT DO. He may post himself and have as many , as he pleases ; but he must not send a single letter by the Post. é He may, however, send letters by tying a of | round them. and so making parcels of them; but then he must send them by the railway, and not through the medium of the Post. He may receive messages by the Electric Telegraph ; but he may not receive those same messages, if folded _up in a penny letter and sent through the Puritanical channel of St. Martin’s-le-Grand. _ He may travel on a railway with the Mail-Post ; but he is a fool, or worse—an infidel, if he expects to receive at the destination of his journey any one of the letters that have been travelling with him every SA mar Ti aattantinaae te oleate: bat fe bs telliiien te e ma on a Sunday; bu is forbidden receive a letter that is aaeed wis one, though it is there before him lying on the counter of the same shop. He may to the club, or the public-house, to read the news- paper; but he cannot read it at home unless he chooses to wait till his Sunday newspaper is delivered on the Monday or Tuesday morning. He may go to hear a political lecture, or attend a Socialist meeting, or join a van party, or rise at five o’clock in the morning for a cheap excursion, pom a horse or a donkey, or travel ina cart, carriage cab, omnibus, steam-boat, velocipede, or balloon; he may do all these things, and a quantity more, on a Sunday; but he must be —— from all letters and newspapers, for none are delivered on that day. He me send to the hotel for his dinner, to the wine-stores for his wine, to the pastry-cook’s for his pastry, to the green-grocer’s for his dessert, to the cigar seller’s for his tobacco, and they will all be sent home to him; but he may in vain send to the Post-Office for his letters and his newspapers, for they will not be given to him, because it happens to be a Sunday. THE BEST SITE AFTER ALL FOR THE EXPOSITION OF 1851. Wutte every body’s ingenuity has been tried to suggest a site for the Exposition of 1851, there is a site that has been altogether over- looked in the most unaccountable manner. The place we speak of ranks among the Metropolitan Parks, and its adoption will prevent a necessity for encroaching on the Park of Hyde, the Park of Victoria, or the Park of Battersea. The public will at once perceive the eligibility of the position of that most central of all localities, Whetstone Park, | which 1s in the very heart of the Metropolis, and may be approached by almost every kind of conveyance. There are no aristocratic inhabitants to complain of their neighbourhood being injured ; there are no fashion- able promenaders to cry out against the invasion of their lounge, and we are quite sure that the residents would most willingly accede to the selection of the spot for the purposes of the Exhibition. It cannot be said that any lung of the Metropolis would be stopped up, for Whetstone Park can never be considered as a lung, and its temporary filling up would amount to nothing more than a slight ob- struction of one of the smallest air vessels. We strongly urge upon the Commissioners the propriety of a survey of the capabilities of this hitherto forgotten Park, and we hope that all animosity may be buried at the corner of Little Turnstile. THE EXCURSION SEASON. WE are glad to see the usual summer excursions are at their height, and though some of the proposed migrations might, from their oddness, lead to the exclamation of O! mi-gratious! from the feeble mind, there is an abundance of reasonable plans for seasonable locomotion. We confess we do not feel inclined to go literally all the way with some of those excursionists who are tempted by a promised trip of more than 200 miles to go to Margate or Ramsgate im a single day, by a train that continues getting progressively later and later at every station, until the last traveller finds he has no sooner reached his outward destination than it is time to take his place in the train home again. Nor are we greatly attracted by the offer of a half-crown marine treat, whose pro- jector promises to make for no particular point, but to go wherever wind and tide may bear his gallant vessel. An enterprising tourist, who had set his heart upon the buoy at the Nore, would be rather disappointed at the wind wafting him to Battersea, or his being tied by the tide to a voyage in a direction quite opposite to that in which he had made up his mind to travel. One might almost as well advertise an excursion by *bus, the route taken to be dependent on the turn the horses might think proper to take, instead of its being a matter of choice with the passengers. However, novelty is everything, and there is something f in the idea of starting to go we don’t know ridge and back again. resh and invigoratin, where, from London SHallel il Ties 7 \apte lie J Ai ij if { if Mt tt h i {i | | i. wy HMA OTT i tat “THE LAST LINK IS BROKEN THAT BOUND ME TO THEE.” HIP, HIP, HIP, FOR THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. Everysosy is still ranning towards the Regent’s Park, for the pur- pose of passing half an hour with the Hippopotamus. The animal itself repays public curiosity with a yawn of indifference, or throws cold water on the ardour of his visitors, by suddenly plunging into his bath, and splashing every one within five yards of him. Much a has been expressed at the Hippopotamus, in consequence of its not being exactly up to the general idea * sea-horse, and many hundreds go away guile every day, because the brute is not so equestrian in appearance as could be desired. Many persons thought the Hippopotamus was a regular sea-horse, kept expressly for running in harness in a sea-captain’s gig; but as the creature turns out to be very like a hog, there are many who go the entire animal in finding fault with him. The consumption of milk is still something terrific, though the pump has been called in as an assistant wet-nurse. , THE DUELLING SEASON. ‘Tue Duelling Season has set in again at Paris with unusual warmth. Little parties are made in the Bois de Boulogne, where everything goes off with the greatest éclat. The festivities are often prolonged to a very late hour in the morning, after which the guests generally adjourn to some café on the Boulevards, at which champagne is the “order ” of the day. ‘This plan of entertainment is prevalent now amongst men of all parties, and politicians of all colours. If two members are at all distant, | a Duel is at once proposed, and they are brought together again in the | most conciliatory manner. A pupil of the Ecole de Médecine is engaged, and some pistols are borrowed, more for the form of the thing than any- thing else, and the two angry foes never meet without separating the best. of friends. This form of invitation, however, has not been so fashionable lately amongst the Members of the Left, as it was discovered from certain reports, which unfortunatel turned out too true, that many of the Montagnards were not worth their “ powder and shot.” SanpHurRsT Frencn Examrnation.—We are told that a boy being called upon to translate a “Fast Man,” sent in his answer, “ Un homme qui gene,”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. THE REAL STREET OBSTRUCTIONS. lS q UORAMA mANORAMA @ CYCLORAMA Tue law says very properly, that no one shall obstruct the public thoroughfare; and it-is calculated that no less than five hundred ship- loads of oranges pass through the hands of the police every year, in consequence of contumacious ‘barrow or basket-women blocking up the footway, while the same fate attends upon no less than “fifty entire beds of oysters, that have prevented an opening for the general street trattic. When we wend our weary way, along the streets of London, though we confess-it- is sometimes ‘unpleasant to find ourselves solicited by a long chain of basket-women entreating us to purchase their “sweet Chainey oranges,” we must say. that the. real enemies to progress are the advertising machines, both human and bestial, as well as mechanical. What with Panoramas and Paletéts, Dioramas and Balloons, Registered Shirts, and Monster Concerts, there is no getting along the principal an fa i a WNT As metropolitan thoroughfares without being reminded by some over- whelming van that all is van-ity. The other day we were completely blockaded between an enormous invitation to the Cremorne Elysium, and‘a polite request, in letters six feet long, to go and provide ourselves with six shirts for forty shillings. We had just turned round, in the hope of finding a loophole or a gusset to get out of the shirts w hen we found ourselves hemmed i in, and regu- larly stitched to the spot by a bold black letter assertion, that the word aletét, though “assumed by all” is the exclusive property of H., J., V., and D.,—somebody or other who aspire at the West-end to "the mantle of Moses. If some of the real obstructions who barricade the | streets, with their monster advertising vans, were to be walked off to | the Green Yard, the effect would be to give a freer circulation to the | air as well as to the passages. A GROWL FROM THE BOUDOIR. ‘R-R-R-R-R-0W! “Somenopy, Mr. Punch, has been writing lately to the Morning Post to complain | of ‘ ferocious dogs.’ The grievance of this in- dividual is, that there is no remedy against a dog till a person has been bitten by him. It is rather too late then, I know, especially if the unhappy dog is m: ad; and T admit that such of us as can’t keep our teeth to them- selves ought to be muzzled—so, by the way, ought some bipeds that I have heard of. But the writer in the Post would lay down the ‘cruel dogma that dogs should be punished before they are guilty. The inhuman dog- matist proposes ‘an exterminating tax ? on all of us, except those kept for some ‘ essentially useful purpose, and' even then pan ol proper restrictions.’ This im- placable hostility to our race seems excited by what our enemy calls the bare idea of that dreadful thing, hydrophobia.? sort of phraseology, and from its having been so liberally underlined, | 1 conclude that the writer of thefletter is a female, and I believe I know From this peculiar | | who she is. house in fear of a ‘ferocious beast’ kept by a lac y in her house. is evidently the the ruage of some a woman: that old woman, Sir, is my mistress’s landlady, and the ‘ferocious beast’ is no other than poor little I, commonly called ‘ PLaxet,’ because “lam, &c., “An Iste or SKYE.” who of ec _~ can read as well‘as I, is, Give my love to ‘osx. “PS. Tony, dignant at the letter in the Post. ” Popularity of Lord Ashley. | Tre country is not aware of the oblig zations under which it lies to | Lorv Asutey. “ No news,” says the proverb, “is good news ;’ accordingly all persons residing in the provinces are indebted to his Lordship for the receipt of good news regularly every Sunday morning. It must be particula ‘ly gratifying to persons anxious to ‘hear from rel: tives lying ron th + bed of sickness to obtain this very intelligence: so much so, that we understand that the amount of blessings invoked by them on the head of the noble lord in_the fulness of their hearts is quite incredible. She says that she and her family go creeping about 'the | This | I'dare say, im | > and | satisfactory | Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, im the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett ! their Oitice, in Loumbard-Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars,in the City of London, aad published by them at No. 55, Fleet Street in the Parish of St. Bride’s in the City of London.—Satvuapar Jur 13th, 1590, vans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at . SP] FF eo eet af ot het bet a bee lt hs st iw

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7 — — “ie. , mB = ew rere. ind his ng. om | ory of |eSS PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 31 A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE TWELFTH. MRS. MOUSER ON’ THE SHAMEFUL TREATMENT OF LADIES AFTER DINNER. THE ABUSE AND THE REMEDY. ONTEMPLATING s0- ciety, Mr. Puncu —which, as aunt Peacock used to say, she considered to be very like a + patchwork quilt made by a needle- woman, without a proper eye for matching of co- lours, the reds, and the blues, and the yellows, are so mixed up with || and kill the quiet ' patterns,—in con- templating, I say, society, there is nothing that has struck me with a stronger blow than the English habit—(for in France, I’m told, they know how to behave themselves towards women)—than the eustom of banishing the ladies to the drawing-room, in a very few miniites after dinner ; as if whatever was talked of after they were gone, was Of too high and lofty a kind—“too philosophic, and embracing subjects too asthmatic,” as MovusEr once said to me,—when, by the way, he could hardly speak ten words—“for the limited range of the female brain.” And so, while the Lords of the Creation are talking of | hoq the stars, and the tides, geography, Mahometanism—for this is what MovseR says—natural history, and the like, women are to be sent away with the children, with nothing to do but to talk to themselves in the drawing-room. ; Not that they always will talk. It was only last week that Mouser and I dined with the Crawrorps—fine people; amiable people, with the best show of plate of any of our acquaintance. Well, the dinner went off beautifully—I never enjoyed myself more out in my life. The y, too, was so genteel! We had the cousin of the gallant Caprain UNGLE, who has so distinguished himself in India; the own brother of the new Bishop of Heligoland ; and a whole host, as Mouser calls ’em, of notorieties ; besides Mr. Sprrt, the traveller—such a clever creature ! —who’s been all round the globe, with nothing but a tooth-brush, a note-book, and a complete suit of striped cotton. Such a dear, rattling fellow! Did so make us laugh with his account of a suttee, when the widow insisted upon being burnt, and—the stupid creature! it served her quite right to let her have her own way—and when it was all over, how he, Mr. Spirt, said it looked like a Guy Faux bonfire, without the squibs!: The brother of the Bishop of Heligoland was, to be sure, very high upon the matter. ‘That young man’—said the Bishop’s brother to myself—‘“ that young man lowers everything; he would trace the source of the Nile to his own ink-bottle, and let down the Garden of Eden to an apple-stall.” I couldn’t but agree with the Bishop’s brother ; nevertheless, 1 thought Mr. Sprrt one of the most pleasant creatures that ever lived! Much more funny, indeed, than the Bishop’s brother ! But don’t let me forget what I began with; which is the savage custom of sending away ladies from the dinner-table. For we were all so pleasant at the Crawrorps’; the gentlemen delightful, and, I must say it, the ladies bearing their part—some of ’em, perhaps, over-acting it a little—bearing their part delightfully. All as full of smiles and sweetness—as the Bishop’s brother whispered to me—as a rose-garden. Well, the horrid minute came ; Mrs. Crawrorp swept her eyes round | the table, looking us off our chairs ; and the Bishop’s brother, running to the door to open it, asked “‘if they must lose us so soon ?”’—and let us out. We all left running over with smiles, and rustled our way up stairs. Upon my word, Mr. Punch, when we got into the drawing-room, and took our seats, I do think that not a soul we ’d left would have known us again! Even CrawrorD might have stared at his own wife; and for myself—I confess it—I felt the change. There wasn’t a lady of the oe ty for Mrs. CrawForp she looked on a sudden frost-bit from head to toe—not a woman that didn’t seem as she’d been suddenly iced in her muslin and satin. To have seen us smiling and sparkling as we went out of the dining-room; and again to have seen us as we glumped—(I don’t know whether there is such a word; but if there isn’t there ought to be)—as we glumped in the drawing-room, nobody would have cm us the same delightful creatures. As I say—as confess myself—I found the difference. I could have talked for ever down stairs, and on a sudden, directly I stepped into the drawing-room, I felt in a hard frost. Well, we all ome somewhere ; all silent, and some savage. Some got to Albums, and Books, and so forth. But what’s Books o Beauty to us women (unless, indeed, one’s own picture happens to be in ’em) ? I never saw a book of the sort I’d give a pin for. And so, after we’d rustled and rumpled the leaves, and that for the most part in the most horrid silence that I ever knew—except now and then there was such a shout of laughter down-stairs that made one’s blood boil again, and I could see Mrs. CRAwFORD felt so, though she did try to smile, and said more than once—“ The gentlemen seem to do very well without us—it ’s pleasant to think we ’re so soon forgot,”—after sitting mum-chance for about an hour, Mrs. CRawForD, in a desperate moment, as I verily believe, to do something, asked that dreadful Miss Prony—(and I never meet that girl—girl! she’s four-and-thirty at least, anywhere, that I don’t seem to smell the paint)—asked her to sing a song, and my blood went colder at the words. In a moment, and before she was well asked Miss Prony was down at the piano, with her hands out for mischief. Of course we had that horrid thing—“ J’// never own my love ! no—no —ano !””—with that dreadful jingling of the xo—no—xo, like the rattling of a bunch of keys. | Now, I put it to you, Mr. Punch, as a person knowing human nature, |and woman’s nature to boot,—what pleasure, what interest is there, what curiosity, 1 should like to know, can there in eight or ten ladies being made to listen to one of their own sex—(and four-and-thirty as I said, at least,) screaming to a piano that she won’t own a love, that it’s very well known she never had, and if she had, that she might advertise it in the Morning Post, and nobody care a button about it ? But this is one of the miseries that is brought upon women by their being packed off—banished into exile—as Mrs. HARBOTTLE very vp end observed, whilst men are “passing the port,” as they call it, and talking their own philosophy, and giving their own views of life, as MousER says, in the dining-room. Now, it’s a a thing when a lady sings a love-song in a mixed company. “That,”—as Mrs. HARBOTTLE said to me—“ that is a magnetic relation which communicates with the latent sympathies of people; and everybody—or at least every other y—takes an interest in it upon their own account,”—which I thought very deeply, and very beautifully said. And Mrs. Harporr.e was gomg on, when there was another shout in the room below that, upon my word, almost shook us off our chairs again. Whereupon Mrs. Crawrorp, with a cutting smile observed—“ the gentlemen seem enjoying their philosophy.” And then she made an angry snatch at the bell, and I couldn’t wonder at it—for we’d been waiting an hour—and said to the servant when he came—“ Ropert, = my compliments, mind, my compliments to your master, and ask im if the ladies may hope to see him before they go home.” Rosert left the room; and Mrs. CrawForp smiled at all of us, and of course we smiled again, supporting her. “Hush,” said Mrs. Crawrorb, and we listened. The man delivered his message ; there could be no doubt of ¢hat; and Crawrorp—as Mouser confessed to me—delivered it to the company afterwards ; for there was another shout of laughter that, as Mrs. Harsortte declared, and as I myself felt, was positively an insult! A defying insult ! It was another hour—another hour by the time-piece—that we, poor women, were left alone to our own resources, and you may judge, Mr. Punch, how dull we were, before the gentlemen joined us. y we were two hours—two hours wrecked, as Mrs. Harsortie prettily expressed herself,—wrecked upon the squabs and sofas of Mrs. Craw- FORD’s drawing-room And now, Mr. Punch, \et me suggest a remedy for this. A remedy that shall make men in their own defence, either insist upon our re- maining at the table till they rise themselves—or that shall make them, like needles to the pole, immediately come after us up stairs. My remedy is this :— Gentlemen “take ladies down.” I propose that ladies should “take gentlemen up,” and in this way. Let it be the business of every lady taken down by a gentleman to make herself acquainted with all his faults; faults of looks ; faults of manner ; faults of every sort that can be seen in him or made for him. Then, when the ladies are sent away by themselves, lct them put together all they’ve thought of ’gainst the gentlemen who took ’em down—and throwing the collection in a common stock, make the most of it. I’ll be bound, Mr. Punch, that if this was done, we women should = the time in the drawing-room a little more aseite than we’re oom’d to now—sitting, almost saying nothing—with the further aggra- vation of laughter down stairs. . When the gentlemen felt that all their faults were being talked about, and made more of ; when they felt that every lady taken down, had in return, taken a gentleman up,—when, in a word, all the gentlemen felt certain that there was nothing beside going on, but that they were being picked to bits in the drawing-room, wouldn’t they,—in a minute, come up stairs ; if only to look after the pieces ? Yours, truly, The Honeysuckles, AmeELI4 Movusen. VOL. XIX.

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PUNCH, OR THE i LONDON CHARIVARI. | THE TALKING ELMS; OR, THE HAMADRYADS OF HYDE PARK. ‘ “Ou, Elms, whose green from summer’s glare The Knightsbridge road relieves, Punch questions you, and answer fair, Craves of you, “by: your leaves. ‘Say, Elms, why my Lorp SzeYMouR came, And with official phlegm, Marked, in the Woods and Forests’ name, The white cross on each stem ? “ And tell us all that you have seen Since great ACHILLEs rose, Who towers so tall above the green, And is so short of clothes ? “ And if you think the Iron Duke, Who’s set up over there, The ugliest thing that we may look To see, here or elsewhere ? “Oh, Punch, you know in ancient days, A Hamadry ad came To life with every tree, always, And it is still the same. “ And Hamadryads of the Park We are that talk to you; And, as we cannot bite, we bark— *Tis all our barks can do. “For every cross—Oh, sorry hap !— A lifeless trunk must roll ; No wonder it congeals the sap That mantles in each bole. “With us young Elms, whate’er they please, The Woods and Forests dare ; But we have old and sturdy trees— Of whom they ’d best beware. “The Hamadryad of that tough And gnarléd bush of broom, Will speak his mind out, plain enough, Ere he submit to doom. * And there ’s the Hamadryad keen, Of that old kernel tree, Strip ed of his leaves of Lincoln green, W An ne’er consent to be. “You ask me what I’ve seen, since first AcHILLEs dared to show— I’ve seen a generation pass Aw ay through Rotten Row. | | little wafer-box—for the general use of Junior Counsel—will be directly under his fingers. land that they are ende avouring to qualify for the post by the most | application for the coif, which cannot be assumed without an expense of | several hundred pounee. “How oft my happy shaae has hung Round dainty waists and trim, How oft my saucy light been flung Under the beaver’s brim, “To kiss bright eyes that now are dark, And light up many a smile That, in those days, fired every spark Who paced the Lady’s Mile. ** How oft I’ve watched sweet faces, wan With midnight rout and ball, Here gather roses, trotting on, And looking love to all. * And serious statesmen I have seen — their cobs sedate, Here take the air, and muse serene, Upon the night’s debate. *Workmen with wives and kids have sat Beneath my kindly shade, And drank their beer and had their chat, When holiday they made. *“ Such sights no more ‘oa greet my eye; To make a site, I fall To die, is hard ; but now to die, Is hardest fate of all. * Now, that the world its treasure brings From North, South, East, and West, And with a frie ndly greeting flings The store in England’s breast. ** My sisters live to see the show, From mine, and forge, and loom, But o’er my place the turf will grow, Feet will be on my tomb. * But tell them, Pvach—for it is true— Ere on their plan they fix— They might make glass and iron do, Eschewing lime and bricks. * So o’er my green and happy grave, Might sparkle to the sky, A mausoleum broad and brave, A glory to the eye '” LEGAL CHANGES. Tue new arrangements in the higher departments of Westminster Hall, will materially affect the position of several other members of the Bar, "whose names have not tm mentioned in connection with the | more important Canoe. The very proper elevation of Sir Joxn | Jervis to the Bench, will leave a vacancy for another Queen’s Counsel in the first row, and thus an opening will be afforded to Mr. BRrerizss | which will materially alter his views ; for, by the gap that will be left, he will be able to see his way to the Bench, which, as long as another learned gentleman sat immediately before him, was quite impossible. The other ap consequent on the alteration with regard to the | Great Seal, will place the small wafers at the disposal of Mr. Dunvp, for | | he will now be able to sit nearer the centre of the back row, where the | It is rumoured throughout Westminster Hall that both our learned | frie nds, Mr. Brrertess and Mr. Dunvp, are looking forward with the sanguine hope of eventually attaining to the high office of “ Keeper,” energetic efforts to “ keep” themselves. Mr. Dunvp has, it is stated, made some inquiries preliminary to an The learned gentleman, it is believed, will 1e coif by instalments of fifty pounds per term; and | |if his proposition is acceded to, he will give rings with the motto, “Vestigia nulla retrorsum,” or, in ‘other words, “ What’s done, or who- | | ever is done, it can’t be undone.” | propose to take t | — | A SAINT FOR THE SABBATARIANS. when a babe at the breast, he vigorously, resolutely refused—(as babies Sarst Dommnic, for it is given in the Life of that arch-ascetic, that, | will refuse when they are determined)—refused to suck on Sundays ! | oo — — —at rh iw ee OF FS nine 5 be 2h bt bee

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. STANDING FOR A SEAT IN PARLIAMENT. Ir seems that there are only seats for three hundred mem- bers in the New House of Commons, whereas six hun- dred at least are required. This deficiency of aecommo- dation, however, cam easily be overcome. We are always enjoined to rise with every ifficulty, so we propose that Baby Jumpers be provided for those who have no seats; and if that is not rising with a difficulty, we do not know what is ! Whenever a member (the Member for Ayr, suppose we say) wanted to “ oecupy the | floor” of the House, the | Serjeant-at-Arms would take him off the hooks, and hook im up again as soon as he had finished. A new appoint- ment would have #0 be made —“ The Silver Hook in Waiting” We hardly know how the members sitting underneath would like this mew arrangement. For instance, we cannot imagine it would be wary pleasant to the feelings of Lox» JoHN, when he was making a Jeng speech, to know that Drskaxit bie coq ey his head, ready, the moment he thad finished, to rop into ay But then, again, the plan would be attended with certaim conve- niences ; for how easy it would be for Lorp Joun, if he felt Disrarti (or Upper BensaMn, as he must be called after this new elevation) had taken the unfair advantage of him, to rise, as soon as he had resumed his seat in his Baby Jumper, and gently “pull him down,” so saving himself and the House the fatigue of another long speech. We hope to hear of an early sitting being appointed to try, in a full house, this experiment of the Baby Jumpers; if three hundred are run up, we should say it would be sufficient.’ CANNIBALISM IN THE ARMY. _ We have heard occasionally of awful scenes on board ~~ when pro- visions ran short, but really we can find no excuse for the state of| things dimly shadowed forth in the following advertisement which lately appeared in the Zimes newspaper :— “Messman wanted for a Cavalry Regiment quartered in England. He must bea person without encumbrance, WHO COOKS HIMSELF!” We ask the reader, is there not something frightful in the very idea | of a man cooking himself, and does it not suggest the still more awful uestion—when he has cooked himself who is to eat him? Humanity | shudders, the blood turns to curd in the middle of its way, the heart takes a pantomimic leap into the mouth, and the brain commences a reel at the bare supposition of a messman “cooking himself,” and the | stipulation that he must be without encumbrance adds to the horror of | the suggestion, for it shows that an act is contemplated, which might leave a wife and family desolate. | _ We know that the epicure, or rather the gourmand, will, by excessive | indulgence so vitiate his taste and destroy his appetite, that something | extraordinary will be required to rouse his deadened powers of enjoying | food of the customary kind; but this advertisement for a “messman who cooks himself,” is an outrage, not only on the best, but on the | second best (and we might even add the every-day suit for common wear), feelings of our nature. We wonder that the advertisement did not add an intimation that “the messman must be in quarters a week | before he begins to cook himself.” It is to be hoped that the War-Office will inquire into the cireum- | stances of this case, for the “ Cavalry Regiment ” has something dread- | fully wrong in either its humanity or its grammar. Wherever the fault | lies it ought to be corrected. | ARRIAGE.—The Advertiser (a rich bachelor, whose property is quite untold, because the amount has never been mentioned to any one) offers to marry the original of Sorer’s Housewife. In the event of the great original being lost, he will be happy to take the very best copy extant. She must prove her competency in every article of knowledge contained in that great store-room of female education, and must be well grounded in all foreign accomplishments, such as French Sauces, Swiss Confectionery, Italian Creams, as well as the various che/s-d'-euvres from Bologna, Neufchatel, Parmesan, Périgord, and Strasbourg. The advertiser must have the opportunity, before he accepts the young lady’s hand, of testing its lightness in making pies and puddings. Young Ladies intending to compete, must forward their names, ages, and addresses (marked “Crasvus” in the corner), to the Vestry-Clerk of St. George’s, Hanover-square, accompanied by a list of the various mets which they wish to tender as specimens of their skill—N.B. A Boiled Potato indispensable. THE REPUBLIC POUR RIRE. Ir it is true that “nothing kills like ridicule,” the French Republic must, by this time, be virtually dead, for although the upsetting of dynasties, thrones, and constitutions must generally be regarded as “no joke,” there never was ——s more universally laughed at, both at home and abroad, than La Republique Frangaise, Ttis burlesqued on the stage, squibbed in the press, caricatured in the shops, and quizzed everywhere. For some time there was a show of outward respect for it within the doors of the Assembly, but now the Republic has become one of the standing jokes of those men who are entrusted with making its laws and carrymg on its government. A few days ago the Member of Justice termed the whole concern a “catastrophe,” amid the applause the Republic, were met with shouts of laughter, as if the idea of being any thing respectable or ble in the new order of " was one of the wildest vagaries that an ill-regulated brain could have wandered into. The Assembly was, in fact, thrown into a state of contemptuous hilarity by every effort at expostulation against the word “ catastrophe ” having been —_ to the revolution, and when an insignificant little knot of avow i threatened to a. the guffaws were loud and general. only wonder now is, how long the French will put up with a system that one and all repudiate. A joke’s a joke, but no farce ought to be allowed to last too long, a if, therefore, the French mean to have a form of government intended for other purposes than to be jeered at in every pessible mamner, the sooner they set about it the better i will be for their interest, as well as for their dignity. | of all but a few, who, when they —— to vindicate the dignity of there — THE OONVICT’S GASTRONOMIC REGENERATOR. >I HERE is something quite gratifying to see what ~~ advances humanity and civilisation are making in prison-discipline. The Hampshire Independent contains the subjoined interesting statements :— “ By the conditions attached to the contracts for supplying provisions, &c., for the use of the convicts on board the hulks at Portsmouth, we perceive that the provisions are required to be of a much superior character to those which two-thirds of the population of these towns are able to procure—they are, indeed, required to be of the very best qualities it is possible for even a tradesman or a man of affluence to procure for 7 himself. The beef must be ‘good ox or heifer, sound, sweet, =~ and fresh (bull, cow, or stag, will not be received), in fore and hind quarters alternately” . . . The mutton, too, must be ‘the best wether mutton, to be supplied in equal proportions of fore and hind quarters ;’ and the bread be ‘ the best wheaten.’” Our Southampton contemporary grumbles a little—not, perhaps, with- out some show of reason—at rogues and thieves being supplied with better food than honest hard-working men can earn; and remarks how hard the dockyard labourer, in particular, must think it that the con- vict in the hulks fares better than himself. This is a slight anomaly, no doubt ; but the pon of criminal reformation obliges us not to mind it. It has been established by scientific research, that all maliciousness, ferocity, dishonesty, scroundrelism, rascality, and the like weaknesses of character, are “vices of the blood,” to use a SHAKSPEARIAN term; or arise from “ bad blood,” as we say commonly. Hence the reformatory process must commence with the purification of that fluid, whose vicious condition is the pri cause of crime. The mind depends on the body ; the body is continually undergoing a process of waste and repair; change a rogue’s diet for the better for a sufficient ES length of time, and you renovate the whole man. Indeed, something | more recherché than plain, wholesome, bread and meat should be the dietary of gaols, to produce a thorough refinement of their inmates. M. Soyer ought to be employed to invent a system of prison cookery, adapted to the criminal stomach. There ought to be bauf a la Penton- ville; cételettes & la Milbank; soupe au lait & la Parkhurst. should have its hors d’wuvres ; the Compter its entremets. The carte | should include patés de foie gras a la Coldbath Fields, and vol-au-vent a la he connection between crime and the use of | Horsemonger Lane. intoxicating liquors being notorious, the beverages of the prisoners should be limited to light French or Rhine wines, with now and then, perhaps, a glass or so of old dry port. Newgate | To complete this plan of correction by kindness, the convicts should | be employed in light elegant task-work, alternating with amusements. The female culprits should be occupied with crochet instead of oakum- picking ; the men employed in copying documents, or making drawings : the intervals of labour being occupied by light reading, or by sngng = classes, superintended by competent persons recommended by Mr. Houwtan. Walking exercise should be taken every morning on the prison lawn ; and about twice a week the day should conclude with an mae wy Lag y, at which the gentlemen and ladies of the neighbourhood might invited to assist; and in order to the due observance of the proprieties of the Polka, a slight addition should be made to the County rate, in order to provide the convicts with white kid gloves.

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34 PUNCH, OR THE

of Nm, i / Wt yp! Ui WL MM! 77)! ~ “=

MANLY Swell on Horseback. “ Wux, CHARLEY, WHAT’S THE MATTER, OLD Boy? LONDON CHARIVARI.

[TTT tid SORROW. You sEEM OUT OF SPIRITS.” Swell on Foot. “ An! I’ve HAD A SAD Loss, Frep! I’ve Lost THE LITTLE GRIDIRON oFF MY CHATELAINE!!”

THE GREAT CLOCK CASE AGAIN. Every one will admit that however Heroes or Statesmen may illustrate the age in which they live, we must trust to the clocks to mark the present time. For this reason we must censure the neglect that is shown towards the clocks of our own day,—a class containing some frightful instances of irregularity, and giving evidence of hours untold, of works unprofitable, and of idle-hands. We have been in the habit of blaming the clocks themselves for these erratic ways, but we have now too much reason to” believe that they have suffered from other bad hands besides their own, and that they have been fre- uently the victims of a system over which they have had no control. he following extracts from a newspaper of recent date, will at all events vindicate all the barrack clocks in the kingdom from the charge of irregularity, and will explain how it is that there are so. many military dials without a civil tongue to tell us the time :— “ Government ReTRENCHMENT.—Among other Government ‘savings,’ an order has been issued to the various barracks to stop all separate allowances for winding up the clocks. In consequence, this duty at the Fulwood Barracks will hereafter be trans- a from Mx. Sumpsoy, clockmaker, to the barrack-master. The saving is about a-year.” When the goings on or stoppings still of a clock are dependent upon new and untried arrangements for somebody or other to wind it up, we cannot be surprised that its proceedings are as uncertain as the wind. As military time is always ten minutes in advance of. any other, a rrack-master who has the charge of a clock will naturally be for ever crying, “forwards,” but “right face” will never be a direction appli- cable to a clock whose face is never right: but always wrong. We cannot, either, expect the nicety of touch in a barrack-master which we look for in a watchmaker, and when a military hand performs: the delicate task of winding, we may often expect to hear of an unfortunate clock being severely wounded by having been over-wound. We shall not be surprised if we find the majority. of barrack clocks. standing at.| d ease half their time, now that the skill required to regulate them is withdrawn.

| THE WORSHIPFUL MR. JOHN KETCH. Wuereas the House of Commons has once more rejected Mr. Ewart’s motion for the abolition of capital punishment, and has deter- mined on retaining the penalty of death; and whereas the House of Commons can sanction nothing odious, and whereas it is not odious to carry that which is not odious into effect, and whereas, therefore, the office of Executioner is not odious : Notice is hereby given, that Mr. Punch will move, in his place in Parliament, at the earliest opportunity, “That it is the opinion of this House that the dislike with which an Executioner is popularly regarded arises from some perverted feeling in human nature contradictory to the feelings of this House; and that the vocation of a hangman is a useful and honourable calling. And this Houseisfurtherof opinionthatthenick-name of Jack KetcH commonly applied to the Finisher of the Law is injurious and insulting not only to that Officer himself, but to the Wisdom of Parliament. And this House resolves that the said Officer, instead of being called Jack Ketcu, ought respectfully to be styled Mr. Catcrart or whatever else his proper name may be, and held in all due esteem and consideration accordingly.”

The Alarming Sacrifice of Hyde Park. “Down with your dust!” is the appeal of the Commissioners of the Exhibition "of Industry of all Nations. The entreaty will be echoed by the London public, resorting for air and exercise to Hyde Park, when the multitude with! which it will be crowded shall have worn its turf away, and pulverised its soil. By-the-bye, why should the turf of Hyde Park be wasted? As it must inevitably be walked off, why not cut it, and sell it, and let the proceeds go in aid of the Exhibition, which, we fear, is not supported with the liberality a project so laudable in itself eserves,—owing, no doubt, to the obstinate disregard of public opinion shown by its promoters in their determination to inflict this pre ‘ous building on the Park.

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bj \ Y ABOLITION i~ NA ~ INY i! Vic \ ail ‘ =~ ay SY

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PUNCH. OR TIE LONDCN CHARIVARL THE DRAMA IN CHANCERY. ast Friday, there appeared in the papers a report of the proceedings in one of the Equity Courts, which would really have made an admirable scene in a farce or comedy of the old school, where a testy guardian in a gold-headed bludgeon, is refusing the request of a romping young ward in a pink sash, a white muslin frock, and a luxuriant head of corkscrew curls, for which she is indebted some- what to Nature, and six-and-sixpence tothe barber. The Courtof Chancery, as everybody knows, has a quantity of wards over whom it does not always exercise immediate personal control. But the scene to which we have alluded would seem to show that Equity is resolved to,play the “cross old guardy” to the life, on all future occasions. . An application was made to one of the Vice-Chancellors to allow a young os ward in Chancery—to go to Boulogne during the summer, but the guardian would not accede to the proposal, from the lips of counsel, and decidedly refused the application, ; saying, rather testily, there were a great many wards wanting to go to Boulogne this season. Perhaps the cautious guardian is afraid that the rush of wards will send up the price of apartments at Boulogne, and thus the refusal may proceed from motives of economy; but, at all events, we dare say there were very good reasons for the determination come to by the Vice-Chancellor. We are only afraid that if the part of guardian is played so resolutely upon the Bench, we shall be seeing a parcel of skittish young ladies tripping into the Courts of Chancery, and endeavouring to wheedle their “cross old guardy,” by chucking one of their Lordships, or their Honours, coaxingly under the chin, and entreating him in the usual farce phraseology, to be “a good kind guardy pardy, and let his little wardy pawdy go in the little boaty poaty, over to Francey pancey.” _ Though their Lordships and their Honours may be able peremptorily and bluntly to resist the formal applications of Mr. Humprvum, Q.C., or Messrs. BrunpEr, THUNDER, or DunpeEr, of the outer bar, we are afraid that, should any of the young ladies themselves appear in proprid persondé to urge their own suits, we may occasionally hear an undignified ““Whew! you insinuating little baggage,” chuckled from the Bench, accompanied by an intimation, that “the coaxing little hussey must have an order as prayed.” STRANGE LIKENESS BETWEEN THE OLD BAILEY AND THE OPERA. A CorrEsPonpENT of the Zimes complains that he was refused ad- mission to the Old Bailey, because he would not pay one shilling at the doors. The figure of Justice is generally represented with a pair of scales in its hand. At the Old Bailey these scales must be for the purpose of weighing the money, to see whether it is light, or of the proper legal weight; or perhaps they may be used to regulate the scale of admission. te fact, a strange likeness may be traced between the Old Bailey and the Opera in more features than one. For instance, when there is some very great attraction, Fashion and the Nobility resort there, with their kid-gloves and Opera-glasses, to watch the performances, and a seat in the gallery rises in value in the same pro- rtion as a stall at Her Majsty’s Theatre on a Jenny Linp night. ike the Opera, too, it has no half-price, and no play-bills, and the doorkeepers have the same privilege of turning back rd one whose costume they object to. By-the-bye, a series of “‘ Long Thursdays ” at the Old Bailey would prove, we think, very attractive, providing the first legal talent was engaged, and the Judges could promise a constant succession of novelties. A west-end agent, also, should be appointed, as many a gentleman and lady, upon going to MitcHELL’s or Sam’s to inquire “what was going on this evening ?” would give the preference to the Old Bailey, if they could be certain of a good seat. Who would care for a crowd at the Royal Italian Opera when they could be sure of a Rusu at the Central Criminal Court,—or admire Viarpot Garcta, when they could go into extacies for less money over some crazy PaTr, who had been taken up for assaulting the QuEEN? We are confident there is a fine fortune to be made at the Old Bailey, if the scales are only taken out of the custody of Justice, and put into the hands of some “ enterprising lessee.” At present a shilling is much too low, for really it is putting the first Crimmal Court iu the Kingdom on a level with the Chamber of Horrors at Mapame Tussaun’s. It should be raised to a guinea at least, and season tickets should also be issued, for which there could be no difficulty in obtaining forty guineas a piece. The taste for the horrible kind of amusement is so strong in the British public, that, with good management and a little puffing, the Old Bailey might take the lead of all the operas, theatres, and Grecian Saloons about town. Court suit, a coachman’s wig, and a| } =i IT IS ALL A MATTER OF CONJECTURE. THE Observer writes biographies in a peculiar manner. It is all done | on conjecture. For instance, on Sunday, June 30, it pretended to write the life of an unhappy ruffian, and started off with the eccentric intima- | tion that it had nothing to tell. It candidly informed us that “its | information was too scanty to base any views upon, excepting those of | |mere conjecture.” You would imagine, after this, that 1t would have | iad the discretion to have held its tongue. Not at all: it went on talking for half a column ; indulged in a tissue of fanciful facts ; told us, in a fine, metaphorical style, a number of incidents that might have | happened, but none of which did happen ; and wound up by warning us, that “this was necessarily all hypothesis and conjecture.” This is doubtlessly very amusing, but we hardly think it fair, or charitable, to the person who is in prison awaiting his sentence. Supposing we were to write the character of the Odserver, in a similar style? Supposing we were to say as follows :— | We know nothing whatever of the Observer, but as we are expected to say some- thing about it, we do not mind saying what we have been told, but at the same time must beg our readers to take it only as hearsay, and not as strict matter of fact. The Observer then, is a paper full of bad grammar, and worse taste, and still worse circulation, and is | the recognised organ of all the fashionable areas. A Lady’s maid in May Fair writes its | Fashionable Intelligence, and it derives its government information from the servant who | has the emptying-out of Loxp Jony’s waste-paper-basket, and it pays the box-keepers of the different theatres so much a line for the different articles they send upon the new | pieces produced. It is distinguished for its impartial biographies of all celebrated criminals, which are written generally after supper by the united corps of contributors as they are assembled round a table, smoking and enjoying themselves. Each con- tributor gives, in turn, a fact—either a birth, or an early trait of cruelty, or a marriage, or an unequivocal symptom of insanity, and the whole of it is taken down in writing by the waiter who isin the room. When all the paper is in type, the Proprietor tucks up his shirt-sleeves and proceeds to the engine-room, where, smoking a cigar, he strikes off at , his leisure the weekly impression of 50, and, taking it under his arm, drops the copies down the respective areas on his way home. We remind our readers that they must not take these facts as literally true. We tell them we know nothing! whatever of the Observer, either good or bad. It may be the best paper in the world, for what we know | or care, but as it was expected we should say something about the Observer, and that that something should be bad, we have compounded the above little curious history | respecting its management, which we entreat our readers to ‘read, with implicit faith but at the same time to recollect that it is ‘necessarily all hypothesis and conjecture.” | We do not think the above would be liberal, manly, charitable, or kind, to our talented contemporary, not even supposing it were in priso awaiting in the greatest suspense the trial on which the very life an proceeds of the Journal depended. We do hope the Odserver will try its clever, conjectural pen on some other amusement, less dangerous than that of Criminal Biography. LOUD CRIES OF “NAME! NAME! NAME!” A taw has been passed in the Chamber of Deputies, that all articles | which appear in a French newspaper must, for the future, be signed with the names of their respective authors. On the part of the English | press, we can only state that we shall be too happy to conform to the same regulation. The British Public would then have an opportunity of being astonished at the tremendous list of our contributors. Nota person of any talent in the United Kingdom, but who has been too roud to have his cleverness immortalised in our pages! The highest dignitaries of every profession, from WrppicoMB down to the DuKE oF WELLINGTON, have emulated one another in sending their best things to Punch, and many a bon mot has been repeated from our collection, at, the royal table, whilst the illustrious author was present. In proof of our i honesty, we append to this present article the name of the writer, and, though it is the most modest of our rich collection, still it may be taken as a shining sample of the veins of sterling metal | that run like so many undiscovered streams of Californian gold, through our columns. The name in question is, we are proud to confess, | no other than, _ DiBr—-m. THE ECONOMICS OF SMOKING. BY JOSEPH FUME. THe man who smokes half his cigar, and puts the remainder by, knows nothing about smoking. The man who carries no cigar-case has no right to levy contributions on those who do. Never buy a cigar at a chemist’s, they are sure to remind you of their origin. I once knew a chemist, who also sold wine and cigars, and I am sure he could only have had one workshop for his three businesses, and that was his laboratory. Mistrust the tobacco that is given in half-payment of a bill. Such dealers may be clever in drawing a bill, but it is rarely that their cigars are distinguished for being good “ drawers.” The man who smokes with wine is quite capable of taking sugar with oysters.

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CHARIVARI. | qnq Saovrp sty Aq woppri ] TA se 4 SuIpjoy | JOU 10 ‘OB 04 you) 19449I- Z, | © | ml fx) ny ES | re oO | cs om, | =) A. *soouedoM, STAVG YP WostIVduiod OU IwIq [IA ,, IOUIT SMILTG,, JY} yQnop ou st 194} ynq :aounoMoId 0} 4fNo “ip Sew YI S}LIout BAtjOodsar A194} UG ‘“oMlOY ye Stoj}oq ‘FS ©} PRA JO 410s v palapisuod st UopuoTy yw s,TAVg “Ig ‘SMALAd “LS ONILVAL S/TAVd “Ls 7 ‘NVILVT] 9q 0} pozeys st dopu ,.s o1{due, ,, JO oULeU ot} yey} JoRy OY} Aq worutdo sty} Ul poulIyUod ov 9AA ,,, WOTJOAYOI ,, AT[VaL ST YORAM ‘ouIvU Ss yetUItte ot} padueyo sey Jaqiodai Yysissea ot} Suoy Aqqoy pjo ue —‘sty} ss10y-dovl asueijs y ,a1{due, S,QNONHOINY 40 AXA OY], ,, 2A19sGO aM ‘aurjyoopy Ang foodisavy ol} ye UBL yey} SasIOT] VI[} ODNOKY ‘1eply Sty pus ssioy s, puowyory | UC POyotA, 4} Ploy NVISNAC] “Lg sSuoy, sry + 4q Sy *ysej—(‘o} patjdar aq 04 suppoy M1 OWT j [2yyNveg 4 Syoyooc qyeqqrg AGTHSY 94} ‘asnoyT AqoAo UI 008 0} “sopgosiord jo SMT O1[} BJVIYSNIII ‘sT[eq-woUND jo ‘uawe[jUues pue ‘ Jo sdvoy-Yysiqqni SuLepunoy suory ‘ssuc ‘GXYVNOS NOLVA “‘AVOU -199}9'T 94} yey} odoy B ssaidxa om LvUL ‘94Se} ITI} 10} NINWAD pue “ASINY ‘INIW{ ‘SUssapy Suryuey, pue Zurpnejdde yspry A, “ASIOUS UBLleyeqqug SI JO [eLIOULeU ZuryIy B se yyeg onyding jo daquiay_ oy} 0} pozuasaid sI—Nvivg poy ay om Y}IM SSUOT, SNVISNAC ‘Lg Jo Adog poaordut pue pLioy v—dyg sty} ‘19}JerT Avpung ooqeIq: 94} paddoys pue jo pfoy prey ‘ssuoy, Areyuouerpieg sty jo suvdut Aq “suravy diyspio0ry SIF{ | SSOUPSYOIAA-[[e-JO-19yL0 Aq OY} sSe— ysoq Avpung oq} —IIYJO-jSOg IY} JO VON 9} pazias Suravy ‘AaTIHSY AUuo'rT ‘TAT JO asony 943 todn ‘dsvrs 4314 B YyTAR ‘op AvUL [LM 4Va1s V Ye JO DOUIPIAD Sururejsns ysour pue qSeSlO1js dy} popioye ‘satmyuso 10f ‘aavy Avy} * A1O4SI] [BAatp “OU JO 19}JVUL SUTY}OOS BV OIV S3U0} SOq], wns ® jo ua oy} Aq U9Ad paqiiosep uLy} ‘ATIHSy ue jo Ayatd ay} Aq paatao W090 19}}0q ‘SUOIyeUBULI shOMYdNs 41 YILA puw “Surjef we pasneo qey} ~eoz BV YA SnsvUu Teoljoqerp 94} Susu pue Zurddus ‘SSOUpayol MA -JO-19Y}RY VY} JO WSOU Sutpnayut oy} Jo poy prey quieg oy} “WeUNpMYo spqujoodsar Ysou 4wy} JO Vjt] Sutysa10zUI oq} Ul papsooer AyMyyyIey sv “Yor YIM ‘s#u0, f NVISNAG APOOJIA BY} YALA SSB wWoIy yoys SIXOG Id} WO} Splvayorg poduing ore UIUITIVOD yj Te Sursunjd sasioy pue ‘yjIve Jo spuNnoul 19A0 puL Yysnjs Jo sjood YSno14} Liosep ][@ JO Sadvliivd ‘AVAYSIY OYOVYO sty UI ‘90s 0} [NJTVI} ST 47 | pte uvut 07 flue OlNeI}xe yROYZIA PadI0y oq 0} 4OU Q[QePIULIOL 4SOU B 0} BUIOD Sey ‘4ORj ‘Lg Jo Aytodord oY} doo ‘SBu0} poywiqoyao a7} Jo Adoo aaayz v SI OTA f PNUL Vy} Ul Suryorys 0} Opnyye 94 Fa “qsvaq | SUIBJUNOU 94} “youRTC SONIN dO SNMOG 4INV ut ‘aivnbg uoyeq ‘peoy s,Sury ‘sojdund pure soziqvay o10ut ore ISI) WO U9aS 9q 0} AUB YOIYA OF SOTPIV[NFOLIU SUIGIQIYXe oeyYINoIOYy} v ‘aIvnbg uoyeq ‘peoy s Bury OY SdI}IAvO JOY yeoq Sassiqe Sj} 4STIYA “UooW 943 i asou} SIT} JO UoTZI0d vB ‘1aAaMOY ‘ST OI9T A[SNOPUIULII} JO WOTJVUII}[ WY 9G 0} TOOUL IT} JO BIBJANS OI[} SIDAODSIP UOIYWALISGO DIdOOSATAT, . ysax00d oy} yMs TILA yey} PeyoW ut paonposdor oq PLA diqg | dyg ogy, “413 Apyorq} “Taapts prepueys ut poynoexe oq 04 “dQ -10}J9'T @ JO} UBIsap V Jo TBAOIdde May} UL 94Se} Ysa BY} 04 UTED Tay} pozyeorput ATZuryono, ‘sn 0} sivadde 41 ‘aAvy—NIN “WAZ puv ASINY “INIT ‘SUSSaPY_—Oo10yy_ Jo 9a74tWLUIOZ 9IT7, ‘AUTHSY CUO 0} [eIUOWTSay, Vy} “eoUdFT = “AaATIS SULMpUI TYLA SsSoUTYPIOA sty] od 0} “pOTT o[qou pue sort aq} JO saotastas oprorjsod-Auued ay} jo qUIWSpI|MOUyoV 94¥] v ATUO st 4I ‘4od-va} pue “aates ‘YoIysaTpuvd JO UOJ 94} UI TeIMOUIT}SI} VY} WO Yc TPZ oY} ILA ‘s1oTtupe 2 a8euloy 94} PAIQDII 0} UMOUY W9eq AVY ‘SUapIVAYINYyO suryoodsor -J[9s pue ‘sotejaioos Avmyrel ‘siafvid-o3ejs ouvjoid weAes UoYy ‘Iodoid AVA st styy, ‘AiysprIOTT sty 02 JaaTIs Jo 41q oToquidAS oy} Sutyussord ‘ayefd jo ooard ve oyut Ayord Sutitupe sm0y} qnd 0} paajposar oavy ‘ssulop Yyeqqeg S.ATTHSY Guory jo pno ay} Sutmayo ‘ajdood SZuryeitousa say} TJaA, “apiseq Surpjou pue ATTHSY ‘ouejord oy} Jo worsnguod sy} 0} “spueys Aptord “UNS S}I UT BUIVU ISO INQ ‘SAATHSY-ANV-HLOTOWOVG poTyeo A[SuUJOOs UBUL V JO SSULOP OY} dIAIAIT OYLM—300q 0} SJayxood ayy we Aatow YA ‘ajdood quoljaoxs—ojdood ov AWaH, “AYTHSV GUYOT OL ALVTd JO LId NOIWLVINGSTUd N JO uaen?) tj} Jo OS¥sta 91} 0} Yorya jo L ‘suseqo punojoid yt soousutute A4joy ‘ Sd WHHL

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| Mrs. Surraze Smyrue Smirn’s intended fée in her grounds—six | working clergyman in the diocese. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE FASHIONABLE ORGANS. ATTERLY two of our morning contem- poraries have been engaged in an ignoble competition for the doubtful honour—and possible profit—at- tached to the position of the fashion- able organ, whose practice it is to perform the task—and pocket the contingent cash—of chronicling not exactly the “small beer,” but the dancing teas, &c., &c., of those whose ambition it is to get classed —at oe rate of £ guinea a ph—among the votaries 0 feahion. We really blush for our brethren of the press when we witness the paltry style of literature to which the two journals addict themselves, for the mere sake of the few shil- lings that are to be picked up by announcing the postponement of Lapy Musnroom’s Matinée, or yards wide, by twenty-three feet long—at Pimlico. We shall really be delighted when the season is fairly over, that we may be spared the zausea of reading the weekly list of “ Fashionable arrangements” and “Further arrangements” in the columns of the namby-pamby newspapers. Who cares to know that “Lavy Trwxrnson threw open her salons to about 150” male and female nobodies, among whom the penny-a-liner has “ particularly noticed ’’—because he has been paid for particularly noticing—a prone | bundle of fifth-rate outsiders of the world of rank or fashion ? What matters it to us, or to the world, that the Baroness DE BomBasEen has “postponed her déeiiner”—or whether she turns her déetiner into a dinner, or whether she ever gets any breakfast at all, or whether she rushes into a late supper of bread and cheese and onions, or, in fact, who cares what the old woman either does or refrains from doing ? In this practical of common sense, we think it would be much wiser for the idle and useless classes decently to keep their mode of passing their lives out of the notice of the world at large, which is be- os to estimate people by the worth of what they do, and not by the means they possess of doing nothing. THE GREAT OVERWORKED. WE must positively issue a commission of our own to inquire into the condition of the working classes. Notwithstanding alli the recent inves- tigation into this subject, it appears that among the sons of Toil there is a body of white slaves—if we should not rather say white and_black slaves—whose existence heretofore has been quite unsuspected. In the late discussion on the Ecclesiastical Commission Bill, Mz. GLADSTONE made the following remarkable assertion in reference to an individual of this class :— “He ventured to say that the ,BisHoP oF Lonpon worked twice as hard as any The perspiration of the mitred brow, then, is a great deal more copious than most people are aware of. An opinion prevails that the principal employment of a bishop is comprised in ordaining, confirming, consecra- ting churches; making visitations of the nature of angels’ visits; reaching when he has nothing else to do; and writing works on ivinity during leisure hours. ese occupations are spread over so much time, that they cannot be very onerous ; and an occasional evening’s attendance in the House of Lords during the session, can add no very back -breaking weight to them. How is it then that a prelate is so monstrously overworked? Nay, we must and will send an emissary to Lambeth and Fulham to ferret all this out. THE CONSISTENT SABBATARIANS. A Duet between Lorp Sticcins and Mr. Mawworm. Tune—* Pretty Polly Hopkins.” Lord §. Do you shave on Sunday, ever,' : Reaping your chin, reaping your chin? Mr. M. Oh, dear, no! Of course not. Never. It would be sin; it would be sin. Lord S. All unshorn I go, Mr. M. With muzzle hairy.! Lord §. Shaving is, we know, Mr. M, ot necessary. Both, Strictly thus we keep our Sunday, gidly so, rigidly so. Lord S. Take you tea, or any victual, On Sunday morn, for breakfast, hot ? Mr. M. Cold, of course. What, boil the kettle? Certainly not, certainly not. Lord §. Toast we won’t have made, Mr. M. With bread contented. Lord §. Eggs—we ’d not have laid, Mr. M. uld we prevent it. Both. Strictly thus we keep our Sunday, gidly so, rigidly so. Lord S. What have yow for Sunday’s dinner, Roast meat, or boiled; stew, or fry? Mr. M. Do you think I’m such a sinner ? Cookery? Fie! Cookery? Fie! Lord §. Cold meat will suffice Mr. M. To keep from starving ; Lord S. Nay, ’tis my advice, Mr. M. To give up carving. Both. Strictly thus we keep the Sunday, Rigidly so, rigidly so. Lord §. Wherefore all this self-denial ? Some may inquire, some may inquire. Mr. M. Oh, it is a painful trial, Bitter and dire, bitter and dire ! Lord §. Sunday letters we Mr. M. Having arrested, Lord §. Our consistency Mr. MN. Must be attested. Both, Strictly thus by keeping Sunday, Rigidly so, rigidly so, ag A FAIR SPORTING OFFER. ' IR, “T ave to arks yer parding for this here letter, wich I wood ave sent it direck to the Guverment if Ide ad the office were to send to, but if you will be enuff to forard it. Avin red in the Zimes that they wants a British consul in Californy, wich I don’t now wot it is but nab the gold as the British as been and dug, wich will want a stron; man, and one used to giv and take, and a good itter with both ands, an I think I mite sute, carryin on the public bisness at the same time. you want to see ow I can kepe order among a set of customers command and no chaff ment. * Bengn. Caunt (X-Champion).” PLAYING AT BALLOONS. We have a dark suspicion that the spiritual meditations—if not | duties—of the right reverend Bench, are rather interfered with by | business relative to wills and ecclesiastical property; so that a bishop | has to do his own work, and a lawyer’s and estate-agent’s, too. If this | is the case, perhaps Lorp AsHLEy will bring in a Ten Hours Bill to} abridge episcopal labour; or, as that plan may not be very practicable, | eae sg the Premrer will emancipate the prelates altogether rom their secular serfdom. Something must be done to cure the headache, which, if Mr. Guapstone is right, is enclosed in the mitre. It is strange, however, that a Lord Spiritual can generally find time to marry members of the nobility who are above being united by a “working clergyman.” Nevertheless, if the work of the British bishop is proportionate to his pay, it certainly is something enormous. Tuts game has been not only very popular in England lately, but is quite the rage at present in France. e do not like the game our- selves, for though you begin very low, there is no knowing what it may rise to in the course of the evening, or where you will stop when once you have begun. The game is subject to too many drops to induce us to be carried away with it. We are not fond of playing so high; for let your plans be ever so perfect, the chances are that you will be com- pletely thrown out; and, if you do win the pool, the pleasure is some- what damped by your being thrown right into the middle of it. A French gentleman has been riding the high horse at Paris with this game, and bent on carrying every thing before him, ascended with a balloon on horseback. All we know is, that we would not “bet a pony,” much less a horse upon any such jew, which has too many “ ups and downs” for our mundane taste. Chip, to be executed in standard silver, thickly gut. Lhe Cup! Clip will be reproduced in metal that will suit the poorest | Fence” will bear no comparison With FAULS AWOpences, concludes its somebody to take care them there Yankees don’t go and | jist you come and take a luke at my bar the nite after a mill, wich you'll | see | am the man to go in and do it. No mor at present from yours to |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ' elephant paper, nibbed. our peacock | eventful occasions—and dipping it in our perfumed imk, recently pre- | of attar of | culean stable-boyat our: Augean Courts of | BrovuGHam’s picture. ———_———- , Sie “Op ’Arp Brit! Here’s aNnotHER HipPeRPo’TAMUS.” LORD BROUGHAM’S VISIT TO AMERICA. Art the last meeting of the Society for Promoting the Amendment of the Law; held very spropriotaly in Chancery Lane, Lorp BrovcHaM announced his-intention of proceeding to America. “ WHITHER HE HAD BEEN INVITED IN ORDER TO CONFER WITH HIS BRETHREN THERE RESPECTING THE AMENDMENT OF THE Law.” Directly this intelligence met our eyes, we called for a best sheet of pen—used. only upon rare an sented to us by the Ducuess or ***********, who with a whole bottle had scented the fluid—we immediately indited a Letter of Introduction to GengeraL Taytor, the American President, | and forthwith sent the epistle to dear Lorp BrovcHam. Well, to our astonishment and some’ 4o our: annoyance, we find that garbled copies of the epistle are at this moment circulating throughout society —indeed, we know not foxwhat amount: of: floating letter: Hence, we complain—as, indeéd, +a distinguislied and particularly good-tempered yoimg nobleman iof:irreproachable Manners had, recently, cause to com- plain:of the publicity of. his Poems, before: published ;: and—following that poet’s noble: example—we are resolved to print the complete Letter for the satisfaction: of:ourselves, of Brovcuam, and of Taytor. To be sure, we understand:that:borp Broucuam himself made a point of reading our:missive!of-introduction to every party he visited ; but such confidence on :the part-of:the:noble; learned, and ingenuous Lord, does inno: manner’ justify its publication by any of its hearers, or eaves- yppers.: However,’ we~ will. not lose our temper; we will not ‘pelt people as penny-a-liners and so forth; but, in our calm sense of injured | dignity—print'the letter. “ To GENERAL Taytor, President of the United States, Favoured by Henry Lorp Brovenam, Member of the French Institute. “Dear TAYLor, * ‘| gave: much pleasure in making yourself and my friend BrovucHam—the Brovcuam, whose fame is o¢ European, but world- wide,, personally, aéquainted. With all his little drolleries, he is an excellent fellow ;’and with all his oddities, he has worked like a, Her- Law. He .has cheapened costs; he has well-nigh destroyed the race of sharp attornies—(the more Hebrew, by the way, the more sharp), for the jew is still pastoral, and flourishes on . sheep-skin.,’, Indeed, if you. would seek BroucHam’s uonument, look around’ every fattorney’s office; and you will zof see You will: see the Draconian ELLENBoROUGH— you will behold, in’ebon frame, the Doubling Etpoy,—but you will xo¢ see the Cost-Controlling Brovucnam! His picture, like the effigies of | old, is the more lustrous as it is wof shown ! “Tt appears, dear Tartor, that your American lawyers have invited BrovucuasM to a fraternally legal conference. Iam glad of it. Like | invitations have been sent him from the lawyers of the Sandwich Islands, and_from certain distinguished legalists of the nation of Caribbees.. But BroveHam, learning that your necessities, as a people, are greater than either Sandwich Islander or Carib, pays you the visit. He comes, with an amendment of that American law that lays violent hands upon every free black—locking him up in gaol, like a pest-tainted bale of goods, lest the plague of negro liberty should spread all over the Union. He comes to prove to you that your Declaration of Independence, in which you set out that all men are born free, whilst among you negro man is bought and sold like a beast, is no other than a Declaration of Impudence; a blasphemy uttered to the Maker of man, and an affront to the common sense of all mankind (American- | kind, perhaps, not included). * And now, dear Taytor, that little burst got rid of—for it would break out, I couldn’t button it within my waistcoat—let us have a little pleasant gossip. -. - - “You will, I know—for Jonathan is aboundingly hospitable, with a heart as flowing and free as his Mississippi—you will, i know, give a magnificent welcome to BroucHamM. But, pray understand this; it may save us a future war—we will not lose our Brovcnam. I know Henry’s ardent, impulsive temperament. You will be giving him a public banquet; and there and then, after a gorgeous description of the mighty energies of your mighty country—after claiming on brotherhood with all of you,—he will insist—(and I know the force, the subtlety of his eloquence too well, not to be aware that it will cause you a struggle—a very severe struggle to refuse the favour)—he will insist upon being immediately made an American Citizen. But for the extraordinary astuteness (B. has been heard to call it “d——d cross obstinacy”) of M. Crimrevx, our BroucHam would, at this moment, have been a French Citizen! _In. danger, it may be, of -the next Presidency ; and—by the way—should you naturalise him, I wouldn’t give yourself much chance of.a re-election. You will therefore be on your guard. Our Henry must return to us: his genius is the property of the Human race—but:his citizenship is with England. Take any jewel out of our Crown ;_take if you will our Kou-1-Noor, our Mountain of Light, but not our bodily Light of Brovcuam. “Of course, you will show your. guest Niagara ;. but I put it to you as a vital favour, do not let Henry. attempt to jump the Falls. . Should he insist upon it—which is not at all unlikely—lay the violence of friendly hands upon him..and let him be carried from the spot. “ How. you will enjoy Broucnam after dmner; whilst the- American women in.the drawing-room will hang upon him, bright’ and thick, as the ‘stars of. your spangled banner. . There is ‘no man tells a story with a greater fatness of humour—no man sings a, song like him ;—by the d| Way, when he is in full force of spirits, da—now, pray, don’t miss this— do ask him to sing The Three Little Pigs! You will never forget it : from that moment, Zhe Three Little Pigs will become dear as your national eagle. Moreover, set some of the women on him—if, which is not at all unlikely,-he do not volunteer it—to do'the ‘conjuring trick of The Chesnuts in Chancery.. .\t, has had wonderful ‘success with us durin the present season ; so much so that the Quezen.and her Prince invite BrouGHam: to Windsor Castle to play the.trick, before themselves and children, although (but you,.my. dear oe in-your free and generous country, you.can ‘have little idea. ofthe -malignity of party interest) although all notice of the visit and its object, was, it is supposed by the in- fluence of L—p J—n R—uL, meanly excluded from the Court Circular. **BRovuGHAM will do you much good, and I earnestly hope. that the sea voyage and American air will brace him up for the next half-century. Such human ‘gold with all its alloy rarely enriches -the generations of men. By the way, I know Henry’s philosophic curiosity—his ‘thirst for knowledge : therefore, do not let him’ too frequently test_your gin. sling, your mint-julep, your cobblers, and all that variety of drinks it is a part. of the glory of the American genius to offer to the lips of Bacchanal nature. “ Broucuam has promised me to present this to you in his cosmopolite travelling-dress. Isn’t it significant, nay, epigrammatic? His coat, half the union-jack of England—half the tri-color of France. | His waist- | coat embroidered with the American eagle, and his trousers the American‘ stripes ! “Cherish, honour, love our Henry, and for your love to him, accept the increased admiration of yours ever, * Puncn, 85, Fleet Street.” Barry v. Beid. Tuis action for slander, which came on the other day in the Court of Common Pleas, has furnished us with a suggestion. - Surely the: Archi- tect and the Great Ventilator of the New Houses of Parliament’ought to have some monument in connexion with those walls which they: have reared and aired. Let it be their portraits; and should the question be asked how the gentlemen are to be drawn, the answer obviously is, “at daggers drawn.” Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, U oo Place, in the Parish of St. Pane: - , “eS ’ ras, 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 of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by thenrat No. 35, Fleet Street in the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of London. —Satoapat, Jury 2th, 189e.

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(On @ Pp mG ME oe ed | lad ah bd

| of nat’ral respect for Old |

PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 41

JULY THIRTY-ONE, EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY. IST! There is something stirring in the

alr, A movement that excites the general wonder ; Men, as they meet each other, seem aware There is an influence that they all are under ; They know not what it is—but soon, like thunder, The fact on all sides is by rumour hurled ; The secret from its bonds has _ burst asunder ; A posting bill is on the wall unfurl’d— PUNCH ives an Extra Number To THE ApMiRING Wor.p.

A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE THIRTEENTH. MRS. MOUSER APPLIES FOR A PASSPORT TO JOIN MOUSER IN FRANCE, AND WAS NEVER “SO INSULTED BEFORE.” Mr. Puncu,—As the time is come and past when the Prime Minister in the House of Commons has drowned what Mouser calls the blind kittens of the Session—by which, I suppose, Mouser means the Bills that arn’t to see the light this present year,—as then, I say, Lorp Joun has 7 his customary kittens into the pail, and what is called the wisdom of the country is about to separate—crumble to bits—like a plum-pudding that’s over-rich,—you will allow me to call the attention of my sisters of England to a scandal and abuse at which Lorp PatMeERsTON (as I believe is his name) is at the bottom, as he is the Foreign Office head ; an abuse that strikes at the root of private families (if I’m not using too strong la ge)—and violates the dearest secrecy of domestic life,—I mean a lady's e. Yes, I must ask, what is Lorp Patmerston—(if that is his name), what is he about, that he should suffer an Englishwoman, that pays taxes through her husband, to be insulted by the rudest, and I will say it, the most unprovoked and unmanly question that can be put to any gentlewoman,—need I say, a question that goes to inquire a lady’s age ? - a, < Punch, you shall hear, and through you all the women of ngland. _Mr. Movssr is at this moment abroad. A fortnight ago I made up his portmanteau, and let him go alone; for, as I said, how could we both go, and leave the painters in the house? So he went, of course, and left me to be poisoned, as I might, which I shall not go into at apo but come to the affront I’ve suffered ; the worst affront that can B : upon a woman; I mean, of course, the insult put upon her age. ell, MousER, as T say, being gone—and the painters at last being done—I got my things together to follow him. My boxes (and if 1 pride myself upon anything, it is, that I never travel with more than six t s, two bonnet-boxes, and one bag, and a moderate basket, even if I leave home for a month)—my boxes being almost ready, I went to get my passport; for Mouser wrote to me that they wouldn’t let me join him on a foreign soil without; though he never so much as breathed the insult which, as his wife, he must have known would have been put upon me, when left by myself. However, what I write I write as a warning for the wives of England, that, if they dotravel, they may takecare and goabroad with their husbands, on the same piece of paper. “Two figs on one stalk,” as the poet says. I went to the house of the French Ambassador; and, after what I’ve suffered, to call the French polite! But I suppose it’s all come of the French revolution ; all their mare, shot away in powder and smoke. Well, I went, and after waiting—as I thought, like a menial—I was told to go into a room, and the Ambassador would see me. Out ngland, I had of course drest myself with particular care; and though shall not say how I looked—(not but what even the handsomest people have their well-looking days; and that day was certainly zot one of my worst ; I must say that)—though I shall not dwell — appearances, being quite below a sensible woman —I must say, that had I come for a cook’s place instead of a lady’s pass- rt, the French Ambassador couldn’t have treated me more like a bear. he young man—(mind, I have no prejudice against young men as young

men, by no means—but I think an Ambassador ought to have a little more of the prime of life, which ty by the way, poor aunt Pzacock said used to vary, being now at forty, and now at fifty-five ; she—poor soul !—declared herself only in her prime when she died at three-score) —the young man, when I swum into the room—as, without conceit, I think [ can swim when I like—the young man, when I entered the apartment—which was not at e an attorney’s office, without that faint sheep-skin smell that kills decent people—the young man never so much, as Mouser says, moved a muscle. I’d heard so much of French politeness; and did expect such a sample of it at the French Ambassador’s, that I must confess it, I felt for the moment quite staggered; whereupon, for my presence of mind never forsakes me—and presence of mind to a female, as dear aunt Peacock used to say, is worth a pistol at full-cock—whereupon, didn’t I draw myself up ? I should think Paid ! i There I stood, and the Ambassador never so much as flew for a chair ; but if he didn’t look at me, and while with one hand he twiddled a pe and with his other fingers coaxed a ferret-coloured moustachio, an — a few hairs at the end of his chin, as if they were a bell-rope, and e could get ’em all the lower by pulling *em—well, if whilst amusing himself in this manner, and never speaking a word, he didn’t actually begin to whistle!—— i : : Well, you may believe that my blood rose, and I did begin to wish myself a man. However, as I never forget myself, that is, before strangers, and out of my own house—for with one’s own husband, and under one’s own roof, it’s quite a different thing—as I’m always cool out, I smiled what I felt to be an icy smile, saying to myself, “This is the French Ambassador ; but let ’s see how it will end.” eld There I stood; and the Ambassador, going on with his whistling, stared at me from head to foot. Yes, from the ribands of my bonnet, to the very tips of my Adelaide boots. Not that I cared a bit about his staring; [I should think not—I’ve seen a little too much of the world for that—not a bit ; for I took his looks as if I’d been a marble statue; looking at him again, and giving him, I should think, a little better than he sent. However, still staring, he began—for I could feel it, ¢ha¢ I could, as if the very pen was in my flesh—he began to write me down. Where- upon, as was nat’ral, I looked composed ; for I’d seen MouseERr’s pass- rt, and though he’s not so handsome a man as I might, if I’d only iked, have had for a husband, he’s by no means—I should think not— the fright they made him. saa! The Ambassador smiled a bit, and went on writing. “There go m eyes upon the paper,” said T to myself, as he looked at me; an whether or no, t aiid feel ’em twinkle. “And that’s my nose, 1’m sure of it,” for it suddenly burned so; “and that’s my mouth,” and I couldn’t help smiling at the thought,—“ and that’s my complexion,”-— for I felt a flush,—“‘and that’s my hair; and now I’m finished.” And having given my name, of course, I thought it was all over; when the Ambassador—as if he had been — for the coolest thing in life—said, in a sort of English that even a poodle might be ashamed of— ** What is your age?” “ What!” cried I, and they might have heard me in the street. __ “What is your age?” said the Ambassador once more, twisting his ferret moustachio in such an aggravating way that I could have torn it off. “ Well,” said I, “ what next?” And that’s all he got out of me. “ What is Madame’s age ?” said the Ambassador, beginning to laugh. * What a question for a polite Frenchman!” said I, laughing too. ** Ask a lady’s age! Well, I’m sure!” “T must know Madame’s age,” said the Ambassador. rm It’s like your impudence,” said I, “and you’ll know nothing of the sort.” “Then Madame can’t go to France,” said the Ambassador, throwing down his pen. “What is it to France how old lam? France is very curious. Per- haps I’m five-and-twenty,” said I. ‘ Five-and-twenty,” cried the Ambassador, and where he learnt the words I can’t tell, “‘ suppose, Madame, for sport, we go double or quits ?” My blood did boil, but I contrived to say nothing—only to laugh. “Really, Madame,” said the brute, beginning to be gruff, “1 must have your age.” “Well, then,” said I, throwing my veil quite back as if daring him to do his worst, “as for my age, there ’s my face; and take what you like out of that.” The wretch laughed—wrote something—and gave me my passport, which I did not look at, I was in such a passion, till 1’d locked myself fairly in my room at home. Would you believe it ? When I unfolded the passport, I saw within as my description :— “ Agée”’——which is French for “Aged ”—— But no, Mr. Punch, not even to you will I reveal the insult that’s been put upon me. No; I leave it for my fellow sisters to guess ; and with it, this warning: not to have a passport to themselves, but—for then they say nothing about years—but an they do go abroad, to go on the same sheet with their husbands. The Honeysuckles, Yours, insulted Amet1a Movser.

VOL. XIX.

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} | | | 42 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIL. THINGS FOR A GERMAN TO CALCULATE. . ,. | Wealways thought that an American was the best person Yy\ / | E have no objection | ¢o calculate; but it seems that there is in London an extra- / 4 to bow to circum- ordinary “ Calculating German.” We have not yet had the stances, like all the | pleasure of hearing this wonderful Deutscher, who, we are rest of the world, told, throws sums and figures about, and catches them but we must say,|as skilfully as Ramo Samer did cannon-balls, but we take that there is some-| the liberty of proposing to him the following simple calcula- thing rather un-| tions, to which we shall be too happy to receive the proper pleasant in being | answers. : obliged to bow) Will he be kind enough to tell us— under such a very; When the Great German Empire is likely to be founded, disagreeable cir- | and what city is likely to be the capital of it ? cumstance as the| When those facts are ascertained beyond the fraction of a lowering of !doubt, if he would endeavour to calculate the longest steamboat funnel | period the said German Empire is likely to last, and, on to your head, supposing it lasts six months, how far distant that great im passing through fact will be from the Millennium of the world ? j a bridge. W e have | How often has Austria committed bankruptcy, and what frequently found | js the sum total of its several bankruptcies, and whether it ourselves under | js capable of paying a kreutzer in the pound ? the painful amg a What is the number of political prisoners in Austria, sity of nursing | Prussia, and the little despotic principalities of Germany ? our lapa large iron} Calculate what good the long-denounced, long-delayed chimney, suddenly | Constitution has done Prussia, and whether it was worth thrown upon our] while waiting so very long for so very little ? knees, or we have} Calculate the revenue Nassau and Baden-Baden derive : — : ; : been exposed tO|/from their own resources, and tell us how many times the* reception in our face of a tremendous volume of smoke, discharged from the | oreater or lesser they are than the revenues they draw from mouth of a steamboat funnel, brought unexpectedly flush with our eyes, nose, and | those German “ sinks of iniquity,” the conieadehien? mouth, as we were admiring the architecture of one of the Metropolitan bridges. Ascertain, if you can, and tell us the name of the German | who does not smoke ? —————————————— Also ascertain, and pray tell us once for all, “Was ist das Vaterland?’? —for we have heard it many hundred times, NAPOLEON CROSSING THE ALPS. , WE MUST ALL BOW TO CIRCUMSTANCES. | but we never could make out. Tuts grand historical sight may be seen three or four nights a week at the | ree ines ‘ Surrey Zoological Gardens: Naroneon crosses the Alps in a manner that is not | THE MONSTER STRAWBERRY. mentioned, we believe, by Txrers, or Bourrrenne, or Str Wa ter Scort, or a “ Chambers’ Tracts,” or any other historian. The manner in which he effects it is| ee TRAWBERRIES have now-a-days such “greatness thrust upon by sliding on at a slow pace across a large sheet of water, and, as he is on a) back, the reading, it will be clear, is quite a new one. What lake there is up in the Alps we do not know; and whether Napoeon crossed it on his celebrated white horse, which seems to have had a wonderful talent for standing on his hind legs, we have looked into every kind of history, including the authentic versions published every year at Francont’s and AstLey’s, but cannot find, to our disap- pointment, the smallest record of the fact. However, as Naponron did everything | differently from everybody else, it is very probable that he did as he is represented, or that he would have done so, if there had been a lake. Another curious circum- stance is, that NarotEon crossed the Alps amidst a brilliant display of fireworks | —so brilliant a display, in fact, that if it had taken place at the caution of Mont | St. Bernard, or Mont Blane, or from any other of the great heights to which | Naponeqn’s ambition delighted to climb, the reflection must have been seen all | over Europe; and the result would have been that Mr. Brarpwoop would have been gallopping for days all over England with his engines in search of the fire. We have always understood that Napro.eon crossed the Alps in the daytime, for | the ascent would have been too perilous at night with a horse like the one Davin | has given him, which must, in one of its extraordinary amphitheatrical jamades, | have tumbled, rider and all, over the first precipice that came in its way; and| if Naproteon did cross in the daytime, it is very clear he never would have done it | in the company of a grand display of fireworks, the effect of which would have been perfectly lost. NaroLEon was not so fond of hiding his candle under a bushel as to burn ten thousand Roman candles in the broad daylight. He was| quite clever enough to know that a kind of jew like that certainly ze ralait pas la chandelle, or at \east so many chandelles. Beyond this, we must say the comp-d’wil is very good; and if Narozeon had Exhibition of Industry. to go over the Alps again, there is no doubt that, knowing the love the French have for theatrical display, he would give orders to have it performed in perfectly a similar manner to the one Messrs. Danson and Soutupy have so cleverly them” by the application of the forcing process at the hands of the gardener, that it is quite alarming. So tremendous has been the size of some of these specimens of enormity which we have witnessed, that we are quite sure there would not have been room for more than one in a bed of these gigantic Strawberries. If the system of forcing is applied gene- rally to all other fruits, as it has been to the Straw- berry, we shall be having the common cherry weighing a stone, and the bigaroon growing bigger and bigger, until “two bites at a cherry ” will no longer be regarded as an absurdity. , Tue Exhibition of Industry, as far as it has gone, shows the following results :— arranged for him; although we doubt if he would ride across a lake on horseback ; The Industry of complaining, and the Industry of finding and we have our misgivings, also, whether he would allow his Grand Maréchal| fault, and the Industry of making mistakes, but with very JuLieN —and a Maréchal Junuzen certainly is in his way, for has he not his | little Industry to repair them. , . biton?—to play “God save the Queen” just as the last discharge of Catherine) There has also been a wonderful Industry in collecting wheels were running about like mad, in the astonished atmosphere. money, but a shameful lack of Industry on the part of those With these small exceptions, we are positive that NaroLgon would not wish to who have the means to pay, and ought to pay, but somehow cross the Alps in better style than he does three or four times a week at that | will not pay. grand shilling’sworth of beasts, flowers, music, and fireworks—the Surrey Zoological | Gardens. THE FOLLY OF A NIGHT. eee Tuts Sunday-letter-stoppage business has become so |absurd, that it is almost wanting in good sense to treat Tur Expense or Equiry.—Lorp Corrennam is about to retire upon 5000/.| it seriously ; so we reeommend that some great elocutionist, yer annum—deserving it, to be sure, as much as an Ex-Chancellor could do.| Mr. Jones, Mn. Jonn Coorrn, or Mr. Frepericx Wrs- ‘his is the usual superannuation allowance of Lord Chancellors—or Lord High} srr, be deputed to wait upon the Post-Office, and try to Chancellors, as they are more properly called, for certainly they do run very high. | cure it of the ridiculous “‘ impediment in its delivery.”

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th ve eS m ys on of he at So Ze ns ve ite ne tic 1e- as w- ng ng on er, ; ed ws ng ry ng se ow pat | st, EB- A LEGACY TO FLUNKIES. To Mr. Rurus Rurry, Patriot. INCERELY, dear Rurus, you will rejoice to hear that the system of artificial aristocracy, which you abhor so vehemently, has re- ceived a very damaging blow. “You, Rurvus, if you had the ordering of affairs, would cause the coronet to be torn from the brow of the decorated lord- ling, and oon beneath the feet of an indignant people. Not so!I. I would as soon think of bereaving an Ojibbeway of his top-knot, or an inmate of St. Luke’s of his diadem of straw; nay, of depriving you, my Rurvus, of your honest brown- paper cap. But if you could anyhow per- suade my Lord quietly to unbonnet himself, and dispose of his pericrania embellishment to: Mr. Narwan, the masquerade ware- houseman,—I think that would be advisable. “ Plunkeyism, dear Rurvs, is not extirpated by the destruction of its outward shoulder-knots, plush, and gold lace. Witness the French, and others. If you would annihilate it, attack it in its spirit and prin- ciple—its inward vanity and baseness. The st roke which I congratulate you on its having had, was thus aimed at its vitals. I allude to the hit inflicted on flunkeyism, posthumously, by Sir Rosert Pret, in the request that none of his family should accept of any distinction for services which he may be considered to have rendered to the State. “Sra Ropert PEEL was a wise man, Rurus; a great statesman. To find one as great, we shall have to go back very far in English history, and I wish you could tell me where to stop before we come to Kiyc-Lawetver ALFRED. I don’t mean to compare the two. I only mean to say that PEt was better than a WatrotE or a Ceci; and has he not been a greater benefactor, at least, to us, than Prrt ? “Now, this wise man declares by solemn testament, that he will not have his family ennobled on his account. This is either a protest against the principle of hereditary rank, or it is an expression of con- tempt for title altogether; and very probably it is both. We know, Rorvs, that Pee. might have been made a Peer over and over again ; but he preferred to remain plain Ropert Pret, with no other handle to his name than a Sir, which, as the world went, he could not have thrown away without turning Quaker. “ A man is ennobled by his deeds. A great name, simple of itself, is a sufficient inheritance of dignity for any family. Men are born unequal —not equal, as you say, Rurus—unequal in the scale of humanity, from the zero of fatuity upwards. Let us be content with the honour and glory that come naturally to us, and consider them as derogated from by investiture with ribbons and trinkets. We won’t be_bedizened and lackered, and silvered, and gilt, and embroidered, to be admired and envied—envied, mind, my Rurus, as well as admired—by the ignoble herd. “Thus I paraphrase the departed statesman’s injunction to his family, and I reverently say ditto to Rosert Pret. Real, genuine, cool con- tempt, Rurus, is the only influence that will wither Flunkeyism, In-| dignation rather tends to encourage it, being generally a testimony | to the importance of its honours borne by an unhappy flunkey out of place. “Yours, dear Rurvs, ** ALGERNON Hamppen Minton Srpney.” AN IMAGINARY DIALOGUE ON THE EXHIBITION OF 1851. (Between Dr. Jounson and BoswEtt.) Boswell, Wut do you think, Sir, of the Exhibition of 1851? Johnson. Sir, I think it would be a very good thing in its proper place. It will promote international sociality, and augment the trade of London. But, Sir, I am sorry it is to be held in Hyde Park; though the disfi- gurement of the Park will happily be obviated by the substitution of Mr. Paxton’s magnificent glass fabric for an unsightly edifice of brick and mortar. Boswell, Don’t you think, Sir, that a public Park ought to be used for a ae urpose P Pate Johnson. Sir you might as well ask whether a public building ought not to be used as a public-house. Sir, the Park is used for a public p se. It is used for the purpose of taking air and exercise. PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 43 pom class of persons, consisting principally of gentlefolks and people of quality ? Jolene. No, Sir. The great people ride in the Ring and Rotten Row, and the common people go to Took at them. The fine folks are a pretty show. The diversified liveries of their servants are pleasing, their complacent countenances impart cheerfulness, and their gay apparel and andsome equipages exhilarate the spectators. Sir, did you never observe how the populace shouts for joy to see a splendid carriage going to the races ? Boswell. But how, Sir, will the Exhibition interfere with the diversion of walking or riding in the Park ? Johnson, Sir, by creating a miscellancous concourse of persons who will be noisy, and whose trampling will wear away the turf. They will thus destroy the quiet and verdure, which afford refreshment to the eye and tranquillity to the mind. And, Sir, they will overrun Kensington Gardens, and probably injure and def: depredations in the vicinity. Boswell. But has it not been proved, Sir, that the notion that the ~— will do mischief, if admitted to such places, is erroneous ? Johnson. Yes, Sir. But a promiscuous rabble, such as collects at a ace them, besides committing fair, and such as will be attracted by this Exhibition, is not the people. | Sir, large numbers of the people will be incapable of attending the | hibition at all. The agricultural labourers, and the poorer mechanics | Ex throughout the country, will neither be able to afford the time nor the | money requisite for a journey to London. Besides, Sir, if the Exhi- | bition were ever so much the people’s concern, it ought, nevertheless, | to be assigned a suitable place. Sir, the people do not want their Park to be turned into a fair-ground any more than a nobleman would like | his own to be served so. Sir, if you had a conservatory, and I were to tell you that you ought to convert it into a kennel, simply because you had a right to do what you pleased with it, you would think that either I insulted your understanding, or was a fool. Boswell, But where would you have the Exhibition, Sir ? Johnson, Sir, in some place where the neighbours would be glad. to have it, and not in one where they will consider it a nuisance. Boswell, But you would not recommend a shabby site for it, Sir ? Johnson. Sir, I do not mean to pun; but the Exhibition, wherever it is, will include a sufficient sight in itself. The site of Covent Garden is shabby ; and yet people of fashion will go there to hear Italian Operas. No, Sir. Let the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations be established in a situation, where, while it is admired as a stupendous spectacle, it shall not also be execrated as a monstrous bore. LOOK AT HOME, GENTLEMEN. A tarcE deputation of Provosts from Glasgow have waited, it seems. upon Lorp Joun Russet to entreat of him to enforce the new postal regulations on the Sabbath. Might we recommend to these too jealous Provosts to busy themselves a little more with the purification of their own city? Surely there is plenty to occupy them at home, without rushing all the way to London to seck for moral employment? If we have been rightly informed, Glasgow is the most immoral town in the whole United Kingdom, and that many worse things than receiving or sending a letter occur there every Sunday. Drunkenness, we are told, runs about the streets in the most debauched state. If this is true, and we are afraid there is no doubt of it, it is very evident that these worthy magistrates may be acting rigidly up to the Jefter of the Sabbath, but at the same time they sadly overlook the Spirit. A New Way to Pave Old Ones. WeEstMINSTER BrinGz is in a very bad state, and so is King’s Road, Eaton Square. At present they are almost useless, and all but im- passable. We propose, therefore, that Westminster Bridge be pulled down to repair the King’s Road, and that a new rate be levied on the Marquis or Westminster, or Lorp Grosvenor, or the parish, or whoever the shabby delinquent is, for the erection of a new bridge. At all events, the metropolis would have gained one good way instead of two bad ones, which we call a very good way of getting over two difficulties, Charity made Easy. Lorp Jonun RussEtt would not accede to Mr. Humr’s amendment of £8000 a-year to the Duke or CampBripGE,—the Duke must have £12,000, because he was expected to be charitable. Mr. Punch—upon his own responsibility—offers to find any number of individuals who will be twice as charitable as the present Duke upon exactly half the grant. How droll charity may be! You give a Duke a heap of money that he may be benevolent, and then laud him to the skies for this paid oswell. But, Sir, are not they who use Hyde Park for that purpose philanthropy !

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 47

VO LYEAT + he > 1 —_ Late Unprotected Female. No, she couldn’t get at the candles. They’re BETWEEN MR. AND MRS. JONES AND THE POST. | jocked up. She’s so wasteful. It’s thieves. Oh—hadn’t we better Being Last Scenes from the Life of a (Late) Uxrrotectep Femarz. |8° for a policeman. Oh, there’s one! Here! [About to summon A 22. Time.—Monday, the 22nd of July. A quarter to 9 o'clock, P.M. Mr, Smithers, Stop—stop! Don’t make a fool of yourself. Here, < : policeman. (A 22 approaches.) Just stand at the pony’s head, willyou, = 7, * 4 ‘ . . Scenz.—The parlour of Mr. Surruens, at Brixton, with MR. and MRs. |. minate—and keep an eye on the door—there. [Pointing to JonEs’s. Smiruers, and the Late UnrrorecteD Femate enjoying them- oe ve neem he : ~ | A 22 (anticipating beer). All right. (He takes up his position. selves at the tea-table, The Late UNPROTECTED FEMALE occupies Mr. Smithers. Now, Mus. JoxEs. [Offers to hand her out. the place of honour. Mrs. Smithers. Another cup, my dear— you really must. Late Unprotected Female. Oh! no in- deed—I couldn’t really. It’s getting so late. I’ ve had a most delightful day ! Late Unprotected Female, Oh—\ daren’t—I never can go in. Mr. Smithers. Come along. Ain’t there me, and the Policeman ? Late Unprotected Female (is with difficulty got out of the chaise ; they pause at the door). Oh—I’ve the key somewhere. (ustitutes a rigorous but agitated search.) Oh—no—eh? Oh—I must have forgotten it. Mr, Smithers, The door’s on the latch! [Opens it, and enters, leading in Mrs. JONES.

Mr, Smithers, Then Ill ringforthe— ; ; Late Unprotected Female (in agony at the discovery), Oh—I said it was (Rings without concluding his sentence. thieves! (4 noise heard within.) There! They ’re breaking things open. Enter Maid with tray and tumblers. Mr. Smurruers goes to the |‘ - to faint on the passage-mat.) 1 never can go in—no, never ! cellaret, and brings out an elaborate liqueur case. Mr. Smit hers (somewhat blank). W hat nonsense! Where are the Late Unprotected Female. Oh—no, I really couldn’t—I never do. No, | lucifers? But if you insist on it, I can ask the policeman to go in first. really—now. Ls ryrer ong for the purpose. A light suddenly appears Mr. Smithers (cordially). h—pooh: c i NES were | on the first floor landing. here, he’d ee Y) Poo iii I know if Jomms we Late Unprotected Female. Oh —they *re coming — they "re coming. Mrs. Smithers (coaxingly). Just a leetle, very sweet and weak. Oh—dear—Police—Police ! Remember you’ve an hour’s ride before you. (AwFvuL APPEARANCE OF Mr. Jones, ON Late Unprotected Female, Well, you’re so kind—but I declare I had THE LanpineG-pPLace! His counte- rather not. nance expresses hunger and irritation, (Mr. Smirners mizes a small tumbler remarkably sweet and His clothes are dusty and disordered, tolerably stiff. Mrs, Jones discusses it with unconscious relish. In his right hand he holds a candle- Clock strikes nine. stick, in his left a silver fork much Late Unprotected Female. Oh, dear, there’s nine o’clock! And how twisted. ever [’m to venture home alone, in that omnibus? I’m sure Mr.| Wr. Jones. Don’t be a fool, woman! Hold Jones won’t like it. your row, will yom? (Zo A 22, who has Mr. Smithers, Well, if he will go and leave his wife (he smiles), he | entered at Mrs. Jowes’s call.) What the must take the consequences. Catch me leaving Mrs. SMITHERS. devil do you want ? Mrs. Smithers. Nonsense, Mr. Smituers. How can you? He’s| Mr. Smithers. Why, it’s Jones! Halloa such a man, Mrs. Jonzs ! —Jones, how are you ? (Zo Policeman.) It’s Late Unprotected Female (proudly). Oh—so is Mr. J., Lassure you. {all right. It’s the master of the house. Mr. Smithers. But 1711 tell you what, Mrs. Jones, [’ll drive you| Late Unprotected Female (makes arrange- home in my pony-chaise. There! ments for a fit of hysterics on the stairs), Oh Late Unprotected Female. Oh—but are you sure it’s very quiet ? —oh—oh—oh! How could you?—oh—oh Mr. Smithers, Quiet as alamb. I?ll trundle you to Coram Street in |—why didn’t you —oh—oh— half an hour. Jones (fiercely and brutally). Why didw’t 1?—but I did! Why didn’t Late Unprotected Female. Oh—thank you—I’m sure. you, Ma’am? Here’s pretty behaviour! But I won’t stand it. By (Evit Mr. Suituers, to order the chaise, and see the pony put to.| Jove, 1 won’t stand it. (He digs the fork into the dining-room door, Exit Mrs. Smituers, with Late Unrrorectep Femars, to| Mr. Smithers. Is the man mad? What’s the meaning of it all? put on “ her things.” | Late Unprotected Female. Oh, dear—oh, dear! Oh—Jonzs, dear. [Scene changes to the road, with Mr. Surrners and Mrs. Jones ‘nx | Oh—what have I done ? the pony-chaise. The Late UNPROTECTED Femats is harassed| Jones. Here’s a state of things! Icome home after a week’s journey with vague terrors, in no way justified by the conduet of the pony.|—dusty and dirty, and tired. I find no wife—no servant—and no dinner Late Unprotected Female. Oh—there’s an omnibus! Oh—he’ll be | ready—and the keys gone—and I can’t find so much as a bit of cold running away. Do hold him tight. meat! and I’ve pricked my fingers, and broken two of these infernal (Tries to grasp the reins, for the purpose of assisting Mx. Surrurrs | albata forks, trying to open the sideboard, And then, my wife comes in holding him tight. back late at night—with a friend (sarcastically, and with a fierce look: at Mr. Smithers (testily). Don’t—Marm— | Mr. SmrrHers)—and calls the police to take me into custody in my own confound it—don’t, or youll upset us. I tell | passage! Oh, by.Jove, I’ll not stand it! you he’s steady as a rock—chek—chck— | (He repeats his assault on the dining-room door. Late Unprotected Female. Oh—1 know! Late Unprotected Female ( firing up under the attack). Well, to be sure! —but they will shy so. I declare when/|and whose fault is it, I should like to know ? Why didn’t you write, and J. drove me down to Kew, last Sunday | say you were coming,and not sneak home in this way, like a bad character? fortnight, I was quite ill He would go so| Mr. Jones (indignantly). | did write. _1 wrote on Saturday from Bir-

close to the omnibuses and things ! |mingham. I posted the letter myself. So, it’s no use for you to deny it. Mr. Smithers, When do you expect Jones home ? Late Unprotected Female. Oh, you base man! Oh—how can you say Late Unprotected Female. Obh—I should have expected him to-day— so? there’s heen no letter delivered—I believe you’re deceiving me— but he hasn’t written. He always writes when on his journeys—I begged | you want to quarrel with your poor wife —you know you do. [Sobs vehemently. Mr. Smithers (with a sudden illumi- nation). I know—I know—it’s that ——- new Post-Office arrangement. t’s the Sunday stoppage ! him to, and I must say he has been very thoughtful. Oh—what és that white thing by the roadside ? Mr. Smithers (gallantly). Well, I’m glad Jones didn’t come back to- day, or we shouldn’t have had the pleasure of your company. Late Unprotected Female. Oh, you’re very kind, I’m sure. I should | or ~~ - very lonely ay — so I sent the maid out, and thought o<— — . orem = it is—my “yy Ph *d run down and see Mrs. SMITHERS. aes c delivered till to-morrow! Oh—my Mr. Smithers (humorously). And me, too, Mrs. Jongs, eh ? dear Martnua! (takes her in his arms) Late Unprotected Female (playfully). Be quiet, do—you foolish crea-| I’m very sorry I forgot myself—but I’ve been so uncomfortable ! ture! Oh—there’s something with lamps! (During these and other |» Late Unprotected Female (with a great gush of emotion). Oh—Jones ' such passages of mingled alarm and badinage, they have reached Coram | That explains everything! Oh—I wonder (a pause) if Lonp Asutey’s Street, opposite Mrs. Joxzs’s door.) Oh, gracious goodness! Oh, dear!|a married man, and ever goes journeys? I only hope it mayn’t come Mrs. Jones is taken very uncomfortable. | back upon Lapy ASHLEY, as it has upon me—that’s all ! p Mr. Smithers (pulting up short). What’s the matter now ? Mr. Jones. 1 say, SmrtHERs, you’ll stop and take a glass of something Late Unprotected Female. Oh, \ook—there’s a light in the parlour.| comfortable? My dear, is there anything to eat in the house? For I Oh, look—it’s going upstairs! Oh—see—it ’s on the first floor! Oh,!came home at five—and_ it’s ten now—and I’ve had nothing since there must be thieves in the house—I’m certain there are thieves! | breakfast, and you can’t think how miserable I’ve been. Now, do see

Oh, dear me! : Stans what you can do for us, there’s a dear. ; Mr. Smithers. Pooh, pooh—thieves wouldn’t go about with lights, (Levit the Late Unprotected FEMALE, on household cares intent. that way. It’s the servant come back. Scene closes.

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIV ARI. SUNDAY MAILS FOR MINISTERS. / Ana! You see now why Lorp Joun Russet and his colleagues have resisted so gently the Sabbatarian invasion of the liberty of the subject. St. Martin-le-Grand has let the cat out of the bag in the following notice :— “ By CoMMAND OF THE PosTMASTER-GENERAL.—To all postmasters, sub-postmasters, and letter receivers.—General Post-Office, July, 1850.—With reference to instruction No. 21, 1850, relative to the discontinuance of the collection and delivery of the letters on a Sunday, it must be clearly understood that the regulations therein laid down do not apply to the letters addressed to Cabinet Ministers, or to the officers of Government mentioned in Section 18, Part 16, of the Book of General Instructions to Postmasters. | These letters must still be forwarded on Sunday by the ordinary despatch.” It is not surprising that Ministers should put up contentedly with a public inconvenience which does not affect themselves. As one man may steal a horse whilst another may not look over a hedge, so may the Premier be allowed to have a letter of this sort forwarded to him on Sunday :— “Dear JOHNNY, “ Woburn, July 21. “ Déjetiner & la fourchette here early. If you have nothing better to do, come. “* BEDFORD.” Whereas, such an epistle as the following may be kept lying a whole day in the Post-Office. “ Dear FatHer, “© Manchester, Sunday Morning.” Bist “ A sad change has come over poor Mother suddenly. Return | directly, if you wish to see her alive. “Your affectionate Son, " WEFT. | Sunday is a dies non to the public at large, but the Ministerial xon of | the day is non-observance. Such is Sabbatomaniacal legislation. | ” A THOUGHT FOR MR. HORSMAN, Cuemistry teaches that every particle of matter which disappears in | combustion or evaporation may be obtained in a liquid or gaseous form. | How interesting it would be, if we could, by any means, collect and exhibit the spiritual products of the expenditure of episcopal incomes ! ELEGANT AND RATIONAL DINNER COSTUME FOR THIS CLOSE WEATHER. | our Parliamentary Joe Miller. ry A SIGN-Y QUA NON. Tue proposition of the French | Government that every article in | every newspaper should be signed | with the writer’s name, would, if it | were applied to this country, cause | some extraordinary revelations re- | lating to the Mysteries of the Press. | It would have an odd and rather | startling effect to find a _beauti- | fully eulogistic criticism on JONES’S jlast new novel signed “ JoHN | JoNES;” and it would be rather amusing, at the termination of a {long article in praise of Mr. GaGGER’s acting, to arrive at the words Jacos GAGGER, appended to the end of it. The world would be a little astonished now and then by the disclosure of the magnates of the | diurnal press; and onult marvel to know that the great We’ s are some- times very Wee people after all. IT 1S VERY CURIOUS. “Tr’s very curious,” says a young lady whom we know, “ that the tortoise, from whom we get all our tortoise-shell combs, has no hair!” A SIMPLE QUESTION OF coLouR! WHETHER, instead of calling the new singer “The Black Ma- LIBRAN,” it would not have been better to have called her “THE Buiack Diamonp ?” Tue “Ripicutus Mus” oF THE Movuntain.— Monsieur EMILE GIRARDIN. THE PARLIAMENTARY JOE MILLER. Memeers of Parliament are becoming such professed jokers, that | we really tremble for our livelihood. It is too bad of Hon. M.P.’s to | interfere with our bread and cheese, as we do not attempt to interfere | with theirs. We can conscientiously assert, we never resorted to bribery or corruption ; we can proudly confess that we never, to the | best of our recollection, barked Tike a dog, nor crowed like a cock, nor | whistled like a steam-engine. It must not be supposed that we are |jealous of “Honourable Members.” Their jokes are so bad, that, | without any affectation, or pulling up of our shirt-collars, we could not make them, if we were to try ever so much. Their facetiousness has all the compilation and weight of a Blue-book aboat it—so much so, that if we were reduced to the verge of jocular destitution, we could not stoop to pick up anything so cumbrous and heavy. It would be like putting a policeman’s boot on the legs of a butterfly. It is not jealousy, but mere prudence, that makes us speak out. It is the infection of bad joking that we dread; for whereas one bad orange will spoil an entire cargo, so a number of bad jokes being thrown into the market, will spoil the pure commodity, and lessen the demand for it. The debates are quite heavy enough, without the addition of any extra heaviness, and it is really growing a pain from which no chloro- form can relieve us, to wade through the facetia of the large corps of Parliamentary farceurs. It is like reading one of the early editions of Joe Miller. The jokes of the Clown inthe Ring are positively new compared to those which are followed in the reports by “ Laughter,” “ Great Laughter,” “ More Laughter.” We imagine that, as Hon. Members are indebted to Mr. Barry for their House, so they argue that they should | be equally indebted to his namesake, Mr. Barry, of Astley’s Amphi- theatre, for their speeches. If this taste for punning is not checked in | its early stage of punyhood, St. Stephens will become very little better | than a Circus, pa the sooner Wippicoms is installed as Whipper-in the better it will be for the dignity and general appearance of the | House. We have put ourselves to the trouble of collecting a choice | number of these legislative pleasantries, and in a week or so we hope, if our courage holds out, to astonish the poor reader with a specimen or two—selecting, in charity, those which shall be the least aged—of | |

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nch 2 in med if it ause ; re- ress. ther wuti- ES’S OHN ther of a Mr. the d to d be n by ‘the 1 to yme- S a that t all no TR! ling Ma- een al [HE

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

ADVERTISEMENTS IN HIGH LIFE. Apropos of certain contemplated reductions in the Civil List, Lorp BrovuGuHAm is reported to have said in the House of Lords that— “ The English aristocracy would be lowered if such things were allowed to pass as he knew were now passing, namely, that a lady of the highest rank, connected with the families of dukes and marquesses by the nearest ties, was reduced to the humiliating necessity of advertising for the necessary employment.” Whose fault is this, Hewry, but that of the dukes and marquesses themselves? The “nearest ties” whereby this poor lady is connected with her noble relations seem to be purse-strings, which she has a pull upon that draws them uncommonly tight. persons of quality in allowing members of their order to advertise for employment would look less vulgar if a paper were started under the | name of the Avistocratic Advertiser, in which the thing might be done | in proper style. The column of advertisements for situations should be headed “ Want PLAcEs UNDER GOVERNMENT OR ABOUT THE Court. —aAll Letters to be sealed with a Crest.” Subjoined are imaginary examples of the “ Wants.” AS MAID OF HONOUR. A young Lady, who can be confidently recom- mended as niece to a Duke, sister-in-law to a Peer, and first cousin to several Baronets. Address to Lady A. B., 984, Park Lane.

‘s GROOM OF THE STOLE. A noble middle-aged Lord, the proprietor | G of half a county, accustomed to attend to his stable. Direct to the Earl of X., care of Mr. StH, House of Lords.

| AS REGISTRAR TO A BISHOP, or something of that sort,—The | tion, but had the misfortune to be

nger son of a family of rank, who en: a high degree in fashionable estima- yt 4 , nimekek ot Oxford. As the young gentleman's abilities are moderate, and his habits expensive, ess of employment would be an object, combined with largeness of salary ; i a regular sinecure would be pre- ferred. Direct to 8. S.,.Esq., Albany, Letter Z. AS DIPLOMATIC EMPLOYE.—A Baronet, aged 24, who finds it neces- sary to dispose of his estate. Has no b pt his debts, and no objection to travel. Can have a three years’ character from his place in the country. Address to PARCHMENT AND VELLUM, Solicitors, Chancery Lane. Tn other parts of the paper, Gold Sticks, Black Rods, Stars, Garters, Ribbons, and other valuables of that nature might be advertised for, to the great mutual convenience of noblemen and gentlemen commanding — on the one hand, and of the Ministry for the time being on the other. But to return to Lorp Brovewam’s distressed noblewoman. Her case may be dealt with easily enough by certain individual members of the House of Lords, whom it concerns. Would that their collective Lordships could as easily dispose of that of the millions who can obtain no employment, although they advertise for it, and pay a most monstrous tax for so doing!

CLAIMS OF THE BRITISH CHORUS. To Mr. Punch. ONSIDERING, Sir, you fre- quently oblige the world with songs, we make bold to implore you to give us a little employment oc- casionally. At present we are in a state of destitu- tion for want of an en- gagement. We have seen better days, and in good old English times were con- tinually in requisition as Chorus. But now, we are sorry to say, we are en- ; roy 4 superseded by our foreign rivals, Tra La Lira La. We submit that they have no ad- vantage of us whatever, either in respect of sound or sense, and are Sir, your obedient humble Servants, *!} Tot pe Rot Lot.

THE HARDEST WORKED MAN IN THE CITY. A FOREIGNER, writing of London, with the usual ignorance of foreigners, says, “‘ The duties of the City Remembrancer are to remind the Aldermen and Common Councilmen when they forget themselves.” We can only say that, if these were his duties, no one man could do it. " “QST TO ALL SENSE OF TOUCH, SIGHT, AND FEELING. " Tue Keeyts of the Records know so little of the Records entrusted to their char; that, when aske A. answer invariallY 18, “‘ Non mi Ricordo.

| The meanness of| and most partic’larly at the beknighted state of t |

SUNDAY AT THE MINT. Joun Tnomas, full private of the 190th Greens, and a Sabbath man } to the back bone, thinks his a partic’larly hard case. Lorp AsuitEy—(and may he never be a Cabinet-made Minister, because as I read t’other day at the Warrior’s Gate tap, all Cabinet- made Ministers are to have their letters delivered to ’em on Sundays whether they will or no)—Lorp Asn zy has stopped Sunday labour at the Post-Office, though they do say the labour’s to begin agin, but that ’s not it. Lorp Asntry is asked to look at the Sunday lestur in the army; e loyal 190th Greens, at present doing duty at the QuEEN’s Mint. or the last three Sundays, have I, Jonn Tromas, full-private, and cetera, been upon guard as sentry during the very hours of forenoon church. Here have I been walking up and down, hugging Brown Bess—(which, if it come to fighting, they “d make me load with ball, and fire away upon the Sabbath, thick as pepper,)—here have I, on Sunday, been guarding the Mint, and therefore, in a manner in which there can be no mistake about it, serving Mammon, while all the Post-Offices is shut, and Lorp Asuuzy in his Sunday pew blessing himself for the Post-Offices being at. church. Now, I put it to Lonp Aswiry, whether the souls of the loyal 190th reens are not to be cared for by Parliament e as well as the souls of Post-masters and missuses? And why should. the army do duty on Sundays (specially at the Mint, where:is:the root of all evil), when, as Lorp ASHLEY can prove as well as he’s: proved the wickedness of Sunday letters, that on Sunday even the Army off Martyrs was made and intended to do nothing but stand-at-ease ? Postseript.—The < 190th Greens cannot help thanking Mr. Srumprree, Mr. De Newears, and the other friendsof Lorn Asutzy, for having - down the _ florm. Only them as has had to do it, can judge of the feelings of the 190th, called upon to-do duty at a Mint, with a Paypist Master at the head, and no Dear Frop: upon the silver that came out of it, which fully accounted for the blight in the ’tatos. God save the QurEN.—Jomn Tomas.

THE ROYAL NEPAULESE HUNT. Tuts famous hunt still continues. No sooner is a sight caught of the Nepaulese Princes, than the whole company raise the hue and cry, and run in full pursuit of them. The Chiswiek Féte was a grand day of this description. There could not have been less than ten thousand persons in the field, including a goodly muster of the fair sex who enjoyed the sport rarely. The Nepaulese Ambassador was hunte under a scorching sun, for full two hours, in the most determined manner. How he managed to keep up so long was astonishing, and we think he would have been run down at the first burst, only, from the vast extent of the gardens, when once he was fairly started, he could not well escape. He got in the Duke of Devonshire’s kitchen-garden amongst the cabbages, and could not get out again. A's it was, he kept dodging in and out, from tree to tree, running from one tent to another, in the hopes of eluding his pursuers, but all in vain; they never left him for a minute, and, wherever he went, there were always some hundreds close upon his heels. It is a question whether, for our own pleasure, we have any right to inflict so much pain and positive torture upon a living creature, and the poor persecuted Prince-must have suffered tremendously. As it was, many ladies were severely punished, and we noticed on the ground the mangled remains of two or three valuable parasols, which must have been literally torn to pieces in the intensity of the rush. Ullti- mately the poor, panting, Nepaulese Ambassador was caught, and carried off in a carriage, to be uncarted again at some future festive occasion for the amusement of Her Masgsry’s respectable subjects. ee to give the earliest intelligence of the day appointed for the meet. The End of Repeal. Tuovucn Repeal has not succeeded, it may be said to have gained its end, or at all events its own end, for it came to a termination last Monday week, and a short funeral oration was spoken by Mr. Jonn O’Conyett. The poor thing has died in the most distressed circum- stances, with all its rent in terrible arrear, and with scarcely a roof over its head; for it was intimated that the existence of Repeal had become a landlord’s question, and that the landlord of the Hall would no longer tolerate such a miserable tenant. Mr. Joun O’Conne.i intimated that the cause of the death of Repeal was the neglect of the country to “speak out,” but it is perfectly well understood that the neglect of the country “to fork out” was the real cause of the catas- trophe. An old woman and an elderly man ina bad hat and bankrupt or any particular document, their} circumstances were the last to adhere to the “dear departed;” and when the Hall-keeper came to “clear out,” they reluctantly retired.

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50 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. DeELIcaTeE STATE OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. Tue fashionable lions will be soon “running down” to the sea-side, | and if such refreshment. is required for the “fashionable lions,” why not for that greatest of all the lions of the season, the Hippopotamus ? We think it is high time that the poor animal obtained the benefit of the invigorating sea breeze after. the labours .of the past few months, during which ‘he has been the “observed of all observers,” and the centre of attraction to the whole metropolis. There is. also another | reason why the animal should quit town, at least for a time, in the fact of the arrival of a-rival in the shape of the largest Tortoise in the world, | who threatens to dislocate the nose of the Hippopotamus. This Tortoise I > PAM } 1 us iN \ | UL, IT Is ORDERED CHANGE OF AIR, AND’ A LITTLE Sxa-BaTuine. is said to be a hundred and eighty years old, though we are not aware whether the certificate of his birth is in existence. It is said that four sailors can dance, and have danced, a hornpipe on the animal’s back, which proves that’ the: poor creature has been very much put upon. There will, no doubt, be a sharp competition between the Tortoise and the Hippopotamus in-the ensuing season, and as slow and steady frequently wins the race of public favour, we would scarcely | mind betting that in the long run—which in this instance must be a walk—the Hippopotamus may be left in the rear of his more deliberate antagonist. GOVERNMENT’S BROKEN SLUMBERS. Scene.—Downing Street. A Cabinet Council. The Chancellor of the Exchequer (half asleep). Yaw—aw—aw! (Yawns | and stretches.) ‘ What a bore! The Premier (waking up). Eh! Chancellor of the Exchequer. O - - - - - h! for ‘the repeal of the Attorneys’ certificate duty—ya—a—oh ! goes £100,000 from the revenue. Heigho! Premier. Now, I suppose,—yaw—aw! the public will insist on our | taking off the window-tax. . They ’ll say that the tax on lawyers is— yaw '!—nothing to the tax on light. Chancellor of the Exchequer. Then we shall be dunned for the paper —yaw—aw! and stamp-duties. Premier. And the mn—aw—aw—aw—the malt-tax. Chancellor of the Exchequer. How—yaw—aw—the deuce do they ex- pect, us to—yaw !—make up the revenue ? Premier. Well, 1’m‘afraid there’s only one way—yaw—by revising our old systems of taxation and expenditure. Chancellor of the Exchequer. That will be a terrible deal of—Oh! dear me, I ’m—yaw—so sleepy—trouble. Premier. Yaw—aw—aw—aw—aw ! have to come to at last. Chancellor if, the Exchequer. What say ? Premier. Hm! Chancellor of the Exchequer. Mp! MINISTERS reposing. | What ’s the—yaw—aw—matter ? Why the House has voted There I’m afraid it’s what we shall | [They go to sleep again. THE FRUITS OF RAILWAY TRAVELLING. THERE is a certain tunnel on the North Kent Line, which may be considered as a sort of rendezvous for luggage trains, imbecile engines, and runaway locomotives, which occasionally effect a somewhat incon- venient réunion within the dark recess alluded to. A few days since, a ‘cargo of fruit got fastened in the tunnel, after several fruitless efforts to get out, when a passenger-train came running merrily along, and was converted into a sort of jam among the currants and goose- berries. It was fortunate for the travellers that the material with which they were brought into collision was comparatively soft, for though it is disagreeable to fall on a pile of stones—even though they | should be only cherry-stones,—and though a smash in any shape, even 'among strawberries and raspberries, is disagreeable enough, still it might have been worse, which cannot be said of every railway accident. Making Jokes by Steam. TueEre is not much general resemblance between a steam-engine and a stage-coach, and yet there is a small point of ‘similarity between the;;.,'. in the end. As the reader will only tire his head in guessing th3* which never could be guessed, even supposing he was in the habits “ guess- ing”’ as frequently as a thorough-bred genuime Yankee, w; don’t mind telling him that a steam-engine is like a stage-coach, becajse, at the end of the journey, it always discharges its team (its steam). Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place. in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the Cothty of Middlesex, Printers, at their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Preciact of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street in the Parish of St. Bride’s in the City of Lo —Sarugpar Juny th, 1.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 51

Small Boy. “Now tHen, you Sin! Don’r you KNOW NO BETTER THAN TO RUN UP AGIN A MimBERO’ PaRLIMENT—JUST YOU COME BACK, AND PICK UP MY ’AT, OR I’M BLOWED 1F I DON’T MAKE YER!”

A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE FOURTEENTH. MR. MOUSER WRITES A CRUEL LETTER FROM PARIS; AND MRS. MOUSER RATHER BELIEVES SHE ANSWERS IT. WHEN printing was found out, of course, Mr. Punch, it wasn’t to be thought of that women were to take the liberty of the press. Oh, no! printing types, like razors, are only to be considered as belonging to the masculine gender. A woman may carry a mountain of wrongs about with her, and not so much as put one before the public. She is expected to die, and never so much as squeak. This is the old story; and Movser—as I intend to let all the earth know—is only like the rest of the world, which I little expected when I married him. The little letter you printed for me last week; a little letter—I will say it—big with the wrongs of woman as regards her age which is, perhaps, the most serious thing in life ; that letter has drawn upon my devoted, and I will say it, affectionate head, the most heart-breaking reply. If I was a stock or stone—which Mouser knows I’m not; quite the reverse—I could not have been treated with colder indifference not to say contempt. And all for what? But you shall hear. I sen you Mr. MovuseEr’s letter ; I don’t say that I mayn’t be og for it when I see it in print, and my passion’s over; but I’ll risk 7 at—and here it is, copied off. “Mr. Mouser, Paris,—to Mrs. Mouser, London. * Paris, July, 25. [Only just observe the art—the insult of this, Mr. Puncu. ‘ Paris, short ; gust as if he slept upon the pavement, and couldn't write from a lodging, so that I mightn’t find him.] “ My dearest AMELIA, [But that’s always his way; in England it’s only ‘dear’ ; but, as I say, just like his art ; the further he gets off the tenderer he is.) : My dearest AMELIA,—Happening in the most casual manner to enter the Café des Maris Inconsolables,* I took up, to distract the weariness of absence, this week’s Punch ; for since the liberal reign of the President, that revolutionary journal—wisely stopt at all ports and frontiers by Louis-PHILIPpPE—is permitted to disseminate its venom in the bosoms of a happy and contented people.

* I'm not ashamed to own I don’t know French, I know so many better things. But Mrs. Hornsiower, who was brought up at Dunkirk, says this is French for “The Public-house of call for Inconsolable Husbands,” and she adds that Paris swarms with such places. The more shame for Paris! “ Awezia, I was hurt—I was shocked—I was affected—[Nonsense / Mr. Puncu, I’ve seen the hippopotamus, and all I say is, try and shock that—that’s all.|—affected beyond the power of expression, especially with the thermometer ranging at continual cold-brandy-and-water heat —shocked, I say, to find that my own wife, the treasure of my affec- tions, and certainly the lightest hand at a custard—[Mr. Mouser— I know him—thinks this a joke ; which I don’t.|—should have so forgotten her position at her own fireside, and the honoured place in her imaeents heart—[AU/ I say’s this ; I have known a husband’s heart like a carpet- bag, and ’ specially like a carpet-bag on a journey ; that is, with always room to take something new in it.\—in her husband’s heart, without the advice, the affectionate counsel, even without his knowledge, to exhibit herself in print—in print, too, accompanied with the lowest cuts at the highest life, and hob-and-nob—[What does he mean by hob-and-nob ?7\— with waglings and witlings. “ AMELIA, placed as we are by Destiny—[Destiny! But he never takes anything in his head for his own pleasure but it isn’t Destiny that makes him do it—I’ve known Destiny carry him to the London Tavern to dinner, and Destiny bring him home at two in the morning, I won't say how, in a cab, and with no money to pa, peg 7 Destiny in two different capitals, with the briny a billowy sea rolling between us, I would not waft to you a syllable that, like a summer gnat (and I feel what that is) should carry a bite with it. Nevertheless, my AMELIA, my duty as a husband—[And now, you’ ll see, he’s going to be disagreeable ; for I know him—whenever he talks of his duty, he flies into a fury directly. | —my duty as a husband compels me to rebuke you. Why call the attention of a sarcastic and uncharitable world to that unfortunate subject, your age? Why even hint at it? J know how old you are— (Indeed! Are you quite sure of that ?\—and I feel that to be quite enough —TI may say, even more than enough.—{ Another trial at a joke; which I don’t, and won’t waderstand.]) “ But, not to be painful, I will cease to dwell upon your age. For a really good wife, Ametta, like good wine, improves with keeping— under lock and key, (Oh, yes! He can’t begin a civil pretty thing, with- out dipping it in vinegar at the end.| Yes, AMELIA; deliciously sweet is it to have in conjugal love, that wine-of-life—the bees-wing in the eye, and more particularly when there is no bee-sting in the tongue. (4 pack of nonsense! And I’m sure, there’s nobody can ever get a word in, for MovseER. ] “My beloved Ametta, separated as we are—[and he never says a word when he expects me /\—\ cannot if I would be harsh—for the heart, the heart expands with absence. [Hspecially, no doubt, at the Incon- solable Husbands.| 1 might tell you with what particular interest I looked at our native land from Boulogne. How I then felt that—so far distant—you were never dearertome. [Jdaresay. If he was only in the Indies, and I where I am, of course, there’d be no bearing his fondness,\— How, for the first time, I experienced the great household truth, that the soul swells through a telescope ! “Therefore, my AMELIA, I will chide you gently. With a dove’s feather—a ring-dove’s—[No doubt ; a wedding-ring-dove’s !\—feather, will I chastise my beloved. Why, my Ametia, why did you print ? (As if he only knew it now!) I cannot bear a wife in print ; no—I wish to be calm, tender, and affectionate, because we are divided—but I would as soon see a wife in the pillory. AmeEtia, your complexion was never made for black ; and you never looked worse, that is, in my eyes —[Which I know he means is saying a good deal,|\—never worse than in printer’s ink. [J shall wear it from week to week for all that.| “The Romans, AMELIA, were a great people—(A set of brutes \—and they divorced their wives [Zhe man’s head is always running on that sub- ject ; and on what account, gracious goodness knows!\—divorced them for using without authority, their husbands’ keys. [What next?] Had the Romans possessed a public press—I wish, as I observed, to say nothing harsh, for the weather is appallingly sultry, and by no means fit for a passion; besides, being separated, I feel it swe my duty as it is . delight, to be kind and forgiving—had the Romans enjoyed a press, they would, no doubt, judging from the genius of their conjugal laws, have instantly separated themselves, once and for ever from their wives, had they—without decided and direct permission of their marital lords—{ Fiddlesticks /\—dipped their wedded fingers in printers’ ink. You will, therefore, f lon AMELIA, draw your own conclusions, and that as mildly as you may from what I have said, and always believe me—(OA, yes, especially abroad.\— “Your affectionate—[very affectionate; and, still not a word about meeting!) * And devoted—{xo doubt ; to the Inconsolables!) “Husband till death—{and just now he talked of a divorce “Joun Movuser.—(and he ought to be ashamed of himself to write it 1 *P.S. L have been all day long trying to pitch upon a scarf for my beloved.—{J can’t help my mind misgiving ; but does he mean ME ?} “PS. No. 2. I would buy you some beautiful shoes ; but I can’t get any small enough.—{J snow that ; but, when I go to Paris, surely, I can choose for myself !) “P.S. No.3. Direct, dearest, to the Post-Office. For I am told that,

since I began this letter, another revolution is expected ; and, therefore,

VOL. XIX. G

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se PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. as in revolutions people are often compelled to leave their lodgings, I don’t know when your dear, dear, dearest letter arrives—{ No, not a word about MY errival.|—where your own Mouser may be.” And that, Mr. Punch, is what ¥ have received from an absent husband ; that is the reward of an affectionate wife, and Your constant writer, Ame.ia Mouser. The Honeysuckies, THE ROYAL PROVIDENT FUND. GY a tL UNCH is anxious to give publicity to an insti- uy) “ty tution which, under the above title, or some other equally expressive, must positively be established for the purpose of seeuring a pro- vision for the destitute widows and orphans of Royalty. The necessity of its formation is manifested by a case, which a sense of decorum did not prevent the Premier from bringing before Parliament, and, therefore, will not for- bid Mr. Punch to mention. The late Duxz oF Cameprinez, having long been in the receipt of £27,000 a-year, leaves his children in such a state of such extreme indigence, that Govern- ment, being obliged to provide for them, prevails upon the Legislature to give the eldest son an annual pension of £12,000. Dr. Punch rust say that, if any one of the distinguished writers with whom he is acquainted had held, for a lengthened series of years, an engagement of upwards of £500 a-week, and had died without making a provision for his family, he, Jér. Punch, would have been highly scandalised; and a sense of duty to his Order compels him to remark that the dereliction in question is a gross instanee of the improvidence of non-literary men. It is said that the £27,000 was chiefly spent in charity; a plea whieh suggests the obvious reflection that eharity should begim at home. That such will be the commencement of that admirable virtue in the practice of Royal Dukes and Princes, is the result to be hoped from the foundation of the Royal Provident Fund, which of course is to be self-supporting, and will be mainly dependent on the class whom it more especially concerns. Like any other benevolent institution, however, it will be open to subscriptions from everybody; and there can be no doubt that it will receive am amount of encouragement com- mensurate with the public’s appreciation of the importance of main- taining all the econnexions of the Crown in splendour. Were a Prince of the Blood to get his allowance from a Fund like this, he might ride his two hundred guinea eharger independently, without exposmg him- self to such invidious remarks, as “There goes £12,000 ayear, and nothing to show for it but the clothes ;” or, “There goes the equivalent to two dozen superannuated men of science or letters, comfortably provided for with £500 a-year each.” The Royal Provident Fund will anticipate an objection which some future Parliament may entertaim to enabling Royal Highnesses to be charitable at the expense of Mr. Jonn Bunt. That gentleman does not much like penniless families to be devised to him, even when the parents’ claims are considerable. Nxzson bequeathed Horatta to his country, but the legatee has not yet administered to the will. LiazuTenant WacGHorn’s widow enjoys a pension some degrees short of £12,000 a year. It is to be feared that if Mr. Butt’s wishes were consulted, the Royal Provident Fund is all that Royalty’s poor relations would have to look to. It may be a recommendation of the Royal Provident Fund, to. state one rather important element in its arrangements. The pensions derived from it will, in every case but that of absolute imbecility, be annexed to situations and employments ; and the duties of the latter will be pro- portioned as nearly as possible to the amount of the former. It may oceur to the reader that Lorp Jouw Russet might as well have had this principle in view when he gave away £12,000 per annum of the public money the other day. PUNCH FAIRLY PUZZLED. We are not very easily baffled in an attempt to solve a conundrum ; we have seen through a deal board when it has been riddled all over with shots ; we have never had a difficulty about a charade, and as to a rebus we have gone to it so boldly that our fortiter in rebus never could be for an instant questioned ; but we admit ourselves to be fairly puzzled by an advertisement, appearing almost daily, in the papers, headed, “The oldest Juvenile Depot in London.” We cannot under- stand the compatibility between old age and juvenility, which that announcement implies. Perhaps, however, there is a jolly-buckism or old-boyishness about the coneern which justifies the title given to it in the advertisements ; but at all events, in the absence of any authorised SUMMER NOVELTIES IN BALLOONS. THERE seems to be nothing stirring much, excepting balloons—and they are “up and stirring” in every direction. The householders who live in the neighbourhoods of Vauxhall and the Cremorne Gardens, must have a nice time of it. What with the shouting, and the crowds, and the noise, and the fireworks, they must detest the cry of ‘‘ Balloon! Balloon!” almost as much as a lady abhors the announcement of ‘Please, ma’am, the kitchen chimbley’s on fire.” These detestations, too, must be rather heightened by the probability of a parachute, with a live tiger in it, dropping in the back garden, or of a number of sky- rockets falling through the skylight, and astonishing the master and missus, as they are marching solemnly with their candlesticks up to bed. The rage for experimental balloons must be stopped, or else all sorts of extravagancies, animal and pyrotechnieal, wil be committed in the ;name of science, and every little tea-garden, or suburban saloon that |commands six square yards of open space, in front, or in rear, of the | house, will be advertising a “ Wonderful Ascent,” either with or with- | out fireworks, or else with a pony, or a horse, or a donkey, or something lof that sort. ‘The mania of imitation exists as strongly between capitals |as between individuals, and, as it extends, is sure to increase in labsurdity. Now, as Paris has lately witmessed the aseent of a Balloon | with a pony, all “alive and kicking,” London is certaim to be favoured before long with the exhibition of some im#repid acronaut, who will richly deserve the laurels, as well as the a tion of GREEN, by ascending with a bull, er a giraffe, or, it may be, an elephant. Who | knows, if this public 7 for Balloons grows more ravenous, that we |may not be astonished some fine morning at breakfast, with the announcement in the papers of a piece of insanity, like the following :— UNPARALLELED ATTRACTION. WonperFrut Ascent THis EventnG or Mr. GREEN In his celebrated Fulham Balloon with the HIPPOPOTAMUS | (Of the Zoological Gardens) | Who has kindly lent his valuable services for this occasion only. } At the altitude of 200 feet above the level of Chelsea, Mr. Greey will descend from the car on to the back of the Hippopotamus, and discharge a BRILLIANT DISPLAY OF FIREWORKS. N.B. For Seats on the back of the Hippopotamus, apply at the Box Office of the Gardens. The only question is, if the above absurdity is attempted to be per- petrated, who is there to stop it? We are afraid that, from their very nature, Balloons are out of the reach of the Law, and if a policeman were sent to “take up” a balloon, the ehances are that he would only be taken up himself. As there is. a elass of policemen expressly for the river, there may probably be instituted a new class of aérial polieemen purposely to navigate the “silent highway” of the clouds. It will be rather awkward, though, to approach a balloon whilst it is diseharging a brilliant display of fireworks, and difficult, as well as unpleasant, to take it into custody whilst committing the act. THE CHILTERN HUNDREDS. Brotu is said to suffer materially from a superfluity of cooks ; and if the rule applies equally to an over-abundance of domestic servants in every other department, we wonder how the Chiltern Hundreds can exist under the plurality of Stewards that are constantly tendering their services. If these hundreds were thousands, there might still be a Steward for every particular unit ; so numerous are the acceptances of the office, in wach there appears, nevertheless, to be a perpetual vacancy. The new Chief Justice of the Common Pleas has, we learn from the London Gazette, just taken upon himself the Stewardship of these Hundreds, as a sort of relief, no doubt, to his severer duties ; for the Chiltern Hundreds appear to impose upon their stewards no occu- pation that may not be combined with any other employment, however arduous or dignified. We wish Lorp CampBELt would employ his leisure in giving to the world the Lives of the Stewards of the Chiltern Hundreds, an account of whose stewardships would form a series sufficiently long to fwrnish ample materials for even his untirmg industry. We should be glad to know whether the Chiltern Hundreds employ in addition to a Steward, the usual establishment of butler, footman, page, cook, and housekeeper. We should recommend the hundreds who “ want places,” to write down to Chiltern at once, and ascertain whether the Hundreds, which have always a vacancy for a steward, may not find room for other classes of aypreten, we admit ourselves unable to say with eonfidence what the “Oldest Juvenile Depot in Londen” can possibly mean. domestics.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. MR. MALONY’S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BY THE PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY. O wit ye choose to hear the news, Bedad. I cannot pass it o’er : 172 tell you all about the Ball To the Na Ambassador. 1 this fete all balls does bate t which I worn a pum Must here relate the spl Of th’ Oriental Company. These men of sinse, di ised expinse, To féte these black ACHILLESES. : “We'll show the blacks,” page they, ** Allmack’s, And take the rooms at Wiillis’s.” With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls, They hung the rooms of Willis up, And decked the walls, and stairs, and halls, With roses and with lilies up. And Ju.ien’s band, it tuck its stand, So sweetly in the middle the And soft bassoons played heave And violins did fiddle there. And when the Coort was tired of spoort, I’d lave you, boys, to think there was, A nate bufiet before them set, Where lashins of good dhrink there was ! At ten before the ball-room door, or great y chunes, His moighty Excelléncy was He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd, So gorgeous and immense he was. His dusky:shuit, sublime and mute, Into the door-way followed him ; And O the noise, of the blackguard boys, As they hurrood and hollowed him! The noble Chair,* stud at the stair, And bade the dthrams to thump; and he Did thus evince, to that Black Prince, The welcome of his Cumpany. O fair the or and rich the curls, And bright the oys, you saw there, was; And, fixed each oye, ye there could spoi, On Grverat June BanawrTHer, was ! This Gineral great, then tuck his sate, ith all the other ginerals, (Bedad his troat, his belt, his coat, All bleezed with precious minerals ;) And as he there, with princely air, Reeloinin on his cushion was, All round about his royal chair, The squeezin and the pushin was. 0 Pat, such girls, such Jukes, and Earls, fashion and nobilitee ! Just think of Trm, and faney him, Amidst the hoigh gentility ! ® There was Lord yA and the Portygeese Ministher and his lady there, And I reckonised, with much surprise, Our messmate, Bop O’Grapy, there; There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, And Baroness Renausen there, And Countess Rov iizr, that looked peculiar Well, in her robes of gauze in there. There was Crowuvrst (1 knew him first, When only Mr. Pres he was) And Mick O’Toots, the great big fool, That after supper tipsy was. There was Lorp Frvea11, and his ladies all, And Lorps Kriteen and DurFreRin, And Pappy Frere, with his fat wife ; I wondther how he could stuff her in. * James Matueson? Esquire, to whom, and the Board of Directors of the Peninsular and Oriental Company, I, TimoTHEvs MAtoxy, late stocker on board the Iberia, the Lady Mary Wood, the Tagus, and the Oriental steam ships, humbly dedicate this pro- duction of my grateful muse. There was Lorp Betrast, that by me past, And seemed to ask how should J go there ? And the Wipow Macrag, and Lorp A. Hay, And the Marcuiongss oF Srico there. Yes, Jukes, and Earls, and diamonds, and pearls, And pretty girls, was spoorting there ; And some beside (the rogues !) I spied, Behind the windies, coorting there. O, there ’s one I know, bedad would show As beautiful as any there, And I’d like to hear the pipers blow, And shake a fut with Fanwy there! THE BEGINNING OF THE END. ust now there are all the usual symptoms of the close of the Session being at hand; and measures that would other- | wise have proceeded by the shewest and easiest stages, are beme jerked through both Houses in the most sudden and ecipitate manner. Pthe Bille of Parliament, like some bills of the play we have met with, seem to bear upon the face of them the information that “ an interval of some time is supposed to elapse between the first and second acts” or first and se- cond readings—though, in fact there is no interval at all: but conclusions are jumped to by the legislature with the same aoa ae that is ispla, y the dramatist when the denouement is de- sired. Many of the members , have already left their seats in the House for their seats in the country; and so as a sufficient number of “reading men” can be kept together to read the remaining bills of the Session, that is all that appears to be required. ay a which at the commencement of the Session drags its slow length along, is, at this more advanced period, carried forward at railway speed ; and measures instead of being deliberately forwarded, and gradually carried, are shoved from stage to stage, pitched from house to house, and ultimately made law in batches of a dozen or so at atime; while the Government, like a threepenny "bus, is allowed to carry just as large a number as it pleases, without the smallest regard to safety or convenience. The legislative conductor and driver, feeling their labours to be near their close, are only in a hurry to get to their journey’s end, and wi carry whatever happens to be ready; but will leave behind anything, however important, that is not exactly prepared to jump up, or tumble on to the roof, or cling to the step, or hold on somehow or anyhow to the State vehicle. Some passengers, like the County Court Extension, for mstance, may be suddenly deprived of a parcel of the most whole- some provisions; but with a shout of “Dropp’d a pareel! very valuable is it? it can’t be helped! we can’t stop now for anybody or anything,” the poor victim is hurried off, and, im fact, “carried,” with the loss, perhaps, of the greater part of that for which the expense and trouble of bemg conveyed through all the previous stages had been gone to. The Smithfield Life Pill. SmITHFIELP has been so much extolled lately for its salubrity, and city medica: nen have been so loud in their praises of the purity of its atmo- sphere, and the general healthiness of its neighbourhood, that we wonder that no Life Pill has yet seized upon its valuable name as a guarantee to eure everything. We think, if largely advertised, and backed with a few strong testimonials from -well- Aldermen and Common Councilmen, that the Swrrurrecp Lire Pru. would be a sure fortune to any one who does not mind imposing upon the eredulity of the British Public. We should like to do it ourselves, for there is a difficulty now a-days to make your fortune, unless you happen to be a quack, only we have a few foolish doubts as to the honesty oF the transaction. _ Wewtcome Axrivat.—The “Great Bull from Nineveh ” will arrive in September, just in time to put an end to the Gorwam controversy.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Minister had one of these reasons, all equally potent, " wherewith to bend the ductile Commons. —== And Lorp Joun Russet has been no less fertile, no ——— j less successful in his argument for the P sad £12,000 | for our novel CamBripGE. His Royal Highness is ex- pected to be charitable! Mr. Hume’s proposed £8000 would afford no fund of benevolence to the Duke. Now, give him the £12,000, and we set him up at once a dinner excellence—a mahogany philanthropist. Very well. Only, be it understood that when the Secretaries of the Welsh Flannel Infirmary, the Royal Dimity over the subscriptions after annual dinners, com- mencing, as with a flourish of the human trumpet “H. R. H. toe Duke or Campriner, £502? | “HR. Horne Dvxe oF CamBrince, £40” “HH. R. H. toe Duxe or Camprince, £20,” |—when these glad tidings are rung forth, we do protest against any applause. Men shall not be duped into smiting the table with knife-handles—they shall not |rattle glasses—they shall not “hear, hear,” in per- |spiring admiration, fired and glowing with a sudden |sense of the Royal Chairman’s charitable beneficence. | No: Lorp Joun has put the looked-for-expenditure in a business light ; has made a trusteeship of the £4,000, and H.R. H. tHe Duxe or Camsrince, when he | puts down his name for £50, and when he pays it—as of course he will, for when did bird of royal eyrie ever | play the part of shabby decoy-duck ?—let the money be taken quietly, decorously: received as a public grant from the people who, by rigour of the Commons, have made the Duke their eae. Surely his Royal High- ness fulfils the easiest conditions of philanthropy ; seeing that he is only expected to give what, for such purpose has been assuredly entrusted to him. Nevertheless, the new Duke has been lucky in his year: he has obtained from easy 1850 what he might have failed to win from ugly, threatening, 1851—for that is the year financial; the year when Z. S. D— unrelenting fates !—will really open Parliament, though Her Masesty may nominally perform that ceremony. Again, the Duke has been fortunate, inasmuch as he has preceded certain claims—the claimants as yet in the nursery—upon the public exchequer. He, of course, has been at a high figure, that certain little people, bearing precedence of him, may range at a yet higher |numeral. Question: if a Duke oF CAMBRIDGE has £12,000 a year, how much above the Duke is the right | of a Prince AnTHUR—a PRINCE ALFRED ? | Lorp Brovenam—who has lately elected himself the special protector, the Chancellor off the woolsack = ————————-———— | and without a salary, for royalty and aristocracy—Lorp igi Broveuam voted for the Duke’s £12,000, and would THE CAMBRIDGE JOB OF £12,000! PER ANNUM. | vote for all such grants so long as the Royal Marriage Act was in force, and royal dukes “ were not allowed to Tue matter is settled—the bargain is struack—between the Ministry and Parliament, | termarry with subjects of this country endowed with with little further preface, little more time, than a lady who markets for herself takes wealth.” Truly this is another argument for the repeal to cheapen a pair of ducks or a solitary sucking-pig, and the bran-new Duxe or|0f “the unchristian law.” If, for instance, H.R. H. CamBripGE—like a crown jewel in cotton—is wrapt for life in £12,000 per annum. | THE Duke oF CAMBRIDGE were permitted to take his We may not object to Dukes; nevertheless, we may have them with a little too|Ccoronet into the home marriage-market — whether at much gilding. Besides, whatever may be our loving weakness towards a Duke in the| the West-end or in the City—he would, no doubt, abstract, there are times when we would rather consider the object as a necessary than | Obtain for a spousal share of its glory a most sufficing a luxury. Human nature is apt to get sulky with an article it pays too dearly for.|Swm. Were he permitted to marry the rich heiress of a A Duke at a fair and moderate price, as Dukes might go, oun be assured of a| dry-salter, or a grocer’s widow gilt with a million, we more continuing respect than a Duke paid for at a ruinous sacrifice. We did not |S 4 peop should save in money, though of course we expect the Duke or Camprince to offer himself as a decided bargain; nevertheless, |Should lose in blood. As it 1s, the Duke—like his when he asks £12,000, we must—though we be charged with a higgling spirit ungra-|father—may marry a German Princess in German po- cious towards the splendid article proffered us—we must inquire, “is £12,000 the very | Verty; and like his father come to us for a further lowest ?” "|}grant for conjugal housekeeping. Now we expressly Twelve thousand pounds a-year for the Duke or CampripcEe! And at the present | hint that Lorp Brovenam on his return from America time circulars lie in all Government offices; circulars calling upon all clerks to set | Will bring in a bill for a home trade in royal coronets! down their several amount of salaries, with duties performed, extra-official profits, and; Why take to Germany at a certain loss, what may be so forth, that the smaller functionaries may, in Minories phrase, be sweated somewhat | disposed of at a ready profit at home. of their incomes. An interesting sum this for certain of the arithmetical clerks to| work; viz.: “ How many of us make one DuKE or CamBripGe? How many common goose-quills are worth the plumage of a golden goose royal ?” When, however, it is determined in the resolute breast of a Minister to obtain a RATHER SUSPICIOUS. Sentimental Young Lady. “ Witt you BE sO OBLIGING, Mr. TonGs, As TO CUT OFF A LONG PIECE OF HAIR WHERE IT WILL NOT BE MISSED.” Sunday at Sea. ApmiraL Bow es, on the Mercantile Bill, moved a Asylum, and the Coal-and-Blanket Institution, read | thumping grant for anybody whom the Crown delights to honour (out of the pockets of the people), it would be pleasant, were the result not so very costly, to enjoy the ministerial ingenuity and courage, ever so fertile in strong, yea, in oe ts reasons for the extravagance. When the House voted the late Duke or York £10,000 a-year to pay certain visits to his old blind father at Windsor, we think it was the tragic price of oats that—pathetically illustrated by the Minister—carried the grant. If, however, it was not oats, perhaps it was the then price of horse-flesh; if not horse- flesh, why, then, it was the market-rate of filial love! Sure we are, however, that the clause to prevent Sunday labour at sea. And very right: because it is now a well-known fact—at least to Lorp Asuuey and all the Sackclothites—that on Sundays at |sea there is never any wind, but a fair and gentle one— | that billows never break—and rocks, at least on Sundays, never threaten. Perhaps, the perfeétion of a Sunday cruise—a cruise which we earnestly recommend to the Sabbatarians—is a cruise upon the Dead Sea! = | “ONNG THT, JO INO ONILLAT ONY ‘dV WHL LV DNIMUMOS “WO * ANONOOW DIHM

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KY KWOEPI nnn gui. “TUTTO INGWNUTAOD THL ‘UMN TVAOU AHL ONNG AHL JO LN0 ONILLAT ANV ‘AVL FHL LV DNIMAYOS “YO ‘ AWONOOT DIHM Ly Yi if Z LM My Wy}, Wj} WY Y Y,

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PUNCH. OR TIE LONDON CHARIVARL

THE BURIAL OF THE BILLS. Nor a joke was heard, not a troublesome vote, As the bills into limbo they hurried ; Not e’en Ineuis discharged a farewell shot, _ O’er the grave where the Jew Bill was buried. They buried them darkly at dead of night, For bed all the members yearning ; : With the aid of the Speaker to keep them right, GREEN’s parliamentary learning. No vain discussion their life supprest, Nor did truth nor talk confound them ; Tar pens a few, and as for the rest, They burked them just as they found them. For most of the Session’s task was done, e supplies marked the hour for retiring ; And as August drew nigh, each son of a gun, At the grouse, in his ms, was a-firing. Few and short were the words they said, And the Speaker looked on, without sorrow, To the time when he might get his rest in his bed, Nor a snooze in his chair have to borrow. Mr. BrorHerton seemed to be dying for bed, And Disraz.t was dreadfully yellow ; And there sat Lorp Jonny with harass half dead, Unpitied, the poor little fellow. Lightly they reck through what troubles he’ s gone, And for his slow-coaching upbraid him ; But little he cares, so but tight to stick on To the Treasury Bench they will aid him. So they settled the Bills—other folks’ and their own— Never destined to figure in story ; y shed not a tear, and they heaved not a groan, But they burked them alike, Whig and Tory!

PHYSIC AND FARMING. * To MeasteR Puncu.” uR,— Loremassy! I wonder what the world’s comin’ to. Took up a peaper *tother day, and read the ’count of the farm of Mr. Mecu1—that ere chap as makes the razor-strops and ‘ ele- gances.” ‘Talk of new-fangled manoovres, | zays them as he uses beats everything. What dost think they be accordin’ to the peaper? Why,

“* Epsom and glauber salts were amongst the materials employed for improving the growth of the potatoes, and super-phosphate was described asan unfailing agency in cropping turnips.’ “Epsom and glauber zalts! Why, we shall get next to geein taturs a black dose. Bymeby,I spose, instead of gooin to stable and varm-yard for manoorer, we shall be zending vor’t to Potticarries’ Hall. We shall be told to put paregoric to our clover, bikerypickery to our turmuts, and pillieosher to our wutts. “The paper zays besides : “< Mtr. Mucua possesses the rare art of teaching without giving himself the airs of a pedagogue. He meets his unscientific neighbours with no pragmatic display of superior and contemptuous, skill; but taking each man by the button, he, so to speak, shakes an acknowledgment of slovenly farming out of him, and jokingly and pleasantly Points out the features and results of his own far better system.’ “ Tf ever I comes across un, I can only zay, dwooan’t let un go tryun no sitch jokes wi me. I wun’t take it on un. Take me by the button, indeed, and think to shake slovenly varmun out o’ me! [ should just like to zee un do’t. I didn’t tak un by the collar of his quoat agen, and sheak his roobub, his Epsom zalts, and stuff out o’ his head, my neam baint “ Fallowdown, Hampshire, July %, 1850. “P.S. What countryman is this ere Mr. Mecut? A vorener, [ spose, by the neam on un. Yah!—let un keep to his strops and pan enn nicknacks, and not purtend to teach his grandmother to zuck eggs.”

* JOLTER JOGTROT. RAILWAY ROMANCE AND REALITY. Sometimes the chief beauty of a story is that there are two ways of telling it, and an incident may be made pleasing by a little romance which has nothing attractive in the reality. known to ae pound or so o m their employ a genius whose duty it is to exercise an opposite func- tion, and instead of exaggerating the truth, to diminish it to the very minimum, and pare it so completely down, that there is scarcely an We are frequently very much struck by the wonderful £ left of it. thing aculty displayed by the Railway Historian, whose duty it 1s to prepare the official report of an accident, and who manages invariably to make the danger and inconvenience to the public “ beautifully less” than, according to the accounts of the sufferers themselves, they We subjoin a specimen of the two styles of (reports, the seem to have experienced. one oflicial, and the other non-official, of a railway casualty, and we must leave the public to the task of reconciling the between the two : c accounts, which might perhaps fairly hw er half way,as the two trains did when they came into collision m the tunnel : NON-OFFICIAL REPORT. FRIGHTFUL COLLISION ON THE SLAP- DASH RAILWAY. Yesterday evening at ten o’clock, just as the up-train entered the Great Hearse Tunnel, being three quarters of an hour after its time, a lug train, which was an hour and a half before its time, was vainly trying to make its way out of the Tunnel, with an old worn-out engine, that was on its way to the terminus, to be broken up in the foundry. The result was, that the tender of the passenger train was driven with fearful force on to the last of the luggage trucks, several of which were immediately smashed to pieces. The hot water from the boiler was scattered in all directions, fearfully scalding the engine driver and stoker, while the carriages were driven together with a fearful crash the horrors of which were increase by the frightful screams of the passengers. The most alarming confusion prevailed, for the dark- ness was intense, and after a delay of about five hours, a fresh engine was brought to extricate the alarmed, agitated, and wounded sufferers from their horrible po- sition. The amount of injury expe- rienced by the passengers cannot be as yet correctly ascertained, but there 1s too much reason to believe, from the appearance of many who were brought bleeding and mangle into the station, that there will be several most serious, and a few fatal results to this most unwar- rantable accident. OFFICIAL REPORT. TEMPORARY STOPPAGE OF A TRAIN ON THE SLAP-DASH RAILWAY, ¥estemiay evening, while the -traim was going through the Goes Eleame : a with - usual punetuality, the regular Inggage train, which was _— at its moderate s met with a eheck, which some- what re Its s through the Tunnel, and shghtly interfered with the admirable routine of traffic on this well-managed line of rail- way. Inconsequence of this trifling deviation from the ordinary course, the tip of the tender touched the outer = the last luggage van, which led to a slight vibration that caused a partial spilling of the liquid, and the engineer and stoker sat for an instant with their feet in warm water, while their hands were also washed in it. As is usual with women and children, when taken by surprise, a few female or in- fantine exclamations were imme- diately uttered. Everything that could be done by the Company was immediately done, and we must add that we could see no reason for alarm; and after a pause, the assistance of a fresh engine was | procured, to continue the progress | of the train on its merry jaunt to the Metropolis. We have not heard whether any harm has been done to any of the passengers, but a few scratches, and a bruise here and there, will, no doubt, be the extent of the injury arising from this trifling coutretemps.

THE FORTIFICATION OF SMITHFIELD. We understand that the Corporation of London has it seriously in 1 th ge firms have been | a poet, whose office it is to lard an ounce of fact with a fiction, but the Railway Companies would appear to have

contemplation to fortify Smithfield. The artillery for the defence of that odoriferously strong hold will be formediof the most stubborn brass, and several thousand pounders, of aldermanic calibre, will be ready to open the fire on invaders. The gabions will be eonstructed with gabies of the densest description. A moat (whieh will afford ingress to animals and drovers by means of a drawbridge,) will be dug round: the encamp- ment ; and into it will be twmed the filth from the neighbouring slaughter-houses, which will render it an impassable gulf to the sanitary invaders, the boldest of whom will be afraid to poke his nose into it. The Commander-in-Chief of the Garrison will be ALppRMAN SIDNEY, and his staff will be composed of Deputy UsBarp and Mr. Taytor, with several of the most influential slaughtermen connected with the Livery.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MAKE AND CONSTRUCT. OmntBusses are generally constructed to hold 15, but somehow they are made io hold 18, and on a wet night frequently more than that.

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| We have hardly yet got over t 58 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | A HEAVY BLOW AND SORE DISCOURAGEMENT. Next to last week’s _heart- breaking announcement of Lorp BrovucHam’s —of “the gentlewoman, nearly connected with noble families, reduced to seek some necessary means of support by la- bour ”—there is nothing that has inflicted such a stab on the glorious in- stitutions dear to every Briton, as the recent intelligence of the minis- terial intention to cut down the expenses of = our diplomatic establish- ment. We are deluged with * letters on the subject. Indeed it is fortunate that this is a time of ge- neral mourning. Black- edged envelopes are the proper dress for the touching remonstrances which we continue to receive from ambassa- dors, envoys, plenipo- tentiary and otherwise, chargés @ affaires, se- cretaries of legation, altachés, paid and unpaid, QuEEN’s messengers, couriers, dragomen, embassy- touters, commissionaires, cooks, opera-dancers, hell-keepers, and others intimately connected with the upholding of the Constitution in its representative branches abroad. The small German embassies are portions pathetic in their representations. e Houen-Strumprex-Katzen-ELLENBOGEN manifesto, which we append :— From Six Jasrer Jorpison, C.B., Knight of the Guelphic Order; Knight of the Order of St. Ahasuerus ; Grand Cross of St. Donnerundblitzen, Companion of the Order of the Holy Cucumber of Cologne ; F.R.S., and Honorary Member of several learned Societies ; Envoy to the Court of his Most Serene HicGHyess, THE HEREDITARY Prince or Howen-STRUMPFEN-KATZEN-ELLENBOGEN, i7 the Principality of that name. _ The Undersigned presents the assurances of his high and distinguished considera- tion to Mr. Punch, and begs to submit to him, for communication to the British | Public, the subjoined notes of the Undersigned, against any reduction of the allow- | ances for the diplomatic establishment, with which the Undersigned has the honour of being connected. The Undersigned Protests, Article 1.—Because the Undersigned, as the representative of the British Sovereign and the upholder of the dignity of the British Empire, at the Court of Hohen- Striimpfen-Katzen-Ellenbogen, considers it his duty to spend twice as much as the Envoys of France, Russia, Prussia, Austria, and the other Great Powers; and is convinced that the credit of Great Britain in the eyes of Europe, is much deter- mined by the success of the Undersigned in counteracting the intrigues of the representatives of the above-named powers, which counteraction cannot be effectively carried out without the aid of dinners. Article 2.—Because the Undersigned has always hitherto spent his allowance, and has not found anything left at the end of the year. Article 3.—Because the Undersigned fears it will be impossible to keep up the present amicable relations between the Court of a ager tee nag ese hee Soom, and the Court and Cabinet of Great Britain, unless the Undersigned is enabled to pay his bills regularly in the City of Kalbsbratenheim, the capital of the above-named Principality. Article 4.—Because the Undersigned is convinced that nothing below a salary of £2000 a-year ought to be offered to a gentleman. Article 5.—Because the Undersigned has two sons in the diplomatic service, and would certainly not have devoted them to that service, had he anticipated that any reduction of diplomatic salaries would be made. Article 6.—Because, on a reduced salary, the Undersigned would find it perfectly out of the question to keep up such a table for the Chancellerie of the Legation, as the gentlemen attached to the same have been accustomed to. Article 7.—Because the Undersigned has to pay large sums for secret information, rendered necessary by the intrigues of the representatives of the Great Powers in all the German Residences, and more especially by the extremely delicate state of the relations subsisting between the Court of this Principality and that of the neighbouring Grand Duchy of Poppenheimer-Pumpernickel, which is notoriously under the influence of Russia. (There are twelve more Articles, which we have not | room for, but from which we gather that a European war | is extremely likely to break out, if the salary of the Envoy to the Principality of Hohen-Striimpfen-Katzen-Ellenbogen is in any way meddled with.) THE PALACE PERIODICAL. Crercuars in general are regarded as things not to be | read, and perhaps the Court Circular may be included under the same head, for there is certainly little in it to repay | perusal. The number of that silly little periodical for the 24th of July was especially meagre, and we looked in ' vain along its columns for something that might be re- garded for an instant as an “amusing article.” The “leader” simply stated that the QuEEN and Prince had | taken an early walk in the Park; but beyond this the | writer gave us nothing in the shape of fact, while he wholly abstained from comment. The next article was a short paper upon the Prince or Wates, and the younger members of the Royal Family, who were stated to have “ walked and rode as usual.” It is gratifying to know that the children of Her Masesry walk and ride, like other people’s children, and that there | is nothing unusual in their mode of doing so. The next contribution is devoted to Lorp Joun Russet, “who,” says the writer, “had the honour of joining the Royal | dinner-party.” On the whole, we can scarcely look upon | the Court Circular for July 24th as an average number; | for though the incident of Lorp Joun RvssEwt and the | dinner-party is well—or at least concisely—told, there is | a feebleness, a languor, a want of verre, and an absence of pith in the article on the walking and riding of the younger members of the Royal Family. We are quite sure that the QurEN and Prince ALBERT are not desirous of being made, every day, the staple subjects of a very dull periodical. It 1s most gratifying to the nation to know they are well, and enjoying their | domestic happiness, but surely “No news” might in this case he regarded as “Good news,” in order that their privacy might not be perpetually invaded by the authors of the foolish little work alluded to. We should be glad to have a return of the number of subscribers to the Court Circular—for we doubt if it circulates at all—the amount | paid to the Editor, the salaries of the contributors, and the | cost of printing and publishing. A WORD OR TWO ON WATER. We are afraid that writing upon water is as useless as writing upon sand, and indeed so much has been lately written on water, and so little impression made, that who- ever goes into the subject, however deeply, for the good of the public, can only expect to have cold water thrown upon him for his pains. A book has been lately published by a Dr. Hassext, who favours the world not only with his own views, but the views of an artist, on the water we drink; and these views, painted literally in water colours, show us in all their disgusting variety of tint and form, the specimens of animal and vegetable matter we take in with every drop of aqueous fluid we imbibe. Since we have seen these alarming pictures, they have haunted us, and we have been troubled by a perpetual attack of Thames water on the brain. Every drop is a sort of menagerie in itself when subjected to the powers of the microscope, by whose aid we may perceive the water devils, the testacea, the infusoria, the crustacea, and other abominations, flitting and floundering about to an extent the contemplation of which makes our blood run almost as thick as Thames water in our veins. Inthe book we have mentioned, there is a specimen of the water of every Company supplying London, and there is not one of them but may be described as a species of Grand Junction of everything that is un- wholesome and revolting to look upon. The old song of “Drink to me only with thine eyes” could never have been adapted to the water-drinkers of the present day, for to drink with the eyes shut is the only resource of the modern votary of our metropolitan river-gods, Counter-Irritation.—“ Is there any other little article we can show you to-day, Sir?” dul wou wha dow figh ovel his 1 rout

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VOY | gen | » be | der | pay | the 3 as tely l of wn hed vith uter ater and we us, mes p in J . ea, ing . of nes ere ing bed un- 2S ” ers tan icle PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 59 THE PROSER. ESSAYS AND DISCOURSES BY DR. SOLOMON PACIFICO. VII—ON THE PRESS AND THE PUBLIC. ¥ rising young friend Hircuines, the author of “ Randolph the Robber,” ** The Murderers of May Fair,’ and other ro- mances, and one of the chief writers in the Lictor newspaper—a highly libe- boots progressional jour- nal, was discoursing with the writer of the present lines upon the queer de- cision to whichthe French Assembly has come, and which enforces a signa- ture henceforth to all the leading articles in the French papers. As an act of Government, Hircu- INGs said he thought the measure most absurd and tyramnous, but he was not sorry for it, as it would infallibly increase the importance of the profession of letters, to which we both belonged. The man of letters will no longer be the anonymous slave of the got pay ress proprietor, Hrrcutnés said; the man of letters will no longer be used and flung aside in his old days; he will be rewarded according to his merits, and have the chance of making himself a name. And then Hircutnés spoke with great fervour regarding the depressed condition of literary men, and said the time was coming when their merits would get them their own. : On this latter subject, which is a favourite one with many gentlemen of our profession, I, for one, am confessedly incredulous. Iam resolved not to consider myself a martyr. I never knew a man who had written a good book (unless, indeed, it were a Barrister with Attorneys), hurt his position in society by having done so. On the contrary, a clever writer, with decent manners and conduct, makes more friends than any other man. And I do not believe (parenthetically) that it will make much difference to my friend Hircnines whether his name is atfixed to one, twenty, or two thousand articles of his composition. But what would. happen in England if such a regulation as that just passed in France were to become law; and the House of Commons omnipotent, which can shut up our parks for us which can shut up our Post-Office for us, which can do anything it will, should take a fancy to have the signature of every writer of a newspaper article ? Have they got any secret ledger at the Zimes in which the names of tle writers of all the articles in that journal are written down? That would be a curious book to see. Articles in that paper have been attributed to every great man of the day: at one time it was pe ecwenent wrote regularly, at another CANNING was a known contributor, at some other time it was Sir Rospert Press, Lorp ABERDEEN. It would be curious to see the real names. The Chancellor’s or the Foreign Secretary’s articles would most likely turn out to be written by Jones or Smirn. I mean no-disrespect to the latter, but the contrary—to be a writer for a newspaper requires more knowledge, genits, readiness, scholarship, than ou want in Saint Stephen’s. Compare a good leading article and a speech in the ouse of Commons: compare a House of Commons orator with a writer, psha! ral, nay, seven-leagued | and who—give them a week or ten days to prepare—would turn out such an article as neither of the two men named could ever have produced—that is very likely. have often, for my part, said the most brilliant thing in the world, and one that would utterly upset that impudent JENKINS, whose confounded jokes and puns spare nobody —but then it has been three hours after JENKINS’s pun, when I was walking home very likely—and so it is with writers; some of them possess the amazing gift of the impromptu, and can always be counted upon in a moment of necessity—-whilst others, slower coaches or leaders, require to get all their heavy guns into position, and labori- ously to fortify their camp, before they begin to fire. ow, saying that Rosryson is the fellow chiefly to be intrusted with the quick work of the paper, it would be a most unkind and unfair piece of tyranny on the newspaper proprietor to force him to publish Ropryson’s name as the author of all the articles d’occasion. You haveno more right to call for this publicity from the newspaper owner, whio sells you three yards of his printed fabric, than to demand from the linen draper, from what wholesale house he got his calico ; who spun it ; who owned the cotton, and who cropped it in America. It is the article, and not the name and pedi- gree of the artificer, which a newspaper or any other dealer has a right to-sell'to the public. I get a letter (which Heaven forbid!) from Mr. Tarts my attorney, I know it is not in Tapes’s own hand-writing; I know it is a clerk writes it—so, a newspaper is a composite work got up by many hireling hands, of whom it is necessary to know no other name than the printer’s or proprietor’s. It is not to be denied that men of signal: ability will write for years in papers and perish unknown—and in so far their lot isa hood one: and the chances of life are against them. It is hard upon a man, with whose work the whole town is ringing, that not a soul should know or care who is the author who so delights the public. But, on the other hand, if your article is excellent, would you have had any great renown from it, supposing the paper had not published it? Would you have had a chance at all but for that paper? Suppose you had brought out that article on a broad sheet, who would have bought it? Did you ever hear of an unknown man making a fortune by a pamphlet ? Again, it may so happen to a literary man that the stipend which he receives from one publication is not sufficient to boil his family pot, and that he must write in some other quarter. If Brown writes articles in the daily papers, and articles in the weekly and monthly periodicals too, and signs the same, he surely weakens his force by extending his line. Tt would be better for him to write incognito, than to pla- card his name in so many quarters—as actors understand, who do not perform in too many pieces on the same night ; and painters, who know that it is not worth their while to exhibit more than a certain number of pictures. Besides, if to some men the want of re is an evil: to many others the privacy is most welcome. any a young barrister is a public’ writer, for instance, to whose future prospects his fame as a literary man would give no possible aid, and whose intenticn it is to put away the pen, when the attorneys begin to find out his juridical merits. To such aman it would only be a misfortune to be known as a writer of. leading articles. J/is battle for fame and fortune Would Jones or Surtu, however, much profit by the publication of their names to their articles? That is'doubtful. When the Chronicle or the Times speaks now, it is “we” who are speaking, we'the Liberal Conservatives, we the Conservative | Sceptics; when Jonzs signs the article, it is we no more, but Jones. It goes| to the public with no authority. The public does not care very much what JoNnEs’s opinions are. They don’t purchase the Jongs organ: any more—the paper droops:; | and, in fact, I can conceive nothing more wearisome than to see the names of | Smitu, Brown, Jones, Rospinson, and so forth, written in capitals every day, day | after day, under the various articles of the paper. The public would begin to ery | out at the poverty of the literary dramatis persone. We have had Brown twelve | times this month it would say. That Ropryson’s name is always coming up—as soon as there is a finance question, or a foreign question, or what not, it is Smiru who signs the article. Give us somebody else. | Thus Brown and Rosryson would get a:doubtful aud precarious bread instead | of the comfortable and —e engagement. which they now have. ‘Ihe paper'| would not be what it is. would be impossible to employ men on trial, and see | | what their talents were worth. Qecasion is half a public writer’s battle. To sit | down in his study and compose an article that migh¢ be suitable, is a hard work for him: twice as hard. as the real work ; and’ yet not the real work; which is to fight the battle at two: hours’ notice,.at the given place and time. The debate is over at twelve o’clock at night, let us say. Mr. Editor looks round, and fixes on his man. “ Now’s your time, Caprarn Smitu,” says he, “charge the enemy, and | rout them,”—or “advance, CoLONEL JONES, with your column and charge.’ Now there may be men who are Jonzs’s or Ropryson’s superiors in intellect, is to be made with other weapons than the pen. Then again, a man without ambition—and there are very many such sensible persons, or whose ambition does not go beyond his pot au feu, is happy to have the opportunity of quietly and honourably adding to his income : of occupying himself : of improving himself: of paying for Tom at college, or for Mamma’s carriage—and weak not. Take away this modest mask—force every man upon the public stage to appear with his name placarded, and we lose some of the best books, some of the best articles, some of the pleasantest wit that we have ever had. On the whole, then, in this controversy I am against Hitcnines; and although he insists upon it that he is a 2 persecuted being, I do not believe it; and although he declares that I ought to consider myself trampled on by the | world, I decline to admit that T am persecuted, and protest that it treats me and my brethren kindly in-the main. Mecni’s Mactc Crops:—Our own Reporter, who paid a visit to Mr. Mecut’s Tiptree Farm, makes the following return: — “ The barley is.so strong in the-beard, that not even Mecut himself can.shave it.”

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BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON THINK THEY WOULD LIKE TO GO AND SEE THE REVIEW. THEY TRY A “GOOD STRONG STAND.”

“ag

THE TROOPS MARCH PAST THE “ DOOK” IN SLOW TIME. A CHARGE OF CAVALRY TAKES PLACE, xt Sa oy SNE a S* CUS DS a

OP: eS ey a0, | 7 » \ x ae INY\ asl\ \ / a\. % nf y 3 6 tea |

BROWN, “ BY SOME MISTAKE,” FINDS HIMSELF IN THE MIDDLE OF FINAL CATASTROPHE : REMOVAL OF BROWN, A HOLLOW SQUARE. BY THE MILITARY. ROBINSON SUGGESTS A TREB,.

Sat |

BEING MORE SECURE.” JONES, AND ROBINSON <4

Office, in Lombard Street, in 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, in the City of London,

Reine Wy William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the ee of Middlesex, Printers, at their ATUBDAY, AveusT

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1 ~ AS 7 * ie oe = TN een PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 61 He. AME Q « WING My Tue NegpavuLesE PRINCE HAS COME A MILE AND A HALF IN A Cas, AND THE CONSCIENTIOUS DRIVER HOPES FOUR Suv’RINS WON’? BE OUT OF THE way! A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE FIFTEENTH. MRS. MOUSER RECEIVES ANOTHER LETTER FROM PARIS, WHICH, THIS TIME, SHE DOES NOT ANSWER. Mr. Puncn,—Having been dragged into vt by MovseEr’s letter —which I thought, yes, I had my misgivings, I should be sorry for ; but which, on the contrary, as Mrs. HornBiower and other kind friends inform me, has only shown my proper spirit,—having been compelled to answer my own lawful husband through your universal columns—for if I’m not to know Movuser’s — address, J’m not going to direct to the Post-Office, I can assure him—I shall continue the correspondence. Left in widowhood, as I may say, at home—it will be some satisfaction to feel that the world knows how I’m treated, and how—of course—I ’m pitied accordingly. Mr. Punch, your last number could hardly have got to Paris, eould scarcely have been laid upon the Café table—I mean the Café of the Inconsolable Husbands—when Mouser, I know him well! scared by the red-hot shot—as Mrs. HornBLowER pays me the compliment to call it, meaning my letter—the red-hot shot that was in it, wrote me an answer ; which, at a blow, and without a moment’s hesitation, I print! * Paris. [And that’s all 1) “My DEAREST AND EVER Dear AMELIA, : ‘(That the ink in his pen didn’t turn scarlet with blushing, is—I will say it—what surprises me!\ Having despatched my business—{ This is the first time I’ve heard of it. But it isn’t business that takes him from me; no; it can be nothing but pleasure !\—I shall now, like the wearied dove, begin to think of my rest. You can have no idea, AmeEtia, of the weariness of Paris. [No: and with his will I’m not likely to have.) Attached as you are—it is my pride to know it—to the calm retirement of our own hearth—(with what delight shall I again fit my feet into my a, and drop once more into my own chair !)—how glad I am that I did not carry out my first impulse, and gently insist upon bringing you with me. [And went and sent in the painters, and that on purpose to keep me suffering in the house !) “A part of the time that I could snatch from business, I devoted to what are called the gaieties of Paris. ollow—all unreal. The Boulevards are by no means equal to Oxford Street ; the Elysian Fields as they are called—but the French would find Elysium in a sentry-box— are not to be spoken of with our own Trafalgar Square ; whilst for the Louvre, where they hang their pictures and set up their statues, never dream of it, AmeL1A,whilst—as an Englishwoman—you have the blessing, gratis, of our own—own National Gallery. Indeed, altogether— especially to a woman of your simple tastes—Paris is a mistake. No sooner would you have been here, than you would have sighed for London. [Any way, he might have let me sigh for myself !) “T have seen Versailles, but, only for your satisfaction. My love, it is not to be spoken of with Buckingham Palace. And then for the water- works, why—with our own fountains in Trafalgar Square, for with the — of an Englishman I must again return to it—they sink to nothing. ndeed, with almost everything I have beheld I have been disappointed. | Twenty times I have caught myself saying, or about to say, ‘Dear Ametia! How she would have been disenchanted! How happy I am for her sake—{J dare say ‘\—for her sake, I did not bring her here !” For compared with London everything is incomplete and small. Then there is a Statue of Napoteon on the Place Vendéme. My love! } | think of the York Column of our own London, and you’ll despise it. [Which?| Again, to dissipate a lowness of spirits that has unaccount- ably crept over me since we separated, I went to the Jardin des Plantes, which is French for Bear-garden. You, who delight so much in our own Zoologicals—you, who are, I may say, so much at home among the monkeys of your own country, would despise *emhere. [I am not so sure of that.| Whilst I paced the Garden, glancing here and there at wretched specimens, how I envied you the hippopotamus ! “My greatest disappointment, however, was reserved for the theatres. I have seen some dozen pieces—but only on a point of principle—of curiosity, I should rather say. And it happened in this manner. The first play I saw was taken from the Adelphi—our own Adelphi. The next from the Lyceum ; the next, again from the Lyceum! And soon. As an Englishman, going from theatre to theatre, you, AMELIA, who know my impulsive temperament under a sense of wrong—you will best judge the excitement of my feelings when I tell you that, out of no less than one dozen plays, eleven of them had been shamefully stolen from the English boards by our unprincipled neighbours! When I felt assured of this, you who know me [760 well /) will know, that I felt it impossible to mo another hour—that is, another hour comfortably among such a people! “ Having, then, my dearest AMELIA, transacted all my business—I may say, scram led through much of it—that I might the sooner shake the dust of this city from my shoes to wipe them on my own hearth-rug— I shall, in one fond word, be with you on Wednesday. , “Yes, AMELIA; on Wednesday! I shall return from Dover by rail, of course ; and consoling _—— with the delightful thought that «T shall be at the Bric ayer’s Arms precisely at ten, * And in your’s at eleven, “T remain, your affectionate husband, “Joun Mouser. “PS. I had almost forgotten to tell my Ametra, that I have run all over Paris to buy her some pretty little presents—but, I am deeply grieved to add, without success. [Why ?] I tried to purchase a lace veil—{ Zhe very thing I want /\—when the thought came over me, as I looked at it, that the article might be bought better and cheaper in London. (Of course.) My next endeavour was at a jeweller’s. There I pitched upon what seemed to be a very beautiful chain, when a friend “ie was with me—one of my old bachelor friends whom I haven’t met since I was married—one of the steadiest fellows, by the way, in the world—when he compelled me to remark, that French jewellery, how- ever fine, was nothing so good—so solid as our own. I assented to the observation, though not without a pang ; and—must buy my AMELIA, what I do buy, at home. . “ Again, | had this consolation. I am the worst smuggler in the world. With my foolishly innocent face, the articles would have been 5 . » detected upon me, and—isn’t it, my love, better as it is ? Now, Mr. Punch,'T have scarcely made a remark upon all this. I have—I may say, at a ruinous sacrifice to my feelings—said almost nothing. No. I resolved to remain quiet until I’d got Mouser safely at home. I was calculating upon it, when—you might have knocked me down with a straw !—there came ¢hzs letter ! “ My DARLING AMELIA, “Paris. [Only Paris again !) “Most pressing business compels me to diverge a little from my route homeward, My darling, direct, Post-Office, Brussels ! “Ever, doatingly, “Your MovseEr.” _ Indeed! But, Mr. Punch, at this moment, I will not tell you my intentions. I will not put upon paper the scorpions that—but it’s no matter. All I wish to say is this: if you receive a letter with a foreign post-mark, don’t be surprised if it ’s from Yours (packing up), The Honeysuckles, Ametia Mouser. “ TERMS—CASH ONLY.” Tue Debates last week contained a discussion upon “ turnpike trusts.” This sounds rather like a misnomer; for we always thought that a turnpike was one of those things that insisted upon ready money, and never gave any trust. VOL. XIX. H

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

GENEROSITY TO POOR SOLDIERS. THE MINISTER TO HIS MAJORITY. A CORRESPONDENT of the Am—“ Haul away, yoho, Boys!” Nautical Melody. Ti at Ld _ Tue House of Commons has a knack, : a 4 Vote away, yoho, boys ! it would be no great generosity, Right Ho- nourable Sir, if you were to subscribe a week’s salary towards finding them medals gratis, In that case, the men may be willing to keep the baubles; otherwise, it is probable they will be inclined to sell them for what they will fetch. And it would, no doubt, pay any enterprising speculator to buy them up, and send them over to some country ill-disposed towards us, to be hawked about as curiosities—sold —= as extraordinary illustrations of British meanness. BALLOON SCIENTIFIC PREPARATIONS FOR THE ENSUING WEEK. For odious acts of every kind, Vote away, yoho, boys! And public feeling, never mind, Nor outcries of “Oh, oh!” boys. Pass any Sabbatarian bill, Inflict whatever bore you will; And—till the cup you over-fill— Vote away, yoho, boys!

RAPID ACT OF ASSMANSHIP. ; Monday. The veteran GREEN will ascend on the veteran | _ Tuere is at present such a glut of the balloon-market, that the aeronauts are | tortoise (aged 197 years), lately arrived at the Zoological | jostling each other in the air, and the veteran GreEN’s car is stopping the way | Gardens. of the car of the veteran Granam. A mere act of simple straightforward balloon-| Z'esday. Mr. Barry, the Clow, will mount on a donkey, | ing has, however, lost its effect on the public mind, which refuses to be aroused | and sing “ Hot Codlins” at the altitude of 600 feet. | | anything less exciting than an aeronaut on horseback, who runs a fearful risk} Wednesday. The veteran Green will, in the character of | of being sent on the same journey that a beggar is said to be likely to take, when/an old witch, mount on a broom, and dance the witches’ he turns equestrian. dance in the air. | t week the veteran GREEN was announced to ascend ina balloon on horse-| Thursday. LizuTENaNT Gatz will disguise himself as the back; and when the evening came, a poor little pony was brought forward,| Courier of St. Petersburg, and ascend on the backs of six with his legs stuck into sockets—like a couple of pairs of candlesticks—and the | blind horses. veteran, supporting his feet upon a pile of ballast-bags, ascended in the balloon| Friday. Mrs. Grawam, or Mapame*Wuarton, will with the animal between his legs; but resting none of his weight on the dimi-|make her ascent on horseback as Lady Godiva. nutive quadruped. The whole affair was a piece of child’s play, which would| Safurday. Grand race between six balloons with six | have been much more complete, and far less disagreeable, if the sensible advice of | horses, and six balloons with six donkeys. N.B.—None Mr. Norton, the Lambeth Magistrate, had been taken, and a wooden horse,had | but English donkeys allowed to compete. been used, instead of a real pony. If the veteran Green must have his hobby, let it be a hobby in the strict sense | of the word, and he will then spare the feelings of the Society for the Prevention | Peel and Wordsworth. of Cruelty to the Dumb Species. The air is not the proper element for eques- | trian performances, nor ought an attempt to be made to get up a rivalry to ASTLEY’s in the skies above the suburbs.

SratvuEs and monuments of many kinds are to be erected to the memory of Peet. We rejoice thereat ; and, rejoicing, wish the number doubled. But how about Worpswortu ? |No monument to him—or only one at most? SHELLEY D |has called poets “the unacknowledged legislators of man- BONNYCASTLE AND BROADCLOTH. | kind.” Worpswort has been a most potent legislator ; , , : .|s i re >. fi dal Mount. Nevertheless ‘Pusen ic deubtices an affaity hetw tek ; _| Something more than M. P. for Rydal Mount. Nev less, . ity between weights and measures, but the substi as only being a legislator in print, and not in Parliament, he tution of tailors’ weights for tailors’ measures—a state of things to which we}: . aa compact ss : are approaching—will have in it something rather peculiar. The advertisements | 5. ® — unacknowledged. Lorp JoHN proposes no now continually inform us that we may purchase paletéts weighing only so many | statue for Bim. a ounces, and we shall soon be expected to buy our clothes by the pound, as we do| our tea and sugar. We shall be sending to our tailors shortly for such and such a/| quantity of mixed garments, including so many ounces of strong boys’ black,} AtpERMAN Humpuery, in the course of a debate on the and a quarter-of-a-pound or so of green, or any other serviceable colour. The| new House of Commons, said, that, in consequence of its cheap tailoring, like the cheap tea-dealing, leads, of course, to the introduction of| limited accommodation, Members would often go out to take a quantity of spurious trash, and we recommend the public not to try more than|a nap in the Library. We are quite sure that no Member an ounce at a time of those articles which they see announced in the pufling| anxious for a nap will take the trouble to go out into the advertisements. | Library. He will merely keep his seat during a debate, and exhausted nature will soon find repose.

THE STATESMAN’S DREAM.

Hear! Hear!—We don’t wonder at the delay in getting through the Appeal business in the House of Lords, notwithstanding the activityof Lorp BroucHaM,| Paruiamentary Atmanack, — Latter end of J uly, for in that house everything is very hard of hearing. * Pairing” time begins.

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an cal ey, es he six six ne he its ke er he nd ly, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. 63 | HOW WE DO BUSINESS IN THE HOUSE. ART 1.—A night in February.—Hour half- | | past 10 p.m. Order of the day ; Bill for re- | bach gulating the pavement of Belgravia. House already in Committee ; Mr. KERNEL im the Chair. About five hundred Members present, and all awake. Mr. De Neweate moved that the Chairman do report progress. (7Zve- mendous cheering from all parts of the} House.) They had been sitting two hours, | and the measure was far too important | ; to be pressed further to-night. (Hear /) In his opinion they had gone too far already, and, considering the lateness of the hour, he hoped there would be no opposition to his motion. (Cheers.) : CotoneL SretuorP cordially concurred. He would stand by his excellent friend to the last; ay, to the death. (Oh! Oh! from MR. Joun O’ConneE.u.) It was very well for the Honourable Member to ery “Oh!” Wouldhe dothe same? No, he would not! He knew better. He talked once of “dying on the floor of the House,” but it was all moonshine, Sir—humbug—disgusting rubbish—and so was everything that came from that side of the House. Mr. Joun O’ConneELL complained of being misrepresented by the gallant Colonel. He had not cried “Oh!” He had cheered the Hon. and gallant Member. He too, like the gallant Colonel, would stand to the death in resisting this indecent attempt to force an important—he would add, an Algerine—measure upon a reluctant and overpowered House—and he begged to tell the Hon. Member that, notwithstanding the sneers at his proposal “to die on the floor, if necessary,” in now repeating that proposal, he was now as much in earnest as ever he was. (Loud cheers from the Irish Members.) CotoneL SrstHorP accepted with satisfaction the apology of the Hon. Member—might he say, Hon. friend— é ; Mr. Joun O’ConneEwt acknowledged the compliment in the usual manner. Lorp Jonn Russett thought that the discussion on a bill like this, of comparatively small importance, (No/ No/ and terrific uproar _—_ all parts of the House,) might be allowed, at this early hour, (renewed and boisterous expressions of dissent,)—why, it was only half-past 10 o’clock, (general disapprobation,)—to go on to the end of the first clause. If at 11 o’clock they had not got so far, he would then willingly consent to the postponement of the measure for another evening. (Cries of “ Report progress,” “ BRoTHERTON,” “ Time! Time!” &c., &c., ¥c., amidst which Lord Joun Russet. resumes his seat. Many other Members having in vain essayed, amidst the storm (( U Lis JIS which ensued, to obtain a hearing, the question to — progress | is put by Mr. Kernew, and carried without a division. The Surther consideration of the measure is put off for three weeks, _ aaa | Mr. Joun Gayter (nodding encouragingly and deprecatingly). Allright. | CHAIRMAN OF CoMMITTEES (with great rapidity). New clauses. “Be it enacted,” and so on. That they be added to the Bill. Opinion say Aye! contrary No! The Ayes have it. That this be the Pre- amble. Opinion say Aye! contrary No! The Ayes have it. That Ido report this Bill with the amendments to the House. Opinion say Aye! contrary No! The Ayes have it. That I do now leave the Chair. Opinion say Aye! the contrary No! The Ayes have it. [The House resumes, and the SPEAKER, who has been enjoying a con- centrated nap, awakes, and takes the Chair. Mr. Kernet (¢o Speaker). Sir, the Committee have gone through this Bill, clause by clause, and have made some amendments therein. THE SPEAKER (very drowsily, but with a tone of great thankfulness). That this House do now adjourn. LORD DOUBLEJOHN. THERE dies a great philosopher or bard, Leaving his wife and children to the Nation; A meagre pittance is the State’s award, Barely enough to save them from starvation. To all complaint replies the Premier smug, “True, twas a hard case—deeply he deplored it ; More Government would give, but ”—with a shrug He adds—“ the fact was, they could not afford it.” A public maintenance a Duke demands Jf Royal stem—herein his sole pretension— The liberal Minister, with open hands, Gives him twelve thousand pounds a year for pension. Come, come,” pleads Hume, “ you know you’re in distress ; Eight thousand were an ample patrimony.” “Twelve!” insists Joun— we couldn’t think of less.” Oh, Humbug! Humbug! sure thy name is Jonnny. FLEETING POPULARITY. THERE is a gentleman named Hamet who is enjoying just now a large amount of popularity as the bed-fellow of the Hippopotamus. Un- fortunately, the career of this individual hangs on a slender thread—the thread in question being the life of the animal from whom he derives all the éclat that at present belongs to him. Should anything happen to the Hippopotamus, it is too clear that poor Hamer will be no Goa a subject of interest. Hippopotami are so rare that it is very unlikely another would be found to attach himself to Hamet, who would at once fall into the ranks of wretched insignificance. There have been many instances of this sort of reflected fame, and there have been Part Il.—A morning in August, hour 2 o'clock a.m. Order of the day; Bill for putting the Army, Navy, Constabulary, Judicial and other Establishments, upon a new footing, and for vesting the management thereof in H. R. Lighness the Prince Consort. Ten Members present, of whom four fast asleep, and other five nodding and winking. known one or two cases of renown having been shed on humbler persons by the companionship of Lorp BrovGcHam, whom we may describe as the moral, social, intellectual, and political Hippopotamus of the present day, for his Lordship is certainly in all respects a prodigy. Mr. Speaker (far gone in somnolency, but trying very hard to look | solemn and wide-awake). That the House go into Committee on this Bill. x Hon. Memser (of Opposition, half in and half out of sleep). Oh, oh! It’s all right. We agree. Mr. Speaker. That I do leave the Chair. [Put and carried nem. con. KERNEL, Chairman of Committees, takes it. CuarrMANn oF Committers. Is there any opposition to this Bill? An Hon. Memper (0f Opposition, very pointedly). None. Carman or Committers. Is there any opposition to the amend- ments f An Hon. Memser (of the Treasury Bench). None. CHAIRMAN OF CoMMITTEES (with preternatural rapidity). That this Bill be read a first time. Opinion say Aye! contrary No! The Ayes have it. That it be read asecond time. Opinion say Aye! contrary No! The Ayes have it. That the Preamble be postponed. Clause [. and the other clauses—any objection to them ? Hon. Mempers (on both sides, with convulsive eagerness). None. Cuarrman or Committees (a¢ a killing pace). That the blanks in the clauses be filled up with sums, and so on; that words be omitted and words put in, and so on; and that the clauses as so amended stand part of the Bill. Opinion say Aye! the contrary No! The Ayes have it. ng fe clauses ? Mr. Motynevux. I move the addition of these fourteen new clauses, [Hands in a large bundle of Papers. lug ie aie. a .. . of persons who are to be. Mr. Morrynecx (of the same, jogging him severely, and whispering). | salary is good, but there is such a horror of the very name of “ Director,” | with the odium and liabilities attached to the office since the bursting of ; | the railway bubble, that it is feared no one will be found willing to The SrEaxeERr leaves the Chair, and MR.| accept the office of Director of any thing. . | Places not Wanted. By an act lately passed, there are certain appointments to be made . - be styled “Directors” of various prisons. The THE PARLIAMENTARY PAIRING SEASON, Every day the paper contains a short list of what may be termed “happy pairs,” consisting of a number of “blessed couples ” of Members of Parliament, who have “paired” for the remainder of the session. In every instance the parties paired are by no means well matched, and, looking at the diffe there never could be more decided cases of ill-assorted unions. Sabbatarian Fraternity. Tre Morning Post of Monday last week stated that some persons of authority in the neighbourhood of Mecklenburgh Square, Doughty | Street, Secndiins Hospital, had on the previous Sunday caused the | pump in that vicinity to be actually locked up—secured with a strong iron chain and padlock. This tyrannical behaviour towards a pump | shows how very little the Sabbatarians are actuated by brotherly love. {The House adjourns, at one minute-and-a-half after 2 oclock. rence of opinion on both sides, we should say |

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BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON EN ! y / x i hn b\"\ £ ET ‘Ed ee ~, TEN rs sl A BROWN HAVING RASHLY STRAYED INTO A ROOM FULL OF MACAWS, WR SEE THE CONSEQUENCE. THEY GO IN QUEST OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. GO TO THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. HH DOES IT. THEY SEE THE HIPPOPOTAMUS!

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 67 FOUR EQUERRIES AND THREE CHAPLAINS. Tue first acts of the reign of His Royat Hicuness tHE DvuKE oF Oxsk1nGe will have been read with edification by the British public. By the first decree Royal Highness appoints four equerries to wait upon him, by the second decree Royal Highness appoints three chaplains for his Royal Establishment. The equerries are privy councillors in jack-boots, and secretaries-at- arms, to Royal Highness. When Royal Highness is inclined to take a drive, CAPTAIN THE HonovuraB_e Lancerot Prance will ride on his right hand, Masor THE HoNnouRABLE TRIsTRAM TROTTER on his left. CoLONEL THE HonourRaBLe ARTHUR WuIPPINGHAM Will ride in advance, while the fourth equerry, Baron SpurzinsTERN, will bring up the rear. , The equernies will take it by turns, two and two, to attend at his Royal Highness’s meals; the muffins and newspapers for breakfast, and the two first entrées for dinner, being brought in on horseback by the officers in attendance. His Royal Highness will examine his letters mounted: transact his business at a canter: look over his accounts at a hand-gallop: and receive petitioners and grant interviews at a full trot. Business generally will be transacted at the rate of eight miles an hour. As Religion has ever been the accompaniment of Chivalry, his Royal Highness’s three chaplains will be in constant attendance upon the Prince and his Royal Suite. The Rev. Mr. Benepick will say — before dinner, the Rev. Mr. Cuantry after dinner, and the Rev. Mr. Lavp ask a blessing on the second course. The equerries will say their Catechisms every morning on horseback in the front yard of Oxbridge House. The household will be instructed in learning generally, and the Royal Footmen and Maid-servants will be put through a course of “ Watts’s Hymns.” A chaplain will always sit on the box when Royal Highness drives out, and will improve the time by delivering a lecture: the footmen behind will officiate as clerks, and the equerries in waiting will be examined as to the text and the discourse. The reverend gentlemen will each take two days in the week on which they will deliver sermons to the Royal Household: on Sundays e will preach of course, when the whole establishment will be expected to attend. ‘or of what use are three chaplains to a Prince of the nineteenth century, if he does not intend to make use of them? What is the meaning of a reverend gentleman being chaplain to a Royal Highness, if the duties of the chaplain are merely nominal? What can a Prince want with three chaplains, or three chaplains want with a Prince ? What can a quiet, kind mune, and simple gentleman, Prince though he be of the British Blood Royal, want at this present period of time with four equerries and three parsons in the Gazette? Are these cere- monies now-a-days useful and decorous, or absurd and pitiable; and likely to cause the scorn and laughter of men of sense? When the greatest and wisest Statesman in England dying declares he will have no titles for his sons, and, as it were, repudiates the Peerage as a part of the Protective system which must fall one day, as other Protective institutions have fallen—can’t sensible folks read the signs of the times, and be quiet? When Loxp Jonn comes down to the House (with that pluck which his lordship always shows when he has to meet an unpopular measure), and asks for an allowance, which the nation grudgingly grants to its pensioners,—when the allowance is flung at his Royal Highness with a grumble, is it wise to come out the next day with a tail of four equerries and three clergymen ? Ah, noble Prince! reflect that, besides your Royal Highness, there is a family of great-grandchildren of GEoRGE THE THIRD, who look to a loyal British nation for maintenance and_house-room ; that, as Marlborough House is wanted for one Royai Highness, and granted, not without bling, so others will naturally want board and lodging, and Red ion House, or Bloomsbury House, or Baker House, may be required for the Royal brothers of the Prince or Waxes; that these Princes | increase and multiply, and that their sons will want establishments and Parliamentary grants, as your Royal Highness does at this day. Say that there are four Princes, and that each has three sons: put six equerries and four parsons apiece for the elder Princes, and your own owance of four and three for the younger potentates ; we have then (of the elder branch of your illustrious House) sixteen Princes attended by seventy-two equerries, and fifty-two chaplains. What a calculation ! If our noble Minister, Lorp Joun, is Premier forty years hence, there is no doubt he will have the courage to propose allowances for them all; and as the cost of their maintenances will be most unpopular with the country, my Lord will with only the more ardour re their rights. But what a public ferment there will be meanwhile, of which according to his nature, my Lord will take no heed! Whata general scorn, and laughter, and indignation! These Court trains, people wi say, are monstrous and unseemly. Princes might wear pig-tails as well, or touch for the king’s-evil. Among the men of sense, the working and thinking people of the empire, the men of this day, eighteen-hundred- and-fifty, do you suppose it is sufferance or respect with which these old-world ceremonies and superannuated Court antics are held? The day for such draws to a close, and the time is here when it is best to shut up the old pig-tails, and trains, and gold sticks, and frippery—at which the working world now looks with scarcely more respect than at Prince Wippicomp’s procession, when he enters the ring with his gentlemen, and his grooms, and his jester. A NEW CRY. Ir any of the Members of the House of Commons should wish to “go to the country with a cry” during the recess, we beg leave to the attention of Honourable Gentlemen to a cry, which appeared for the first time on Friday last, in the report of the debates in Parliament. The cry alluded to is one that we may often expect to meet with again; for of all the cries in which Honourable Members are apt to indulge, there is none more likely to be appropriately called into use than the cry in question. It appears that , REYNOLDS was making a facetious speech—we beg leave to say that we use the term “ face- tious” in its Parliamentary sense—when, among other venerable matters, he introduced the old story of Paddy doing nothing, and Tom helping Paddy. Now, although the House of Commons may be used to this sort of thing; and though in all the jokes of Honourable Mem- bers the venerable is the prominent feature, the story to which we have referred smacked too much of the antique for even a legislative audience; and the walls of Parliament rang, for the first time we believe, with the cry of “Joz Miter.” The difficulty of getting oyins like novelty in the shape of a ery must be acknowledged by all who are familiar with the attempts of Honourable Members to imitate the early village, and other varieties of the cock tribe, as well as the more congenial bray of the donkey, and numerous other sounds which nothing short of collective wisdom been able to originate. The cry of Joz MILLER is something quite new; but since the House of Commons has taken to joking in right-down serious earnest—and there is nothing half so serious as a legislative joke —we may expect the words Joz Mitier to be heard continually in the course of the debates, during the ensuing session. YEOMANRY CAVALRY REVIEWED. Private and Confidential Report ‘on the Condition of the Cowbridge Volunteers, by Colonel Inspector Puncu to the COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, 7 o His Grace F. ST + ah ere ae M.tHE DuKEor \ ‘iil | UXBRIDGE. |] WELLINGTON, ——— Commander - in. ae Chic, Fe. Fe. C. I nave the honour to trans- mit for your Grace’s perusal by the comman of your Grace, a confidential re- port of the state in regard to dis- cipline, and ge- nerally, of the Cowbridge Yeo- orders. Your Grace is aware that the . Cowbridge Yeo- manry Cavalry are irregular horse, that is to say, mounted on animals of all sorts and sizes, which, with the exception of afew shooting ponies amongst the number, do not stand fire with quite so much steadiness as could be desired. Of the behaviour of the men themselves under fire I cannot, of course, speak, as they have as yet seen no actual service in any field, except the ordinary operations of husbandry. Nor can I form any conjecture on this subject ; for the probability of their ever being called upon to act— except in the sense of playing the part of soldiers—is, in my opinion, as remote as your Grace can wish. I have great pleasure, however, in testifying to their intrepid conduct under water, on one occasion when the regiment proceeded through Cowbridge, covered by their umbrellas, beneath a smart shower of rain.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. *4S10qUl QJeLOpOUL SOUL JY} W2A9 JO BATJONpord oq 0} pasedd Zuo, sey OYA plyeaur we 0} pus Ue st olay} Uy preys Aljwaroq | ]]eYs OA puv ,,“10}}0q OU,, ST JayTeUL AVATTEL OY} Jey} SULICOT jO poy aymb oq 0} SuTUUTSaq ov 944 ‘“SIOYJO 0} VOULSTHU @ SB [[aM SU F[OS}I 07 POYO}aIMm og ysnut I ‘aze}s yeaa yuosord | Sqt UL ‘Loy ‘puey-yo 41 Surry Aq ouo ye ArasTUL S}I JO Jno yoyIVUL Aver Vy} Jud pue oS you saop Apoqoutos yey} Az v St 4 <cAIGAODAI JO SUIS TTB ,, JO IUASG¥ panuUtyUod ot} JO ,,‘asdepa. ,, Ysaay 9WOS J9Y}I9 sooUNOUNY UTYeTING AIOAV IO} ‘syooys 919498 UCUL OF GATAINS 0} 4I I[QvUI 0} JoxIVUT oY} UI ApTTeILA O¥L]-7vO JO POs ¥oqg 4snM B1OYJ, “payoaf{qns useq sey 41 Yort[A 07 osdeyar JO SQOUBISUT SSeTJUNOD ple AONSULT Jo S}y pajovsjoid oy} 104jv ‘Te ye goyxeur Avayrer Aue st olay} Fey} AapUOA OF UIB9q TAA “LOMUVICAVMTIVY AHL JO WGLVLS

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II | interest. nal =— = ae” a eee a like a remnant of truly monkish ignorance. , ought — not work - epeu will ———— ETO say that “A clock that can work, and eee eee 69 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. CRUEL CASE OF JEW-DROPPING. Guildhall, July 30. TVBEREAS some hard-hearted and cruelly-disposed person has dropt between the Statues of Goce and Macoe, Guildhall, a Full-Grown Male Infant of the Jewish Persuasion, swathed in bank-notes, and in a basket, bearing a direction worded—“ Zo the Care of the Electors of London, to be kept close until next Session,’—any Reward commensurate with the Cruelty of the Deed will be given for the Apprehension of the Offender, who is suspected to be a little, wiry man, frequenting Downing Street and the House of Commons. Farncomse, Mayor. A DONKEY ON BALLOONS. “Mr. Poncn, ’ ; “T am a public jackass; in a word, I am the very donkey that, from the days of my foalhood, has been - ‘up’ for the ‘other twopence.’ I know what it is to be elevated above the world ; and therefore 7 to be heard—in reply to Mr. Norton, the worthy magistrate of Lambeth—on his unguarded opinions expressed a few days ago upon the meditated ascent from Vauxhall of a horse, belly- banded to a balloon, with Mr. GREEN upon the horse’s back. “Mr. Norton said, ‘a wooden or hobby-horse would serve just as well.” By no means; for the whole fun of the thing—the whole interest of the matter—is in the chance whether the horse shall not come tumbling from the sky (with the balloon-man upon or off his back) so much dog’s-meat. “Why, Mr. Punch, did the people drop their mouths and 4 their eyes with wonder and exultation, when they saw me—(for of late, the lice have forbidden my professional exertions ; and I am now, for the benefit of my health and the exercise of young ladies, on the donkey- stand at Gravesend)—when they saw me, I say, tied helpless to a ladder; and that ladder balanced upon the chin of the man-monster who thus supported me? Why, the whole pleasure was in the thought that I might come down with a smash upon the stones—that I might break my legs, or my neck; or haply tumbling upon my persecutor, break Ais neck into the bargain. . “Without this pleasant stimulus, do you think that even an en- lightened a would have clubbed the ‘other twopence’ to send me ‘up?’ y,no. But the money was subscribed (too often, I shudder at the thoughts of it, too quickly subscribed) in the fiendish hope that I should no sooner be up than down. ‘It is upon the same principle that a humane and thoughtful people ut down their shilling to see a horse carried into the clouds. It is the anger to the poor brute that is the intellectual sauce to the refined, the mone giving Christian ! oo “ Mr. Punch, 1 have often -r of writing my Recollections under the title of Zhe Ladder of Life. next winter I can keep out of the hands of a sandman, or any other such low dealer, I shall have time enough, and will certainly attempt it. Then I’ll let the world know with what pity, with what contempt, an elevated jackass may look down upon the mob! Then will I describe the emocions of disgust and scorn, sublimed by an asinine sense of superiority that; possessed me; whilst from the Ladder, with meekly-seeming face, put with an out- raged and burning heart, I, the four-legged ass, looked down upon the biped donkeys beneath me. “T don’t know at the time I write whether Mr. Green will go into the clouds upon horseback ; but if he does, I know what I’d do, if I only had the power; I’d make him for his pains take his next trip into the sky not on the back of a horse, but on the back of a porcupine. * Your obedient servant, * TworENCE MoRE AND UP WENT THE DONKEY. “P.S. As I write this on a Saturday, I have sent it under cover to Lorp Russet, that—he being a_Minister—you may get it early through him on Monday morning. Perhaps you’ll be a little surprised at the elegance of my literary style. I feel it myself. But the fact is, all the Midsummer holidays I’ve every day carried Miss Inpico— a lady who’s drinking our milk here for weak health, and who has at this minute a book of promising poems somewhere in the press.” THE CITY COMMITTEER’S REPORT OF SMITHFIELD MARKET. Tuat Smithfield Market is the healthiest spot not only in England, but perhaps in the whole world. It isa ae sanitary fact that slaughterhouses are highly conducive to health, and so well convinced are medical men of their beneficial effect upon invalids, that they always send their most delicate patients to take lodgings in the neigh- bourhood of the market, and so rapid is the change that takes place in their constitution, that they rarely ever see them again. ae That Smithfield Market, far from being the noisy spot it is maliciously described to be, is distinguished for its extreme quiet. There is a legal, learned stillness in the air, that many students prefer it to the Temple Gardens, or any of the Inns of Court. It has the further advantage, too, of being as still during the night as during the day—so much so, that the repose of the above-mentioned invalids is rarely dis- turbed after the first week. hat the cry of “Mad Bull” is always an occasion of great sport to the street in which it is raised, more especially to the little boys who always join in it with the greatest glee and harmlessness. . That the shopkeepers rather like the bulls walking into their shops than otherwise, and declare that if it were not for the difficulty of getting them out again, they decidedly should be very fond of it. That the sensation of tossing is far from disagreeable; and that the Committee have been told of the instance of an old man who lives at a public-house in Cow Lane, and is so fond of tossing, that he is always ready to do it for a pint of beer, or even less. That very few accidents occur about the market, and when they do, it is invariably the fault of the parties who are injured by the accidents, and not of the poor animals who commit them. That these accidents, however, are rarely fatal, from the simple reason that those who escape with their lives from the first accident, rarely put themselves in the way of receiving a second. hat those bigoted persons who persist in asserting, contrary to all evidence, that Smithfield is a nuisance, evidently know nothing about it, and if the Market were to be held to-morrow in the Horticultural Gardens at Chiswick, they would still maintain that the place was not good enough for them. , ; That, to conclude, Smithfield Market is, if anything, too good for the purposes required, and the Committee are unanimously of opinion that the animals ought to feel themselves proud to be sold in such a locality; and the residents in the neighbourhood should be too thankful to the City for having brought such advantages, not only to their doors, but actually within their shops, and occasionally carrying them into the very heart of their back-parlours, THE JEWISH OATH QUESTION A CENTURY HENCE. (From Posterity’s History of England.) THE singular inconsistency which marked the conduct of our ancestors during a period which has deservedly been styled the Age of Humbug was pry vd exemplified, just a century ago, in the course of the struggle of Baron RotuscHItp to obtain possession of his seat in the House of Commons. The opponents to the Jewish claim to participate in the Legislature first resisted the demand of the Baron to be sworn on the Old Testament. Defeated on this point, they next objected to his omission, from the prescribed adjuration, of the words “On the true faith of a Christian.” They thus refused to recognise the validity of an oath unaccompanied by the profession of a creed which, if plain gospel is its exponent, forbids all oaths whatever; they disallowed a request to be sworn on the book which alone contained their own justification of swearing ; and required as essential to the juratory act that it should be performed on that very volume which seems expressly to prohibit it. Conversations of Lord Brougham. A uiTTtE book with the above taking title will shortly be published. It will consist of the conversations held by Lorp Brovcuam in the House of Lords, either on presenting petitions, or whilst the debates are goingon. It is expected not to exceed 18 volumes, uniform in size with the “Conversations of Lorp Byron.” The announcement has caused an unusual excitement amongst the butter-trade. RIDDLE FOR LORD ASHLEY, Q. Wny is the condition of a medical man without patients like that of a Sabbatarian eating a hot dinner on a Sunday ? A, Because it is Profession without Practice. “Prints oF A Fast Cotour, WARRANTED TO Wasn.”—Some wag at the Vauxhall Masquerade pinned the above label on the back of the Nepaulese Prince.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Se NN YS, Proctor (to UNDERGRADUATE). “ Pray, Sir, WILL YOU BE SO GOOD AS TO TELL ME WHETHER YOU ARE 4 MEMBER OF THE UNIVERSITY, OR A ScotcH TERRIER?” THE SIBTHORP CABINET. THE puzzling question “Who is there to succeed the es?” was partially answered a few nights ago in the House of Commons by a little episode, or farce, or | whatever else it may be called, in which the Lord Mayor | of Dublin and our own gallant Colonel sustained the two principal characters. Mr. Reynoxps, the Irish Lord Mayor, expressed himself ready to give his support to “any Government formed by CoLtoneL S1stHorp, if the Colonel, on his part, would only promise certain things with reference to Insh affairs, in return for the support thus offered him.” Without a moment’s hesita- tion, the gallant Premier iz posse rushed across the floor of the House, and was e d for a few minutes in earnest conversation with Mr. Reynotps, amid the cheers and laughter of all parties. We have no doubt that the feasibility of the formation of a SrstHORPIAN Cabinet was the subject of the brief consultation between the Colonel and his volunteer supporter on the occasion of the mirth and cheering of the House having been so vehemently displayed. We can imagine the style of measure that would be brought in by such a Govern- ment as that of which CotoneL SrptHorP would form the head, and we are sure that among the earliest bills would be one for denouncing, ting, and | putting an end to what the gallant Premier would that “monstrous piece of humbug, the Exhibition of 1851.” How far the well-known opinions of the new Premier may affect the amount of confidence Her Masesty is likely to repose in him, it is not for us to conjecture. We suspect, however, the kissing hands on the occasion of his taking office will not be a very pleasant operation to the Sovereign. t is the month when off to their nests in billing” done in the PARLIAMENTARY Doves.—Au Members begin to “pair,” and y the country. There is also more “ month of August than any other. HUDSON TAKES A STEP FORWARD. Tur Grave-Digger in Hamlet was wont to wear some dozen legendary coats; in fact, he was all coats, like an onion. He used to take them off, shout increasing upon shout at every removal. However, the business of the scene never permitted him to put the garments on again : he made his exit peeled and slim. It is otherwise with the uncrowned Hupson. His coats, one by one, have been plucked from him; he has been shown pretty well bare ; but, it appears, there is a chance that he may be again coated—whitewash coated. The Yorkshire Gazette declares that Mr. Hupson has released himself—head and hands—very grace- fully from the pillory in which, on a late trial, Szrseant WILKINS fixed him. “ In his evidence in the trial alluded to we believe he has made a good step forward. We have ourselves seen and heard read nearly or quite a half dozen letters from as many men of good position in society, present in York at the trial, to different individuals, all speaking of the great and favourable change made in their minds in Mr. Hupson’s favour by his evidence.” We are almost prepared for the time when Mr. Hupson’s reputation will be made’ so very “pleasant,” that a remorseful and conscience- stricken generation will appear by deputy at Albert Gate, to present to Mr. Hupson the keys of the Bank of England (of course, upon an assured understanding that he will then and there return them), and bearing with them a bunch of silver lilies, typical of his odorous whiteness. Then will the actions of Hupson— ' the just, Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust "— even in the gold-dust of the railway unfortunate. For Mr. Hupson has made one “good step forward”—not the step of St. Denis, cer- tainly, for that was without his head, which Mr. Hupsov, in his arith- metic, never lost; whatever other organ was deficient in his cash-book cookery. We have, upon the whole, little doubt that in the year ——, Mr. Hupson will turn up like the shield of ScrrBtervs, polished from every speck of vulgar debt. The Iron Crown will duly glisten again. If Time defiles and rusts, Time has also scouring paper, if the adroit use it, “The Decline of England.” Lorp Brovenas tells us that “an absolute prostration of the under- standing takes place, in this country, even amongst the bravest men, whenever the word ‘prince’ is mentioned.” We were not aware of this debasing fact, but if the English understanding does become “prostrate” on such occasions, we can safely answer it can be only amongst “theflats.” PANORAMA OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION. PanoraMas are the fashion—Lorp Joun RussExt, with the wisdom of a Whig, proposes to avail himself of the mode; and during the recess to superintend a very moving display of his one pet subject—his subject roduced on the floor of the House, on all occasions, namely, the British onstitution, with the very best Whig designs. The history will begin with the Death of Cuartes THE First at St. James’s, with a solemn view of the Death-bed of the King; when he hands over the sceptre and ball to CHARLES THE SECOND, who thereupon, amidst the acclamations of a doating people, ascends the Throne. The old superstition as to the existence of CROMWELL will be treated as a myth; as—see the zo Arms of the Commonwealth in the New Houses of Parliament—it undoubtedly is: a myth, in which a brief popular effervescence has been ignorant] rsonified by superstitious historians as a Brewer, who brought rebel- ion to a head. The Panorama will give the flight of James THE Seconp, the Battle of the Boyne, the accession of W1tt1aM and Mary, and so on; the whole to conclude with the advent to office of Lorp Joun Russet amid a shower of fireworks; with a brilliant display of coloured lamps in the word—“ Finatity.” “England Expects Every Bishop to do his Duty.” Tuts is the improved signal recently flung out by the improved Lorp Netson at the Church conference, that ended in a strong and stern resolution, unanimously carried, to do nothing. Lorp Netson declared that the bishops must expect to meet persecution, and more; “to return to the early poverty of the Church!” After this, his Lordship, in the —— innocence of his soul, regretted and wondered to see “so few ishops present.” MONSTRUM HORRENDUM. Ir is reported in the Paris papers that the Mountain intends coming to visit the French refugees in England, for the very opposite reason that influenced the proceedings of Manomet, who went to the mountain because it couldn’t come to him ; but it is preparing to start for England, because the refugees cannot go to the Mountain. TO CORRESPONDENTS. S. C. P.—Write. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. P. and ancras, 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, in the Parish of St, Bride’s, in the City of London.—Satuapar, Aucust lu, bo’

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lom cess ject tish gin tl bel- THE ORD y of ORD tern ared burn the few ning 4son tain and, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 7 A BIT OF MY MIND. BIT THE SIXTEENTH. MRS. MOUSER “COOKS” HER PASSPORT IN ORDER TO JOIN MOUSER. AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL DELAYS HER DEPARTURE, @. i! qf NES Nii i " 4 ID Hy ag ay esi —— Y my last letter, Mr, Punch, you will perceive that I flung down my pen, and was go- ing to run to my wardrobe and my drawers, deter- mined to pack up, and go to Paris, or Brussels—for I was, as every wife would be, in such a state of almost frenzy at Mr. Movser’s letter, —I hadn’t for the minute presence of mind to deter- mine which. As I say, there I was with my wardrobe _ open, and all my draw- ers pulled out — and my eye upon my bonnets— not knowing how many gowns to take, and uncertain in my mind whether to go in full dress, or only to travel quite a fright, the more to punish Mouser. ‘there, as I observe, I stood, quite bewildered, with Mouser’s letter, and with all my gowns going through my head, and not being able to fix—though I rather inc ined to take ’em all, so that when I chose I might go out like a rainbow—for, after all, as sitting down for a minute, I said to myself—after all, it’s poor spite to make one’s-self suffer for the cruel neglect of a husband. There I was, rummaging about, when what should turn up among my things, but that scandalous passport, of the wickedness of which you already know all concerning! In a minute—would you believe it? I was as cold as a stone. If it had been a viper, or a rattle-snake, among my things, I do believe I couldn’t have shuddered more! Go to Paris with ¢hat insult about me, I wouldn’t; and then—screwing myself up, and with a wrench to my feelings which is better felt than described, and locking my bed-room door at the same time—for you, Sir, who know everything, know how much safer one is with one’s emotions with a door locked—I looked once more at the passport. It was a great thought! It flashed upon me like a July sunbeam! I may say, I felt inspired with the notion. And it was this. he French Ambassador—and like his impudence! —had, after “ Agée”’ put the figure of 5—(and they call themselves a gallant nation) —with another figure following, which I don’t and needn’t mention. Yes, Sir; and now I ’ve got over the brutal affront, and can look down upon it, T don’t mind repeating the first figure. If was 5, Sir—5! It’s done ina minute, I thought to myself: so, taking a penknife and pen-and-ink, with the least little scratch in life, and with the smallest twist of the pen, the § stood 3. __ If put upon his oath, the Ambassador himself couldn’t have sworn that it wasn’t his own 3! Not that for myself, I cared a straw about it. The Ambassador might have written a 6, or 7, as well as 5, (and, by the way, one would have been quite as likely as the other—guite) only it was the laugh—I can fancy it as well as if it were ringing in my ears this very minute— the unfeeling laugh that Mouser waa have had of me. Now with the 3, I felt more as I ought to do: altogether more comfortable and sure. Well, Mr. Punch, a little more myself, I’d run the gowns through my head, and had determined upon my boxes—(how, like a pigeon, thought I to myself, I shall drop down upon Mouser when he’s never expecting me !)—when, a knock-knock-knock came at the door that went Seevak every artery of my body. I can’t say how it is with other people, but with me there’s a some- thing in the street-door knocker that never deceives me. Sometimes I feel it, as if it was a bit of myself. Well, I looked out of the window, and there were two cabs at the door, with luggage on the roof. With the eye of a hawk I looked for Movser’s carpet-bag; but there was nothing that belonged to Mouser. Then, remembering the cap I’d on, I drew my head in. “Marm, Marm,” cried Susan in a minute, rattling at the door, “here’s a lot of French officers with their wives, and I don’t know what ; and one Frenchman—as well as I can make him out—with a lot of silver on his shoulders, says he must see you!” “Tt can’t be the Ambassador,” I thought to myself, “come to apologise.” “They ’re bringing in all their luggage, Marm,” said Susan.— “Then Susan,” said I, feeling myself roused, and using a saying of dear aunt Peacock’s—“ then I’m down like a thunderbolt.” Before a Bird of Paradise could put its feathers straight, I was in my oie silk, and rustling my way into the parlour. When I got there—— Would you think it? Five Frenchmen, with their three wives, and four children. They all bowed, and curtsied, and begged to embrace me. At last, putting the dining-table between us—([’d sent, hurried as I was, sent for Mrs. HorNBLOWER, as she speaks French better than I)—I begged to ask, putting the question somehow with my fingers, what they did me the honour to want. Whereupon, one of the Frenchmen, a private National Guard, as I now know, with his hand upon his heart, and his eyes upon the ceiling, gave me a letter. The |hand-writing shot right through me; for at a glance I knew it was Movser’s. And this it was :— “ My dearest AMELIA, * Paris, Café des Maris Inconsolables, “ The cab is at the door that is to take me to the train to Brussels. However, I must snatch a few minutes to send you this letter by the hand of Mons. MicNnoneEttE, who, with his wife, a dear little woman” — (She was drest in red and amber like a balloon, and had already dropt in my chair, as if the house belonged to her! However, to go on.) A little woman, who has been very, very civil indeed to me, a stranger and a foreigner in this wearisome city. Mons. MIGNONETTE is a soldier, and, with some thousand of his countrymen, proposes to visit London—to | make a fraternal visit. You, my love, as a true daughter of Joun Bui, | as it is my boast to know you, will I am sure, hold forth the right hand of | fellowship, and throw open your doors in the true spirit of English hosp- | tality. I need say no more. MapaMe MiGNoneEtTE will tell you how I | have longed to return; and I daresay will make you smile at the expense | of your foolish home-sick husband. She is such a timid creature—too full of sensibility to smuggle—or I would have troubled her to bring a veil for you. But, my love, this pleasure I reserve for myself; and waiting that delight, I am, “* As ever, your own Affectionate Husband, “Joun Mouser.” P.S. I shall be very unhappy and very angry if I don’t find a letter Srom my Amenia, at the Post-Office, Brussels, Well, by the time I had read this, MapamE MiGnonerrte had thrown off her shawl and bonnet, had taken off her three children’s things ; whilst all the other Frenchmen and their two wives had done the same. and more than that, in a minute, MapaAME MIGNONETTE jumped up and clapping her hands, and frisking upon her toes, declared that MousER— for though I don’t speak French, I can understand every word that’s said—that, Mouser was a “ charming man,” and “ an angel,” and J don’t know what besides—quite enough to make a wife’s blood boil; however I only smiled, as I caz smile when I choose, and with a curtsey left the room, for I heard Mrs. HorNBLOWER. My first determination, as I told her, was to make an apology to the MIGNoNETTES, and to tell °em I was going to France; but Mrs. Horn- BLOWER—(poor thing! she has her own troubles !)—a little over-ruled me; and went to the parlour. “T suppose, Marm,” said Susan, looking at me like a ghost,” I sup- pose, Marm, they won’t want any dinner ? ” Dinner! And no doubt Moussr thinks that out of my weekly money Tam to lodge and board all the National Guards, besides all the nationa wives and national children of Paris. ‘“ Dinner,” said I, “why it’s impossible! How can so many people think of dinner.” And after a little while Mrs. HornBLower came back, and—(after all, she’s a clever creature!)—and said that as Mouserwastaking his pleasure in Brussels, why shouldn’t I enjoy myself in London? She said that. when you know her, Mapame MIGNONETTE was really a delightful woman ; and that her brother, Mons. La Noss (the handsome fair man —an officer with silver epaulets) quite a specimen of the gentleman. To be short, after a struggle, I thought it best to get an early dinner, and then—as Mouser was enjoying himself, and as it was only right 1 should show myself a hospitable Englishwoman—go and take the French to see the hippopotamus. Which determining, T am your’s, in better spirits, Amex1a Mouser. P.S. Mrs. Hornpiower has desired me—for something Horn- BLOWER has'said, must be annoying her—to ask you, Mr. Punch, if a marriage can be a lawful binding marriage for hfe, if the ceremony’s gone through by only one clergyman? Mrs. H. (she is so nervous!) = married “ by the Rev. Mr. Matruew,” assisted by the “ Rev. Mr. UKE?” that it is necessary to have two clergymen to bind ’em. For my part needn’t have any doubts; for I’m sure of it, one clergyman will strike the rivets quite as firm as fifty. says she has her doubts; or why should we now see so often that folks | VOL. XIX, I What, in the holy state, is meant by assistance? Are | people harder to be brought together in high life than common folks, | —as I tell Mrs. HonnBLOwER—with regard to the marriage claim, she |

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72 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVA RI. “Ty THERE BE ANY IMPATIENCE IN THE CouRTS oF CHANCERY, WE| WILL SET THOSE CoURTS THX WISE AND JUST EXAMPLE OF ‘ PATIENCE.’ * * * We SET AN EXAMPLE OF Patience.”—House of Lords, August 3. | BARON ROTHSCHILD ON A WHEELBARROW. Martin Lutuer says of the Jews—“ They sit as on a wheelbarrow, without a country, a people, or government.” This was said three hundred and fifty years ago; and the Jew is on the wheelbarrow still. | At this moment ‘he sits at the steps of the House of Commons. True is it, he has been promised rest ; Ten been wheeled hither and thither ; but as yet he has not been shot into a fixed seat. He is still—unhappy moveable !—squat and expectant on his barrow ; still may he not stretch his legs and, taking his ease, sit down. Since February has the wheelbarrow of Roruscummp—with Rorus- CHILD on it—stopt the way. And RoruscHrip, meek as one of HERop’s | babies, looked for his friend and compeer, the Christian Lorp Jonny, to wheel him into the House of Commons, and hand him into his seat. Months and months passed on; and RotuscHILp, still upon his barrow | —like a Chaldean Shepherd, enquiringly, yet patiently, tried to read his fortune in the stars. And still Roruscuiup sat upon the barrow; and still no RussELL came. But patience—even Hebrew patience—waxed warm; and RotuscHitp cried out with a loud voice from his barrow—“ Hoy! Halloo! Here, ye knowing ones of the City! See that, as Lorp Joun fails to take me up—see > that I am straightway wheeled into the Parliament House, that I may get off this aecursed barrow, and, like a gentleman of the Hebrew | persuasion, sit down.” Whereupon, Roruscuixp, on his barrow, was straightway wheeled | into the House of Commons, and straightway —wheeled out again! And then Christian gentlemen delivered themselves of thoughts, pro- | Sound al various, of the qualities of a House of Camm oath. What was the breadth of a vow—the depth of avow? And there was vast learning, curious subtlety, manifested as regarded vows. There were intellectual Magi, who would weigh you the precise weight of a vow, even to ascruple. Moral geometricians who would give you the supe srficial inches of a vow, even refining to a line. And Roruscai1p, seated upon. his barrow, said to himself—“ Of a | verity, here are Christian gentlemen dealing with an oath, even as | certain of the fallen of my race in the Minories, in Houndsditch, or in Field-Lane, have dealt with pewter shillings and brass sovereigns; silvering and gilding with an outside show, to make the counterfeit pass for the true thing. On the faith of a Hebrew,”—said RotTHscHILD on the barrow—“ this is a melancholy matter.” | Nevertheless, it must have been a balsamic comfort to RorHscHILD, still on his barrow, to know that Lorp Joun Russet talked so sweetly lof the British Constitution ; proving it to be good and sufficient for a |men in all cases. “Fling a man into the T hames,” said Lorp Jon, with his eye upon his red box, “and if he devoutly believes in the | British Constitution, he will not sink! If your house is in flames, only | read Magna Charta, with a believing faith, and there will ve no need of | a fire-engine—for of itself the conflagration will go out. I boldly avow, Sir,’ *_said Lorp Joun—“ that the Act of Settlement, properly applied | is a specific for the tooth-ache—and, with respect to the case of applied, | RoTHscHILp, that an operative faith in the necessity of the Whigs will | fully meet every condition of the question. I shall not shrink from my duty at the proper time; and most certainly net because odium may be attached to it; for | am not backward to confess, that I rather admire odium. Like a pic kle e, a little odium gives zest and flavour to minis- terial life. Odium, Sir, I consider as the pungent onion to the official loaves—the soy, anchovy, and cayenne to the Cabinet fishes.” Meanwhile Baron RoruscuIxp still sat upon his barrow ; and friends gathered about him, and told him that as there was no help for him from Lom Joun,—there he must still sit. Which Roruscuitp mightily lamented ; because in him were the hopes, the amended prospects of ; Young Israel! For whe reas, hard- bosomed man had flung it in the teeth of the Hebrew that, as with a foul instinct he had sought to fill the dirtiest offices of life—that he had rejoiced in the most noisome | callings—and at the great Rag-Fair of Trick, and Usury, and Chicane,— had ever pitched his Marine Store Booth to turn the nasty penny— whereas, such reproaches had been made, and the Baron lamenting them, hope «d that with his removal from the barrow, the people would find a resting-place, and thereupon eschew foul em ployments, and pull down the Booth of Dirty Pennies,—whereas the Secon hungered for this goodly day, and the ‘day by Lorp Joun was deferred, was rightfully wrath with his Guildhall companion, and cried, me! that I must still sit upon the barrow!” And Ivetis and Newpeeate, and also Spooner, laid their heads together; and swore that, with their consent, Baron RotruscuILp | should never leave the wheelbarrow. “A wheelbarrow was the destiny lof him and his people ; and the Baron should never come down from it.’ ‘Thereupon, some one said, it would be a good thing if the wheelbarrow | could be straightway wheele ‘d to Jerusalem, and then and there emptied. And another clapped his hands, and took his hat, and said he would instantly go to Exeter Hall, and therefrom issue a Proclamation, calling upon all men to gather together, and not to remove the Jew from the wheelbarrow, but to remove the wheelbarrow itself with the Jew | upon it! | But this may not be. barrow. the Baron “Woe is No. Roruscurp must come off the wheel- Rotuscuitp must take his seat in the House of Commons. |The Marine Store Booth shall be struck: and Young Israel, freed from | his civil disabilities, will also be freed from his unseemly yearnings. Yes: with Young Israel represented in Parliament, will not Young Israel be a gentle, urbi ine, and most conscientious presence in the City ? | Forthe present, however, the Baron Dr Rotuscniip—(let him thank the Prime Minister for it,) must remain where he is; and, perhaps, in 1851, Lorp Joun Russet will then stretch forth his statesman hand | to help the Jew off the wheelbarrow. A Poet’s Idea of the Submarine Telegraph. Onx of our poets, who has been rather slack of work lately, and whose eye has been rolling in a fine frenzy to very little purpose for the ast fortnight, has furnished us with an idea on the subject of the sub- marine telegraph. He says “‘it is like using the lightning conductor for a steel pen, and the ocean for an ink-stand.” He might have added, that the cliffs furnish the blotting pad, the shore supplies the sand, and the whole world the sheet of paper to write upon. | THE TRUTH WILL OUT. | A SaBBATARIAN being requested a day or two since to do what he could to get the Post- Office re-opened for Sunday delivery of letters, | made the following reply :—“I have questioned my conscience, and i |really find I cant.’

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he ib- or nd PUNCH. Ok THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 73 ELECTIVE AND COLLECTIVE WISDOM. WE can scarcely be surprised at the somewhat inferior quality of the collective wisdom, when we find the elective wisdom to consist of such materials as the Lambeth constituency has just given us a sample of. In looking over the report of the pro- coatings at the nomination that has lately taken place, we scarcely know which to hold in greater contempt—the speeches addressed to the electors, or the remarks they elicited: we are really unable to decide which is the greater trash, the poorer stuff, the more downright rubbish—the text or the comment. The first step in the way of appeal to the un- derstanding of the constituency, was the hoisting of a great flaunting Union Jack, and the first argument on the side of the electors was a volley of abuse, under which the Union Jack was hurried out of sight again. We pass over the speech pro- posing the successful candidate, for nothing was, in fact, said, and nothing becomes positive wisdom in comparison with what was really uttered. The plea on which Mr. Pater was put forward, was the fact of his being the son of his father, which was met by the ordinary election argument of “Oh!” ; and though an O means nothing, we ean scarcely find fault so far with the reply of the constituents to what had been addressed to them. The proposal of Srr Cuartes Naprter, however, it was that elicited all the strength of reasoning on one side, and all the power of refuta- tion on the other. The mere mention of the candidate’s name was the signal for a truly electoral clincher, in the shape of “Groans, and cries of ‘We won’t have him!’ ” which was certainly conclusive, if not altogether so logical as a schoolman might have desired. e now come to the speeches of the candidates themselves, and Mr. Wit1ams being the favourite, we shall find it unnecessary to allude much to his remarks, which were of the customary common-place ind, and were responded to by the usual cious shouts of “So we will,” “ Bravo Wiu1aMs,” “Give it to Old Cuartey,” “Stick to him,” “Do you hear that old chap?” “‘ Sack him altogether,” and other similar specimens of the intellectuality and liberality of a large metropolitan constituency. Mr. Parmer next came forward with the wise suggestion that as he had done nothing, no fault could be found with him ; but he urged his claims by virtue of an alleged “ connection with the borough,” which might have been just as wee urged by any other gentleman happening to occupy a lodging in Lambeth. ‘This candidate, on the onan of a probable frst or second floor, was met by what the enlightened electors themselves would have appropriately termed a floorer, in the shape of a flat assertion of “We won’t have you.” Poor Mr. Patmer then ventured to hint his claims as a working man, earning his bread by his profession; but a vigorous shout of “Gammon, Mr. PatMeEr,” convinced him at once, that however he might get his bread, the Lambeth voters would supply no butter. The remainder of the candidate’s speech elicited a roaring accompaniment of “That won't do,” “Oh, hold your tongue,” cries of “ Stuff,’ “That ’ll do,” and a variety of very intelligible, but not particularly intelligent comments. The coming forth of Srr C. Naprer was the signal for the putting forth of all the powers of the constituency, and as he was the candidate they most wished to defeat, we have a right to take their observations on his speech, as containing the very concentration of all the argumenta- tive force of which the voters could avail themselves. His very appearance was greeted by a sort of preliminary objection to any thing he might have to urge, and an enormous cat-o’-nine-tails was shaken about as an embodiment, no doubt, of at least nine points of the argu- ment to be urged against his election. As soon as the gallant Admiral was permitted to open his mouth, he commenced by addressing to his audience a piece of reasoning quite worthy of their capacity, for he told them that though a sailor ought to represent a sea-port, yet as the Thames washed one side of Lambeth, Lambeth might be regarded as pro tanto, a sea-port, and therefore an Admiral was a fit person to be entrusted with its interests. If we were in the House of Commons, and were allowed to make venerable attempts at effete wit, we should compare this to the old case of Goodwin Sands and Tenterden Steeple, but as our readers are not used to such treatment, we beg leave to withdraw the offensive para- graph. The rest of the speech was interlarded with “ Groans,” cries of “ Go home,” and the brandishing of a great cat in the candidate’s face, by an agent of the mos¢ liberal of the /iberal candidates. A slight allusion to financial matters extracted from the crowd the off-hand shout of “Oh! hang the national debt ;” and after a few more specimens of the trenchant style of disposing of great questions, the Admiral retired amid a shower of “We don’t want you’s,” “ We wont have you’s,” anda miscellaneous collection of liberal epithets. We really cannot help feeling rather humiliated at such disgraceful stuff as this forming, as it almost always does, the staple of the report of any election proceedings, where the suffrages of a large and _liberal constituency are solicited. We do not quarrel with the result in a political sense, but the empty, senseless, and almost brutal character of the preliminaries may fairly furnish a handle to the opponents of an extension of the suffrage, while superior men, who a otherwise be contemptible ordeal as it seems every one must go through before he can obtain a seat for any numerically im everything but their barbarous violence, the old Covent Garden days of dead dogs and cabbage stalks seem to survive at our metropolitan | ‘elections, and the brutal brandishing of cats in the face of one of the | candidates, would seem to show that if the scene was prolonged as it | used to be, there would be found quite as much ruffianism, and quite as |little intelligence, as ever disgraced the mobs, when Str Murray proud of representing large constituencies, naturally shrink from such a | rtant town or borough. In | | MaxweE t had his eye knocked out, and Orator Henry Hunt, having | been proposed by a chimney-sweep, and seconded by a costermonger, gloried in the existence of “two honest men” in Westminster. THE WHITEBAIT’S INVITATION TO THE MINISTERS. “ Come away, come away, ye merry men all,” Sang voices from under old Thames’s flood ; And it was the song of the Whitebait small, As soft and as clear as their native mud : “Come away Lorp Joun RussExL, A truce to bother and bustle ; Come my lads, take your pleasure, Give up motion and measure, Cut contest and struggle and tussle. “ Bring your barren toil to a close at last, For swiftly the hours of the season fly ; If you wait till another bill ” *ve past, We are sure that we shall not be fit to fry : Try no further to budge on; We’re nearly as big as gudgeon; We are getting irate, And if longer you wait, We shall stick in your weasands, in dudgeon. “Tn the goblet of punch all memory drown Of blunder, disaster, defeat, disgrace ; And wash it with us in a bumper down, Rigjoting to feel you are still in place : your whitebait in utter Content, with brown bread and butter ; On which side of your bread *Tother substance is spread You ’re aware—so at least some folks mutter.” SALE OF ENCUMBERED ESTATES. we are sure that, in all our miserable experience, which includes Ireland, of course, we have never witnessed an estate that was more painfully encumbered than the one situate in Leicester Square. The encum- brances consist of numerous mounds of deceased dogs and cats, small | hills of oyster shells, and large mountains of animal matter. We would |recommend the Sanitary Commission to take a stroll, on some sultry | afternoon, through that little hotbed of corruption: for really, in these | days of Reform, it is like retaining a rotten borough in the very heart |of the Metropolis. It is an evil which is most offensive to the common | sense—or scents, rather—of the public ; and the sooner it is sold, swept, and carted away, the better. Abolition of Offices. Amone the offices recommended for abolition by the Committee on | Official Salaries, is that of Lord Privy Seal. This mode of dealing with ithe Seal, proves that the Committee have been upon the watch for ‘economy. We have not heard whether the Seal will at once surrender | the key of office, or whether it is to be simply understood that the die of the Seal is cast as to any future vacancy. A Bap Articte.—There are two Houses of Commons at present, but the new House is called, par excellence, “The House,” from the simple fact of every one being “ deaf-in-it.” PROVERBIALLY TruE.—Lifera Scripta Manet, (The written letter remains) all day on Sunday in the Post Office. Srnce we read so much about the Sale of Encumbered Estates, we | wonder that a particularly encumbered estate in the centre of London | has never been put up to auction. We allude to Leicester Square, | which has the strongest claims upon the Commission in question; for |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Pome ell 1a8 34 Mn sath thas by! hh NRT Weiss Beil aN SN "i iilarist SN: Mal hats * i | ih PTT fear i Hae | ey |} MA | \i . b) We “we HC ae) Ch! MWe AWAY i oma ) $ WSS" N SN ay Zs an Se SS EEE GRAND SCRAMBLE OF DIAMONDS PREVIOUS TO THE DEPARTURE OF THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR. | “Lavy RovGeion presents her compliments to Mr. Punch. “The Nepaulese Ambassador having, it is said, determined on his | “Lavy R. having heard that.it is the intention cf the dear Nepaulese | last night, to strip his cap of state of all the jewels that have | Ambassador at the last party of the season (ere he leaves for his native | delighted the beau-monde, in order to throw the precious gems as a | mountains, the home of the bulbul and the gazelle) to make a delicious | scramble to the ladies present, by way of a souvenir— demonstration, begs that Mr. Punch, as knowing all things, will favour| “ M/r. Punch will pardon Lapy. R. for expressing a very natural Lapy R. with the earliest notice of the coming event. anxiety to be present on so interesting and sigue an occasion.” nadie . | “T have been very frequently punished—although not so often as I MASTER JOHNNY’S HOLIDAY LETTER. | know : mega I neve had moe ag — in ~ House bo i bated“ : . ., | the other; an 10pe the correction I have received, will do me good, Downing Street Classical and Commercial Academy, August 13th, 1851. | and cause me to be a better boy, and to mind what is said to me. “My Dear Guarpran, Mr. Poncu | “T have not behaved at all well to the new boy that you recommended > ‘ some time ago, Naruan. I have neglected to introduce him to the other boys; and when he tried to mix with them of himself, I stopped “Now ae are p sapeenating, F take up my pen to —_ you an account of the way in which ve been pursuing my studies, |}; se : , ive and have been going on and conducting myself generally this half YORE. | Me With doe yoo ° pe aan T cdeiibilin that when a I am very sorry indeed to be compelled to inform you that I have | P 7 7 : . : : ‘| small number of meddlesome Puritanical boys shut up the Post Office | mete vem pitle Amprovenent, _ eae you and all my | on Sunday, I stood by, and did not exert myself to prevent them, as I oo : ° ‘ | might have done. av st; arv nine ' | e . . . x oo a ae tate rained qui stationary, owing 1 my want | make atens fr my defini in, ther reget, T. hae requisite to enable me to understand the Representation of Numbers | endeavoured to distinguish myself in Elocution; but as I am aware Accordingly, I have made no attempt, I am ashamed to say, to solve | — ve of a ane waa a | no 7 i about —. . ah lagtiae . uti ’ “Begging you to accept my ‘duty and respect, and to present the oa oe you are so anxious to have settled, of the enlarge- | same to my indulgent friend and patron, Mr. Butt, and hoping next mv: ‘ . " naan ‘ u " ‘a “With regard to my Classics, all I have to mention is, that in common | half ons te % li npn leaf, one tenere in'a way more deserving with the rest of the Class, I have had much difficulty with my Greek ; | a ae _ ™ ou ning but we flatter ourselves that we got out of that nicely. “Your dutiful Ward, Joun Russet.” “My Arithmetic has given me some trouble, and would have given! ,.., ; , re > ’ ; me more if I had attended to it much, instead of neglecting it greatly. | P.S. My holiday task is a question in a To adjust the With the kind assistance of my schoolfellow Woop, however, I have | Income Tax accordiug to the Rule of Proportion.’ It is very hard, t over one little sum in subtraction, having taken the duty on bricks | and will keep me in and make my head ache; and I hope you will aa the amount of taxation. I had also the Window-Tax, and the | Mtercede, and get me excused from doing it. taxes on Paper and News, set me to subtract; but I couldn’t do! tO either of these sums; I fear you will say, because I did not try. On| the other hand, I have done a very heavy sum in compound addition, SHAMEFUL ROBBERY COMMITTED ON MR. WASHINGTON IRVING. which came to £12,000. This was not a regular task; but I cannot! Tue infringement of a copyright was always characterised as a | say that I did it of my own accord; and, to confess the ‘truth, it was | question of piracy and robbery, but now it is called “a mere matter of | an imposition. HN-ing.” |

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Lf : zs de RMA LEZ Pz L YM Mi | | Hh, AA > \" THT oe ‘ . NT Ht . Se i | SS - IN i] —— \ eS : \ \N a> sa 7 ag! O ZZ oO / VL SEL 072 2 aa | Milt ww OOO se A bane Me ed San 7 hase Vd Vig A GENTLEMAN IN DIFFICULTIES. Lord John, “It’s mpossiBtE FoR our Hovse TO LET YOU HAVE THAT LITTLE MaTTER Now. Bot you CAN HAVE A Bitt PAYABLE Next Session, IF YOU LIKE.’’

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. GENTLEMEN’S FASHIONS FOR THE SEA-SIDE. TERE are fashions for the Sea-side just in the same way as there are fashions for the Opera, or for a wedding, or for a morning concert, or for an evening party. These fashions are so broadly marked, that they would produce the greatest consternation if worn anywhere else but at the sea-side. A gentleman in sea-side costume, if seen w g down Fleet Street, would be followed by a ragged regiment of little boys, and saluted by the cads and conductors of every possing omnibus. These fashions are distinguished by a kind of easy /aissez aller maritime freedom and elegance. The trousers are —_ and flap about like the sails of a ship. Straps are discarded. The chaussure is of a slipper kind, so slippery that not unfrequently a shoe is left behind the owner, imbedded in the sand. The fashionable colour is a buff, a colour which causes the owner to be facetiously hailed by his acquaintance by the name of buffer. ; ; Chapeauz are rarely seen in the matinée, A straw hat of a nautical shape and height, is the general ornament for the head. It is set off by a black-band and under-lining, and, in windy weather, is fastened to the right button-hole by a piece of green string. ; The ties are also as free and as open as the sea. The throat is a moitié découvert, after the fashion of William, in Black-eyed Susan. They are fastened in a loose knot, and the ends are allowed to coquet (French style) with the idle breeze. ; The shirts are very much after the counting-house ledger style. If not ruled in red lines, they are in blue. The collars are large, and hang down on the side @ /a e. : Waistcoats are not generally worn. The same remark applies to braces ; or, if these latter are indulged in, they should be of a highly | floral decorative pattern, such as are exhibited for sale in the Burlington gama, but of course they must have been worked by the hand of ove. Coats are cut after the celebrated military shell-jacket pattern; that is to say, without tails. They are like the coats worn by the gargons in the French cafés, but: of course, without the accompanying napkin. We have seen some of a light, grey, Portland stone couleur, but they are too much @ Ja mode of the footman in undress livery, and do not look well, excepting on the back of a bold ferocious foreigner. _ Walking sticks are vulgar. The prevailing substitute is a light telescope, sometimes fancifully slung round the neck by a black ribbon, sometimes playfully dangled in the main droite, No gloves. . . The walk must be of that quick, independent, springy step, the peculiar gift of a captain walking his deck. The whole demeanour seasoned with a dash of the salt which is found in the ocean. The evening dress for the parade or the library is a frock-coat, of a colour not too gay, not too sombre, but a soft medium between the two, like an autumnal twilight. Trousers of a summer complexion, and a well-assorted waistcoat, to keep them in a contented countenance. Hat @ /a Kensington Gardens ; and a pair of polished boots, not too young, not too aged. We have known a pleasing sensation created by the tasteful addition of a pene of yellow kid gloves ; but gloves of some sort (excepting always Berlin) must worn, Light Regent Street cane, with just a few drops of jewellery. General demeanour, gentle and vacant, that of the Hyde Park flameur. A Gibus under the arm, combined with the sleepy izsouciance of the Opera crush-room, and freshly-curled hair, produces so prodigious an effect, that perhaps it ol be wise not to repeat it in the same place more than twice. FREE DISCUSSION IN FRANCE. Tue other day, during one of the debates in the French assembly, the members been amusing themselves and abusing each other in the usual form, when the President, after vainly trying to obtain order, expressed his ‘“‘ wish that he had the Tower of London at his disposal,” for if he had, “he would freely use it.” This little fact is one of a series of every day occurrence, all tending to illustrate the sort of freedom of discussion that prevails in France, where even the members of the Legislature are threatened with a state prison if they don’t know how to behave themselves. Everything may be very free just now among our neighbours the French, but it is certainly much more free than welcome to the great majority amongst them. We are certainly without the boasted liberty of a republic in this country, and we trust we may ey oe so, when we find the fruits ot republican liberty to consist in laws against the press, restrictions on the expression of opinion in any and every form, amounting to no less than a menace of imprisonment to such members of the Legislature as do not exactly conform to the notions of the President. We presume that under a republic we should be having the Speaker of the House of Commons regretting he had not a Bastile at hand as a safe depository for some of the members, but intimating that Brixton is not far off, and that they had better behave themselves. I | début betore a London au OH WHERE, AND OH WHERE, IS THE AGED TORTOISE GONE? WE have as yet seen no announcement of the appearance in public of the venerable tortoise who, it was expected, was about to make his | first appearance these hundred and ninety years in the Gardens of the | Zoological Society. | Wecannot understand why the début of this distinguished animal has been delayed, unless it has been for the purpose of preventing any | interference with the “run” of the hippopotamus. e suspect that the friends of the tortoise may have h |ponement ; for the new candidate for public favour would in all proba- ility be voted rather “slow” in a race with the sea-horse for the prize lof public favour. Perhaps the tortoise may have not been able to come ito terms about a sufficiently permanent engagement to suit its very longevital merit ; for when we recollect that it is at present compara- tively but “a young thing,” though 190 years old, we cannot be sur- prised at its being anxious to make hay while the sun shines, and to secure in the days of its youth, the means of retreat for an old age that | promises to be rather durable. | We have not yet heard whether the day is fixed for the tortoise to }come out; but as two attractions can scarcely ever command success at the same time, we should recommend either that the hippopotamus | should accept some provincial engagement, or that the tortoise should | go through a round of his performances in the country, previous to his ence. We have heard there will be some diffieulty in getting the hippopotamus, who is a good deal puffed up with popular applause—to divide the “‘ business” with the new comer, | who, on his part refuses flatly to appear as a sort of walking gentleman, | while the a pare is doing all the light eccentric comedy of the Regent’s Park establishment. THE FRENCH INVASION. Tue words “ French Invasion,” used to be a bugbear, or rather a flea in English ears, but we may now fairly say that the Invasion of England by the French, has taken place under circumstances which the most blustering of British bosoms would not rebel against. The invasion may, in fact, be considered to be going on from week to week, though one of the most dreaded instances happened a few days ago, when the coast was invaded by no less than fourteen hundred French, who poured into the Folkestone Railway Station, overrun the whole of the carriages, and placed under contribution to their service the whole resources of the South Eastern Company. On the arrival of the invading party at the London Bridge Terminus, they deluged the platform, inundated the cab stand, overflowed the omnibuses, and pressed into their service everything in the shape of a vehicle that was available. “The porters fled,” not “for safety and for succour,” but for a fresh supply of cabs, flies, and busses. The invaders penetrated into the western ‘portion of the city, and taking up ‘their quarters in the vicinity of Leicester Square, soon ex- hausted all the provisions of the frugally supplied inhabitants. Famine was rapidly setting in, when the timely aid of neighbouring butchers and a on ree with some outlying bakers, supplied the ga that had been caused by the demands of the French incursionists. tt must be said to the credit of the invading party, that they honourably paid for everything they took from the inhahitexts. Over Speculation. THERE is some talk of erecting a building over Waterloo Bridge, but we fear if the ag pe should succeed in covering their bridge, they will never cover their expenses. The projectors talk largely of profit, | but the scheme savours strongly of building castles in the air, which the b-wpe em pile will much resemble if it is ever thrown across the river. he object is to furnish a very large room for the sale of fancy articles, |and we presume for the payment of fancy or imaginary dividends. We | wish success to any scheme the unfortunate proprietors may carry out | for the recovery of their lost funds, and we only hope they may find their room more profitable than their company. THE CART BEFORE THE HORSE. Hituerto, Members of Parliament have been accustomed to take | the oaths and their seats :—the former before the latter. But now that | the space allotted to each Member is so tight a fit, being from 16 to 20 |inches each Member, you will have hon. gentlemen—if moderately stout —taking their seats first and swearing afterwards. IT IS THE CAUSE. IT IS THE CAUSE. MAny persons are continually asking the cause why there is absolutely nothing doing in railways. Our answer is that is impossible there can be anything doing when everybody has been done. something to do with the post-.

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. SSS = . = == == =~ OO Nl . . . . . 12,000 | Westminster has been the first to give way, and it is now said that its 50 ' neighbour Blackfriars is in a feeble and sinking condition. Waterloo, cpushiacetia being younger and stronger in constitution, has apparently escaped, £600,000 and Hungerford, though in a state of much suspense, has not yet been | Imagine six hundred thousand piled sovereigns; and say, is it not a visited ; but Blackfriars is said to be in such a state, that it will not be | most portentous pile of gold—a column of monumental significance, able to keep up without the aid of doctoring. We hope that the} when it is considered to whom it is raised, and from whose pockets it disease will be met by professional skill at once, and not by mere| is obtained? To be sure this is not a voluntary tribute. This is a quackery, which prescribes a sort of homeopathic treatment in the | monument erected by the House of Commons—and ot by the people. shape of an infinity of small and extravagant, because ineffectual, | They are only compelled to find the material that shall make it. repairs, when vigorous measures applied at once would restore strength} The late Duke or CamBrinGE is, however, to have another monu- to the patient at a moderate outlay. Poor Westminster has been so| ment, raised by voluntary means. So be it. Lorp Grosvenor moves patched and plastered, and has had so many operations performed, that | a resolution, which avows of the late Duke that “his shole life and ' it is now scarcely able to hold together ; ian there has been such a| fortune were devoted to the protection and affectionate cure of the sick | general break up, that people are beginning to think it had better be | and afflicted.” Is it really so? A whole life and fortune? This is a left in peace for the remainder of its days, until it sinks exhausted into | deep, a touching claim upon the gratitude of mankind. Why was not the bed that old Father Thames always keeps at its disposal. the Noble Lord armed with something like a balance-sheet in pleasing corroboration of his large avowal? As another meeting is to be held, suggest acheap and ready mode of doing monumental honour to the Parliamentary Agitation. memory of CamBripGe. It is simply this. Let his statue take the LEGISLATION has often been impeded by the unseemly heat of debate, ‘oe at present held by his brother YorxK in Waterloo Place. It would | > and the consequent loss of temper of the different and indifferent | Members of Parliament. We regret to say that things are not likely to be mended when the sittings are regularly held in the new palace at | Westminster; for as the Lower Assembly is only calculated to hold something over four hundred persons, while the number of members exceeds five hundred, we have reluctantly brought ourselves to the | melancholy conclusion that the House of Commons will never be able | to contain itself.

e a fine double touch of justice to remove from the pillar the bronze of a Duke who never paid his debts, in order to place in his stead the statue of his brother Duke, who upon the sick and suffering lavished, says Lorp Grosvenor, “his whole life and fortune!” We may yet read in some future Gazette—“ Promoted, the Statue of his late Royal Highness the Duke or CamBrincGE to the top of the pillar, Waterloo Place; vice the Statue of the late Duke or York, gone to the melting-pot.”

we may yet hope to hear of such a document. Any way, we would |

boo eart load dou Squ not brin effec con: the ness we ; mor an e bast the wit]

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eS el > Wie ol of it p- Ly PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL PUNCH’S GUIDE TO THE SCIENCE OF THINGS FAMILIAR. Tue Rev. Dr. BREwer—who evidently does nothing by half-and- half—has lately published a very useful little work, asking in a familiar way some thousands of very familiar questions, and answering them in a very pleasant, though rather roundabout manner. Among other things he asks, “ Why do you black-lead a flue? ” and though we should have thought it was in order to give the flue a polish, Dr. Brewer tells us we do so “in order that the heat of the flue may be more readily diffused about the room; because black lead radiates heat more freely than any other substance.” We are then asked, “ Why does a sauce- pan that has been used, boil in a shorter time than a new one?” Our answer would have been, “Because the old un’s used to it ;” but the doctor tells us in much finer phraseology, though perhaps coming to the same thing, that it is “because the bottom and back are covered with soot, and the black soot rapidly absorbs the heat of the glowing coals.” It is as well to know this, no doubt; and it is at all events consoling to those who have got an old saucepan, and can’t afford a new one, to be assured by a man of science that they are better off than the possessor of a more expensive article. There are a few of the Doctor’s Why’s, which we should look at as rather otherwise, and there are many pro- positions he seems to take for granted, upon which we should be com- pelled to join the dissenting party. For instance, he asks, “Why do we feel a desire for activity in cold weather,” and he then explains the alleged fact by saying something about “fanning combustion in the blood,” when the truth is, we feel no desire for activity, but rather a desire to sit cosily over the fire in cold weather; and as to fanning our eee we emphatically declare we might be blowed if we should e it. There are a few questions on things familiar, which we have been in the habit of answering for ourselves in a style with which the worthy Doctor would not at all sympathise. We, however, take leave to adda few specimens, which will show that if our guide to the scientific knowledge of things familiar is not always strictly correct in a philo- sophical point of view, it is never disagreeable. y does lightning turn milk and beer sour ? A. Because the electric fluid does not know how to conduct itself, or, perhaps, because on the principle of two of a trade never agreeing, the electric fluid and the milky or beery fluid cannot come into contact without the two latter getting soured by the former. Q. Why is mortar adhesive ? : : A. Because it is of a confiding nature, and imagining that every object is a brick, it will attach itself to anything. Q. Why ought potatoes to be boued in their skins ? A. Because no potato can be said to be properly dressed unless it appears in a jacket. Q. Why does a kettle sing ? m. og the samejreason that a ploughboy whistles—for want of ought. Q. Why does a cat run after a mouse ? A, Because the mouse runs away from the cat. Q. Why is it necessary to cut the grass ? A. Because the grass, though composed of nothing but blades, has not one sharp enough to. cut away itself, and prevent the necessity of the scythe being applied to it. We might go on multiplying these questions on any fine day, ad in-fine-night-um, but we have no doubt the reader may suggest them for | self, and exert his scientific powers in finding the best solution he can of such difficulties, as his own inventive faculties may present to him. We all delight in home-made articles, and we, therefore, leave the reader to enjoy the cracking of a few nuts of his own growing. CAN ANYTHING BE MORE INTOLERABLE? Aw American author (Dr. Howarp) tells us most seriously in his book, which rejoices in being Revelations of Egyptian Mysteries, that earthquakes in cities are owing to the exertions made by the over- loaded earth to get rid of the “intolerable weight of buildings.’ We doubt this Yankee theory very much, because, if it were true, Trafalgar Square would be in a constant state of earthquakism. More than this, not a night would pass during the Session, without an earthquake bringing forward a motion for an adjournment, which would have the effect of making the House ‘ostenie break up; and we must say, considering the Sunday Postage question, the Jewish Oath discussion, the Cambridge Pension, and other jobs, combined with the little busi- ness done this year, that no building with the tremendous weight which we all know exists in the House of Commons, has lately proved itself more “intolerable,” and consequently more deserving of the honour of an earthquake. We almost regret that Dr. Howarp’s theory is not based upon better grounds, but perhaps the English people may take the earthquake into its own hands, and, by a strong “pressure from without,” send this most intolerable building to the right about. THE EXPERIMENTAL HOUSE. ERTAINLY the House of Com mons is always making experi- ments. One day it is assembled to try whether a building, only constructed to hold three hun- dredmembers, can be made, like an omnibus, to hold twice the number it is constructed for. Soon after, another meeting is announced for the trial of a new roof, and so the roof meeps going up and down, like Mr. GREEN’s balloon, till at last the House will be reduced to such a strait that we doubt if it will have a roof to put over its head. The legislation is mostly of the same nature,—it is experiments—and_ not one experiments either. Marl- rough House is voted to a young prince, who is not even a hobbedehoy yet, upon the chance of his wanting it nine years hence. The Sunday Post- _, age question is passed, in order that the people may see how ry like it. It was “only an experiment” —and, though the experiment has not answered, Lorp Joun does not trouble himself very particularly to have it rescinded. We are tired of this experimentalising. GETTING THE WRONG ANIMAL BY THE EAR. In the subjoined niet, we suspect that our letter-trap has caught a communication intended for a sporting contemporary :— “ 6 bob 2 joes is too hi a Tutch for me i Therefoare rite to ax Your adwice on a pint of lor witch a Reglar subscryber to yure Gurnel ope you wil Aford tis of a case as I red about in a plece ripport won day lass weak of one THOS. CHANNING bein pulled up afore the Beke by the Siaty for Perwenshen o’ crulety To hannimals. THos. CHANNING wur won 0’ the Licins’d shepperds in the wictorier park and As sitch wos a gittin of some ship into a slorterus wereby as he druv each jimmy in he took and snick’d a bit off is ear for to mark im wereby the Secretairy to the Crulety Coves as im Hup at washup street and mistR. HamMILL gives im £3 & costis or 3 Weaks. ; “the Paper sed CHANNING was quite took abak at bein Acused of crulety for sitch a thing as snickn a Sheap’s Ear and didn’t make no Seacret of avvin did it he only done he sed as the Bucher told im and he wos a Custom’d to it hall is Life and ad No ideer but wot it wos all rite wen lo and beold you he found his Self in for thre pound or 3 weaks!!! ; ie. . “ ser the kivestshun i Beg to ax yer is as follers. i am inthe Canine line as peraps you Nose and _as fine a studd both toy and sportin i’ve gott as yude Wish to sea. Ow about cropin a dogg’s ears if doin of it to a ship is agin the lor? Is a cove obleg’d to let his Dogg be spiled for Fitin as well as in Buty and Gro up a Muf and fit for Not for want of Cropin is Eers wen a Pupy or if so be he Cropps ’em dooin wot he likes with is own his he to bead up for crulety and Fin’d or Kivodded? an answer wil obleeg your umbal servint »,“ nu Rode Orgust 9 1850 jm GREAVES “PS. A prime badjer kepp and Ratts allys on And to try Doggs.” *.* Mr. Greaves will perhaps be amazed to hear that the law, so far from regarding the end proposed in cropping a dog’s ears, namely, “ Fitin,” as justifying the means, considers it decidedly in the light of an “ aggeravation”—as he would say—of the offence. ‘Make your Game, Princes.” Wuey, in these days, a cousin Duxe of Camprinee appoints to his own service four red-coated equerries, and three black-coated clergy- imen, it may be called, on the part of his Royal Highness, rather a bold game of Rouge-et-Noir. COOK’S DISCOVERIES. A process has lately been invented and carried into operation for cookjng by gas. This may indeed be called the triumph of gas-tronomy.

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BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON.—AND HOW (Part IL.) ” BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON, HAVING RECEIVED AN INVITATION TO A BALL, AND NOT BEING “ UP TAKE A FEW LESSONS FROM A PROFESSOR. IN THE POLKA, ‘* MR. ROBINSON !” ? THE “LIBRARY” AS IT APPEARED’ ON THE NIGHT OF THE BALL, UNFORTUNATE EVENT! BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON ARE ALL STRUCK WITH THE YOUNG LADY. MR. ROBINSON MAKES HIMSELF AGREEABLE TO THE LADIES Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd'esex, Printers, at their Office, ia Lombard Street, inthe Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of London.—Sarurpay, Aveust I7th, 180. prc buil

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 81 GLASS HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. Puncu ¢o JosrrnH Paxton, Esq. Dear Mr. Paxton, You can, at a word, relieve the country from all further} ), suspense in the important matter of lodging the collective wisdom of England, known by a flattering, legendary fiction, to mean the members of both Houses of Parliament. It is now clear that Mr. Barry will never finish Acs structure. Two millions of money are already doomed to stone, bricks, and mortar; two millions upon an uncertain, unsatis- factory pile. And as it is now high tragic time that we should really think of housing Lords and Commons, quickly, cheaply, and commo- ey “Ria ask of you, at once and forthwith, to erect for them—two Glass Houses of Parliament. Sir, you can do it ina morning. You have only to don your working coat; to clap on your considering cap—that pretty, tasteful thing, bent from a leaf of the Victoria Regia, and the matter is done. There; drawn, made manifest, plain to even the lowest capacity of even the Houses of Lords or Commons, is a an wa plan of the structure; a crystal senate-house, fit council-place for human senatorial chrysolites. While we write, the guns proclaim the progress of Her Masesty, on her way to prorogue the Parliament. Say the word, Mr. Paxton, shall the QuEEN, next February, open the new Houses of Glass? All we want is your romise. For, as the princely Devonsnire bears honourable and onouring testimony—“ Mr. Paxton has never attempted anything, which he has not succeeded in fully carrying out.” Sir, with your promise given, Mr. Barry may be required to adapt his structure to the future wants of the Prince or WaLEs. This will give the architect another nine years to accomplish his work; with due allowance of time to accommodate the structure to the domestic convenience of His Royal Highness. Any number of stables may be added; and as for +1 eee House, let it remain the Vernon Picture Gallery, even as it is, The more we consider the plan, the more we are convinced of its various conditions of facility, utility, and economy. With the Glass Houses of Parliament determined upon, it is clear Mr. Barry can ask for no more money. As it is, he proposes to himself (we know this by our so potent art) to come down to Parliament for a grant of some £20,000 more to be laid out in musk and attar of roses. Mr. Barry has read in the oriental book of the sage Estta Errenpi (he is quoted by SourHey), that “in Kara Amed, the capital of Diarhekr, there is a mosque called Iparie, built by a merchant, and so called because the builders mixed with the chalk seventy Jué of musk, so as always to se a the building.” Moreover, “the mortar of the Mihraub mosque, aving been mixed with musk, exhales the sweetest perfume.” Now, it being notorious that the New Houses of Parliament, in so far as finished, reek horribly of that dreadful odour, the odour of god; an odour that exhales from nearly all our public buildings—Mr. Barry may feel the further outlay of £20,000 to be invested in perfumes for the mortar still to be trowelled, as absolutely necessary to render the Houses sweet and decent; to make them, as Parliament Houses, even habitable. Now, there is not an atom, a touch, a taint of job to be nosed in the grant of a house to the Prince or Wates— an anticipated grant of nine years forward. But to our Parliament Houses of Glass. ; We all know the hubbub that you, Mr. Paxton, have so magically hushed. r Park was to be desecrated—torn from us. The turf— every root of grass intertwined with the very strings of the high-beating cockney heart—was to be destroyed forever andforever. The number of bricks had been calculated—the tons of mortar—even the million tinklings of the future trowels had been nicely numbered—in a word, the Great Lung of London was to be choked with a hideous, huge, mountainous heap of burnt clay—and men, so great was their madness, looked wildly forward to Chancery for a remedy. And then—JoserH Paxton came! With all the quietude of an assured power, with the serenity of practical genius, Paxton unrolled | his plan before the Commission. There should be no brick—no | mortar. As for the projected dome, let the abomination pass away, the fading fragment of an architectural nightmare. No: the structure that should cover the samples of the world’s industry should have the {to look on too. BriaRevs, every mouth blowing for the like purpose, and with the same accord ? This done—for we consider it accomplished—-we entreat you, Mr. Paxton, forthwith to send in your plan for Glass Houses of Parliament. Consider the fitness, the significance, of the material—glass. If interesting and beautiful to watch bees at work in a glass hive, how much more delightful and instructive to see M. P.’s at work in a glass- ouse! Honey-bee and M. P.! How aptly, too, they assimilate in their labours and their objects. How like, too, virgin honey, and virgin Bills and Acts! How alike composed of the essences of remote things, sweet, and foodful, and enduring! And, as the cell of the honey-comb is a triumph of the limits of space, no such space con- taining so much with so little lost, so is an Act of Parliament, a constant wonder of intellectual condensation; no such amount of brain, - nothing else, being discoverable upon the same superficial inches of papyrus. lass Houses of Parliament! Do not all of us—all the represented— see all our members hard at work ?—whilst it cannot be objected to permit the unrepresented, the unfortunate creatures without members, How delightful to watch the senatorial hive! To mark DisRAELI, entering with his gathered honey. “ Behold each wing! A tiny van, The structure of its laden thigh ; How fragile! yet of ancestry, Mysteriously remote and high!” To see all his collected wisdom end in a deep cell! How fine to mark PALMERSTON, with foreign wax, gathered from Hymettus! And even should his Lordship be haw Hg as he may yet be, for throwing open the Thames to a Russian fleet, beautiful, under a glass hive, to mark the ceremony that shall doom his head; and haply, in the devotion of his adherents, to behold the renewed incident, of Xenophon—“ and when the head was suspended, and became hollow, a swarm of bees (all — of the Reform Club) entered it, and filled it—with honey- combs.” And as a crowning spectacle for the Out of Parliament world, how delightful to see the Queen Bee Victoria enter the Glass House of Parliament, and for a season send away—as she is now doing while we write—all the bees (and drones) to English stubble and Highland heather, Mr. Paxton,—you must achieve the Glass Houses of Parliament. Here and there, as you please, you can insert a pane of magnifying power, to make any favourite minister look a greater man than he is; you may further have all the arms of the reigns blown in the glass, of course blowing out the arms of OLIVER CROMWELL—indeed, we are so confident in your genius that you may do what you please, if you will only promise to build. . ; Glass Houses of Parliament will, with a triple diadem of crystal, crown your reputation. Namely :— ; Your Glass Garden of Eden at Chatsworth; where flourish palms without rattle-snakes ; and sugar-canes with no yellow fever. Your Glass Palace for the industrial congress of all nations; where all the world will come to school (leaving their swords and bayonets at the door), and all the world learn of one another. , Your Glass Houses of Parliament (that must be) in which statutes shall be made with so much light in them that, like glow-worms, they will be at once known and studied by their own radiance. Pray do this, dear Mr. Paxton, and accept the assurance of my highest: consideration. PUNCH, Josern Paxton, Esq. August 15, 1850. THE SEA-SIDE LODGING-HOUSE MARKET. = oop front parlours, with a view of the sea from ad wy the garret windows, are brisk at thirty shillings a-week, and a “bed out”’ is considered a capital turn-up at half-a-crown a-night. Boots on the same footing, viz., 2d. per pair. Plate is still quoted as an extra, though it has given rise to as many disputes as the river of the same name, —for the tenants and the lodging-house keepers have a great difficulty in agreeing as to the lightness of crystal, with the abiding strength of iron. And, as the stage told over his plan, the Commission, with much-relieved | eads and sparkling eyes—beheld a fairy Palace of Glass, the whole | structure fitted, with the fitness of d with the minute conviction of arithmetic. And the Prince clapt his hands and said—“ Paxton, go forth into Hyde Park; take glass and | iron, and—beauty wedding strength—produce the Industrial Hall of Nations!” And is there an ardent Londoner who—contemptuous of his late dread of brick-and-mortar innovation, of builder’s nuisance—looks not | to the coming spring for something brilliant and beautiful ? Something t, towering and glittering in Hyde Park, shall look like a huge | glass globe blown by the concentrated breath of the hundred-headed poey upon paper, and calculated | , real boundary of the Plate. The latter have a an extension, and threaten to leave if the lodging- Britannia metal. Linen is still used in oes out the bill, though many persons object to the dearness of the spread, and cry out against a dinner in which the plate and linen cost them almost as much as the dinner itself. Drawing-rooms range from three notion that the greatest extent it ought to run | to is half-a-dozen tea-spoons and a couple of | forks; whereas the former demand very properly | house keepers attempt to show them any of their | to five guineas a-week, but the price rises with a balcony that faces the | “briny ocean.” There is a demand for small houses, though the demand ceases | VOL. XTX.

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62 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI instantly the price wanted is known. Mutton is tenpence a pound, but as one half is always lost in the cooking—for the sea air always has that effect upon meat—it may rather be said to be twenty-pence. Beef is exceedingly dear, for, owing to the heat of the weather, it| is found impossible to keep it longer than one day. Fowls are com- paratively cheap at four shillings a pair, but it is not considered advisable to buy too many, unless the lady of the house goes herself to market, for the breed of marine fowls are generally discovered, when brought to table, to have but one leg. Mustard, sixpence a day. Fruit, very small, and very dear. A pound of plums goes no way towards making a tart—for so much is wasted in the cooking, that when the crust is opened there is found to be nothing inside but a tea- cup full of juice.

SCIENCE HEAD OVER HEELS. ' ' | A wNEwspPareR report tells us that an enthusiast attending the| meeting of the British Association, desirous of testing the merits of a} newly invented article, called a “Safety Stocking,” plunged headlong from the Newhaven Picr, relying only upon the virtue of the stockings in question. His life was thus allowed to hang— not perhaps on a single thread—but on a small quantity of cotton. We do not see how safety | stockings can be of any use in water, unless to an enthusiastic surazt, | to whom it may be immaterial whether he is standing upon his head or | his heels—and it is pretty clear that, with a pair of hose not calculated | to sink, the heels of the wearer, when in the water, must have been | uppermost. t is to be regretted that there was no Pons Asinorum at Newhaven | from which the leap could have been made, for this was all that could} have been required to complete the character of the experiment. | |

| A GOOD TURN FOR TOURISTS. | LWAYS in starting for a| tour there is something | tobedone besides pack- ing one’s luggage ; you | must not only make up your portmanteau, or your carpet-bag, as the | case—we mean the! erp gene inn be, | ut you must make up your mind where to} take it to. The plea-| sure-seeker is nowtorn | by so many various at- | tractions, that the diffi- | culty of deciding be-| tween themall isalmost insurmountable. He has made up his mind to go humbly to Herne | Bay, or modestly to| Margate, when he sud- | denly finds a set of| boardmen performing a sort of pas de fascina- tion before him, and brandishing before his eyes huge placards. inviting him to make one of several hundreds in an “ Excursion to Paris and back, for Thirty Shillings.” He has just allowed him- self to be allured by this promise of Continental travel at a startlingly low figure, when a sort of demon of discord comes forward, in the shape of an emissary of a rival line, unfurling before the distended eyeball of the puzzled holiday-seeker a gigantic poster, bidding him “trip it merrily” | to “Southampton and back, for three shillings.’ Turning away be- wildered from the sight, he is about to weigh the merits of the two tours presented to his notice, when there comes upon him like a thunder-clap with a territic bang—* Bangor and back, for a Guinea.” He is about to rush, in the enthusiasm of the moment, across the road for a pro-| spectus, when his way is suddenly impeded by a monster van, suggestive | of a tnp to the Rhine, in the course of which almost everything is to be seen for almost nothing, and all kinds of advantages, including little | less than a personal introduction to all the sovereigns of all the States the excursionists pass through, are to be had at the very lowest figure. If relief from so much perplexity is sought in a consultation of the! columns of the newspapers, the would-be tourist is immediately whirled | | ] |

about from Homburg to Hamburg, from Broadstairs to Baden-Baden, from Ramsgate tothe Rhine, from Heidelberg to Herne Ray, and he rises from the perusal of the advertisements with his head in the state | of a map that has been cut to pieces, and had all its parts shaken, | together in a cab-horse’s nose-bag. “Oh, where? and oh, where?” is the universal ery of every one who has a few days to spare for going somewhere or other, but who get the old incoherent or rather echo- herent. answer, “ Where,” which is the established circular sent by way of reply to all enquiries that are not easily responded to. We have, however, hit upon a plan which we think will save a great deal of trouble to many a vacillating holiday-maker, who may in future select his trip by shutting his eyes and pricking with a pin the circle of which a plan is attached to thisarticle. ‘To many it matters literally not |

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— Son,

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apin where they go, and it is quite proper, therefore, that, where there is scarcely a pin to choose, the choice should be left to the pin in the mode we have suggested. Of course, if the place indicated should be further off than the tourist can afford to go, he will feel his conscience | srick as well as the pin, and he will thus be deterred from what would ye otherwise an act of culpable extravagance. At the railway termini, | from which a variety < may be reached, it might be as well to | keep a board with a kind of needle or arrow appended to it, which the passengers might be invited to twirl for the purpose of fixing their destination. ‘The scheme has been found to answer with ginger-bread nuts, and why should it not be equally popular when applied to railway | travelling ? Wanted a Professor. Aw undergraduate at one of the universities—we won’t say which, for we only make caps, but do not undertake to fit them on—has written to request our aid in finding for him the “Professor of Law,” whose services our correspondent much desires, being naturally arxious to “Jearn something for his money.” We know no better method that our would-be studious correspondent can adopt for attaining his object, than by inserting in the papers an advertisement, expressing a hope that the Law Professor will soon return to his disconsolate pupils, and inti- mating that all will be forgiven, as all has been already forgotten, by those who happened to know anything. Policemen in the East. It seems tobe tne destiny of the Police force to keep ont sage “Moving on.” ‘They are themselves the pioneers in obeying the directions they are always giving to others. Recent advices inform us of Policemen having been established at Constantinople, where the British Bull’s-eye will henceforth throw a light on the mysteries of crime, and the British truncheon smash the turban of Turkish turbu- | llence. ‘The “drunk and incapable” mufti will now find himself compelled to “ move on,” and the hard, uncomfortable stretcher will be the fate of the luxurious Ottoman who has been living, “ not wisely, but too well.”

|

And | Kine Gay s And ; And | And « Holid From From They And « And | And 1 With A rai Smile ay g And g A sha And t And t To the Sixty Then Each | Anda Then, Fair A Bold-f | And s' They s The ti The g | The la The su Scarce

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orm w SY is | he be ce | ild ni, he eir fay | ten ose our han the | nti- | by ally the | 1 US | self I be | sely, | PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE TOURNAMENTS OF SMITHFIELD. A. D. 1360. sulk good RAHERE: ; Is’t that ——* ) ty fasted, on lenti “S by small beer ? i+ gone wrong ?>— phizogs, ani their matin song ? {]} ue monks look sour and Upon Snow Hill no shopkeeper but is pallid as in the cells of | To-night it is a Sunday night, but the sounds that strike the ear That so yellow are their | i so glum Sound is the beer, their | A. D. 1850. Nosopy has had any sleep the length of Goswell Road ; All are awake in Jolin Street, though no early cock hath crowed ; | Through the broad street of F arringdon the bur ony alert ; . i irt. | Are anything but proper sounds for Sunday night, I fear ; hey | Not thy old note, fair Priory, of Aves and of Paters, and | But the noise of brutes in hooves and horns, and brutes in leathern gaiters. _\/t-- Ts °t that the father cel-| Smithfield hath still her tournaments whereof to tell in rhyme ; larer’s last malting hath | But, now-a-days, men are not fierce as in the elder time ; | And gentler manners we can boast, since the rude age is gone When knights could skewer each other, and ladies could look on. | Our gallant knights are pricking still—but it is oxen’s flanks The lusty squires cn | still bear staves—to welt the kyloes’ shanks ; One drover ’gainst a hundred calves they battle on the plain; usual cheer the beechen | With fearless breast and goad in rest the sheep they charge amain. * trenchers hold; They haven’t been and fasted more strictly than of old ; The salt ling isn’t harder than most salt ling you ’ll see ; The eggs have been as fresh as London eggs can hope to be; A roaring trade in masses St. Bartholomew’s has driven ; The buxom City madams have, as usual, sinned and shriven ; Where the imageof St. Alphage’s winked three times, theirs winked four— Then what is it, ye worthy monks, your pious souls doth bore ? Tis that, all through yesternight, they could neither sleep nor pray, or the noise in neighbouring Smithfield of the hammers’ busy play ; All night perpetual pot-boys were serving out strong beer ; There was swearing, and much language which monks oug Against the dawn they ’ve fenced the lawn with palisadoes tall ; By the east ~ the Royal state, of purple and of pall ; And the challengers’ pavilions, with streamers blazoned gay— Kine Epwarp holdeth tourney for ALIcE Piers to-day. Gay squires to breathe great horses are pricking all about ; And armourers from Aldgate and Chepe are hurrying out ; And heraids in their tabards points of blazon are discussing ; And early burghers shaking hands, and burghers’ wives a-bussing. Holiday troops are flocking in, through the squares of garden-ground, From the City, and from Westminster, and the villages around: From the May-flowered lanes of Islington, the fields of fair St. Giles, They group about the greensward, and gossip at the stiles, And cluster round the measured lists, as thick as bees in swarm, And hear well pleased the armourers’ clink as the good knights they arm And note the lords that stately ride, retainers at their back : With bent bows and bright badges, in morion and jack. A rain-bow sea of satin-hoods, a foam of snowy necks ; Smiles and sheep’s-eyes, and greetings, and laughs, and nods, and becks ; Gay gallants, steady citizens, with pouch and sober gown; And guards employed in pulling small boys from barriers down. A shattering blast of trampets—a murmur and a rush— And then a sudden holding of the breath in solemn hush, And then a burst of welcome that makes the welkin ring, To the ery of twenty thousand English throats, “God save the King! ” Sixty esquires of honour first on barded horses riding ; Then sixty ladies daintily their milk-white palfreys guiding ; Fach leading by a silver chain an armed and helméd knight, And a noise of many minstrels, and heralds tabard-dight ; Then, under state of cramoisy, doth stout Kine Epwarp ride, Fair Avice Prers, the lady of the Tourney, at his side ; Bold-faced and bluff his greeting to the crowd that shout acclaim, And sweet, though somewhat sad withal, the smiling of his dame. They seat them in the Royal seat, and the challenge it sounds forth, From the four trumpets, to the east, and west, and south, and north ; The Knights-adventurers ride in,—each strikes the opponent’s shield ; The tilt ’s begun—a course is run—a knight rolls on the field. , The gazers shout—the trumps ring out—another, and another ; ' The lances fly, the dust rides high, the lists are in a smother ; | | | The summer day they joust away, and the poor monks at prayers Scarce keep their thoughts from wandering, their eyes from sinful stares ; Until the dewy night comes down upon the trampled plain, When with torch and flaring cresset rides back the Royal train ; And the chroniclers may nib their pens to tell to after years How in Smithfield bluff Kine Epwarp held a joust for ALIcE Prers. ht not to hear. | The stalwart knacker’s man moves on, his grim face set in frown ; Pole axe in fist that, with a twist, can fetch a “ wet ’un” down : In azure vest, with shiny crest, the carcase-butcher ’s there, His apron red with gore new shed, his chopper bright and bare. Now range ye, knights-adventurers—the challengers are nigh— The droves of panting oxen, foot-sore and red of eye; With angry low, half-blind they go—now, gallants, who demurs To show a squeamish world how Smithfield drovers win their spurs ? Dig in their flanks, smash at their shanks, hit hard upon their horns— Show how the cry of ‘‘ Cruelty ” the Smithfield gallant seorns— With lusty knocks teach each dull ox the road, and if he fail While on the stones make ye no bones to twist his stubborn tail. A pleasant sight for Sunday night is this—a glorious thing ; See them coerce, with goad and curse, the oxen in a ring; With battering blows upon the nose, and hands that 1 behind, And tonguesthat swear, and links that glare, andtheottiing ropesthat bind. Stout and serene upon the scene the aldermen look down ; The manly game with pleased acclaim and mild applause they crown; And talk with sneers of by-gone years, around their City feasts, When men tilted at each other, and not at hornéd beasts ! A TURKISH BISHOP. Unper the head of “Oxford Intelligence,” it was stated the other day, in the Zimes, that— “The Brsuor or Exeter, it is said, is taking steps to bring Mr. Gornam before the Arches’ Court, for heresy, as held and taught in his book.” Really, the right reverend prelate might be content with the high ground which he has taken in order to pull down Mr. Gornam, without straining to reach him by taking steps to boot. Should he prosecute that. gentleman for publishing an heretical work, he will give occasion to the saying, that since he had failed in the endeavour to bring Mr. Goruam to book, he had resolved to bring the book to Mr. GorHaM. This remark, of course, will be made in comparative allusion to the story of Mauomet and the mountain; and people will add, that they did not know that Henry Exeter was such a Turk before. > A Novelty in Travelling. Tue Edinburgh newspapers contain advertisements of “Cheap Excursions to London, and back again.” We do not think the latter part of the advertisement will be any great temptation to Scotchmen to join the excursion, however cheap. Now if the advertisement had said |‘ Cheap Excursions to London, and nor to come back again,” it would have been much more to the tastes and habits of travelling Scotchmen ; | and we doubt if the Railway company would have been able to provide | sufficient carriages for the extraordinary number of applicants. PUNCH’S LABOUR LOST. | | We have been requested by a Cantab, who is discontented with the ‘carriages on the Eastern Counties Railway, to “smash” the said | carriages forthwith. We should be sorry to interfere with an occupa- | tion which used to be understood was always left to the servants of the company. Tur Errects or Free Trape.—Pauperism is diminishing; the hungry are fed, the naked clad, and—the Whigs have a suxPLUs. “ LetrereD Hase.”—The Catalogue of the British Museum.

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BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON.—AND HOW THEY WENT TO A BALL. (Paar IL) +" Hw ! ee. i = ye \ THIS DRAWING REPRESENTS MR. JONES AT THB MOMENT WHEN HE WAS > f\\ SL UNDECIDED AS TO WHICH OF THAT ROW HE WOULD ASK TO DANCE. ROBINSON IS HERE SEEN NOT ONLY AMUSING HIMSELF, BUT CAUSING AMUSEMENT TO OTHERS. ROBINSON BEHOLDS BROWN POLKING, AND OH! HOW HB WISHES HB HAD THE COURAGE TO DO IT. BROWN sits with HER pon THE STAIRS, BECAUSE | “THE COOLNESS THERE IS SO DELICIOUS.” FRANTIC BEHAVIOUR OF ROBINSON, THIRSTING FOR ICE, AFTER EIGHT QUADRBILLES. THE PARTNER OF JONES'S AFFECTIONS BEING CARRIED OFF BY A HEAVY DRAGOON, HE (JONES) HATES THE WORLD FROM THAT MOMENT. — : ae ! \ ! | i 4 | »d ) 1) oe _ 4 “aq tile 2 Se | anil beet ill WHAT THE HEAVY DRAGOON DID TO JONES IN HIS WRATH; JONES, } GROWN RECKLESS WITH HATRED, JEALOUSY, AND CHAMPAGNE, WS NEXT SER HIM AT GUPPER. HAVING INTIMATED THAT HE WAS A “ PERSON.” _—-— | 4

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HEY! FOR SCOTLAND’S LAW. ONSCIENTIOUSLY we always used to look upon the law of Eng- land as the very acme of the un- intelligible, and we were accus- tomed to think } that mystifica- tion could no} further go,when | it had taken the | shape of a de- cree in Equity. Our attention | has, however, | been called to a| recent Scotch | judgment — or | interlocution,as | it is termed— pronounced by one of _ the learned Judges who preside in the superior Courts at Edinburgh. It sets out with the following intricate labyrinth of words, from which, after scratching ourselves nearly to pieces among the brambles of obscurity, we emerge in as blessed a state of ignorance as we were in when we made our first rush into the maze, which we now invite the venturesome reader to dash at. “The Lord Ordinary having heard parties’ procurators on the conjoined processes of suspension and interdict, and declarator, and thereafter made avizandum, and con- sidered the closed record productions and proceedings.” We here leave off for a moment to allow the taking of breath; and we beg leave to ask in the joint names of Linptey Murray, Doctor Jounson, poor old Ditwortu, the two Mavors, father and son, Mrs. Barsautp—her of the hymns, we mean—and Mrs. TRIMMER, what it all means. As a “process of suspension” is spoken of, we resume of course that the judgment re‘ates to a hanging matter; but farther than this, we are not prepared to go. The “interlocution” then proceeds thus :— “Tn the suspension and interdict repels the reasons of suspension (the culprit, it seems, is not to be hanged) and discerns; and in the declarator sustains the defences, assoilsies the defender from the whole conclusions of the libel, and discerns.” Here we must pause again, lest against the extreme hardness of the words, we “dash out our desperate brains.” What does the learned judge mean by “‘ assoilzying a defender?” Is it a genteel way of saying, “sets him out of the soil,” or “picks him out of the mire,” or “helps him when stuck in the mud?” We will not “ pause for a reply,” because we might just as well keep our pause off; but we proceed to what the Lord Ordinary, in his great discernment, says that he “discerns.” Well then, he “Finds the suspenders and pursuers liable to expenses [What! both sides pay in Scotland, do they ?] of the conjoined action, allowing an account thereof to be given in and remits the same [Oh, ho! Then the judge himself pays the costs, does he? Oh yes, certainly, for he ‘ remits the same ’] to the auditor to tax and report. We have a great mind to have this Scotch judgment hung up in the window of our office in Fleet Street, like the patent lock in Braman’s window, with an intimation that whoever can produce a key to it shall | receive a reward of Five Hunprep Pounps—of Wall’s End coals. | We have seen in our day a large assortment of Chancery decisions, which would have justified any non-professional parties in resorting to | a half-crown or a halfpenny to toss up, for the purpose of determining | which side had gained the advantage, but this Scotch “interlocution ” | makes our English equity a simple sort of matter, in comparison to the intricacies in which we have found ourselves entangled just now. We) can only exclaim, “ Well, we never, Lorp Brovcuay, did you ever?” | We are sure Loxp Brovenam will admit that “No, he never,” and we | pest his Lordship never may have to sit upon such a case in the way of | appeal. ' The Sunday Post Delivery. A PAX. Cocx-a-doodle-doo ! The Sabbatarian crew, Onur letters that stopp’d, At last have been whopp’d ; For which thank—you know who! Too Horriste to Contempiate!—If a lady who hesitates is lost, what must it then be for a lady who stammers or stutters ! A MONUMENT TO LORD ASHLEY. YeEsTERDAY will long be remembered in the annals of the /ibro d’oro of the Beadle of Exeter Hall. There never has been such a meeting in the memory of the oldest Sabbatarian; and it was confidently prophe- sied that ‘Time may stand upon tiptoe to watch the advent of such another and never behold it. It is the peculiar felicity of a grand idea to beget a number of smaller notions, bearing some resemblance to the original thought. Alike, but very different. Thus, it was no sooner determined to erect a monument to the benevolent genius of a great statesman: of a man who, whilst he patronised the cheap loaf, did not loftily eschew the patronage of art and letters,—than a monument was determined for his late Royal Highness the Duxe or CamsBripGE ; a monument, as it now appears, oy off until next season, in consideration of the calls upon Parhament, yy grouse and the German spas. In the meantime, the architects of England have, until February next, to mature their designs for a monu- ment to departed royalty, whose peculiar goodness it was—boldly avouched Lorp GrosveNor—to have subscribed every minute of time, and every farthing of money, towards the necessities of human nature. To eternise such a fame (when duly proved, as no doubt it will be when the shooting season ends), will tax to the highest the creative genius of England’s sculptural worthies. In a while, and progressing at the rate we have tuvelied for the past month, monuments will start into stony existence, rapidly as mushrooms. Lorp AsHtezy is to have a monument; and his Lordship deserves one. It was this deep conviction of his merits—a conviction throbbing at the hearts of his admirers—that yesterday filled Exeter Hall with the elect of the wicked City of London, gathered together to pay homage to the bold and subtle genius of that “pious and excellent nobleman,” as the Times fleeringly called him, who “stole a march upon Parliament” on the day of the Derby, to shut up the Sunday post-office ; and, with the dexterity of a professor of the persecuted art of pea-and-thimble, worked a work of zealous holiness. he chair was taken by Mr. De Neweate, who called upon every really pious man with a heart in his breast and a shilling in his pocket to come forward with his sixpence. They would build such a monu- ment to the good intentions of the noble and pious lord, that an admiring posterity should go down upon its knees to it. Their oppo- nents had flung it in their teeth that a certain place, to which at that meeting it was not necessary for him more particularly to allude, was paved with good intentions; he, however, came not there to dwell upon the enlargement of that pavement, but to propose a monument to good intentions. Lorp AsHtry had _ been Jefeated (groans), wickedly defeated by a mammon-loving Government; but his Lordship’s inten- tions remained the same: 4e would not only have gone the whole hog, but have compelled every man, woman, and child, to wear a Sunday inner garment of its bristles. (Cheers.) Mr. SLEEKLOCKs rose to move a resolution. For his own part, he wished to express to the noble, the heroic, but defeated lord, the pious admiration of his disciples in the most significant and touching material —of course he meant gold. The iniquitous Sunday letter-delivery had been stopped. A sinner under sentence of death had been reprieved ; but—the mail-bag remaining at the Post-Office—the evil-doer was, for ithe day, kept in ignorance of the mercy; and thereupon had his | thoughts directed as they ought to be; whereas, had the sinful post run upon that day, the malefactor would have been rejoicing. R. SLEEKLOCKS thought that a handsome gold ink-stand in the shape of a death’s-head should be presented to Lorp ASHLEY in commemoration of his triumph—a triumph to be renewed next session—(Cheers)—over the carnal authorities of St. Martin’s-le-Grand. Mr. PxHospHor thought a lucifer-box, delicately chased with the armorial bearings of his Lordship, would—to use the express words of the speaker—“ find an echo in the heart of every genuine Sabbatarian.” Here ensued a Jong and desultory conversation, which it is needless to report. We shall therefore omit all details, coming at once to the determination of the meeting, which was, namely— To erect, immediately opposite to the Post-Office, an obelisk to the memory of Lorp AsHLEy’s fleeting triumph, made of the very best and most enduring black sealing-wax. From a Very Old Friend. “Dear Puncu,—I say! old fellow,—you don’t a reg lar Poet’s Corner on your territories. However, | suppose you know the original one somewhere in Westminster; and, for your information, there is another just begun at the corner of Queen Square, Bloomsbury, not to commemorate dead poets, but to show the talents of real live ’uns. The following has been perpetrated within a few yards of me—on a black board and white letters :— “*There is no thoroughfare At the north end of this Square.’ “T am, dear Punch, Tue Queen Square Pump.” ar to have any “ Pray, stop this.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL

EXHIBITION OF 1851. N\@- Vi

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~~ vi 7 ~ . fF POAT \ nane | age, and though it is not exactly in the sense of precocity that this | when compared with the privilege of private viewing claimed, or at all term can be applied to them, we have no hesitation m saying that they | events exercised, by our young friends “the boys.” We have seen almost aed manage to take time by the forelock, and anticipate | half-a-hundred of a morning clinging to the boards of the enclosure, or the future—ix urbe as well as in rus. The state of Hyde Park affords the hoarding as it is termed, and, by the way, this specimen of hoarding a specimen of the yearning of youth to overleap the boundaries of | is so truly primitive, that the hoarding looks like saving indeed. We existing things, for P are constantly trying to climb over the wooden | cannot give an opinion as to how the workmen get on with their enclosure now standing on the spot where the Exhibition is to be held. | labours, while so many juvenile overseers are trying to see over the The boys aré anticipating 1851, by making a sight and show of what is | wooden wall, but we presume the newspapers will, each of them, secure passing in 1850, and the exposition of juvenile industry, by the urchins | one of these inquisitive brats in the character of “ Our Reporter,” for

| Pottock, C. B., charged the Jury ; said the woman’s guilt was clear ; DAMAGES, TWO HUNDRED POUNDS. That was not the point, however, which the Jury came to hear, ae oe —— | But the damage to determine which, as it should true appear, Srectat Jurymen of England! who admire your country’s laws, This most tender-hearted husband, who so used his lady dear,

And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm’s applause ; Gaily compliment each other at the issue of a cause Beat her, kicked her, caned her, cursed her, left her starving, year by year, Bc ‘ : . ' What the reasonable damage this afflicted man could claim, Unto that august tribunal comes a gentleman in grief, : | By the loss of the affections of this guilty graceless dame ? (Special was the British Jury, and the Judge, the Baron Chicf,) os < . . | Comes a British man and husband—asking of the law relief, | Then the honest British Twelve, to each other turning round, For his wife was stolen from him—he’d have vengeance on the thief. | Laid their clever heads together with a wisdom most profound : ‘ é arin And towards his Lordship looking, spoke the foreman wise and sound ; Yes, his wife, the blessed treasure with the which his life was crowned, | “‘ My Lord, we find for this here plaintiff damages two hundred pound.” Wickedly was ravished from him by a hypocrite profound. re F f , , And he comes before twelve Britons, men for sense and truth renowned, | $0, God bless the Special Jury! pride and joy of English ground, | To award him for his damage, twenty hundred sterling pound. And the happy land of England, where true justice does abound ! te British Jurymen and husbands ; let us hail this verdict proper ; He by counsel and attorney there at Guildford does appear, | If a British wife offends you, Britons, you’ve a right to whop her. Asking damage of the villain who seduced his lady dear : But I can’t help asking, though the lady’s guilt was all too clear, And though guilty the defendant, wasn’t the plaintiff rather queer ? | Though you promised to protect her, though you promised to defend her, You are welcome to neglect her: to the devil you may send her : You may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law renowned ; First the lady’s mother spoke, and said she ’d seen her daughter cry And if after this you lose her,—why you ’re paid two hundred pound. But a fortnight after marriage : early times for piping eye. ree ee Six months after, things were worse, and the piping eye was black, And this gallant British husband caned his wife upon the back. | THE BULL-FIGHTS IN PARIS. Three months after they were married, husband pushed her to the door, | Ir is said that Spanish Bull-fights are about to be introduced into

Told her to be off and leave him, for he wanted her no more ; | Paris from Spain, and the journals are talking of the project as one As she would not go, why 4e went : thrice he left his lady dear, | likely to be very attractive from its novelty. Bull-fights may be novel Left her, too, without a penny, for more than a quarter of a year. | enough on the other side of the water, but they are no novelty here —_———— tl a which may account for their being so unattractive, for Smithfield and og Se prong aan 9 lady’ ne pei ad hi ‘ve lit ce Biead. | its avenues, where our London Bull-fights take place twice a-week, are e SOSR Si PEE SS ACY © ROSS SES MaKe EE 2 to bleed ; | avoided by nearly all who are not compelled to resort to them. If the If he chanced to sit at home not a single word he said ; | Parisians really want to have a specimen of Bull-fighting, let some of

Once she saw him throw the cover of a dish at his lady’s head. | the French excursionists—whom we rejoice to see among us—take a | Saran GREEN, another witness, clear did to the Jury note How she saw this honest fellow seize his ay by the throat, | Paris is prepared to oe. We have occasionally found ourselves = cursed her and abused her, beating her into a fit, -, | obliged to take suddenly the part of a picadore with the point of our Till the pitying next-door neighbours crossed the wall and witnessed it. umbrella, and once or twice we have thought it prudent to resort to the | Next door to this injured Briton Mr. Owens, a butcher, dwelt ; | banderillos, by brandishing our pocket-handkerchief in a mischievous- | Mrs. Owers’s foolish heart towards this erring dame did melt ; | looking animal’s eyes, in order to divert his attention from some more | (Not that she had erred as yet, crime was not developed in her) | precious object. If Bull-fighting is to be turned into a public amuse- | But being left without a penny, Mrs. OweRs supplied her dinner— | ment, let it be done in the regular way by the conversion of Smithfield | God be merciful to Mrs. OweRs, who was merciful to this sinner ! | into an arena, but a state of things which compels a quiet passenger to | become every now and then a matadore malgré lui is rather disagreeable. Carotine Naytor was their servant, said they led a wretched life, Saw this most distinguished Briton fling a teacup at his wife ;

He went out to balls and a. and never once, in ten months’ space,; | Wuy are the “ Parliamentary Trains” so called ? Sate with his wife, or spo e her kindly. This was the defendant’s case.| From the extreme slowness with which everything moves upon them. walk some Monday morning to Smithfield market, and there they will | | witness quite enough to initiate them in the sport, which it is said |

Tuose petty nuisances, “the boys,” are always in advance of their| play. As to the privilege of private views, the whole thing is a farce: | pett) ys y I : _ - who try their hardest to get a peep at the proceedings, is now in full! no one else seems to have an opportunity of knowing what is going on. | Which was tried at Guildford ’sizes, this day week as ever was. Flung her from him, parted from her, wrung her neck, and boxed her ear,, |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 89

FLUNKEYISM IN EBONY. “NOW, BY ST. PAUL’S, THE WORK GOES BRAVELY ON.” | ERTAINLY it must be gratify- | Tue naves df St. Paul’s are happily exempted henceforth from the ing to the Savages’ Friend | truly “ knavish trick” of extracting two-pence from the pocket of the Society—if there is one—and | visitor; and we only hope that the Deans and Chapters of other to all the Philanthropophagi cathedrals will take a chapter out of the Dean of St. Paul’s Book, and Negro-Fanciers of Exe-| Westminster Abbey is still one of the show-shops of the Metropolis, Rv" st ter Hall, to learn that Euro-| and there are several cathedrals throughout the country which might an NW ean taste and refinement are | place over their portals the words—“ I ay here.” — . ( nel ye cae to be emulated on | At Canterbury, in particular, the old extortionate principle prevails CsA x \ the coast of Africa. The|of “making no charge, but leaving it to your generosity ; and if your iw ia AY United Service Journal thus | generosity is not quite up to the notion of her own value entertained by \ Ws A describes an exhibition of the the Adigai/ in attendance, you are treated with a description of your- \ F splendour of sable Royalty selves, in rather more forcible language than is employed in the very as displayed on board one of | brief allusions to the objects of interest in the cathedral. This mode Her Masesty’s ships cruis- | of converting those visitors who have not come down handsomely with ing in the river Cammaroon— | ® gratuity into a portion of the exhibition is very ingenious, if not “Kina Beut was the first to| together agreeable; and we think the authorities of the cathedral come on board, accompanied by | Would do well either to abolish all fees or fix the amount, so that the his favourite wife and twelve of his | visitors would not run the chance of being apostrophised as a “ beggarly yceag Bp po pc sb ge | set,” if they chanced to err on the side of economy. a petticoat instead of trousers; next | was the eldest son of old Aqua, wear- ing an English General's full-dress

coat and epaulettes, no breeches, ml nJ r TNT Wars fF SS) THE LION HUNTRESS OF BELGRAVIA. Tim Aqua, the y ‘ - Soother 3 he were the fall doves of Being Lavy Nimrop’s Journal of the past Season. a general officer, and was decently , : ° clad in a pair of white duck trou-| WHEN my husband’s father, Sir Jonn Nowrop, died, after sixteen Tear hat and on it. In letters vr, Years’ ill-health which ought to have killed a dozen ordinary baronets, gold, ‘Kia Aqua’”’ | and which I bore, for my part, with angelic patience, we came at length “My Stars and it sie i ers the oe fey ought, wm, rom, * have an some so long - Garters !” lamat Seemed efore (otherwise I am sure I would never have married Nrmrop, or y+ am gees _ sore pene of Se Denes sae vention Se gone through eighteen years of dullness and comparative poverty in alse voton of ths mal Tas tion opm tad “KEN |Scomaae fast hoses af bom hd abroad anda length mr 2 gore ¥. . “D3. Ls. |my maison In London. married NIMROD an artless an autilu / 7 Ion 4 A ° len af cohsqubsuatie tallinene wih Suni Gone. sal ae | ee ee eee So 7? 7 . 2 member the androgynous Groxce tHe Fourtu at Mapame Tussavp’s, | of the path of nostra vite as Dare ‘cays: boving uo peotensions to fit ia po ee ne pee Sey mee Sp ~~ eed ys Ly - | at all, a that a ~~ ee +: yrs irls. I _ B sal , & STISA seneral, tae | ices to m MROD : vi 0 PTAIN elder of the brothers Aqua evidently made a stride im civilisation ; and | te FLATHER pv feee sama Ba of bes time ré seenieety erty «3 he might have stridden in a costume more befitting the move-| attached to me: Mr. Prx. then tutor to the Ear. or NoopLesury ment, his resemblance to Brian O’Linw as to the lower extremities | hut now Lorp BISHOP or BULLOCKSMITHY ; and many more whom t was probably involuntary. _1t may seem strange that notions of ornament | need not name, and some of whom I dare say have never forgiven me so similar to those exhibited at an English Levee or Drawing-room | for jilting them, as they call it. But how could 1 do otherwise ? Mamma’s should co-exist with the puerility—not to — . pore fe the | means were small. Who could ae that a captain of dragoons at following incident. Divers presents, inclusive of a general officer’s Brighton, or a nobleman’s tutor and chaplain (who both of them adored uniform, having been made to the Royal brothers :— me certainly), would ever rise to their — eminent positions ? And “The Prince Roya proposed to divide the coat by cutting it down from the centre | I therefore sacrificed myself and my inclinations, as every well-nurtured of the back, and the King to have one epaulette, and himself the other.” | and highly principled girl will, and became Mrs. Nimrop—remaining The intelligence of his Royat Hicuness might be thought pro-| Mrs. Nimrop—plain Mrs. Nimrop as Mr. GRIMSTONE said— for portionate to his taste, if our own courtly wigs, and cocked hats, and eighteen years. What I suffered no one can tell. Nimrop has no gold lace, and shoulder-knots, did not indicate a feeling for decoration | Powers of conversation and I am all soul and genius. Nuimrop cares pretty much ona par with that evinced by these blackamoors. Are Ueither for poetry, nor for company, nor for science, and without geology, they not flunkies and brothers ? | without poesy, without society, life is a blank to me. Provided he |could snooze at home with the children, poor N. was (and is) happy. But ah! could their innocent and often foolish conversation suffice to a

. . ; woman of my powers? I was wretchedly deceived, it must be owned, ENGLISH GRATITUDE. in ~~ marriage, but what mene amon: —y not - or - tracasseries , . . and désillusionnements ? Had I any idea that the old Sir Joun Nrmgop oe Suet es Se, ted gg F peed oS eng hare clung to life sith Ce pameee tenscity, i might now J ns F Me : stig oagh ss) * the occupant of the Palace of Bullocksmithy (in place of poor the investigation of the question, and large sums of money in the! Mus Prx ty | . , - ; : : : ’ ; , sav reature), and not the mistress of my house accumulation of evidence. Mostly owing to his exertions, the new | cant af ow Bete pos | London or mon monde. He moves about my saloons without a word to “ “o ‘ : 2 ~~ | ‘for himself: he asked me whethe y rg enterprise. And yet we = our gratitude in the most liberal manner, | me bw “ «tb ny moana bs pos "o Bu oy oye hat il ek, a whenever a prince of the royal blocd is to be the happy recipient of | ¥UC"eT SIR SIDNEY 0 tet mantener | nape eg oc ngynp aie, otesp ie Weds ast bamedns #00000 o.cser 40.5 veune Deke of Contin |and drinks himself at the house-dinners of his clubs, being a member of whose only public claim is, that he is the son of his father; but we | oth SyooxeR’s and Toopie’s, and returns home after six weeks to his a 0k 2 ine give da & nen Ghee Gales or Renal seaman’ stupid Cumberland solitudes. Thus it will be seen that my lot in life the ame ground of - aieeneal oak tt ts - alte M . Was i |as a domestic character is not a happy one. Born to driller in society, had not been & member of the Reval Family : ae fem inetead of I had the honour of singing on the table at Brighton before the epicure receiving nothing for doing something, he would have come in for | Goonen ie oe * : 9 —_— = — Pag “hen use of something like £10,000 for doing nothing. For the future, when we | °U@28 Under such @ Dushe! as poor dear = : ee io are told of Government patronage of men of talent and energy, we shall very politely exclaim, “ Walker !”

* It was not before Georex Tux Fourtu, but before the Paurce ov Waxgs, that Lapy Nimaop, then Miss Beiuares, performed at the Pavilion.

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| to the dazzling sun, while the “ oe ” prefers the stupid darkness of the thicket. 90 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL some of us, gifted but unfortunate beings, whose lot is the world. We are like the Wanderer in my dear | they talk about the same mse friend Evcene Svr’s elegant novel, to whom Fate says, “ Marche, Marche :” for us pilgrims of society | If one dines with E., or F., or G., there is xo rest. The Beu.arrs have been a fated race: dearest Mamma dropped down in the tea-rooms|or H., one has the same dinner at at Almack’s and was carried home paralysed: I have heard that Papa (before our misfortunes, and when|each table; the very same soup, he lived at Castle Bellairs, and in Rutland Square) never dined alone for twenty-seven years and three! entrées, sweets and ices, interspersed | quarters, and rather than be without company he would sit and laugh and quaff with the horrid bailiffs! with the same conversation carried | who often arrested him. round in an under tone. If one goes to I. House or K. House, there is the same music—the same Marto and LasiacueE, the same LaBLACHE and Mario. As for friends in the world, we know what they are, stupid frumps and family connexions, who are angry if they are not invited to all one’s parties, who know and tell all one’s secrets, who spread all the bad stories about one that are true, or half-true, or untrue; I make a point, for my part, to have no friends. I mean, nobody who shall be on such a con- fidential footing as that he or she shall presume to know too much of my affairs, or that I shall myself be so fond of, that I should miss them, were they to be estranged or to die. One is not made, or one need not be made, to be uncomfortable in life: one need have no painful sensations about anybody. And that is why I admire and am fami- liar with remarkable people and persons of talent only; because, if they die, or go away, or bore me, I can get other people of talent or remarkable persons in their place. or instance, this year it is the Nepaulese Princes, and Mute. VANDERMEER, and the Hippopo- tamus, one is interested about; next | year it may be the Chinese Ambas- sadors, or the Pops, or the DukE or BorpEavx, or who knows who? iThis year it is the author of the Memoriam (and a most pleasing poet), or Mr. Cummine, the Lion Hunter of South Africa, or that dear | EEL EE ee = there will be somebody else, and | some oo. yoome or om . | works, w will come in; and o [ am a creature of the world then, I cannot help my nature. The Eagle (the crest of the Betxarrs) flies | were th — = 7 Soe a Ree and most providential and blessed | natural supply with every succeed- ing season. They call me the Lion Huntress. own that I love the society of the distinguished and the great. A mere cultivator of frivolous fashion, a mere toady of the great, I despise ; but genius, but poetry, but talent, but scientific reputation, but humour, but eccentricity above all, I adore. Ihave opened my Sa/lons| Anda I MSP now for several seasons. Everybody of note who has been in our metropolis I have received,—the great ; n¢ =! nowsit ca m y,at the en painters, the great poets and sculptors (dear, dear sculptures, I adore them!), the great musicians and | © a we -spent season, phe ba artists, the great statesmen of all the great countries; the great envoys, the great missionaries, the great | m emp*) apartments, and thinking Generals, the great every bodies have honoured the réunions of CLemENTINA Nimrop. I have had at the/| 0! the many interesting personages same dinner, the wise and famous Monsreur DocTRINairE (and was in hopes he would have come to me in| Who have passed through them, I the footman’s suit in which he escaped from Paris, but he only came with his Golden Fleece, his broad ribbon | cannot. but think how wise my of the Legion of Honour and eighteen orders), Si¢xor Bomparpt, the Roman tribune, GeneRaL Prince | course has been, and I look over Rupapvusstt, the Russian General, and dear TarBoosH Paswa, who was converted to Islamism after his | the lists of my lions with pleasure. heroic conduct in Hungary. I have had Monsteur Sansctwe, the eminent socialist refugee; Raspi| Poor Sir C—, in the same way, JeHosHAPHAT, from Jerusalem; the ARCHBISHOP OF MEALYPoTATOES, in partibus infidelium, and in purple | keeps a game-book I know, and stockings; Broruer Hiees, the Mormon Prophet; and my own dear Bisnor or Buniocxsmituy, who | puts down the hares and pene has one of the prettiest ankles and the softest hands in England, seated round my /ow/y board. I have had| which he has bagged in his stupid that darling Corone, Mitstone Ret, the decypherer of the Babylonish inscriptions; the eminent | excursions, and if that strange and Prorgssor Hépwinck, of Halle, author of those extraordinary “ Hore Antediluviane,” and “ The History delightful bearded hunter, Pay of the Three Hundred First Sovereigns of the Fourth Preadamite Period ;” and Proressor BLENKINHORN (who|CumMine (who was off for ere reads your hand-writing in that_ wonderful way, you know, for thirteen stamps) round one tea-table in one land just when I went to his charm- room in my house. 1 have had the hero of Acre, the hero of Long Acre, and a near relation of Greenacre | ing and terrible Exhibition, close at the same soirée,—and I am not ashamed to own, that when during his trial the late atrocious Mr.|by us at Knightsbridge, and with RaWHEAD, confiding in his acquittal, wrote to order a rump and dozen at the inn, I was so much deceived | an intimate Scotch matual as by the barefaced wretch’s protestations of innocence, that I sent him a little note, requesting the honour of | ance, who w ~ have pre ae his company at ‘an evening party at my house. He was found justly guilty of the murder of Mrs. Tripzs, | me, when I should have = vere was hanged, and of course, could not come to my party. But had he been innocent, what shame would/in my Wednesday-list anc Ly there have been in my receiving a man so certainly remarkable, and whose undoubted courage (had it) dinner-list one noble lion more), if been exerted in a better cause) might have led him to do great things? Yes, and if I take that villa at| Mx. Cummine, I say, keeps hts | Fulham next year, I hope to have a snug Sunday y from the Agapemone for a game at hockey; when |journal of spring-boks, and _ele- I hope that my dear BisHor or BuLLocKsMITHY will come. ; phants, and sea-cows, and_lions Indeed, what is there in life worth living for but the enjoyment of the society of men of talent and cele-|and monsters, why should not brity? Of the mere monde, you know, one person is just like another. Lapy A. and Lapy B. | CLemeNTINA NrmRop be permitted have their dnesses made by the same milliner, and talk to the same pattern. Lorp C.’s whiskers are|to recur to her little journals of exactly like Mr. D.’s, and their coats are thesame, and their plaited shirt-fronts are the same, and|the sporting season! i vimted by William Bradbury, of No.13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, hoth in the County of Middlesex, Printers, a¢ ust Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinet of Whitefriars, ip tne City ot Loado.:, and published by them at No. 35, FiestsStreet, im tae Parish of Sr, Bride’s,in the City of Londoa.—Satuan rt, Avoust 2ith,1-> - | PRELUDE; next year, of course, | t +. ohh Oa ee an > Oboe ® @it e“\'] wert =e =p

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91 THE LION HUNTRESS OF BELGRAVIA. Being Lavy Nrurop’s Journal of the past Season. ONTINUALLY have I been asked, What isalion? A lion| is a man or woman | one must have at | one’s parties — [ have no other an- swer but that. One | has a man at one’s | parties because one sees him at every- body else’s parties; I cannot tell you why. It isthe way | of the world, and | when one is of the world, one must do | as the world does. | Vulgar people, | and persons not of | the world, never- | theless, have their | little parties and | their little great | men (the foolish, absurd, creatures!) and have no doubt that at any little lawyer’s wife’s tea-table in Bloomsbury, or merchant’s heavy mahogany in Portland Place, our manners are ludicrously imitated, and that these people show off their lions, just as we do. I heard Mr. Grimstone the other “— telling of some people with whom he had been dining, a kind who are not in society, and of whom, of course, one has never heard. He said that their manners were not unlike ours, that they lived in a very comfortably furnished house: that they had exérées from the confectioner’s, and that kind of thing; and that they had their lions, the absurd creatures, in imitation of us. Some of these people have a great respect for the Peerage, and GrimsToNE says that at this house, which belongs to a relative of his, they never consider their grand dinners complete without oor Lorp Muppieneap to take the lady of the house to dinner. ORD MuppLEHEAD never speaks; but drinks unceasingly during dinner time, and is there, GrimsTonE says, that the host may have the pleasure of calling out in a loud voice and the hearing of his twenty guests, “Lorp MuppLeHEaD, may I have the honour of taking wine with your Lordship ?” : I am told there are several members of the aristocracy who let them- selves out to be dined, as it were, in this sad way ; and do not dislike the part of lion which they play in these inferior houses. ; ell then ?—what must we acknowledge ?—that persons not in society imitate us; and that everybody has his family circle and its little lion for the time being. With us it is NELson come home from | winning the battle of Aboukir; with others it is Tom Siru who has | ined the silver skulls at the rowing match. With us i+ is a Foreign | Tinister, or a Prince in exile who has just come from Cambridge, or Mr. and Mrs. Jones who have just been on a tour to Paris. PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL Poor creatures! do not let us be too | not conforming to our hard on them! People may not be in society—and yet, I dare say, them, indeed! Mr. “Tt is a great comfort, Lapy Nriwrop,” Grimstone said, “to be in society at last—and a great privilege. You know that my relations are low, that my father and mother are vulgar, and that until I came into the monde, I had no idea what decent manners were, and had never met a gentleman or a lady before ?” Poor young man! Considering his disadvantages, he really pro- nounces his h’s very decently; and I watched him all through dinner- time, and he behaved quite well. Lapy Buinxer says he is satirical: but he seems to me simple and quiet. Mr. GrimstonE is a lion now. His speech in Parliament made him talked about. Directly one is talked about, one is a lion. He isa radical; and his principles are, I believe, horrid. But one must have him to one’s parties, as he goes to Lapy TOLLINGTON’s. There is nothing which I dislike so much as the illiberality of some narrow-minded English people, who want to judge everything by their own standard of morals, and are squeamish with distinguished foreigners whose manners do not exactly correspond with their own. Have we any right to quarrel with a Turkish gentleman because he has three or four wives? With an officer of Austrian hussars, because, in the course of his painful duties, he has had to inflict personal punishment on one or two rebellious Italian or Hungarian ladies, and whip a few little boys ? Does anybody cut Dr. Hawrrey, at Eton, for correcting the boys ?>— my sons, 1’m sure, would be the better for a little more. When the Emperor’s aide-de-camp, Count Knovtorr, was in this country, was he not perfectly well received at Court and in the very first circles? It gives one a sort of thrill, and imparts a piquancy and flavour toa whole party when one has a lion in it, “ie tan hanged twenty-five Polish colonels, like Count Knovutorr; or shot a couple of hundred Carlist officers before breakfast, like GENERAL GaRrBaNnzos, than whom I never met a more mild, accomplished, and elegant man. I should rd he is a man of the most sensitive organisation, that he would shri from giving pain—he has the prettiest white hand I ever saw, except my dear Bishop’s; and, besides, in those countries an officer must do his duty. These extreme measures, of course, are not what one would like officers of one’s own country to do: but consider the difference of the education of foreigners !—and also, it must be remembered, that if or dear GENERAL Garpanzos did shoot the Carlists, those horrid arlists, if they had caught him, would certainly have shot Aim, In the same way about remarkable women who come among us—their standard of propriety, it must be remembered, is not ours, and it is not for us to judge them. When that delightful MapamMe ANDRIA came amongst us (whom GrimsTone calls PotyanpRIA, though her name is ALPHONSINE), who ever thought of refusing to receive her? Count AnpriA and her first husband, the Baron pe Frump, are the best friends imaginable ; and I have heard that the Baron was present at his wife’s second marriage, wished her new husband joy with all his heart, and danced with a Royal Princess at the wedding. It is well known that the Prince Gregory RaGamorrskI, who comes out of Prussian Poland—(where I hope Miss HuLKeER, of Lombard Street, leads a happ life, and finds a couronne fermée a consolation for a bad, odious pac se | an uncomfortable, hide-and-seek barn of a palace as it is called, and a hideous part of the country)—I say it is well known that RaGaMorrsKI was married before he came to England, and that he made a separation from his Princess @ ?amiable ; and came hither expressly for an heiress. Who minds these things? RAGAMOFFSKI was everywhere in London ; and there were Dukes at St. George’s to sign the register ; and at the breakfast, in Hyde Park Gardens, which old HuLker gave, without inviting me, by the way. Thence, I say, it ought to be clear to » with others it may be Master Tuomas | us that foreigners are to be — by their own ways and habits, and 1 people make against some of them for — ought to be put down! Cry out against TRIMSTONE says, that if the Emperor Nero, not ours—and that idle ery whic mean very well. I have found in steam-boats on the Rhine, and at ¢aé/es having slaughtered half Christendom the week before, could come to a@’hote on the Continent, very well informed Py able and well mannered, with whom one could converse very a. get from them much valuable information and assistance—and w ersons, really very agree-| England with plenty of money in his pocket, all London would welcome and | him, and he would be pressed at the very first houses to play the fiddle ho, | —and that if QueeN Catuertne or MeEpicis, though she had roasted nevertheless, were not in society at all. These people one does not, of | all the Huguenots in France, had come over afterwards to Mivart’s, on a course, recognise on returning to this country (unless they happen to visit to Queen Evizasern, the very best nobility in the country would | get into the world, as occasionally they do) : but it is surprising how like have come to put their names down in her visiting-book. us many of them are, and what good imitations of our manners | they give. For instance, this very Mr. Grrmstone—Lapy ToLiincton took him up, and, of course, if Lapy ToLtineton takes up a man he goes every where—four or five years ago in Germany I met him at Wies- aden; he gave me up | on a billiard-table, I think, and was very ; attentive. He was not then du monde and I lost sight of him: A GROAN FROM THE COUNTER. A TRADESMAN writes us a letter, in which he expresses the wish his bed-room, for the inn was full, and he slept ‘that all gentlemen and noblemen leaving town, would follow the noble d-natured, amusing, = example set by the Royal Italian Opera management, at the end of the or, season. He says he should like uncommonly to have seen from many though he bowed to me one night at the Opera, I thought it was best of his customers, aud he sends us their names, an advertisement set not to encourage him, and my glass would not look his way. when once received—difficulties of course vanished, and I was delighted to know him. “OQ Mr. Grimstone !” among us. How pleasant you must be, ain’t you? I see you were at Lapy Totiineton’s and Lapy Truspineton’s ; and of course you} ; “ Bo I will go everywhere: and will you come to my Wednesdays ? | But | forth in a style somewhat similar to the one published by the above | establishment, and he forwards us the sort of thing he means :— I said, “how charmed I am to see you| REVIOUS TO GOING ABROAD.—All Tradesmen having Claims on Lorp Levant, 302, Belgrave Square, for long out-standing accounts, are requested to send in their accounts immediately, and to call on Saturday next, at 2 o'clock for payment; as it is his Lordship’s intention to leave town on the following Monday, and t is quite uncertain when his Lordship will return. VOL, XIX.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVA ARI. A NEW CHARACTER. uR fat friend” at the Zoological | Gardens, is cer- tainly not beau- tiful. He may . He is grotesque. He is certainly rare. He is as cer- tainly, stout. = appears good- humoured.. He swims with sin- cular facility. He has an excel- lent appetite. But he certainly | is zot beautiful. We are, ther2- fore, the more} surprised to see him figure as a work of art, in silver, in a shop in the Strand. What his effigy is meant for — whether as an or- | nament for the dinner-table, or a toy for the boudoir—we have no con-| ception. We are aware he has already figured as the head of a breast- in. A young friend (in the Guards) came to us the other day, w ith | is coat mysteriously buttoned. “What do think I have got ?” pleasure. We avowed our ignorance. “ Look opening his coat, and displaying the novel bijou. “A hippopotamus breast-pin ! Isn’t it stunning?” And he had/ The infatuated young man (who has £200 a-year besides his pay, and spends £800 to our knowledge), had gone to a great expense to have modelled for him | a correct likeness in little of this singularly ugly animal, and was| wearing it, with the pride of a discoverer, in his cravat. 'P Of all characters in the world that can be assumed by the india-| rubber-coloured mammal, which is now attracting the public to the| Zoological Gardens, we can conceive none that he has less pretensions to | figure in than as a work of art. If ladies wear him in their hearts, infatuated guardsmen may carry him in their bosoms. But as an independent statuette we must protest against him. No doubt the modeller may plead the horse on which the DukE oF WELLINGTON is | mounted on Grosvenor Gate. We admit that is ugly; perhaps as ugly as the Hippopotamus ; but one error in taste cannot be pleaded as an| excuse for another; and the abundance of ugly statuettes of horses in the Metropolis is no justification of a novel ugliness in sculpture in the shape of the Hippopotamus. Much as we respect that animal in his pen, or in his bath, we cannot admit him as an inmate of the afedier, or an intruder into the sadon. | | i | “Knocking up done here at 2d. a-wee We are told by our agreeable friend “Household Words,” that a new kind of business exists at Manchester, called “knocking up.” This consists in “ knocking up” factory people at an early hour in the morn-| ing, in order that they may be m time for their work. One woman | earns as much as four-and- twenty shillings a-week by “knocking up” persons,—which since a lady i is concerned, 1s much better than knocking them down. Couldn’t this “knocking up” busiuess be applied to Par- | liament? It would be quite a relief to Mz. Brotuerton. Instead of his rising always to adjourn the House, and getting laughed at for his pains, some old woman, “for 2d. a-week,” might, punctually as the clock struck twelve, knock at the door of the House of Commons, and cry out, “ Come, get up;” and the House accordingly would rise, and | go about its business. At all ever nts, the plan would be so far good, | that it would have the effect of waking up the members, for it must be confessed that occasionally—as, for instance, this last session—the House is excessively sleepy, and ‘sadly wants stirring up. One thing is very certain,—that if the House is ever “ knocked up,” it will never be | from the quantity of work it has done. THE HIPPOPOTAMUS IN ‘id | nl | > he asked, in a voice tremulous wun| here !” he exclaimed, | THE QUEEN AT OSTEND. Tue reception of the Queen at Ostend is described as dull. We might have expected the people of Ostend to have been a little more | Ostend-tatious in their demonstrations. tyranny of his sain tly goodness ; | Show ? THE PUFFING SYSTEM AT ST. PAUL’S. Ir would seem, from a letter in the Zimes, that the taking off of the | twopenny poll-tax in St. Paul’s Cathedral is a piece of news * too good to be true,” and that the old principle of “ Walk up, you_are now in time, only twopence,” is still practically in force at the door of the sacred edifice. The ‘ne of the Zimes asserts, that having been attracted by the report of the abolition of the charge, he went to St. Paul’s, and found the doors beset by persons claiming free i ingress, and being met by the old demand of twopence from the doorkeepers. If this is really the cause, it is positively disgraceful that a false rumour should be put into circulation, which would naturally have the effect of causing an unusual attraction, and securing an additional influx of the “ filthy luere” from those who having come all the way to St. Paul’s, would rather pay the twopence than go all the way ‘home again for nothing. If the — nny charge is still in force, let it be well under- stood, so that the unholy harvest may not be augmented by an unworthy artifice. THE POST-OFFICE PET. THe Marquess or CLANRICARDE is one of the best-natured of men. To be sure, it is difficult to withstand the instrumentality of a bishop ; and the more especially, so oleaginous a pastor as the Bishop of Oxford. Great, indeed, is his secretion of the oil of gladness; an oil with which he has softened the al lready soft heart of the Postmaster-General. One Z. W. Davis, illuminating 25, Princes Street, Mile End, writes thus joyfully to the rejoicing Morning Herald :-— “ Srr,—Yon will be _ to hear, that through the kind instrumentality of the Lord | Bishop of Oxford, R. G. How ert, the letter-carrier, who was dismissed from the General Post-Office in No vember last, for distributing hand-bills against Sunday labour therein, has been re-appointed to a situatic m in that branch of the public service by the Postmaster-General, the Marquess or CLANRICARDE. Very kind, very forgiving, this, of the Marquess; the more so, inas- much as the discontent and conspiracy of the tribe of HowLerts were mainly instrumental to the manufacture of the petitions with which Lorp Asutry, armed in the innocence of sheep parchment, attacked the Sabbath-breakers in the House of Commons. ft i is notorious, that the treasonous practices of the country Post-Office servants were of | fatal influence against the idleness and indifference of the mass of the seople; idle and indifferent, because the Sunday closing of the country ost was considered no other than an unmeaning rant of a party, who think they ’re pious when they ’re only bilious.” Every ten years at most, some phosphoric prophet foretells the end of the world, giving the day and the hour: neverthe less, folks do not go into sackcloth, and oowder their heads with ashes: and tradesmen are no whit less indif- ferent to the tender of a bad shillmg. And thus it was with the bray of the Sabbatarians. The world received it as only an evidence of length of ears, taking no heed of its menaced heels. And the Denby-day came, and—in the House of Commons—the bray became a note of triumph. But all is to be forgiven and forgotten. The hundreds of people who have suffered the piety of Lorp Asutey; the sick, with the survivors of the dead; the anxious and the harassed, all pardon his Lordship the for which no doubt his Lordship, in i the bigness of his heart, is very properly penitent, and abundantly grate- ful. Astzey shall be forgiven, and Howxert restored. “c | | Nevertheless, the Marquess OF CLANRICARDE, by his re-appoint- | ment of the treasonous How ett, has taken a large trump card from |the hands of the Sabbatarians. It was the misfortune of Punch to | censure How ett into the receipt of £50, indignantly laid down for him by some well-meaning soul, shocked and outraged by the harmless lenity that Pune. h—according to his wont—poured upon the head of the discharged postman. Howzerr, blistered by Punch’s ink, was salved and comforted by a sanative bit "of bank paper. But Punch required further and better treatment of How1etr; when, lo! the merciful, kind-hearted Marquess steps in—or is rather pulled into the rescue by a Bishop—and Howter11, the martyr, dition. Is there no abiding reward in this world for the lowly champion of truth? We had hoped tosee How1ett maintained in Sabbatarian clover, the pet example of Post-Olfice piety. “ For he on honey-dew has fed, And drank the milk of Paradise.” This should have been the amended condition of the vietim ex- ostman, had the Postmaster-General been less yieldimg to a bishop. How LETT would have been the stall-fed martyr of Exeter Hall. And, as in Catholic countries, certain relics are on certain days exhibited to the populace; so, on certain sal herings, would our FE ruddier tint upon his cheek, a sleeker texture of skin, and a growing dignity of abdomen, been prese de -d to the e reed of the Hall, as as a lovely and flourishing example of well-rewarded piety, carefully taken in and abundantly done for by Lorp Asuiry aud his pw ey ms followers. Vauxhall has its Flower-Show; is restored to his original con- | OWLETT, with a | why uot Exeter Hall its Martyr- | =e.

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| | PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. delightf 93 | Even with Howzerr restored to the Post-Office, he is a daily, hourly example to his fellow-labourers of the impunity that may attend official treason and revolt: but with Howtett, kept at Sabbatarian expense—Howzertr, grown sleek as a bishop’s beaver—he would have been a twofold example of the prosperity of the conscientious lek, and the generosity of the Sabbatarian rich. Howxert, fat, and thriving, would have afforded a pom to the pious text of our ASHLEY preaching. Again, the Bishop of Oxford, in his all unworldly way, has missed a chance. Why did not he comfort and harbour Howxietrr? Could he not have clothed him in episcopal purple, and suspended him at the back of his coach, showing a stiffnecked generation what glory was vouchsafed a Post-Office martyr, whom a bishop delighted to honour. This OxrorD might have done; and this, with his characteristic meekness, he has foregone and missed. We must, therefore, be content to leave How ert at the Post-Office. We trust, however, that he will have an extra bit of gold lace to mark his worth and past suffering. Possibly the Marquess or CLANRICARDE has already provided for this, saymg with Bassanio when he engages Lancelot Gobbo, “ Give him alivery More guarded than his fellows: see it done.” (Exit How 1et1, txto Post-Offce. THE FROWN. AND TO SEA-SIDE LODGERS.—IMPORTANT. Tam a sofa—a mahogany and horse-hair sofa—at a watering- As a sofa, I expect to be put upon ; Mr. Puncn, Mine is a hard case. ney on the coast of Kent, for I won’t be too particular. ut even sofas may have more than they can or ought to bear. I come of honest mahogany, and the first horse-hair. My mahogany, in its green state, grew in Honduras, where (as I heard a party sg one of your songs last Christmas, four of ’em sitting on me at the same time)—where, Mr. Punch— “ Oft in my boughs birds of rare plume Sang in my bloom ;” and for my horse-hair, that is from the manes and tails of more than one racer, who, although long since gone to the dogs himself, has still left silver-cups to posterity. And this much, Mr. Punch, for my respectability. Now comes my grievance, which I make known to you as a warning to every body—specially unprotected females—coming to the sea-side. Mas. Fincercappy, of Seagull Cottage, lets, what she calls, furnished lodgings. Last week our parlours were to go out on Wednesday morning ; and two elderly maiden ladies to | come with their trunks at night. No sooner had the first lodgers left than I—the mahogany and horse-hair—was bundled out of the parlour into the kitchen ; where at about seven at night I heard the following talk between the new lodgers just come and my mistress above. “Gracious goodness, Mrs. Fincercappy, where’s the sofa?” “What sofa, ma’am?” says Mrs. F., soft and innocent as milk. “Why,-that mahogany and horse-hair sofa,” says the other lady, her voice rising, “ that stood there—yes, in that place, there.” “Oh, that sofa,” said Mrs. F., and I trembled with shame when I heard her, “That sofa, ladies, was only hired.” ¥ Hired !” screeched the two ladies. “ Hired and gone home ; but for only half-a-crown a week, you can have it here and weleome. Half-a-crown a week.” But, 1’m glad to say it, the ladies saw the cheat ; and wouldn’t pay—and not paying, I remain still in the kitchen. pieces ;\ take out my horse-hair, and spin it into tackle to caten fishes—turn it into springes to catch woodcocks; but, so far as you can help me, don’t let me be made a trap and a line to ; Yours, A Sora. The Kitchen. “ NO SUCH LUCK.” | (As Sung with great Applause at the St. Paul's | Dean and Chapter Concerts.) | | } ; Some one wrote we ’d our twopence abolished— And, Lord, what a crowd o’ folks came, As thinkimgvour north door demolished, With its showman and twopenny claim— | But, bless you, they found out their blunder ; | That day we ’d a capital haul, '' Twenty pounds, Sir, and not a rap under, | We took at the Church of St. Paul— Tol—de—rol ! | They ’d a notion we’d had some misgivings, | ‘That at last we'd agreed it was low, ; With our‘thousands and lots of rich livings To be keeping a twopenny show ; | But, bless you—it’s very well talkme, But a brown is a brown the world’over— Wergers’ pay why should we out be forking, When the twopences keep ’emin clover ? Tol—de—rol ! So, ladies and gentlemen, walk up— As usual, pay at the deor— Let objectors at once give their talk up, We’|l astonish the browns as before ; We'll still take our stand on our copper— First-rate is our show, as you "ll see— And like other first-rates it’s quite proper, That it:copper-bottomed should be. Tol—de—rol ! MY STARS AND GARTERS! Tue Star and Garter, at Richmond, has lately given rise to a scene of a very singular character. The waiters have grown sentimental over their chief, and have been giving a piece of plate to him at the Dysart Arms, Petersham. Several speeches were made, in which “old associations ” were feelingly alluded to, ard the head waiter’s health having been drunk, the air of “ Those Evening Bells” was played, as being appro- sriate to the immense number of bells which may |be heard, all ringing at once, in the hall of the | Star and Garter on a summer Sunday’s evening. The head waiter, in returning thanks, so affected |his fellow-waiters, that they were compelled to | absorb their tears in their napkins. The piece of plate was a salver with an inscrip- | tion, in which the head waiter was salved over | with compliments to an immense extent, and there was inscribed in the centre, as a motto, |the words “Coming, coming,” in allusion to ' which the recipient was frequently spoken of as | “the Coming Man.” the speeches that were spoken on the occasion but im the course of the evening a great deal was said on the subject of the virtues of the | head waiter, who, it was stated, had been known |to hand five hundred breads in forty minutes, | wipe three hundred glasses in half an hour, pour ;out eighty glasses of champagne, and exclaim, “Coming directly, Sir,” to eighty applicants at | once, without going near one, or giving offence | to any. Tre Most Destraste SetrLEMENT ¥oR Eut- GRrants.—The Pecuniary Settlement. Mr. Punch, \et me be broken up and ripped to catch the unsuspecting lodgers at Seagull Cottage. We regret: it is not in our power to give any of |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

MR. BRIGGS STARTS ON HIS FISHING EXCURSION.

uy ANY | THE QUEEN AT SEA. WE could not have a more appro- priate Sovereign for the British Isles than her present Masgsty, who is erfectly at home at sea, and who urnishes an excellent representative of Britannia, of wave-ruling cele- brity. Among the luggage put on board the royal yacht for the con- templated cruise to Ostend, were a cow and a piano; a couple of articles showing that the QUEEN apprehended nothing from the roughness of the weather, to disturb her ordinary ar- rangements, but that she would be able to enjoy her tea and music as usual. The wind being somewhat boisterous, it might have been feared that the piano would have been raised a good deal higher than con- cert pitch by the pitching of the rama As to the cow, its notions of a toss up would have been a little ex- tended by the freaks of Neptune, but there would be no immediate danger to the animal, unless any unskilful hand on board should have got to the piano, and struck up the tune the cow clied of, in an unguarded moment.

fi Wh

a = s&h, Sc ez > —<—_- = Sa 7 fife. Fd Mr. B. won’t HAVE A MAN WITH HIM, AS HE THINKS HE CAN MANAGE A PUNT BY HIMSELF; AND THE CONSEQUENCE IS, HE IS OBLIGED TO GO TO BED WHILE HIS THINGS ARE DRIED, HAVING UPSET HIMSELF, AS A MATTER OF COURSE.

THE IMPERIAL BAGMAN.

Ir strikes us that the “ President’s Tour” is very much in the style of a commercial traveller, travelling about the country, visiting the different towns, for imperial orders. Whether | Louis Napoteon will return with the crown and sceptre, which he has started (according to that popular informant, Rumour, who is the Edi- tor of the poor man’s Moniteur,) with the object of bringing back with him, appears very doubtful. The returns which the Maison Napol-on et Cie have received at Paris from Besancon, and the different parts of | Alsatia, are: “ Very flat— nothing satia, ry z doing. LORD TORRINGTON’S ARMS. Tue Whigs are about to grant new honours to the governor of Cey- lon. In memory of his administra- tion of that island he is henceforth to quarter a Shot Buddhist Priest, and a Taxed Dog Proper. Motto— “Cpyion les régles.”

Railway Intelligence. Mr. Punch is authorised to contradict, in his strongest manner, a| malicious report that Lorp BroveHam had been engaged to work ai//| Victoria. the trains, up and down, on the Eastern Railway, vice discharged. the late hands, | Kine Leoroxp.

A Return in Kind. WE have often chronicled the visits of Kine Leorotp to QuEEN At last Queen Victorta has pai Let us hope that Flemish ae cay unlike Flemish | book-publishing, may produce something better t her return visit to a contrefacon Belge.

SIHL,, SNOH H r Ss VT OW aa

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nothin cornel | you le | cares, | yourse | have victor egs. | leathe You | ago— in Lor | for yo p i=] 7 Q a paul not he | hunt | | he is ¢ | The 1 | creatu Engla

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PUNCH, OR ‘THE LONDON CHARIVARL 97 CONSTANTINOPLE REMOVED TO REGENT STREET. Y at least two miles less of water in it, Constan- tinople differs from all other Panoramas. We have been overrun with so many rivers lately, that it is quite a relief, after having had nothing but cataracts in our eye, to see the land again. The cockney, who has been eight hours on board a steamer, could not behold Margate jetty with greater delight, than we hailed the minarets of Constantinople, after being tossed about for months and months on the broad waters. of the Nile and the Mississippi. We have been in the water so long—swimming and floating over half the globe—that a little walking has done us an immensity of good ; It must be confessed that the walking is very different to a stroll u Regent Street, or a lounge in the Park. The walk is invested with a the interest which the first walk in a new ener affords a stranger. Two eyes are scarcely sufficient to notice all the strange sights that meet you at the corner of every street; and one mouth is at a loss to find exclamations—much less words—to express the wonder upon wonder that fills you at the discovery of each new beauty. There is nothing so delightful as this kind of walking. You choose some dark corner of the room, and there unseen by everyone, and seeing no one you leave England, and all thoughts of duns and debtors and househol cares, far behind you. The next minute you open your eyes, and fin yourself wandering about in the streets of some foreign capital, You ave no necessity to leave your seat; only give yourself up to the ictorial influence of the scene, and let your eyes walk instead of your less It is more amusing, less fatiguing, and does not wear out shoe- eather. You are in the Polytechnic Institution—at least you were a minute ago—for now you are in the Cemetery of Eyoub—unlike the cemeteries in London, for it is outside the town ; but then you must not be surprised, for you should recollect that we, English, are the most civilised nation in the world, and that Turkey is only as yet in a half barbarous state. This leads you into the Street of Tombs. Make haste, bend yourself double, for that fine gentleman on the white horse like Zimour the Tartar is the Sultan, and, if you fail to give the passing salaam, a gentleman may come behind you and whisk your head off as cleanly as | if he were playing at knock-’em-downs, and your head was the wooden pincushion. The Sultan is followed by a long escort of dogs, who are fighting away, “like regular Turks.” ‘These animals lead a perfect cat- and-dog-life, for they are always quarrelling, and if an unhappy dog becomes a pauper and is thrown on the parish, it is unfortunate for him if it does not happen to be his own parish, for all the other dogs set upon him and hunt him to death. In this way is he passed from parish to parish, so that he is a very lucky dog, if he reaches tis own parish with a whole skin. The traveller should not snarl, like a cynic, over these misguided creatures, for he should recollect that but a short time ago paupers in England were treated very little better than dogs. That building opposite, which reminds you of the Clifton Baths at Gravesend, is a mosque. You need not wait to look at it, for you will see plenty more in your day’s ramble—Constantinople is full of such mosques, They are somewhat like the Pavilion at Brighton, only highly gilt. They have beautiful domes, to which the domes we see in Park Terrace, Regent’s Park, are mere thimbles. No stranger is admitted into them, not even upon payment of money, which is rather astonish- ing, for considering the late Sultan introduced into Turkey many European usages, we wonder that he overlooked the admirable two- penny-halfpenny systems of St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey, which rank, with justice, amongst the highest proofs of our superior civilisation. The next object, you are told, is the Golden Horn, only it is as much | like a horn as Battersea is like a Sea of Batter. Fountains, which, we | are reluctantly compelled to confess, s s in elegance our py | invite you to drink in every direction, a from the fountain we are led by a natural spring to the Bath. These Baths are very different to our Baths and Washhouses, and seem to be much funnier. The figures are very amusing, and we regret there are no Turkish baths in London, for we have long disbelieved in the Mahommedan origin of MaHomMeD, ever since he last answered us in an unmistakeable Irish accent. The regulations of these baths seem to be on the dinner principle, of three courses and a dessert, the latter consisting of a cup of coffee and a pipe. In appearance, the establish- ments look like immense Dyers’ and Cklendneens , and we noticed a big fat Alderman of a Turk, who, in the first course, was of a dark chocolate colour, come out at last an elegant rosy-pink complexion, not unlike a prawn. These dyeing baths would 4 knees, to be bought, w d eels not at all disliking of lugu value to many of visiting London and not going to see the Exeter Change Arcade. The idea that there is any similarity between the two will be dispelled after one moment’s stay, for in a Turkish bazaar there is activity, and lif and business, and shops not only with goods but with customers, an no Beadle to parade quickly up and down, as a make-believe that the | place is an immense thoroughfare. - A Turkish Bazaar, again, is different to the Soho Bazaar, or the | Pantheon, for the stalls are served by huge men, who look so big that you cannot help believing they have been stall-fed. There are no pretty | girls, with pretty caps, in them, to tempt you to buy useless things you do not want. It is also different to the Tecthes Bazaar, and the Marine | Bazaars you meet at watering-places, for it has no raffles, or comic songs sung in character, nor even a wheel of fortune. It struck us as being more like the Lowther Arcade than anything else—for all the goods ‘are thrown out of window, and run all over the pavement, giving you | the notion that they had been shot out of a cart, like eoals, preparatory |to being stowed away in a cellar. There is this difference, however, that the shopkeepers of the Lowther Arcade do not sit, like tailors on their boards, in the midst of their goods; for as most of the Lowther | works of art consist of tea-cups, and tumblers, and Bohemian glasses |from Birmingham, this Turkish method of keeping a shop would be | attended with no little danger. The time is wearing on, and we have not half finished our walk. | There is the Grand Mosque of St. Sophia, which reminds us once more |most painfully of the barbarism of the Turks, for it has not a single pew, and, greater blessing still! not a singlepew opener. We have not yet visited the Slave-market, where, we are told, the slaves are so fond of being sold, that they actually pray, and ery, and go down upon their ch reminds us of the equally probable story of the the process they undergo previous to being cooked —nor have we been into a colfee-house, and smoked a chibouk,—nor penetrated into the interior of any of the mosques,—but, as you are not allowed to enter without taking off your boots, it may be as well to remain outside, for, upon our asking for a boot-jack, we were told there was not one upon the premises, There are a the Burnt Colum which has been the hero that has stood a hundred fires, and never flinche once,—and the Hippodrome—and the Sublime Porte, which is more the colour of Sherry, or Bucellas, than the sublime liquid it has drawn its name from—and the beautiful view of Constantinople from the Bos- horus, with its thousand minarets, which look like a forest of Morpay’s ever-pointed pencils, or more like many silver cases of caustic, —the black points exactly resembling the protruding bits of that very jlunar compound. We have all these to see, besides the Seraglio—the | veil of which is lifted, and its mysteries shown to the inquisitive eye of every harem-scarem youth. Our time is precious—so must we bring our promenade to an abrupt termination—and take leave of Mr. Attom, after thanking him for having guided us so agreeably through the parlours, and shops, and palaces, and cellars, and secret cupboards of Constantinople. He has shown us what no other Panorama has done before him—he has thrown open the doors of a whole city, and allowed us to peep inside. The Panorama of Constantinople has one great oe not only visit Turkey, but you also see the Turks at ome. Axspert Suirn, in his “ Zo Months at Constantinople,’ gives us the list of all his expenses, down to a lucifer match, which are not only very useful, but highly amusing. Suppose that we, in our “ Zo Hours at Constantinople,” follow the same useful plan, for the benefit of future —_ to the Polyorama. s. da, Expenses to Constantinople ° o 34 | Cab there and back (say two miles) - 20 Bath Bun at adjoining pastry-cook’s . : s ° . - 02 Letter to apprize family of our safe return, and that we should | be home to dinner . é ° ° . . . ° ‘| Catalogue , ‘ - O06 Total of Journey to Constantinople - 3 9 Leaving, over the sum which Arsert Sarrn spent in the same journey, |a balance in our favour of £59 16s. 3d. In Medio (Non) Tutissimus. | Tne Correspondent of a morning paper, describing the street prepa- | rations prepared for the QurEEN’s reception at Ostend, speaks of “the | Prussian Eagle that seems trying to fly both ways at once;” a happy emblem, surely, for a kingdom that dare not be despotic, and can’t S |liberal ; that halts in a half-and-half flight from the absolutism of a | Prussian Court, to the anarchy of a Frankfort Assembly. THE GENTLEMEN OF LYONS. |the Emperor, and spelen the City of Lyons to love him. He did Louis Napo.eon, on his recent visit to Lyons, recalled the words of our young men, who, from a long curriculum of study at the Casino and | best to clothe himself in the second-hand habits of his illustrious uncle, Vauxhall, have lost all their colour. |and Louis. Naroteon in Lyons must have reminded many of the fable A visit to Constantinople. without going to a Bazaar would be like | of the ignobler animal in the Lion’s skin.

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PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLE MONEY NO OBJECT. | BEGINNING AT THE_PROPER END. As all the business of Parliament seems to EALLY we never recollect be transacted in the last month of its sittings ; | reading a matrimonial ad- | as all the previous part of the Session is taken vertisement—(and we al-|up in talking, and party-fighting; as it is ways read matrimonial | very clear that five months out of its time are | advertisements in the wasted, in no kind of benefit to the nation ; same way that we always would it not be better for Parliament to dis- read the second column of | pense, for the future, with those five months, the first page of the Zimes, and to assemble in that month during which and Lorp Brovcuam’s the business is really transacted? We are and SrstHoRr’s speeches, | Sure if the Houses of Parliament were to be and F. M. the Duke or| opened on the Ist of July, or the Ist of | WELLINGTON’s _ letters, | August, instead of in February, that a great because they are sure to deal of time and worry would be spared to all contain something to a- parties, and that the affairs of the nation, muse us)—without some | instead of being retarded, would be mate- such line as the follow- | Trially advanced ‘by this wise alteration. It ing :— would look like beginning at the wrong end, : but we are confident that the wrong end, in FE geo ngyl pgm gether: this instance, would prove the right one; so Compaxioy.”.———S—~S—*~S—~CS~SC~« ch 00, that, even Lon JouN RUssELL, | with his interminable notions of Finality, What volumes the above | could not possibly object to it. line says for the disinte- saa esate matda tte a - restedness of the present day! and what a proud NEAT AND APPROPRIATE. refutation it is to that! ‘Tyry presented Jenny Linp with a tea- grumbling herd of sceptics | ,ettle at iverpool,—probably from the well- who are always railing | (nown proficiency of that utensil in singing. against the cupidity of | es man, and the universal : influence of Mammon!| VULGAR AMENDMENT OF AN OLD PROVERB. Besides we always smile} “In Vino Venttasie-Ass” — Because, | with inward satisfaction, when we find that matrimony is still an affection of the heart and not of | when a man is drunk, he is sure to make an the pocket; and that after all, woman herself is the great object, and not her fortune. | ass of himself. THE PIMLICO ’BUSSES. | HOW DO YOU LIKE IT? Wuen we were at school, we used in our themes to select Fastus | as our great standing example of delay, but if we now required a stand- ing example of delay, we pole select a Pimlico ’Bus as our staple commodity. The manner in which these vehicles “drag their slow length along” is something quite wxigue in its way, and we frequently make the mental observation, that as speech is often used to conceal thought, soa Pimlico ’bus is resorted to in order to retard a journey. We have heard arithmeticians talk of a fixed quantity, but we never saw the idea so thoroughly carried out as we did the other day, when we noticed a quantity of passengers fixed at Hyde Park Corner in a Pimlico omnibus. SHAKSPEARE talks about somebody having been “fixed as great Atlas’ self,’ but we must say for the Atlas omnibuses, that we never saw one of them “ fixed” for any considerable time; and if the Bard of Avon had said, “fixed as great Royal Blue’s self,’ he would have approached much nearer to our modern notions of fixture. | knew better. Like the man who stole the wood for his besom handles It is true that the public has its remedy—as well as its threepences— | ‘ prog tg ey Beton ‘ed - > gee | in its own hand, and it would do well to discourage the stagnant omni- | #84 the broom for the besoms, he carried on a roaring trade and under- A S , |sold the Britisher who had to pay for his materials. Meanwhile, an buses by declining to ride in them. We can only say, that - - ‘Tals a . ores | American copy-right was respected in Great Britain. Wasnineton ITERARY JONATHAN made a pi- ratical war on Literary Joun Buit. An English book was an American book—in all but the rofit it brought in to its author. New York and Boston boasted of their civilisation, as measured by the enormous sale of popular English books in the aShited States. From the St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico, the Union was a-blaze with the British new- lights of literature, only Jona- THAN never paid for his candles. International copy-right was occasionally talked of ; but JonaTHAN lagectny te Speman pooh pga pty | IxviNG received his well-earned £10,000 from Mr. Murray. Mr. We'd take out a summons, and ery, “ So, so, | MELVILLE yometee the (equally well-earned) price of his Zypee and You're pulled up, Jarvey !” Onoo and White Jacket. So Mr. Coorer made his honest market with It seems that the officers of the Blues—that is to say, the conductors | Mr. BENTLEY, and touched the proceeds, but mous avons changé —are not remarkable for knowing how to conduct themselves, however | bout cela! a ae , : expert they may be in conducting their vehicles. It is a pity there is The recent decision of the Chief Baron has decided, that a foreigner can no academy for a cad in want of a stock of good manners. It is true | have no copyright in England ; and as Americans are foreigners, English we cannot expect much civility to be thrown into the bargain, when the | Copyrights in American works are ~ for nothing,—and Messrs. fare is only nempenee. but we had rather ride a shorter distance for | MRRay, Bentey, and others, who have published American works, our money than go further and fare worse at the hands, or rather at the | 4° open to the pirates of this side the water. tongue, of the conductor. | How will the Wasuineton Irvines, the Prescorts, the CoorErs, . |the Mrtvittes of America like this? Will they agitate for an Inter- national Copyright, now that their brains are exposed to the same gratis Fairy Land. picking, as our poor English ones have been so long subjected to ? Many persons have a curious notion of Fairy Land. For instance, : ae the bills of the Terrace Gardens at Gravesend tell us that “the | magnificent hall is illuminated by 10,000 brilliant lamps, presenting such The French Republican Caws. a magnificent coup dail, as to remind one instinctively of Fairy Land.” | We are sorry to contradict a play-bill, but on the faith of the above; A snort time ago an enormous number of crows alighted on the trees announcement we were allured to the Terrace Gardens, and must say | of the Tuileries and on the roof of the Palace, when it was foun¢ that we were anything but reminded of the beautiful country alluded to, | necessary to call out some of the chasseurs of Vincennes, who killed for the very first person we met was Mr. Tom Martruews, the celebrated | about five hundred of the feathered visitors. We do not exactly see | clown, who is, we believe, a very deserving personage, but scarcely the | what harm these birds could have done, but perhaps the inhabitants | kind of ethereal creature you would expect to meet in Fairy Land! | of the Tuileries objected to being crowed over. 4 x Hon of tl It the men hard cian blow mee “q Inst! PEDE Wic dese out 1 of 1 Bue can redu thou that anin tine! back slab the who of C dow whil let }

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bea- | ell- r g. ' Ise, an pi- HN the or. | of ted 1ce ion we TA- les r- is ___ PUNCH, OR TIE LONDON CHARIVARL. 99 THE CAMBRIDGE MONUMENT. HoUGH almost everybody is out of town, it is still a comfort to know that London banking-houses are still open, with clerks to match at their desks. It is further de- lightful to contemplate the fact, as given in an authorised paragraph crawling the rounds, that the London bankers “are evincing a deep interest” in the visionary Cambridge Monument. _ With the present tremendous glut of gold; London bankers are doubtless ready .to take an interest in anything. The monument could not have been chatted.about at a better time. And, as we have said, Metropolitan banking-houses continue open, willing victims may still forward cheques from Homburg or the heather. A great and abiding comfort, to be assured of this. It would seem, however, that a certain faintness of heart came over the committee self-interested with the duty of raising. a cairn to the memory of CampripGe. The money has not poured in: indeed it has hardly drizzled. Whereupon, some great moral genius, some Magi- cian of the Heart in Connexion with the Pocket, has caused it to be blown at all ends of the kingdom, that it will be proposed at the next meeting, to be held on the 5th of November: “THAT THE NAMES OF ALL SUCH CHAIRMEN AND SECRETARIES, AS WELL AS THE INSTITUTION WITH WHICH THEY ARE CONNECTED, SHALL BE INSCRIBED ON THE PEDESTAL OF THE MONUMENT.” * This is deep and admirable as profound. Muccins is a chairman and Bueerns 1s a secretary. MucGin’s heart now melts and overflows in admiration of the dead Duke, and he sees himself going down the tide of posterity—(how the apples swim! the golden pippin CAMBRIDGE and the crab Mucerns!)—on the same wave with a royal philan- thropist! From this moment, Mucerns gives all the energies of his soul to the pedestal of the monument; the Monument to the Good Duxe or CAMBRIDGE, and the Pedestal to the Active Chairman Mueerns. And now, considering the case in its natural expansion, must we not feel for the friends and acquaintance, and deeply compassionate the dependents of Mugerns? Is there friend or workman to be spared by Mueerns? By turns he begs, smiles, and bullies. “ Your money for the good Duke or CamBripGE” whilst his soul runs a whispering accompaniment, “and the excellent Chairman, Mucetns.” The key varying, the words are the same—“ Money for Campripce AND Mucerns.” From this time forth, Mueerns will haunt the sleep of many a victim. He will be the nightmare Mueerns, squat upon the breast of his dreaming acquaintance, with a plate in his hands, with shining eyes changed into ghastly five-shilling pieces, with under jaw mowing and inarticulately mumping—“ Good Camsripce—excellent Muecerns!” We honour, we reverence in a fashion, the Committeeman who has so adroitly forced the goodness of a CAMBRIDGE into common cause with the conceit of a Chairman, the vanity of a Secretary. It was a beautiful touch of brain that has thus set loose upon hundreds of unprotected And finally, we have to make another suggestion rewardful of all Chairmen and Secretaries. It is this. That they should have upon the Cambridge Monument not only their names, but—in alto relievo—their | busts. The expense, as we consider it, would be trifling, and the material common and easy. _ Has not the reader beheld, stamped with wooden stamp upon a pat | of butter, the figure of a bird, intended for a swan, but looking more of | the goose? In this fashion, and on this material, would we have the medallions of the Chairmen and Secretaries. Their faces cut in wood, and stamped on butter—yes, Cambridge butter. LAY OF THE IMPRISONED LONDONER. (By a Foreign-Ofice Clerk, who had his holiday early.) My eyes are tired of street and square, My constitution lacks sea air: My ear is sick of Opera squalls, My legs are quite knocked up with balls ; I would that I were once again Boxed in a first-class Dover train, Bound somewhere ’tother side the sea— That were the time of day for me! As to Whitehall I sadly hie pe gy cabs they rattle by; mark the luggage piled outside, The happy looks of those that ride; I know they ’re going far away. To scenes of no work and all play, And sigh to think, while they are free, Tis all work and no play with me! No more at eight they ’ll have to rise, Though hot and heavy be their eyes ; Of office work to face the bore, Although they polked last night till four. | No more précis they ’ll have to write, No more draft letters to indite ; As idle as they like they ll be— And that’s the life that pleaseth me ! A FEW WORDS ABOUT OURSELVES. Ir is not often we speak about ourselves. Though, perhaps, forming, as we do, one of the chief subjects of the day, we sieht be excused for talking occasionally of that which is in the mouth of every one. Perhaps the most common thing that is said about us is, the every day observation, that “it is really marvellous how, week after week, such a magnificent collection of wit and wisdom as our publication comprises, can be con- tinually got together.’ We are ourselves often thrown into fits of surprise and admiration at our own splendid achievements. Tt is indeed marvellous that, now for a space of more than nine years, Punch has come forth with punctuality and brilliancy, as regular—we pockets a band of marauders, who, with masks of royal purple, will present a plate and roar “CamsBripGe!” with the sweet, recurring | under note of “ Muceins!” And yet, large and beautiful as is the original idea, its magnitude may be increased, its beauty deepened. Wherefore should the Chairman | and the Secretaries have alone a nominal record? Why should not | Mucerns, Chairman, and Bueers, Sec., be further companioned with | Wicerns, contributor ? Why should it not be in the power of Wicerns | to purchase, price one guinea, a square one-eighth of an inch for his descendant of the Fortieth century to glow and swell at, and to point | out to his children—“‘ That was your ancestor; that was the Wice.Ns | of 1850?” Why, we repeat it, should not Wicerns, contributor, have | his guinea’s worth of posterity, alike with Mueers, Chairman—with uGGrIns, Sec.? It will not satisfy us to assert that no pedestal tablet ean be of sufficient magnitude to admit all names. For it is only to reduce the names to the dimensions of the man who originated the thought of the inscription, and so wondrously small must they become, | that a common | will hold any number of thousands. So many | animalcul in a cheese would require far wider space. | Again, as we would do rightful honour to all subscribers without dis- | tinction, so would we correspondingly punish the lukewarm and the backsliding. We would have a tablet of infamy, an ignominious black slab upon which, for the abhorrence of B poseer: we would brand all | the names of those Englishmen proved capable of the Income Tax, | who should be found unwilling to make subscription to the Monument | of Cambridge. Upon that black slab of shame we would offer up, or | down, to posterity the name of every defaulter of £150 perannum. For | whilst it is made open to a man to buy the approving smile of posterity, let him also, failing in his duty, be punished with its frown. were going to say as clock-work—but clock-work is fickleness itself in comparison to the certainty and precision with which we have come before an appreciating world every Saturday. How Punch is got together, may, indeed, form a puzzle to ingenious curiosity, or curious ingenuity. With the brilliant corps of contributors and artists, some- times scattered in all corners of the earth, the prodigy still appears, rendered only more prodigious by the apparent difficulties with which the production of a number of Punch, every week, is surrounded. Yes; the vox populi is, in this instance, quite right, » We are a miracle. We know it; and we are glad to find the public sensible of the fact, of which we thus offer an acknowledgment. A Dispensary Indispensable. Tue Dispensary for the Diseases of the Ear has been holding its anni- versary meeting. We wonder if the new House of Commons is amongst its patients,—for its hearing is extremely bad—infinitely worse even than the old House—in which the people universally complained that; they could never get the members to hear a single thing that they wanted. If the New House is no better, we can tell the Commons that they will have the House brought about their ears in a way that they would not like. F TOM BROWN, WHO WENT UP IN A BALLOON ABOUT SEVEN years ago, and has not since been heard of, does not return within ten days to his disconsolate wife, she will consider herself to all intents and purposes a widow, and perfectly at liberty to sell off the business Tom Brown left behind him, and marry whom she pleases.

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_ PUNCH, WWE SQ thas a we DOMESTIC BLISS. Mistress. “Wet I’M SURE; AND PRAY WHO IS THAT? Cook. “On, IF YoU PLEASE ’M. It’s ONLY MY COUSIN WHO HAS CALLED JUST TO SHOW ME 10W | minster, Rugby, and Birmingham boys TO BOIL A Potato.” CATCHES IN THE NEW WORLD. (Important to Illustrious Persons about to Marry.) Sy-\ UNCH, MY OLD FEttER,—So it | key i seems you Britishers are riled acause that are little reat mano’ yourn, the Fust finister to the Crown, Queen Victorta’s Upper Help, Lorp Joun Russet, like an onthrifty loafer, have bin and palavered Parlia- ment into votin’ away £12,000 starlin’ a year o’ the public money to Prince GEORGE 0’ CAMBRIDGE, to pay his Royal Highness for to do nothin’, and to keep the bear away from his clearins, and set him up in a small way with four equer- ries and three parsons, be- sides other helps, in livery and out. “I’ve got a feller feelin’ for you; Lhave. [shouldn’t like my dollars voted away on them tarms, I shouldn't, nohow. But don’t you see, you gonies, that you ain’t got no right to cry out agin this here kinder extrava- gance so long—as that ’cute old ’coon Henry BrovGHam anp Vaux inted out to you—so long as you wun’t chuse to ‘low your Princes and Jukes Ryal, and their gals, to go and marry accordin’ to their likins, and speckilate in High Menials like the rest on you, for to better theirselves ? and them Protestants ; instead of havin’ the run of Europe for a match, they are staked off from all the families of the Continent a’most, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI _ a SOO S SS SOY . BMI ~ Qa Se oN SS oe SE, 1) SEASONS MSS Qy»ywngg “ Seein’ your Princes and Princesses can’t marry none but foreigners, | LIGHTS, LIGHTS, I SAY! | CompLarnts have been made, through | the peo, of its being customary at \ | the Bank of England for one clerk to | pay sovereigns which another clerk re- jects as light, and when remonstrances are made, they are answered in words as they have been in gold—with levity. It is rather too bad, when the sover- eigns of recent date are required in payment at the Bank, the old half- worn-out coin—‘‘the light of other days” —should be thrown on the hands of the public, who may well begin to i | declare that the Bank will lose weight pine iii | with the country, if such a practice f) mn i | should become general. These deficient iiem||| | sovereigns, when they have once had | |a light thrown upon them by the im- putation of lightness being alleged against them, should no longer be palmed off as of full value,—a_pro- ceeding which partakes of a light- fingered character. j i Rods in Pickle. Amone the principal members of the University Commission are Dr. Tatt, late Master of Rugby School; Dr. Lin- DELL, Master of Westminster School ; | and Dr. Jeunz, Master of Birmingham School. We trust that these school- . “Cie te | masters will not forget the scholastic e - ; | maxim, that “‘he who spares the rod . | spoileth the child ;” and that in dealing | with the University they will not \forget that there are strong @ priori | reasons for the same @ posteriori treat- | ment of Oxford Dons, which they are |ealled on to administer to West- respectively. | } | exceptin’ a few in Jarmany ; and your Monarchs asis to be, hes or shes, lis foced for to send out to Saxy Cobug and Gothy or some one or t’other o’ their Saxies for this or that Serene Highness, with all their fortins on their backs, to come and take pity on ’em, poor critturs ! “ Now what a tarnation set of blind old owls you must be. You don’t see no furder afore your noses than a benighted nigger—that ’s a fact. How was it, in looking out for husbands and wives for your Ryal Family, you never thought of castin’ a look at our glorious Republic, a-blazin’ and a-glarin’, in tarnal beauty and brightness, only t’other side o’ the Atlantic, right slick in your blinkin’ old eyes? There’s stores of our free and enlightened citizens as has realised dollars enough to keep any Princess as ever wore feathers; and I may say the same of our gals, vicey varsey. If you’ve got any Ryalty to swop, I dessay there ’s lots on ’em as would be willin’ to deal with you, jist to please their fancy. We could play at sojers to divart you, no ways slow, and spend ‘as much time in gunnin’ and huntin’ as you thought our wages was wuth. And I estimate, the name of an American citizen flogs all the Highnesses in creation, and stumps Saxy Cobug or Saxy Highlow | aither into fits. t [ am rayther thinkin’ of lookin’ out for a wife myself, I don’t mind tellin’ on you; and if so be as you’ve got any Princess on hand, I am open to take her off, without a cent, provided she’s a good cal, and ain’t got no objection to turn to and make herself useful. We've rayther a kinder respect for the sooperstitions o’ the old country arter all; and I calculate that bein’ know’d for nevvy-in-law to Vicrorta would bring custom enough to my store to make the notion yay, partickler if I writ my name as sitch up over the door, and got the Tae and Unicorn painted on my trucks ; as to my pretensions, if they ain’t good enough, that’s a pity. In pint of Highness, I am six foot three ; and, ’cept when my dander is riz, give me only my bit o’ weed, | I guess I’m as serene as Lake Ontario in a dead calm. Maybe you will forrad this here letter to Buckin’ham Pallis, and any answer tu it will be attended to as airly as convenes, by “Yours, considerably, “ New York, Aug. 7, 1850. “GoaHEAD Spay.” Tue Hetcur or Exrravacance.—Mr. Gorpon Cummine paying | a shilling to see the Hippopotamus. Printed by William Bral>ary, of No. 13, Upoer Wobara Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd esex, Printers, at their Odtce, in Lombard Street, ia tae Preciact of \Waitefria v¢ City ot L adoa, aad paolisael oy them at No.35 fleet Street inthe Parish of St. Bride’s in the City of London.—Saruapar Avevust 31st, 19>".

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it- st- YS PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 101 OUR LITTLE BIRD. A WORD FOR THE NIGHTINGALE. ERTAIN of our friends in print take it in dudgeon that Jenny, Linp should have so gathered about her all the hearts of Liver- ool; should have been so attended to er ship by the “ aves vehement ” of affec- tionate thousands; for there was real heart in the shoutings that were sent to her across the Mersey. Good friends, think again ; reconsider your discontent. When there is so much lip-homage—so much eager voluntary self-debasement—so much licking of the shoe-leather of absurd pomp, that has no more in it or upon it, to justify the ’ idolatry, than. may be found in the barren letters, thab spell, a, title—in the imagined: heap that. piles a banker's | account,—when there is so much nauseous: worship of the Capitolian geese, that only cackle, and do not protect—of| the golden calves, that, save to themselves, are not of the worth. off sliambles’ veal—when, in this age, so precipitant in adulation, off prosperity, so that it be prosperity, when no questions. shall be asked:—at a time when the devoted peer ge eae loyalty to a railway king has. foamed itself into virtuous wrath, the said king’s toppled. crown being. sent to the old iron shop—at atime so full of sad, humiliating: examples of the human tendency to crawl to the mere.images of position and success; at such a time we take comfort and rejoice in the manifestation of esteem, even though deemed: extravagant. and in superflux, when: paid to a genlus—to a genius.so often shown the handmaiden of good. We have the hardihood to confess the preference. Yes, we mightily prefer the applausive shout sent from the throats of a re crowd, a shout of happy wishes to a Jenny Lino, to the stupid, thundering bluster of a Portsmouth salute, stunning, in the name of senseless ceremony, a quiet elderly gentlewoman. The cannon, with their “adamantine lips,” bellow—‘“ You’re a duchess;” and not a word, a syllable more. Human thousands shout to the somewhat more than Duchess of song; and in. that shout, so brief and sudden, there is acknowledgment, thankfulness for sweet, ennobling emotions; as for enduring good. How many of the sick, with the thought, the know- ledge of that shout, might add their prayers, and grateful blessings to sanctify the acclaim! Good friends in print, anxious for the stiff sobriety of the English mind—friends and guardians of propriety, fearful of unprofitable and unseemly enthusiasm when lavished only upon genius and virtue—take heart, be confident. There are still wooden idols enough, and more than enough, to keep alive and rank the old religion, Goose-worship and calf-worship will not so soon pass away. There is yet enough of the national heart left untouched to pulsate at the ring of current coin —there are yet thousands and tens of thousands of ham-strings, to work, obediently as the threads of painted, paper toys, at the look, the = of those earthly gods, for whose Pantheon see Dexsrett’s eerage.” Is there any lack of idols? Any backsliding m idol-worship? A young Duke has successfully made off from the House of Commons— (composed of hustings lynxes, that, after the election, are prone to sleep like hearth-rug spaniels)—made off with a booty of £12,000 per annum ; the yielding Whigs all guiltless of a blush. Hume’s arithmetic might off-hand calculate the number of household chattels, at a given price, that, sold by the tax-gatherer’s warrant, would make a monetary year of that self-same Duke; a monstrous young Duke so considered, with more legs and arms about him than a Hindoo God; with this difference —they are the legs and arms of tables and chairs confiscated, to the Exchequer. It is pregnant of thoughts salutary, if not blitheful, to consider how every unjust shilling, voted by way of pension or expense may become a visible, working tyrant at the hearths of the poor, seize upon for taxes. If we may trace the dust of Casar to a bung-hole, so may we follow the last blanket of the shivering poor into the pocket of | | the pensioner. Ts it not monstrous, a crying wrong, that this new DuKeE or | | CamBrinGE should sit so heavily upon the backs of the people; and.) | we stint our breath at leave-taking of human genius exercised for | human happiness, | reconsidering the matter, may rejoice too. It is surely no ill sign when yet, let his Roya! Pursiness appear as visitor in any. town, or city, and. fair ladies would flutter their handkerchiefs, and the. crowd! shout hurrahs at the Lilustrious Pensioner. Now, when we are so.ready to huzzah human packages, because labelled with a high figure, why should and made so often nobly ministrant to human suffering? Will all the “Contents” and ‘“ Non-Contents” that a Cambridge may utter value one trill of Jenny Linp? Or rather, may they not cost the country a hundred times the amount that Jenny, in her goodness, has thrown about her. e rejoice in the enthusiasm of Liverpool. And our contemporaries, a vast commercial community acknowledges something beyond the ledger. Who knows, some day, the painter may personally have more honour for his pictures, than the mere noble for Ls heraldic bearings— the sculptor for his statues, than. the commercial owner of vast granite quarries—the writer of, one immortal little book, more even than the possessor of a paper-mill who turns his weekly thousands? And if this should come to pass—(and the homage to Jenny is only a homage to art and goodness, not an indirect reverence to her banker)—why should our friends of the: press. sneer and repine? Ought they not rather to applaud the feeling—to foster it, and rejoice in its fullness? Shall it be said that the poreupine, with all its upright, independent quills, has, in its present condition, somewhat too much of the toad-eater ? To return to.danny. 16 seems she is to give a concert on board the ship for the benefit of the sailors. Very good: As, in the course of the voyage, it, is certain. she would be called upon. for music—it is well she should sing for the profit of, poor Jack, And she will sing: “ Uttering such duleet,and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grows civil,with her song.” The worst, however, awaits Jenny upon her landing in New York. There, showman Barnum lies in wait for her, it is said, with a pro- cession! We are truly sorry that Jenny should have fallen into such mercantile hands. Basrnum’s commodities should still be dwarfs and manufactured mermaids. He should have had no dealings with Jenny Linp. Poor soul! We wish her safe back again; even though, to the amazement of. our friends, Liverpool, should give her weleome worthy of their farewell; Hor Liverpool: applauded; the woman,as well as the singer. It is, not every Nightingale that makes to. herself wings of hospitals, A. Lirris Birp. RUNCH’S. HAND-BOOKS FOR TRAVELLERS. Mr, Puncn, envious of the reputation of Mr. Murray and his celebrated. Handbooks, announces his intention of publishing a new series of Handbooks, which he is sure will soon be met with in every railway, auberge, bierbrauerci, gasthof, hotel, palazzo, and mountain top throughout the travelling world, The following are the titles of a few to which he has already affixed the passport of his name. Pouncr’s Hanpsook or THE LOwTHER, Puncn’s HANDBOOK OF THE GERMAN Con- ARCADE. STITUTION (with a view of the cele- Puncnu’s Hanpsook or Carpinat Wor- brated maze). SEY'S PALACE IN FLEET Street, with) Pcncn’s Hanpsook oF THE Loan So- a lock of his hair which he had cut CIETIES OF Lonpoy, with complete there. directions how to receive £10 out of a Puncu’s Hanpv-Book OF THE INSOLVENT Loan for £50, Destor’s Court. Puncn’s Hanpsook OF THE DuKE oF Puycn’s Hanpsook TO THE CHeaP Re- York's Co_umy, with a Panorama ot STAURATEURS OF Paris, where (see the the B.rd-cage Walk from the Summit. afiche in the window) “One spikes | Puncu’s HanpBook oF RAILWAY ‘TRAVEL- English here.” TALK, with conversations for second Pouncn’s HANDBOOK OF THE DIFFERENT and third Class, and rules how to hold Coins OF SWITZERLAND, with rues your tongue with becoming dignity in how not to lose more than twopence the first Class. out of every shilling in every Canton, Puncn’s HANDBOOK OF CONTINENTAL RE- you pass through. VoLuTions, including those of France, Puncu’s Hanppook oF Bov.ocye, with Italy, Prussia, Austria, und Rome, prices of lodgings, provisions, and with a map of the splendid prospects brandy, for the use of English resi- which each country has derived from dents. } them. Puncn’s Hanpsook or THE CHop Hovses | Puncu’s HANDBOOK OF THE INTERIOR OF or THE CiTy oF Lonpon. | Vesuvius, with a profound inquiry Puncu’s. HANDBOOK OF THE BEER Houses into its “ Crater Comfor.s.” OF BAVARIA, Puncu’s HanpBook OF THE Nortn Po.e. Also, in a few days, PUNCH’S HANDBOOK OF THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON, with elevations taken in a new point of sight, to which the finger of science has never been. directed before; and geological specimens and large cuts of the green cheese which is supposed to grow there. WHAT ’S IN A NAME? THE reporter of the Zimes, in giving an account of the Peace Con- gress at Frankfort, says that he heard one of the door-keepers pointing out to a visitor the person of CoppEn, with the words, “Das ist Cony.” This is. not worse than our English janitors, who invariably make a fearful. hash of the names of foreigners. The Nepaulese Ambassador (who has just left us for Paris, which is so crowded that Rum Juccur could: hardly find a bed, and Suere Mutty—ce chere Murry, as the French call him—was compelled to sleep in a cockloft)—the Nepaulese, we were about to say, was always known by the humbler class of Londoners as the New Police Ambassador, there being a vague notion about town that his mission was in some way connected with the establishment of a police force in the East, for the detection of the light-fingered portion of the dark-faced population. ‘The “ Das ist Cosy,” of the Frankfort doorkeeper is no worse than the “there goes ApranAM Parker!” with which Isranmm Pacua used to be saluted by the gaminerie of London. VOL, XIX. M

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | MR. BRIGGS TRIES (FOR MANY HOURS) A LIKELY PLACE FOR A PERCH; BUT, UPON THIS OCCASION, | THE WIND IS NOT IN A FAVOURABLE QUARTER. | A very Simple Inquiry Made “in | CALIFORNIAN COSTUMES. | the Name of Conscience.” par ta | “The Secretary of the South-Eastern Railway | A \ \\\W WW wii iin V4 { " H it i) | Wee A CoRRESPONDENT of the Daily News ] | acknowledges the receipt of Conscience Money,” &c. | \ j i ! | | gives us particulars of the Californian | | THE above was the commencement of | wg the ions ad are very inte- | . . . s i. - | an advertisement in the poe last week. | oo op the following : re | le We puc it on the file of immortality, as : a 1 being the first instance on record of Con- | ; ronal Dress. inn, se soe | I science having anything to do with a rail- My Se ee a . | ¢ way. But at present the conscience is all tins l sides, and a black belt, trimmed, with | | | iil} od 5) ’ } upon one side. We wonder if any of our | fi, 7 couleaux — ptr oP co | f railways will be attacked with similar fits I; \! with i , oo ‘d } hon is n yi a | 4 of conscience? If shareholders return | fist “The ey — nt, x be | th i. | 4 conscience money to railways they may | . b tcher’S ‘ads oe _ ml ng | | ¢ have defrauded, why should not railways etic! > ligl oa xi _* Pg reed a | | 1 also make the same conscientious offerings | s aoe a ign wall ‘the f Pang fox ait | to t's innumerable shareholders they 2 ae ee ee ee © eee heave helped to defraud all over the exceeding six, to travel about the country hinedons f ° with a small eight- pounder, which affords | But this proposed system, however just, | capital amusement in the evening amongst would be attended, unfortunately, with gc ed one great difficulty—the waut of means ; Ev wr: am, = hm veer | lr for if our railways were once to begin re- 7 hot i Ik Handke hiefe light Robe 4 is turning “conscience monies,” how many Of Sot 81 1. Co _ e a. light |. solvent lines would there be to-morrow in | | pierre re oss & pale MOCnnEn | P England ? | colour, padded with horsehair, and made ee eee | of a thick, galvanised substance, almost | | ¢ Page tent | im enetrable. Under-waistcoat an elegant | | 2 INSCRIPTION FOR THE PROPOSED MONU- bull’s hide. Pistols de rigueur. Court } | MENT TO TER “GOOD DUKE.” | an, , Light om ass ring- ie ; ‘ Rese or a life-preserver, filled with lead, an “ 1» Minnow caucut By Mr. Briccs, Aveusr 23np, : Gracious Gaovness ! 196h— Teese axe co Lave. gold tassels. Opera-hat of light sheet-iron. ; Literary Discovery.—Many books have been written to prove the} THe First Law or Natcre—Has been called Self-preservation, | : identity of the Man in the Iron Mask! That man is now fully believed | which clearly means that the first law of nature is to take care of | Q | | —at least by the railway world—to be no other than Gzoree Hupson. | Number One.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 103 | when he called the ouvriers round him and _ insisted on their drawing close enough to him to A RACE FOR AN EMPIRE. ONSIDERING the extreme rs gale smallness of the qualification ——— necessary to constitute a can- didate for the head of the State in France, we are sur- prised that others have not rushed into the field to take an equal chance with the Count DECHAMBORD (HENRY THE Frrtu) and Louis Naro- LEON. We are sure that every English heart will ask, at this = eventful moment, where is ’ GomersaL? The accounts of the proceedings of the other individuals aspiring to give a dynasty to France are suffi- cient to show that everything SS lately done by them is of a ~ purely theatrical kind, and therefore it could all be done much more effectually by our old friend Gomersat. He has been familiar all his life with the Coulises, while the verformers that have recently been acting their parts—the one at Wiesbaden, the other at Besancon, Lyons, &c., &c., —are evidently new to the sort of thing, and consequently fail in giving due effect to the numerous dramatic points they are intent upon mrt mg For instance, who can read the report of the scene enacted by the Count DE CHamgorp, enable him to hear their hearts beat? Who, we ask, can read this without seeing the figure of Gomersat, with the foot-lights before it, and feeling that the situation was just the kind of thing for him to have done justice to? Amateurs are always awkward, and the Count pre CnamBorp cannot have been as much at home in this part of the performance as aman like GomERsaL would have been, who has been accustomed all his life to beat his own bosom, rush into all sorts of arms, cling round all kinds of necks, and turn back the hair from all sorts of foreheads, with every species of shriek, from the high soprano of joy to the double-bass of the deepest misery. ; ante ; Where then, we again ask, is GomersaL? ‘There seems to be an empire awaiting him, if he will only pack up his carpet-bag, pay his fare by the boat, and take with him, as an old adherent to the Empire (at AsTLEy’s), the evergreen Wippicoms. The latter will only be required to place his hand on his heart, and illustrate les dour souvenirs, while GoMERSAL has only to run his eye over the prompt-book of the Amphitheatre; refresh his recollection about the different cues; look at * dictionary of dates with reference to Austerlitz, and all that sort of thing; get his nose into good snuff-taking order; borrow a pair of imperial eagles from ASTLEY’s property-man; take a few lessons in French pronunciation ; stuff his pockets with a few of the old crosses of the Legion of Honour which he used to distribute among the supernumeraries; and, thus prepared, we will back him against any- one for creating a favourable impression among Frenchmen at the present moment. ; Wippicoms must, of course, equip himself as a French Field-Marshal; but as there is, no doubt, a pair of Nry’s breeches, a coat of KELLERMAN’s, and a cocked-hat of MorrIEr’s, in the wardrobe of the Theatre, there will be no difficulty in rigging out the veteran according to the traditions si towchantes of la grande armée, If Wippicoms’s cocked-hat and feather should not go directly home to every Frenchman’s heart, and if Gomersat’s redingote does not appear rampante in every Frenchman’s eye, we are no judges of the Gallic character. =n THE CAMBRIDGE BUBBLE. Wuat is the true gauge of “feelings?” Is it, in the case before us, the breeches’ -pocket ? | The Committee for the Cambridge Monument in smoke (for it will be of no more enduring | material than that which puffs and rolls from the kitchen chimney of the London Tavern) —the Committee, speaking through E. F. Lerxs (name of congenial greenness), Hon. Sec., assure the placid public that they “are anxious to collect”? money enough “to raise that description of monument which will do equal justice to their orn feelings, and,” &c. &e. Does not this leave the style of monument a matter of profound mystery ? Who is to judge of the architectural order best illustrative of the feelings of a Committee? Why do they not at once publish specimens that we might judge of, and, if possible, sympathise with the architectural symbol of human emotions as living in the breasts of Committee men, many of whose “names,” it is elsewhere promised as a pleasant bribe, “will be inscribed upon the destal. charity. Poor, good Duke! What ashame it is that a man—because a Duke—cannot have passed decently and good-naturedly through life, eating the fattest thereof, and drinking of the richest and rarest — without being monstered into a omg hardly second to Prometuevs! f these matters are known in the shades, the Duke—with all his sublimated good-temper, can hardly take it as a compliment that his proposed monument is to be little other than a sort of card-tray to hold “the names of the Chairmen and the Secretaries” of money-begging Com- mittees. Reader, you may have seen a busy fellow in- tent upon a statue—the figure of Fame, Hope, or Charity. Was he rapt by the beauty of the statue in the abstract—was he touched by reverence for the quality it figured? And now he has walked away, and you walk, and then, close to the statue, pause in his footsteps; when, look- ing, you behold scrawled on the garment hem of Charity—‘‘ Joun Guspins, Gent.” Now, Gus- BINS is the chairman or secretary to a Cam- BRIDGE Monument Committee. THE RENOVATION OF THE THAMES. Tames, King of Streams—at last, it seems— Thy bosom ’s to be drained of That perilous stuff of dingy buff Which we ’ve so long complained of : And putrid loam and filthy foam ‘No more shall clog the river, Where darts shall not be longer shot From fell Miasma’s quiver. Its waves no more shall, reeking, pour, Too thick almost to ripple, With what, right sure, makes good manure, But very nasty tipple. Vivacious all, the eels shall crawl The fresh and wholesome sludge on, Whose present stench would e’en kill tench, And has destroyed the gudgeon. The swans shall glide upon a tide Sweet as a nut—or sweeter— Swan-hoppers, too, shall swans pursue, *Mid fragrance ’stead of fetor. In eatin nee the gladsome lark The pure stream will admit on, Of Rotherhithe, as fresh and blithe As opposite Thames Ditton. Off Puddledock—the early cock His sprightly clarion blowing— Shall bathers dive, like fun alive, ’Mid waters crystal-flowing ; Which, now too queer for making beer At Chelsea Reach, by Jingo ! Shall, at Blackwall, brew strong or small ; The best of swipes, or stingo. And tea to make shall housewives take The stream as low as Deptford, Now running there, corrupt as e’er Was Stockbridge, or Fast Retford. The town first named for trout is famed, Good three or four pound lumpers; The trout there sell almost as well As whilom sold the plumpers ; And London trout—the Thames cleaned out— As hard shall strain our tackle ; And Bridge below the angler throw Deftly the killing hackle. Nay, as for fish—exclaim not “ Pish ! ” Reply not “Stuff!” or “Gammon!” Just caught, hard by, yourself and I At Greenwich shall eat salmon. NOB AND NOB. “THe Hebrew mind,” said Hos, in his short , hammer-upon-nail way, “as developed with us, The plate will serve as an ample tablet for the names of the Chairmen and Secretaries of | has no notion of wit, no regard for humour.” the Committees, whilst at the same time it will illustrate the persevering means employed | to collect subscriptions. The knife and fork will stand keenly and pointedly epigrammatic | “Nevertheless,” said the good-natured Nop, j } -| “you must allow this much—the Jew has a won- of not a few of the unwearied services of the late Duke. or CampripGE in the cause of | derful sense of interest.”

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PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARI. THE PARLIAMENTARY JOE MILLER, ATELY we spoke of an amusing little book bearing the above title, and the following are some choice extracts therefrom. They will be found to be the best bon-mots uttered during the late Session. “ Mr. Bricrt said that the eloquence of the Hon. Member for Tiverton was very much like travelling through a railway tunnel. It was some two or three miles long—and profoundly dark from one end to another. The House had listened in perfect silence —in the hopes of hearing or seeing something—but it was only when the Hon. Member had reached the extreme end of his long tunnel, that the House began to perceive a little daylight. He must say, that no engine in the present Ministry had the talent of the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, for | dragging people with such extraordinary rapidity through the dark.” (Laughter, and cries of “ Order.) “Me. Reyno_ips took the liberty to remark that certain Members were in the habit of making speeches, in the same way that PeneLops did her Berlin wool-work (laughter) ; that is to say, they spun a long yarn in the morning, and picked it to pieces again in the evening, or the next day. | The monster yarn about the Sunday Post-Office was a yarn of this description—and | much as he complimented the Hon. Member for the City of London for the ingenuity | with which he had spun it together, still, it was nothing to the admiration he felt for the | cleverness his Lordship had afterwards displayed in picking his own handiwork to | pieces.” (Roars of laughter, in which Lorv Joun heartily joined.) “ Mr. Drsraevci said, that the CHANCELLOR OF THE Excuequer had such a wonderful talent for persuading people, that, if he went in search of the North Pole, he would only have, on his return, to flourish his walking-stick in the eyes of half a dozen Members, and say, ‘Gentlemen, this is the North Pole,’ and the House, in the boundlessness of its | faith, would believe it.” (General laughter.) “ Serseant Murpuy boldly told the Hon. Member for Limerick that there was this difference between him and his father—that, whereas Dante, O’ConNELL was the Ophicleide of agitation, he (Joun O'ConygLL) was merely the penny whistle.” (Long- continued laughter.) “Me. Ossorne said Mr. Unqunart’s speeches seemed always to be copied after one model,—‘ A Railway Guide.’ They were always full ef the closest figures,—and were quite as interesting—and they had this further resemblance, that it was utterly impossible in either to find out a single thing you wanted.” (A laugh.) “ COLONEL Srptuore always trembled when the Hon. Member for Manchester rose to speak. He could only compare his seusations to the alarm he felt when he first saw Baron NATHAN dance the hornpipe amongst the tea things—he made sure that every minute the Hon. Member would put his foot in it.” (Loud Laughter.) “ Mr. Drummonp called the Colonial Secretary the ‘lightning conductor of Downing Street’ He was continually bringing down the lightn’ng that played over Ministers’ heads, but then, he saved their lives. His position in the Ministry, he was confident, was merely to draw off the thunder that had accumulated in the overcharged political atmosphere.” “Lorp Joy reminded him” (said Mr. Cospen) “ of the celebrated little mouse in the nursery-legend of ‘Dickory, Dickory, Dock,’ which, with the permission of the House, he would now recite :— ‘ Dickory, Dickory, Dock, The mouse ran up the clock; The clock struck one, And down he run, Dickory, Dickory, Dock.’ (Laughter.) THE TRUSTWORTHY GUIDE TO LONDON. WE have received a communication in the form of a printed circular, marked “Private and Confidential,” and signed with the name of an Trish gentleman. It embodies the prospectus of a new Guide to London, to be brought out in January next, under the title of “WHAT’S WHAT? In 1851.” “ What’s What?” we are informed, will be published with a view to the vast influx of foreigners that may be expected next year, both in French and English, and “Will contain a guide to every place worth visiting, and Every TRADING ESTABLISHMENT WHERE PURCHASES CAN BE MOST REASONABLY AND SATISFACTORILY MADE. It will recommend readers where to seek every article connected with his | | | (sic) wants and requisitions—of taste, luxury, and utility. These recommendations will be printed in both languages; and, of course, only these gentlemen with whom Private arrangements are made, will be mentioned.” > name in “ What’s What?” or the “name only of any Establishment” will cost 5s.; and for “‘recommen- | dation occupying one page,” the charge is five guineas. A blank form of application for the insertion of advertisements, which, in the indivi- dual document before us, ‘has been filled up bya gentleman named | GREEN, completes the money-trap. : As the value of any recommendation is a matter of some little importance, it may be as well for purchasers ‘to know that the good word of “ What’s What?” is worth from a crown ‘to £5 5s. Such tradesmen as are disposed to think the commodity worth the price, had better follow the example of Mr. Green; who has'kindly permitted us to use the influence of hie name in putting both customers and dealers up to “ What’s What?” The mention of a “ gentleman’s’ | | ROYAL ADDENDA. WE have a statue in London to the Duxs of Kent. We have, as every Englishman knows to his shame, a statue to the Dvuxe or York. We have a beautiful statue of Gzorce THE FourtH. We have a pig-tailed statue of GEorcE THE THIRD. ‘We have a pale plum-pudding looking statue of Wi1LIAM THE | FourtH. We are promised a statue of the “ Good Duke” or CAMBRIDGE. Why not complete the list, and have statues erected to every member of the Royal Family? Two members at present are sadly missing. Accordingly, we propose that subscriptions be instantly made for the following laudable objects :— A SratvE to THE Douxe or Sussex.—We are sure he deserves it “Now, what had Lorp Joun done all this Session? He had merely run up the Par- liamentary clock, and what for? why, for no other purpose, it could not fail to strike one, than to run down again.” (Long-continued laughter.) We might give many more bright Sena of the Collective Wit of the country, for they are as numerous as the paving stones of London, but we are sure the reader will cry with us, “Hold! Enough.” HOW WILL GLASS AFFECT THE HUMAN FRAME? ** Dear Sir, “T cannot tell you how glad I am that the glass dome of the grand building for the Exhibition of Industry is not to be erected, for it would have been my duty to stand under that monster dome ten hours every day. Ido not eee whether glass cases have the same effect upon the human frame as they doupon cucumbers. At all events, I ead have dreaded the experiment, for I am already six feet two and I have no doubt that before the Exhibition had been over, I should have grown to that extent that it would have been requisite to cut a hole in the roof to enable me to put my head through—unless I had laid down upon my back, in which case it would have been dreadful to contemplate where my legs might not have stretched to! Asit is, lam half afraid of Mr. Paxton’s plan, as that is to consist mostly of glass— and the result will be for those inside, I suspect, anything but ‘as cool as a cucumber.’ However, I shall keep an accurate register of my height, and if I find it to become a growing evil, I shall make an application to the Committee that my salary shall rise every week in proportion to myself, as [ am not going to stand (ten hours a day) havmg the ‘rise taken’ out of me ‘ by inches,’ without being paid for it. “Will you be kind enough, Sir, to put my fears before the eye of the public, for the experiment of shutting a man ina large glass case has never been tried before, and I happen, I am sorry to say, to “One ov THE In-Doorn GuARDIANS ENGAGED FOR NEXT YEAR’S EXHIBITION.” |as much as the Duke or Kent, and a great deal more than the “First }gentleman in Europe,” who sits in Trafalgar Square without any trousers on. | Anp a Statue To THE Duke or CumBERLAND.—We are positive ihe is as deserving of it quite as much as the Duxe or York, and that |his statue could not fail to give pleasure to all classes. A Vacancy for a Public Man. Victor Hueco, in a beautiful speech, recently delivered in Paris, | said, “Great men make their own pedestals: Posterity places their statues upon them.” This is precisely the case with the pedestal in Trafalgar Square. We have made the pedestal, and we leave it to Posterity to place the statue upon it. THERE ’S NO PRESERVE LIKE IT. | Sar is more frequently used in pickles than preserves. In fact | there is only one kind of preserve, as far as we know, in which it is used at all,—and that is, in sea-bathing—which, we are all aware, is recom- ~ ™ at this time of the year, as the very best way of preserving one’s th. Sabbatarian Penance. Tue domestic misery occasioned by the closing of the Sunday post |has been acknowledged even to the avowed shame of some of the |Sabbatarians themselves. It must have been a feeling of this kind that gave rise to a rumour, very generally circulated, that on Sunday | last, being the day on which the post was re-opened, Lorp ASHLEY would do penance in St. George’s Church in a huge white sheet of letter paper, manufactured for the occasion. . enormous crowd collected, in the expectation of seeing his lordship, who, however, did not appear. | | | '

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Soo wee o-_ wige Ef - G2 4 Uy Vif EX. i" ‘a t = =. , iN pe My Milf 4 Ni : cl Mi We ' \ i) \ iY SS \ \ is SS \\ SS » iy We A ‘ A We ‘“A PRIME MINISTER'S HOLIDAYS.” AS THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE;

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“A PRIME MINISTER’S HOLIDAYS.” AS THEY ARE.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE PROGRESS TO OSTEND. Being an Epistle from the HonouraBLe Constance BLANK, Maid-of-Honour, to the Lavy BuancuE Four Stars. But Her Masesrty quite Tank Neptune, dear BLANCHE, we are once more at Osborne! ag ~ your angen 0m Ager ve she a born 0 be lady-in-waiting on board the steam-yacht— : : : wr at last my tam came, Ge I fairly was ——- ; | Of what that night was a ntre nous, though Her Magszsty ’scapes the commotion, : : To which most of her subjects are fic xan on ocean, Not the horriblest picture that dear Evcenz Sux, She might just consider the suff’rings which we women Feel aboard ship, who are not such great sea-women— And one knows ere one starts—which is very consoling, The Victoria and Albert’s a sad boat for rolling. : Well—this time, they made a mere run to Ostend of it— _. But, short though the voyage, how E longed for the end of it ! My state-room is fitted up couleur de rose, But what ’s ¢hat, when one’s heaving in sea-sickness’s throes What’s the use of gilt mouldings and maple-wood panel, While one’s life is a mere toss up in the Channel ? So for twelve hours, as wretched as wretched could be, Your Constance lay tossing—and so did the sea. Till on Thursday at nine, to the joy of your friend, I was told we were heaving in sight of Ostend ; ; And heaving iz sight on’t (you won’t feel a doubt of.it) | Was good news to one who’d been long heaving out of it. So I huddled my things on, abom’nably fast, And managed to scramble on deck, love, the last ! Where I found all the party (of course zot the QuEEN), Looking what dear Lorp Gapasout called a sea-green. And we saw, as we gazed tow’rds the land from the poop, About half-a-mile of what looked like pea-soup ; And then the low line of the Dykes, as they call ’em, With which from the sea these low country folks wall ’em ; With such little soldiers, their gallant defenders, And clustered behind ’em the worthy Ostenders. For every house, up from area to attic, You ’d have fancied these staid Flemish cits and their wives And no wonder, for when we steamed up to the jetty, (aew or the day), without any retinue, Kine Leropop, walked in plain olive surtout, And welcomed the Queen with a “ How d’ ye do »” And then the Prince Consort, and then the Princesses ; sneme t0 be dreadfully close in “ shelling out,” did not ask for a suit of clothes as well, by way of a livery,—for it is but right, since he is ready to accept wages, that he should don the proper costume of a servant. He af Delicious comforts they must be, when purchased with the means of his poor dependents! Why, he must be at the mercy of his housekeeper; and if he said anything harsh—and, Then the Princes, (so neat in their man-o’-war dresses) And then turned about, With a welcome to Flan In short, my dear creature, you never did see A royal rencontre so sans cérémonie ; And had it not been for the little artille To find, when you land here, ex route for the Continent— And the flags and the gay carillons from each steeple, And then we drove off, in a brace of landaus, To the funniest palace that ever you saw ; A plain yellow house, in a plain yellow street, With an ugly square door and square windows ev suite ; a And, sole sign of royalty, each side the entry, A small sentry-box, with a still smaller sentry. And then, love, to think for a moment that we uphold That beautiful Claremont for poor dear Kine Leorotp, At some twenty thousand a year, while at home But I must do the dear King the justice to say He did all he could for our party that day. u We walked on the ramparts, went back, dined, and then ? Tn ignantly refuse ’em. Let ’s see—yes—we walked on the ramparts again ; ound he could not give us beds; c he billows. ym | think, love, a king whom his subjects adore, ~ PUNCH’S ROYAL PROGRESSES. And not six spare bed-rooms for frien They did talk of putting Lorp Guump in the stable, Thought Gapasout might rough it under the table— And, for my part, Id rather have slept on the floor, han have gone to that horrible steamer once more, S come ashore— all our demurrings, Though we offered to pack ourselves close as red-herrings ; And declared, since the palace room couldn’t afford, We must all of us put up with beds, love, on board. won’t try a description— But one thing I wi// say—that never in fictio Or that darling Dumas, in his wildest, e’er drew, (And on uncooked pork-chops I’d allow you to sup, too,) That horrible night of owrs ever came up to; ; Lorp Guump, poor wretch, retching, and heaving, and sighng— Lorp Gapasourt firmly convinced he was dying— Lapy MELLON confessing her small peccadi And I giving up my whole soul to t 5 They say in a cottage bliss may be your lot ; 5 In a cottage it may be, but ne’er in a cot; And how oft through the night as I struggled for breath, I fancied that berth, love, would sure be my death. oes— With the engine throb—throbbing in tune with one’s head, en ZG 1 heliove. dissclution ot hand And the waves keeping up a swish—swish by one’s bed. When, at last, to the comfort of all, we made land! Of course, my love, eating was out of the question, ‘And Her Masesry tripped ashore, fresh as a rose— One shuddered, you know, at the simple suggestion— j But ‘how we all looked one you to suppose. May you ne’er know what ’tis, love, at sea to be il— But if they continue these voyages still— I’lresign—I’m resolved—let Pa say what he will ! ‘So, a thousand adieus—and write soon, dear, to thank, ¥or her long lucubration, your own Constance Buianx ! this brazen age of impudence. uite sans facon, to greet ers poor us of the suite. talk s of a “comfortable home.” Because they have the face to stick to co What may the money-takers do with the “HOUSEKEEPER WANTED.” Tue following advertisement is so deliciously cool—cool as the weather—that we give it in its entirety to our readers. It is taken from the Essex Standard of the 23rd ult. :— OUSEKEEPER WANTED.—The Advertiser (without any family) wishes to meet with a respectable Female, of limited income, who would be willing to act as Housekeeper, and pay him Ten Pounds a year towards the expenses of a com- Was set full of faces so fixed and phlegmatic, fortable home.—Apply, by letter, , Essex Standard Office, Colchester. ag it Times are changed, indeed! Servants are now called upon to pay Had seen a Queen land every day of their lives ; their masters. We were painfully aware that governesses were often made by cruel necessity to give their time, trouble, and talents for nothing, but that a housekeeper should be publicly solicited to give ten pounds a-year to her master oarygaee everything we have ever heard in Ve wonder this Colchester native, who ae . . ae . judging from what we already know of his character, we should say pe pm = poe a -~ small boy s in the — that he would be very capable of the greatest harshness—she would be | ae ee ae ae ae Se Sas FOS BS Sees eS turning round and giving him warning, or threatening—if he did not hold his tongue—to reduce his wages! Nice “home” it must be, if You’d h “wana ey : neti a J all his servants are hired upon the same terms! If his cook gives him ou ’d have thought it a meeting of every day people. five pounds a-year, and his housemaid three, and his scullery-maid finds him his tea and sugar, this shabby bachelor must make a good thing of it—only we do not envy him his “ comfortable home !” WHISPERINGS IN THE GALLERY OF ST. PAUL’S. Wuicu is the noblest Chapter of St. Pau? The Chapter that asks Two-pence. They ’re quartered in this style—no wonder they roam, | Have you seen St. Paul’s Library? If so, state what you think to be And one sees, when one has the Court Circular handed, 'the Dean and Chapter’s notion of the dignity of letters. How the King and the Queen of the Belgians have landed The dignity in letters Z. 8. D. At Woolwich, or Felkstone, or Ramsgate, or Dover, Why does it appear that the Dean and Chapter never went to Poor things! When in England they must feel in clover ! Brazenose ? pers. tod half-pence ? What do you consider to be the oldest, most vital, and most re- For unless you go into the sea, love, you know, vered institution connected with the established Church ? e only place left you to go; TWO-PENCE, on counting the heads, Tue most Unrreasant Mornine Catt.—A Railway Call.

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a _____ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Tue shareholders of our own dear little railway at Kensington are again indulging scme wild and fantastic | ideas of getting their line “ worked,” ;as if we had not worked it _— | well for them to all intents and pur- | poses. Their present hopes are {founded upon the vague idea that }some sort of traffic may possibly be | developed by the Exhibition of 1851; | but we regret to say that we must once more smash the expectations of ca this small suburban concern, for we are | bound to declare that a railway between | Wormwood Scrubs and Warwick | Square—the one a barren waste, the | other a cul de sac of private houses— = —— = a RAILWAY. that the Wormwoodites were to en- facture of scrubbing-brushes, for ex- | ample — their transfer to Warwick Square would not bring them much nearer to Hyde Park than they were before, and the intervention of papal power—the cart of Porr, the local carrier—would still be required to com- plete the transit. With reference to assenger traffic, the public coming rom town would have to go a mile and a half beyond the Exhibition be- fore they got to the Railway by which it is proposed to carry them, and : . - . ' +t) “i es : SM | when carried, they would still be a Bathing Woman, “Master Franky wouupn’t cry! No! Not HE !—He ’LL COME TO HIS MARTHA, | mile and a half from where they wish AND BaTHE LIKE a Man! to go to. ladies! The narrow avenue is screened by a bristling palisade of DANGERS OF OMNIBUS TRAVELLING. | parasols, piled together like the elephants’ tusks, only much more | ‘i formidable, you see at the entrance of anatomical museums; or all | Deak Str, touching at the top, like the points of bayonets on a stand of musketry. | . “Tam a great Omnibus Traveller—not by necessity but by | Unless you have the courage of ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED, and allow | choice. Omnibuses are crowded, and probably always will be crowded, | them afl to meet in your breast, as that patriotic martyr did with the | with nuisances; but of all nuisances none are so Sharp, or being so Austrian lances, you may depend upon it an qqening never will be made | continually thrust in gentlemen’s faces, as /adies’ parasols. I have| in the enemy’s ranks. Really it is not unlike carrying an omnibus at | noticed that every lady who enters an omnibus is sure to bring ina! ¢he point of the bayonet. parasol with her. She may not carry a bundle, either dead or alive, in| «Phe difficulty of coming out is no less great! You have the same the shape of a baby,—she may, perhaps, be without, a bird-cage,—she | thicket to traverse, and you are lucky if you escape without a single | may, by some curious chance, be free from everything in the shape of | wound; scratches innumerable you must expect to have, for no lady | uggage, beyond a small reticule no bigger than a gentleman’s carpet- | over dreams that her parasol is in the way, or that it is unpleasant for a bag,—but I have never yet seen the phenomenon o a lady invading an | pentleman to have it sticking in his whisker. 1 would not complain so omnibus without her bemg duly armed with a parasol ! | bitterly on this head—I mean my own—but latterly the ferules of | “Now the parasol, Sir, is the most formidable weapon of defence | ladies’ parasols have become considerably sharper, and now they have (and offence too, as 1 am prepared to prove) drawn from the female | arrived at a point of perfection that is really unendurable. They are arsenal of warfare. A woman without her parasol would be defenceless | made of ivory, which is sharpened finer than any Whitechapel needle, | indeed! If a lady is annoyed by a dog or a beggar, or pursued by a| and I must say, for one, that it gives me a violent turn, and quite runs mad bull, or insulted by any one in the street, the first implement | through me, whenever I am made to give an eye, not to one needle, | brought into action is invariably the parasol. There are other means of | but to a whole packet of such needles in the course of a day. My eyes | female protection, I am aware, which are not unfrequently had recourse | are filled at the mere thoughts of it! : } to by the female hand, but I maintain that it is invariably ‘ The Parasol “Sir, I am the last man who would ag te vg rT ite Jirst ; Nails afterwards, {amusements of any one, more especially the ies; but I would | “But in an omnibus, this ‘Female Life Preserver,’ for so I call the | propose that a notice be affixed to all omnibuses, delicately intimating | parasol, is only used as a weapon of offence (unless a lady has more than | that ‘No BABIES OR PARASOLS WILL BE ADMITTED AT ANY PRICE; | the usual share of pride, and hides her face with her parasol, for fear of | or, if this law be too severe to be ever enforced, that the conductor | being seen by any of her Belgravian acquaintances inside an omnibus!) | be empowered to take away a lady’s ee upon her entering the and a most offensive weapon it is too! mee, -_ rane AK... — are on peg i ne. “ ’ : : . +, |similar to the one they have at the Nati ery, scolar, terry whee 7am camot sit te doo ferry omnibus, vould spc iat he care | arasol!’? You cannot arrange your legs, any how, without an over-|©2¢ Penny be made for every parasol so detained, and’ by these strong cose umbrella (but which, by courtesy, is promoted to the rank of a Heo ppg Tam confident, would soon be o— 3. A _ parasol) go iteelf —- nyt and yy? freee —— may pon oth “Tt sequiees 6 tanah Ueenane muscular power in the arm of | opposite ‘if you are aware that is her parasol ou cannot turn to | 5 : : sag the right or to the left, but there is certain to be at either turn the # Woman to open her purse a poke as sn the Remedy arg me point of a parasol ready to dot your eye. If you are sitting at the end | ‘@* © is Pw be effe Se bee ry 1 Baap Lape aautiax elean Siz | seat it is fifty times worse. You are then sitting in a prickly bush of | P@78S0/S e ellectually pu , | ols; or, to come nearer the mark, your head seems to be revolving | P2T#® Lavare being called in, a remedy which might be almost as bad j - i ies” as the evil. aoe thy bo a of which the ladies’ parasols are the spokes, and Vous, dear tle; ta: dilly pul “The trouble, also, of getting inside an omnibus carrying fourteen A Great Omnipus TRAVELLER.” ANOTHER PUNCH AT PUNCH’S | | | | | cannot be made available for Exhibi- | tional purposes. Supposing, even, | deavour to furnish specimens of the | industry of the Scrubs—by the manv- |

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just | ade | s at gle | 4 = 2 dle, | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE LAST MAN OF THE SEASON. (ArrER CAMPBELL.) RSS Wiss > AS N Wak 9 S y + ) : \ xy ; \} ENN . \ ) Aut London’s sights shall close in gloom, The Opera season die ; Kensington Gardens shall assume A dull y idity ! T met with no one in my ride, In solitude I seem’d to guide y horse down Rotten Row. I heard the last of fashion’s throng Saying, “I’ve stopped in town too long, To-morrow off I go.” Regent Street had a sickly glare, epairs of Clubs began ; The skeletons of scaffolds were Around that lonely man! The instruments of Opera bands Were mute in their professors’ hands, Flute, flageolet, and drum ; The stage had neither sound nor tread, Sontac and Vrarpor are fled, Gris! and all are dumb. F’en Le Prophéte, that lately stood, With music loud and high, Where Mario was so wondrous good, Has, like a storm, passed by. Tes Huguenots their work have done, Finished is Za Tempesta’s run, Still’d is Cartorra’s toe ; For the last time LaBLacHE appears, No longer through a thousand ears His wondrous notes shall flow. Come! let the curtain quickly fall, Procrastination ’s vain ; Before the lights we will not call The vocalists again. On Covent Garden’s well-known track, I sorrowfully turn my back ; No bouquets now I need. Pinks, roses, jonquils, are abhorred, They lie unsold on shopman’s board, Or run—uncut—to seed. About the Park I cast my eyes, The sight they meet is dire ; A dismal row of shabby flys, Let—by the job—on hire: The cab that speaks a dearth of cash, Striving in vain to cut a dash, With broken-winded nag. I can’t remain—adieu, Pall Mall; The Boulogne boat to-morrow shall Receive my carpet bag. | gunpowder into it. The last time we SINGULAR FORCE OF HABIT. Tue editor of the Court Circular (who always writes, we are told, in a court dress—cocked hat, silk stockings, sword, and everything com- plete), is so much in the habit of writing one certain interesting paragraph about Her Masezsty, that his hand mechanically traces it upon every possible occasion. The ph we allude to is the me- morable one which we have read now daily for the last ten years, and runs, if we recollect right, nearly as follows :— “This morning Hzr Masesty, accompanied by Prince ALBERT, took her customary walk upon the slopes.” Wherever Her Magesty goes, the above paragraph is sure to follow her. It must annoy her almost as much as those salutes which they will fire after her, as if the only way of catching the royal ear was by firing er i the pleasure of meeting the above ubiquitous paragraph was at Castle Howard, andif Her Masesty ascended Ben Nevis, or visited the Giant’s Causeway, or took a trip to the Hebrides, we almost believe that the next morning’s account would inform us that “The Queen and Prince AcBert, after breakfast, took their usual morning walk upon the slopes.” To do justice, however, to the much-abused editor of the Court Circular, | we must say that he does sometimes neglect to record the valuable fact. For instance, very recently, when the QuEEN went to Ostend, no mention whatever was made of the historical incident. For two, nay three consecutive days, neither the Mage nor Privce ALBERT) e this is its own praise, when | we remember that the Royal personages were on board the Royal Yacht. | “walked upon the slopes.” Accuracy THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER. Tue Comte pE_CHamBorp is all but given up by the Legitimist party in France. They pay a pilgrimage to a desired Henry CrnqQ, and they find the poorest creature: a mere fussy thing of recollections and traditions, about_as fit for the world in its progress, as the memory of Louis THE FourtEENTH—could it be_reproduced—to dance a saraband. Nevertheless, though Legitimist France despair of her king of bran and tiffany, our own Morning Post has ont confidence in the full-sized male doll of St. Louis’s, and pays due homage to “that charm of voice and manner, the peculiar and inestimable quality of his Now, if the voice and manner of Henri Crnq be so atenh for fasci- nation, why does he keep in idleness the miraculous — Why does he not begin in earnest to charm the serpents of the Republic, making no more of them than our Mussulman friend in the Zoological Gardens makes of Ais snakes, hooded and rattle? But the days of miracles are gone; especially of miracles courtly. Once, indeed, it was believed that legitimate kings could touch away evil ; but now, and even in - own case, somehow—despite voice and manner—the evil will stick. A TIMELY COINAGE, Tue people of Sheffield have voted an address to Lorp Joun Russi praying him to cause an increased issue of copper: more farthings, halfpence, and penny-pieces. The premier should look to this; especially if—as in the case of Mrs. WacHorN—it may be found necessary to give pensions to the widows of men of genius. Farthings may be wanted.

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England. says SHAKSPEARE. _ PUNCH, OR THE LON LONDON CHARIVARI, THE PEACE CONGRESS, ow the world would st it not for the follies of the hair- brained and enthusiastic! Hap- pily, they now and then make the sides of the grave and wise to shake with wholesome laughter; even though the aforesaid gravity and wisdom quick subside into com- sa gg tome pity of the topians. How many laughs has: ate, were speculative folly: ! There was. one Hzrvey, wlio avouched a. discovery of the circuli tion.of the blood. And the world laughed, and then rebuked him); and finally—for his outrageous non- sense—punished him by depriving him of his practice. There was one JennzER, who—having speculated upon the hands of certain dairy-maids, theorised upon vaccine virus—and declared that in the cow he had found a reme sdy for small-pox. And the world shouted; and the wags were especially droll—forete lling, i in their excess of witty fancies, the growth. of cow’s horns from the heads of vaccinated |/ babies. When # was declared that our streets should be illuminated’ by ignited coal-gas—the gas to flow under our feet—the world’ laugliedi; and then, checked in its merrime nt, stoutly maintained that some night London, from end to end, would be blown up. Wuinsor—the gas-man —was only a more tremendous Guy Fawkes. When the experimental steam-boat was first essayed at Blackwall, and went stern foremost, the river rang with laughter. There never was such aw aterman’s holiday. When STEPHENSON was examined by the Parliamentary sages upon a railway project by which desperate people were to travel at the rate of, aye, fifteen miles an hour, the Quarter ‘ly Review laughed a sardonic laugh, asking, with killing irony, “Ww ould not men as soon be shot out of a gun, as travel by such means ? And when, last week, the Peace Congress met at Frankfort, did not the wise ones laugh at the tinkering pacificators—the sim jle ones in broad-brim and drab? They met in St. Paul’s Church “ud they pay twopence ?) and tiger Haywav listened to them, and was not there and then changed to a lamb; neither was a single piece of cannon turned, by the eloquence of the talkers, into honey. The wise world has laughed ‘at the circulation of the blood—at gas— at steamboats—at railw ays Why should not the world enjoy its horse- collar grin at the preachers of peace ? Why should not arbitration (until an accepted principle) be quite as ridiculous (until triumphant) as vaccination? If JENNER was a quack, why should not the dove— the symbol of peace—be pronounced a most fabulous goose ? Meanwhile, and only a few hours after the departure of the Peace Congress from Frankfort, electric wire, and the lightning carries messages between the nations— the natural enemies! An electric wire from Dover to Cape Grisnez! What a line of comment on the langhers ! Childish Cries. Ir is very strange that the ery which gives the most offence in a Republic, should be “ Vive la R- publique.” Yet the popularity of the | President of a Republic has been tested, during a recent trip, by the | prevalence, or absence, of that cry. Lours- NAPOLEON himself would not shake hands with a man, because he shouted it in his ear. His| followers actually kicked a man out of ‘the room because he dared to raise that republican ery in the presence of their republican chief—and | so on, through theatres, balls, fields, reviews, and Préfectures. France lately has been doing nothing but ery, ery, ery, from morning to night, and, like a pet child, rather too much attention has been paid to its | erying. Wecannot ‘help thinking that a nation has arrived to a strange childish state when it is always crying; and, really, like a child, does not know what it is crying for. Widow Waghorn’s Pension. Tre Government has recently added £15 to the previous £25 pension to the widow of the man who first brought India within a few weeks of £25 and then £15! “The quality of mercy is not strained,” The auslity of government reward is not strained either. “No,” says the Minister, tapping his red-box, “it is not strained—it is filtered.” wisdom enjoyed: at “the cost. of: England and France are tied together by the | A NOVELTY IN THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER. SEPTEMBER is not generally the month of novelties. It is a month of unbroken London “dullness, when a Singing Mouse would be wel- comed with the delight almost of a Jenny Linp. We were astonished, (therefore, at being told of a novelty in Regent Street, that was sur- rising the one or two loungers that are still left in town. Scarcely relieving this meas, which we feared was too good to be true. we wended our way to t hat highly-deserted locality, editing in our minds the choice little dinner, which we determined upon having, by way of consolation, at VEREY’s, in case we should be disappointed. We reached the Cosmorama Rooms, and, to our delight, really did finda novelty. We bounded upstairs, and rushed madly into a room, when a. wild African, flourishing a spear over his head, suddenly checked our exuberance. We were about to leave the olace, half-disappointed, and more than half-terrified, when a black lady, about the height of Mz, Rosert KEE ey, stalked majestically into the room, carrying a big: pitcher on her head. A glance at her dress, which consisted of an immense buffalo’s hide ornamented with large brass nails, induced us to remain. Another glance at her ears convinced us we had really dis- covered a novelty—so great a novelty, indeed, that it would make the fortune of the proprietor, if everybody but ourselves had not unfor- tunately left town. This black lady carries her snuff-box in her ears, and wipes her eyes with an egg-spoon. Isn’t this a novelty? and yet it is perfectly true. The snuff is put into a tube exactly like a needle-case, and this needle- case, no bro - or than lady’s little finger, is thrust through the fleshy part of her ear, where it hangs as a sort of ear-ring. She never sneezes, but cries profusely, collecting her tears in a sort of bone spoon, w hich she rubs up and down her eyelids for the purpose. ‘This young lady is very interesting, notwithstanding the habit she has contracted of taking snuff, and might be called pretty, if it were not for her hair, which she rubs over with a kind of red paint, —for it seems that red hair is con- sidered in South Africa very beautiful, and is all the fashion with the natives. This hair hangs in little red worsted curls, and does not add, we think, to he lady’s . auty. She is sixteen years of age—sweet sixteen—and dances with bare feet, singing as she stamps the floor. We are sorry we cannot say much either for her singing or her dancing. Her hushand is the wild African gentleman who frightened us so much on our entrance. He comes from the Cape, and has brought a very yeculiar one with him, in the shape of foxes’ tails, which hang round iis neck like so many ladies’ cast-off boas, not two of the same length, and give him the appearance of the most eccentric fur-reigner we ever saw. He is very good-natured, and wears large brass bed-curtain rings on both his naked arms. His great pride, however, is his hair. Hair-dressing at the Cape must be a profitable business, for every native seems to devote iy wb to nothing else. We never saw such hair. It is worked and stitched, and beeswaxed up most elaborately into a perfect bowl on the top of his head—and you imagine that it must have been arranged to ps balls, such as you see conjurors do in the street. It must be very incon- venient in rainy weather, for the bowl must get full of water, and the Zuloo (for he comes from that “hair” tribe) must stand on his head, if he wishes to empty it. There is another native, still more good-natured than the other two. He wears a regal mantle of Kangaroo- skins, and carries a bundle of spears in his hand, as a beadle carries his staff. He is very good-looking, has a faultless figure, worthy of a copper Apollo, but we are ashame d to say, he ps ,ints—and the painting is not done with a very artistic hand either, for it is smeared all over his nose, his eyebrows, and his forehead, in a style that does not say much for the delicacy of his touch. The colour, too, which is used, is a vulgar brick-dust, and the effect of carrots on the top of chocolate (for such is the colour of his complexion) is not | very charming. His hair is likewise discoloure d by this anchovy-coloured tincture. We are told that he lived “inthe bush.” We are sure, then, |from the colour he has. brought away all over him, that it must have been a red-currant bush. No Republic: an can be more Rouge than he is. The exhibition, however, is a most interesting one. You are brought {in contact, hand-in-hand, with these simple-hearted natives, and they laugh with you in the most familiar manner, without waiting for the | absurd formality of an introduction. You may pull them about as you like—they only grin, and show their beautiful white teeth. Their tractability is most wonderful, for they of yey the proprietor in the most willing, loving manner, when they might transfix him in a moment with one of their spears, if "they chose. Altogether we have not seen so great a novelty for a long time—and it is extraordinary how it can have come to light in this dark, empty, month of September. Out of sympathy with those poor unfortunate creatures, who are detained in town like ourselv es, we publish the fact, and: advise them to pass a dreary hour in laughing with the handsome | Kaffir, and taking snuff with the good-natured Zuloo, and _ his Amaponda- ry wife, who are at present lodging on a first-floor in Regent Street.

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CHARIVARE PUNCH, OR THE LONDON TO PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY. A CARD. N the present occasion, Mr. Punch offers his feli- citating compliments,— Mr. Punch feeling that the interests of the blissful rite of marriage are best honoured and advanced by a serious and faithful report thereof, begs to inform the nuptial world that marriages—(when the breakfasts are satisfactorily splendid, and the cakes sufficiently tasteful) — are punctually attended. Mr. Punch is induced te offer himself, and to throw open his journal, to wed- ding-parties (of the highest consideration) from a sense of impatience and dissatis- faction at the manner in which the most important moment of human life is too frequently dismissed by the unreflecting and incapable. Young ladies are really thrown away at the altar; when, with a little judi- cious treatment, they might be made a most attractive feature in the public newspapers. Now, it is the purpose of Mr. Punch, either to attend himself, or to give the necessary credentials to one of his young gentlemen, who, capable of treating the ceremony like an artist, shall take care that brides, like flowers, do not bloom to blush unseen; who shall wander from bouquet to bouquet of the bridesmaids, like a honey-bee, and who shall be further warranted to carry away in his eye every bonnet, cap, gown, jacket, visite, victorine, &c., &c., of the party. ‘ It will be the object of Mr. Punch to make the weddings of private families public to the meanest capacity ; and thereby carry out to the fullest a principle but poorly attempted by certain Brighton contemporaries. Mr. Punch subjoins a skeleton specimen. THE ABODE OF THE BRIDE. The morning sun glows on the climbing roses. The skylark, gwd immediately over the chimney, throws a gush of notes down the fireplace. The hearth, where the infant feet of the bride, &c., &c. And still the lark sings, tira-lira, tira-lira, &c. THE GATHERING OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. The meadows are dotted with all classes of persons, mostly women. The dots become lines—still women. The church-yard becomes crowded—and overflows, prin- cipally with women. INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH. Not less than a hundred and fifty new bonnets—white, the prevailing colour. School-children anxious and mottled in the gallery. Silence is so profound that the watch of the clerk is heard convulsively ticking. Moment of intense excitement. The Church-door opens. It is the Bride! No—the Beadle. Has on anew pair of shoes that creak despite of the aisle. CONSIDERABLE SENSATION. THE BRIDEGROOM AND HIS BROTHER. _. The bridegroom wears the mustachios of the Royal Sanguinary Buffs, and the jingling of his spurs brings the colour to more than one fair cheek. It is remarked that the bridegroom has bright buttons on his coat; and his brother, vindicating his fraternity on so interesting an occasion, also has his buttons bright / THE BRIDESMAIDS ! The fourteen bridesmaids (the Misses Ercerera) descend upon the church floor, thereby disproving the old poetic error that Birds of Paradise do zo¢ touch the ground. They are all drest in rainbow polkas, with apple-blossom skirts of the Garden of Eden, and it is further remarked by the casual spectator, that each of them has in the words of the lamented Bayxey, “Grace in her steps, heaven in her eye, an in every gesture dignity and love.” ARRIVAL OF THE BRIDE! The Bride appears, and the organist in the loft is about to play God save the Queen, he is so struck with the wonderful likeness of the interesting fiancée to Her Most Gracious Masesty; the bride being a sparkling brunette. She is drest in a mist of orient silver, flounced with aphrodite lace. She wears the veil of the _ morning, and is crowned with the apples of the Hesperides, THE GROUP. | Looking at the gorgeous group of distinguished friends that adorn this eventful VOL, XIX, N moment, we rejoice to observe the noble (here parties will of course supply the proper names) and the excellent ——, and the gallant ——, and the much-respected ——,&e., &c. THE CEREMONY. The bride, whose colour comes and goes, but stops when the ceremony is completed, behaves with a fortitude that must, could it be possible, still further endear her to her now gallant lord. ‘The ceremony is performed by Doctor UY , hid ow 7, "7 Tyr, assisted by the Rev. Mr. Knort, and we were de- ighted to hear that a relay of three more clergymen was ready at a minute’s summons, had such assistance been deemed necessary. _— EGRESS FROM THE CHURCH. Tue bride is led radiant from the altar, when the spec- ators can no longer control their natural anxiety, but mob the happy pair; bidding defiance to the efforts of the blooming bridesmaids to rejoin their beauteous charge. At the hour we go to press, three bridesmaids are missing ; which fact will, we trust, illustrate the quietude and decorum with which fashionable marriages are at present acted before Her Magesty’s subjects. a THE WEDDING CAKE Is carved with the sabre of F. M. tae Doxe or WELLING- ton; the Duke himself not being able to give the bride away. THE HOM@OPATHIC SYSYEM OF REWARDS, A Kwyicurnoop has been offered to Mx. STEPHENSON, and the honour courteously declined. We have a singular scale of rewards in England. Lord Mayors are made baronets by the dozen. Generals, who carry off victories in India, are made lords and marquesses. A peerage is given to a banker, from the overpowering merit which a million sterling was supposed to confer upon him. And yet to an Engineer, who occupies the first rank in his noble profes- sion in England, perhaps in the world; to a man who has fought with Earth, Air, and Water, and left a beautiful work upon each as a monument of his victory; to one who has enriched his country with gifts of genius, such as the Tubular Bridge, the High Level Bridge, and_the Border Bridge; the offer of a Knighthood is made! If Mr. STEPHENSON had been a tallow-chandler, and had had the honour of opening the Temple Bar to Her Magesty during one of her visits to the city; if he had been a Lord Mayor, and had eaten a public dinner with Prince ALBERT; if he had been the Attaché for years to some Hanwa -Yard of a German Principality, or the Complete Letter-Writer of some grateful minister, a smaller compliment could not have been paid to him! We are glad that he sent back the insulting offer, for we should have considered it a national disgrace, and have grieved for it as a national sorrow, if a man, like Mr. SterHeNsoN, whose works, from their magnitude and noble grandeur, are looked up to all over the world, should have done anything _ and mean to have caused their author, and the science he honours, to he looked down upon! Britannia ruling the Waves. Tuts extraordinary feat nd be witnessed any day by repairing to either of the Telegraph offices at Dover or Calais, when the whole process of ruling will be shown to the stranger. At present Britannia only rules the waves with one line—but in a short time it is expected she will become so perfect as to rule it with twenty or thirty lines. In fact, it is considered that the ocean eventually will be nothing but an immense copy-book, which Britannia will be continually ruling, the Celine to enable historians to write her proud achievements upon it as well as assist her in corresponding with other nations in all the gentle terms of peace and good-fellowship. May Science, as_in this instance, always guide Britannia’s hand in ruling the waves ! A “PERFECT” JOKE. “ Wuar is the reason of a blow leaving a blue mark after it?” asked an inquiring young gentleman. “Tt’s easily accounted for,” answered a medical student, who was reading Bell’s Life; “for you know that Blow in the perfect makes Blew.”

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HAYNAU’S TASTE OF BARCLAY AND PERKINS’S ENTIRE. By this time the reader is aware of the extraordinary which took lace the other day at Rencuat AND PERKINS’S —the storm brewed at that establishment by GeneRaL Haynav. Haywnav, in the public eye, stands ae with deeds of the basest atro- city—the merciless hang- ing of brave men, and the dastardly flogging of noble women, He is a slandered man, of course. Wo demon, even, but the tmeanest as well as most malignant in devildom, would have perpetrated cruelties so execrable and infamous. This gal- lant officer and amiable gentleman goes about, the object of universal hatred, through (doubtless) a mere deception, which has been unaccountably practised on the newspapers, and disseminated by their means. With his detestable character pinned to his back—albeit bold as brass in conscious imnocence —did Baron Haynav, according to the Zimes and other journals—go on Wednesday last week to visit Barctay ani Perxiys’s brewery. Armed with the breastplate of an untainted heart, he wrote his name—little thinking what a name it was—in the visitors’ book. The pen might as well hive been a lighted match, and the page a train leading to a powder-barrel. What was the consequence? “ His presence,” says the Zimes— “ Became known all over the brewery in less than two minutes, and before the general and his companions had crossed the yard, nearly all the labourers and draymen were out with brooms and dirt, shouting out, ‘Down with the Austrian butcher,’ and other epithets of rather an alarming nature to the general. dirt, and perceiving some of the men about to attack him, ran into the street to Bank-side, followed by a large mob, ee Ss the brewer's men, coal-heavers, and others, armed with all sorts of weapons, with which they belaboured e general. The Baron fondly imagined himself a simple lion; and had no idea that he would be received as a Tiger—the beast with which he is confounded by a vulgar error. But had he really been the unmanly miscreant he was mistaken for, how poetically beautiful would have been the termination of his adventure !— “ He ran in a frantic manner —” Frantically as a women-whipper might be expected to run :— “ He ran in a frantic manner along Bankside, unti? he came to the George public-house, when, forcing the doors open, he rushed in and proceeded upstairs into one of the bed-rooms, to the utter astonishment of Mrs. BENFIELD, the landlady, who soon discovered his name, and the reason of his entering her house. him, threatening to do for the ‘ Austrian butcher,’ but fortunately for him the house is very old fashioned, and contains a vast number of doors, which were all forced open, except that of the room in which the General was concealed.” If—only if, mind—Baron Haynav were indeed the Haynav of the journals—how delicious to behold the brave General that whipped the fair sex, taking shelter from chastisement beneath | * covered | awoman’s petticoat! What a sight for the shade of Barruyant to see him lie there, with dirt,” but more thickly bedaubed with ignominy ! Happily the injured innocent escaped with his life. The police came timeously to the rescue, and—as above, see the Zimes :— “A police galley was at the wharf at the time, into which he was taken and rowed towards Somerset House, amidst the shouts and execrations of the mob.” The Morning Post states that “ He was conveyed over the water in a most deplorable state, the clothes having been actually torn off his back, besides several very severe blows having been inflictcd on bim.” Every rightly feeling mind must condole with Genera Haynav on the treatment which he has experienced from being so very unmeritedly regarded as a diabolical savage and a disgrace to human nature. Messrs. BaRcLay AND Perks, it is stated, have been investigating the matter, with a view to discover the ringleaders in the attack on the gallant General—who was misunderstood to have hanged heroes and flogged ladies. Even had there been no misunderstanding in the case, the conduct of the draymen would certainly have been illegal. Nor would it have been exactly justifiable morally ; for, as we all know, it is a duty not to let our blood boil over under any provocation, and we ought to preserve a philosophical calmness even in the presence of Herop Fresh from the slaughter of the Innocents, or of Nero red-handed from his mother’s murder lere’s to your speedy amendment, Baron Haynav! and lest new acquaintance should be forgot, perhaps you will pledge us in Barctay, Perkins anp Co.’s ENTIRE. Contracting Bad Habits. UNLEss you wish to contract bad habits, we should advise * jaar slg you not to purchase your clothes at a cheap tailor’s, for, as the cl 3 oth is invariably bad, and the way of making it up generally t small, the chances are, that with every coat. waistcoat, or pair of trousers you purchase, you will be contracting a deplorable bad habit. The only consolation is, that you will have no diffi- culty in breaking yourself of the habit, for it is sure to break of its own accord. ' PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. brewing | He was soon covered with | . h | The furious mob rushed in after | HEALTH OF THE HIGH COURT OF PARLIAMENT. | THERE is not a reproach to the Govern- ment and the Legislature more scandalous than their neglect of the medical profession. Among the officers, whether of the Lords or the Commons, there is neither physician nor surgeon; a fact, which shows how little either or the Houses of Parliament care for the Constitution. These remarks are sug- gested by a return lately published of the sit- tings of the House of Commons during the last session. The number of days on which the House sat, was 129 altogether, and in July amounted to as many as 23; the sit- tings, on the whole, occupying 1,104 hours, 14 minutes; and averaging 8 hours, 33 minutes, and 35 seconds a day: now, of course, all this sedentary occupation must be highly injurious. Of the time thus spent, no less than 108 hours and a quarter were after midnight: and the pernicious effect of keeping such late hours must be obvious. Sedentary habits, it is well known, are particularly pro- ductive of liver complaints and indigestion ; and nothing is more likely than that such votes as the Sabbatarian resolution are come to under the influence of bile, and that bodily dyspepsia—which is known to affect the mind ts the cause of ill-digested measures. The Commons, at any rate, ought to have a medical officer to regulate the habits of the House ; to feel its pulse previously to its entering on exciting questions, and to ex- amine the tongues of honourable members before they are allowed to speak. But it is not probable that any such wise appointment will _ made. Even if Parliament were aroused to anxiety about its health, it would never call in a regular practitioner, but would quack itself with the patent pills, and other poisons of which it encourages the sale. FIRST APPEARANCE THIS SEASON OF THE AMERICAN SERPENT. | | ‘THe American Sea Serpent has come up again. We made sure he would as soon as Parliament was closed. His season then begins. He commences his summer circuit. |This year he has been favouring Ireland | with a round of his favourite characters. In | addition to his former representations, he has been trying a number of feats in the style of tne celebrated American Jumper,—with this difference, that he has been jumping up to a certain height, instead of from one. One correspondent informs us that the Serpent, when fired at, leapt up in the air 40 fathoms. This extraordinary feat appears to us so in- credible, so profoundly mysterious, that with all our faith, knowing that the statement is made by an Irish correspondent, we cannot fathom it. But the Serpent’s trip to Ireland seems curious. We thought that St. Patrick drove all the reptiles and serpents so effec- tually from Ireland, that they were never to return to it. Perhaps the American Serpent has heard of the Irishman’s love of the mar- vellous, and has paid him a visit purposely, in order to see how he can enlarge upon his dimensions. Nothing will be too wonderful \for the American Sea Serpent in the hands of “our Irish Correspondent,” and we have no doubt it will last him long enough to run through the winter till Parliament opens again. Puncn’s apvice TO GENERAL Haywnav. —Shave, and change your name.

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= 8 =e a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. PUNCH’S ROYAL PROGRESSES. THE PROGRESS TO THE NORTH. Being a letter from Br, Jones, Stoker, North Western Line, to JEM Brite, Lv-fireman, Eastern Counties Line, on strike. Dear JEmM—This comes hoping you’ve blowed off your quarrel Vith your guv’noys, me So d’ye see, hangs a moral ; You, perhaps, might a’ stoked for your QUEEN, if you’d not Been and gone, JEM, and struck when yer iron was hot. *Owsumever ’t’aint no use arippin’ old plates ; So I gets up my steam, goes ahead, and relates What I ’eared with my ears, what I seen with my eyes, Of the Queen and Privce Atpert, and fam’ly likewise, And also the sweet, wich last Toosday as were, Set off for the North, all from Euston Skevare ; Mc’Connet the engine to drive had the honour, And I was chose out, Jem, for fireman upon her. My eyes! warn’t I proud, as I ’andled my poker ? Tf that train didn’t go-—’taint no fault o’ the stoker ! For I felt myself almost too big for my station, ‘Vo think I was stokim’ the ’ead of the nation! Well, at last to the Euston, the QuEEN she comed down, But bless you, she hadn’t no robes, and no crown— But looked like any lady youd see in the street, Wich the Parsce was the same, and the rest of the sweet ; But Lord, Jem, that Maxcuioness Dovro’s a beuty, (Wich Primcesses and Princes to nuss it’s her dooty,) And sez I to myself—“ Bless your sweet face,” sez If I goes off the lme with you, blow me sky gh, ma’am ? ” So with that, when the young Prryce or Wazzs and his brothers And sisters was *long-side of each others, Off we goes! QuEEN and Prince they bows out of the winders, And, Lord, didn’t we just astonish the emders. Though I say it that should’nt, there ne’er was a hingine Behaved herself better—the pace it was swingein’ ; Soon we sighted the Wolverton Station, and in it We stopped her, just under the hour, by a minute. There they'd lunch—wich we broke through the Wolverton rule, And actilly took time for the soup to get cool! Wich, as all will admit as has stopped there to dine, Was the loyalest thing could be done on the line. Well—we started again, and was bilin’ a pace, When, what should I see, just outside o’ the place, But the boys and the girls out o’ Wolverton School, Drawed up by the line, Jem, as straight as a rule; I thought rd ha’ snivelled to see, ’mongst the rest on ’em, My little Marra as neat as the best on ’em. I don’t think the QuEEN got a werry good sight on ’em, Nor they one o’ her—but still, Jem, it wer right on ’em: ?Twas the same all along o’ the line, dash my buttins! A top o’ the bridges, and over the cuttins, ; Each side of embankments, and round about stations, It was people in heaps—all a’waitin with patience, And hoorain’ like mad, as we slapped past in style— For we did it all through, Jem, a minute a mile, Wich ain’t a bad pace, if you take in the stopping ; ; Wich so sure as we stopped down them Lord Mares was droppin With their maces and swords, and their big corporations, All a fizzin and blowin off congratylations. Once, I thought I’d a’ laffed till I busted my biler— We’d pulled up permiscus to water and ile her, When down comes a Mare and a train of them aldermen (I don’t think I ever see fatter or balder men) Well, just then I wistled, and turned on the steam— iss You ought to a’ seen ’em, so broad in the beam, How they scuttled and panted alongside the train, A tryin to shove their address through the pane. The short-windeder on ’em, they soon dropped behind, But the Mare he kept on till he run isself blind, He’|l be a long time gettin’ over that bust! But Mares and such like ain’t no good in our day, | It’s Directors that now has it all their own way ; | It’s them meets the QuEEN both at startin and stoppin’, | With refreshments upon her keeps always a poppin’, Has the honour to hand the young Princesses down, And the Prince, wich they tell me is hair to the crown— | Jn short, wen you cipher it up you’ll agree } That the rail is the ove thing Her Magesty see. | Ony look at Newcastle, now—vere vas the town ? | From the High Level Bridge on the Tyne she looked down— { { | | His address in the winder a tryin to thrust— She never saw nothin’ of coal-pits and stuff, But she did see the station—and that was enuff. As a stoker—you see, Jem—I’m natrally proud, We ort: for to ’old up our heads in the crowd; For railways, Pacha on’t, is wonderful things, And they don’t care a fig if it’s Queens or it’s Kings That they tosses from England’s one end to the other, Tn their long iron arms, with a scream and a smother ; And I could’nt but think though I be’s but a stoker, With the QureEN in the carriage, and me at the poker, How with royalty goin’ at this sort o’ pace, Old loyalty must, somehow, show a new face; When Her Masesty’s carriage, though fit up in style, Goes by just the same road as the penny-a-mile— We live m queer times—“ go a-head ” folks all scream, And the one thing we seems for to vally is steam; Which is all werry well, if the rails be well laid, And the stoker and engmeman up to their trade ; But let atrain loose with steam up, you ’ll agree, That the faster the pace it ’s the worser for we ! Sometimes, Jem, I think with our stirrin’ and strivin’ We thinks too much of pace, and too little of drivin’. Howsumever, you’ll say that’s no ways here nor there, And no more it ain’t, Jem—I ’m quite well aware— But such was my thoughts, as across the High Level, ?Mid the roar of a fight, and the glee of a revel, We steamed, and shut off at Newcastle-on-Tyne, From wich we took on by the North British line, And reached Edinburgh safe, after no end of speeches, And was welcomed by folks, some of wich ’ad no breeches— But no matter: Her Masesty’s not broke no bones, Wereby for the same she may thank Yours, Bitt Jones. Rupture between England and France. We regret to announce a rupture between England and France, | which occurred last week, by the Submarine Telegraph suddenly break- chief, however, was soon patched up were as easily mended! The President’s Hornpipe. —Republic. ‘ing. All friendly communications between the two countries were | instantly suspended, and though it was evident that there was a “ screw loose” somewhere, it was only after a deal of fishing and sounding, | that it was discovered that the rupture was owing to the softness of one | of the “leaden conductors.” This is not the first time that a “leaden | conductor” has, by his softness, created a distance between the two ~ countries, and plunged them head over heels in difficulties. The mis- and communications from Dover to Calais have been since forwarded by the same line of communication as before. We only wish that all ruptures between England and France Lovuts Napo.eon has outdone the doings of the renowned Baron Natuan. The Baron—it is matter of undying history—dances through a hornpipe in a circle of eggs, and though blindfolded, never touches one of them. Lovis Napo.eon has danced through his progress, seeing no further before him than the Baron; and though he has shuffled through at least fifty speeches, he has never touched the word

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

if <2 ~~ Pe fA AAA Ae, r= - Bh id THE NEW CAB REGULATION. “Mr. Puncu,—I knows the proverb, ‘Give a dog a bad name, and *ang hin,’ and cabmen as a bad name, but am I not a man anda brother. if redooced to drive a cab, and don’t ort to be made a black slave of, and druv to distrackshun by the noo regylashuns of the pelice, wich one on ?em is wile a cabman is on wurk, he mussnt leve is cab not neither in charge of the waterman or in charge of anybody else, or he will find hisself in charge of a crusher and afore the beak in no time, and fined from ten to twenty shillin with costs, wich the consekence is I ama cabman and avin a ’ard master and a small famly, I am kep at wurk to arn my day’s munny from 8 or 9 in the mornin often till 2 or 3 nex mornin, if lucky in regard of coves to or from Waxhall and other ardings, wich such fares pays well but is werry late. well all this here 7 ours L’m wurkin the cab and ain’t to be allowed to leve it wereby what follers? I am obliged to ’ave my wittles on my box and I must bile my drop o’ coffee on the cold nites atop o’ the cab and ’ave myself

shaved on the same, and other necessaries of life, in the highs of the public, wich it destroys all self respeck and gits one’s self laffed at, and “ean’t so much as step down for to lite one’s pipe or take one’s pint o” beer sociable at the counter of the watrin’ouse but everythink on the box! “Tork o’ cruelty to hanimals! Show the cab-oss as is used like this and Ill pledge my woracity as a cab-man you cant do it wich I did think our persition couldn’t be wuss off since the joes came in and the busses down to threepence, but it seems nothin ain’t enuff but we must be made prisners for life, for a man might just as well be in Brixton or Colbath fields, and would ’av mor comfort of his life than at present wich I beg you will notice the abuv but do not giv my number, wich I enclose as a proof I’m to be depended on, or the crushers would mark me and I remane “Yours, to command, A CaBMAN, “(not an ’ansum one).” THE MERMAID’S LAST NEW SONG. THe mariners brave tidings bring That they through Dover’s Strait who steer, If, of an understanding ear, Thus ofttimes hear a Mermaid sing When the blue deep is calm and clear : ** A wonder have I seen below, A marvel new and strange to me Who dwell beneath the rolling sea, Amid the wrecks sunk long ago ; The wealth of Ocean’s Treasury. “There runneth an enchanted wire O’er the sea-bed, from shore to shore, Of nations that were foes of yore ; The conduit of a magic fire, Lightning beneath the waters’ roar. “The skulls of ancient enemies Around it lying, grimly frown , There, where the slain of old went down, Through wars of hoary centuries, In many an action of renown. “The flash amid those forms of Death Flits quick as thought from land to land; No hostile bolt, no deadly brand, Nay: but a soft electric breath Warm like the grasp of friendly hand. ** \ kindly spirit guides its aim, Benignant science bids it fly, Conveying question and reply ; There ’s language in that social flame, And France and England talk thereby. ‘*\id antique arms, old gun, and sword, Which insects of the sea o’erlay, Of those long fallen in savage fray, The bony fingers with the chord That links the nations, gently play. * And sea-sprites, as they sport along That nerve of wire, by human skill Between two peoples made to thrill, Sing joyously the Mermaid’s Song, ‘o England, Peace !—to France, Goodwill !”

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Mun gigi ‘i I ie Aa by ls) ri my jas | ty hy ne \ il My hy ty Mee Ne " j it yr pF i A, I } ) Ki) a i lng i , Whe i ae ae | Me soe r Wa in \ 4: ca ik i | yj a i: iv {i Wi \ 5 fl ND BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. {| = | \ i } Nii 1 [ ( : | | { iH} MH ! g | VF | | | } | \ | ) | | WM | i] \ tt i MMM Ih WM ) \) Ti YAW mM oly H} i Hy f NNN / Mh i { | | || | y i] I i Ne “ALU ! 1 } 4] Wy I 4} 1K ‘| | va H | 4 1} | My 6 if | , i 4 Wve eg tit Mi aid es WT | Mi | } , H a \\ Y y f | ) ie i 4 ny } ‘ St ' » v | if yan MAY , AU i r 11 i AA a WP } N ( 1) Desi >s > 4 wa ly a ’ ra \ = oe oy NY | - | EFFECT OF THE SUBMARINE TELEGRAPH; OR, PEACE AND GOOD-WILL

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BARCLAY AND PERKINS’S DRAYMEN. New VERsI0n. GENERAL there was on Austria’s side, A Baron who ruth did lack, man, He hang’d brave soldiers, and—tan his hide! He wallopp’d the female back, man. Whether he ever did much in fight, Is more than I’m able to say, man; But I know that he nearly got killed outright, By Barctay and Perkrs’s Draymen. Our Baron bold, who whopp’d the fair, Of hanging who had the enh man, Came over here to Exgland, where He could have no ladies to whack, man. For gibbet and halter in vain he sigh’d, At hanging unable to play, man, So in quest of amusement, a visit he tried To Barcray and Perxrns’s Draymen. The British Drayman’s blood boils high On woman a whip if you crack, man; It makes him mad—the reason why— Tis the act of a dastard black, man. Accordingly his fury rose, When the Baron came in his way, man, And his eyes flash’d fury and “ Butcher, here goes!” Swore Barcray and Perxrns’s Draymen. The Baron was seized with blue despair, And his teeth like mill did clack, man ; Cries he—“ Vere shall I ron? ah vere! To esgabe vrom deir addack, man ?” “You blood-stain’d thing! we’ll make you feel, Though you may be dead to shame, man!” So, though in language less genteel, Cried Barcuay and Perxins’s Draymen. Says they, “If truly our mind we tells, Your skull we should like to crack, man ; For really your name so nasty smells—” And so be went at him—smack! man. You can’t think how my heart it pains To have such things to say, man; They pelted the Baron with mud and grains, Did Barciay and Perkiys’s Draymen, The Baron at running tried a match ; They followed him in a pack, man, Crying, “Down with the Butcher!” and “There goes Old Scratch! That scratched the lady’s back, man!” They tore his clothes and they punch’d his head, Until he look’d not like the same man, While he, like a hunted hyzena, fled From Baxcray and Perkins’s Draymen. With frantic speed down-street he flew, With the mob upon his track, man, And a ginshop door he darted through, And hid in a two-pair-back, man. “This here land,” cries the crowd, “ is free, We'll teach you the ladies to flay, man ;” “ And don’t show your face here no more among we,” Says Barcuay and Perxins’s Draymen. The New Police came just in time, (Tis said that they ’re sometimes slack, man,) And rescued him cover’d with bruises and grime, And carried him off in their smack, man. With rage and fear he did glare and grin, Says they—“ You are well away, man; ” * And don’t let us catch you here agin,” Says Barciay and Perkrys’s Draymen. British and Foreign Industry. Amone the various wonderful things we shall see exhibited next year at the Great Exhibition, there will of course be included a sufficiency of specimens of a certain clever continental invention, contrived for the purpose of promoting that international communication and familiarity which the Exhibition itself is meant to encourage. Conspicuous amid the marvels of foreign ingenuity, doubtless—duly illuminated, framed, and glazed—will be a numerous variety of Passports. Joun Buu, poor creature, has nothing of the kind to show—but then, on the other hand, he has the Submarine Electric Telegraph. THE ORIGINAL “ INEFFABLE FLUNKEY.” On, Loyalty, Loyalty, “ou diable vas tu te nicher ?” Art thou totally to degenerate into addresses from Mayors and Royal Railway Progress ? We fad fancied that Englishmen were the most perfect flunkeys in the world, when they take to flunkeyism. Is there anything so snobbish as a vulgar Englishman’s worship of a lord? Is there anything so universal as the spice of this snobbishness that leavens our Joun Butuism ? But we have discovered the flunkey—he lives at Edinburgh and writes to The Scotsman. i such mentioning might have. _ The flunkey has stalked the Royal y! He has been successful in his waylaying and eavesdropping! He ran in upon them, as they started for Arthur’s Seat! He reached the top two minutes before them! He saw the Prince of Wales come up! He actually saw his “ kilt, and pouch, and black velvet jacket !” THe beheld him (oh, ecstasy!) mount the pinnacle and seize the flag-staff, and ery out, “I amatthetop! I’m up first!” and he had the felicity of calling out, “God save the Prince of Wales!” and the Prince nodded at him / and he looked at him for nearly a minute! d in another minute he saw the QUEEN come, leaning on her husband’s arm! And she was “none the worse ;” and shouted “God save the QueEN! Welcome to Artruur’s Seat!” d the QuEEN saw him—the inevitable flunkey at her side—the flunkeydom that had dogged her all the way from Euston Square, was here, embodied and intensified in this Edinburgh snob of snobs, thrusting itself on her privacy—watching her every movement—drinking in her every word with the same intensity of vulgar relish with which it jostled the Nepau- lese Princes, or crushes to see the Hippopotamus, and with as much of the fine flame and glow of loyalty for its QuEEN, bless its idiotic im- pudence, as it feels for the said Hip opotamus. But he wasn’t satisfied with ‘ Gop save the Quren!” He must again cry out, “Gop save Prince Arpert!” and his Highness lifted his hat and bowed politely. Then they walked about and Snob followed them, and eaves-dropped and reports their little chit-chat. And then . oer enjoyed themselves for a quarter of an hour or so”—the PRrincE and the om and the Prince ALBERT, and the Snob, and by this time there were assembled about thirty other Snobs, but THE SNOB still was paramount. There was no Szob so pushing as Tue Snos! He assisted in handing the Prince or Watzs off the grass to the attendants, and he shook hands with him! and he assisted the other little Princes, and he shook hands with them! And he hopes the worthy Provost won’t think him intrusive, for “he believes the Royal Party wouldn’t have got up to the top so easy, had he not shown them the way,” and he is “happy to say, not another visitor intruded on the to but himself and one eavesdropper—and he (eavesdropper) only remaine one minute, but he (Snob) remained all the time! and he thinks he did nothing more than his duty.” Oh Snob, Snob, triple Snob! Thou hadst some misgivings, but flunkeyism was too strong for thee, and thou couldst not see that the QUEEN and the Prince are a lady and a gentleman, and that they have a right to their privacy; and that thou hadst been rightly served had some one been by to have boxed thy long ears for an intrusive, eaves- dropping, under-bred flunkey, and Snob-Royal as thou art ! “All Soldiers are Gentlemen. Tue Englishman (Indian paper) gives a letter of the Commander-in- Chief, in which Str Cuartes Naprer writing of one SERGEANT Rowr, lays it down as an unquestionable truth, that “he who wears an uniform is of higher rank than he who makes it.” The soldier before the tailor—the eagles of war before the geese of the shop-board. Farther, says Srk Cuartes, “all soldiers are gentlemen, and tailors are only tailors.” Very good. Yet the self-same file of Indian papers detail a terrible flogging inflicted upon a soldier for charging his Colonel with cowardice. All soldiers are gentlemen! Wherefore, then, the triangles? How, Sir Cuartes, can a soldier be a gentleman when made cat’s-meat? Hob and Nob. “Have you heard,” asked Hop, “that the sea-serpent has appeared off the coast of Ireland, and, was moreover, seen to cuniak itself against certain rocks called the Barrels?” “ Lhave heard it,” answered Nos. “Have you further heard,” said Hos, “that the sea-serpent left some of its scales upon the rocks.” “I have,” said Nos; “and I have discovered why the sea-serpent left those very scales behind it.” “Why?” asked Hop; when, quick as the electric wire, the wag Nos replied, “Seeing its appearance has been doubted, the sea-serpent left the scales, to weigh the evidence.*’ Corporations, and bowing Directors, and the ineffable flunkeydom of a | We won’t mention his name for fear of ruffling his | modesty, or flattering his vanity, for we are not quite sure what effect |

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ib ve . | 3 —s — AS WELL BE OUT OF THE WORLD AS OUT OF THE FASHION. Old Gentleman (who is of course much behind his age). “ WertL, MY LIITLZ DEAR, AND PRAY WHAT NICE LITTLE GIRL ARE You ?” Little Girl. “Ou, 1F you pLEasE, Sir, I’m a Puseyite, anpD so’s Betsy ‘Arris. (Zo Young Lady) Ain’? we, Mem?” PUNCH’S RAILWAY TRAVELLER. Ever anxious for the public good, we have quadrupled the salary of oue of our contributors, insured his life in every office in London—as well as in the Railway Loss of Life and Accident Company—for the benefit of the most inconsolable of widows, and we have purchased for him a first-class ticket on every line, in order that he may be kept constantly travelling, with a view to the exposition of Railway grievances. He has undertaken the task with a thorough appreciation of what he may have to encounter in the shape of irregular trains running against each other, as well as what he may have to go through, in the way of brick walls, which an engine occasionally perforates. His purpose is to travel on every line, and make himself so familiar with the eccentricity of every engine, that, like Hamlet and his flute, he will learn “every stop of it.” He intends moving with all classes—first, second, and third—as well as that lowest class, which in no very complimentary spirit to the legislature is called the Parliamentary. He will cultivate a familiarity with every station, and run the chance of getting his days brought to a speedy end, by going to every terminus. He will en- cumber himself with every description of baggage, from the heavy trunk—only fitted for the large trunk-lines—down to the lighest sac de nuit that ever tempted the light-fingered fraternity in attendance on arriving and departing travellers. We have supplied him with dogs by the pack, horses by the stud, and carriages of every kind, so that he may familiarise himself with “all the ills that (travelling) flesh ””—including horse-flesh and dog-flesh -—“‘is heir to.” Our railway traveller will start upon his self-victimising expedition in the course of a few days; and his instructions are, that directly he is “troubled with a line,” he is to trouble us with a line informing us of the particulars. Any of the public desirous of having attention called to any railway gricvance, has only to let us know where our Contributor is likely to get smashed to pieces, maimed, mutilated, or impeded on his journey,— has only to let us know, and we will at once dispatch our railway traveller, at the risk of his getting “dispatched” on a more fearful scale for the public benefit. | ih ORIGIN OF THE TERM “ SHIP-SHAPE.” THe term “Ship-shape” was first used by the sailors of the mer- cantile marine to distinguish sailing vessels from those which had been built in the Government dockyards. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE SABBATARIANS’ LAST APPEAL. Lorp AsHuey and friends are not discomfited. No: they will have the management of the Englishman’s Sunday—they will stop his letters —they will gag the mouth of the Sabbath post. These over-zealous bright ones have put forth a new manifesto addressed to the convictions and the pockets of the pure; summing up divers causes, compulsory on Sabbatarians, urging them to a renewal of the persecution. And one of these is the relief of an exceeding large class of persons, “ Consisting unquestionably of hundreds of thousands, who, although not possessed of Jirmness enough to refuse to receive or open letters on Sundays, do nevertheless desire, as their recent petitions have shown, that the cares and business of the week should no longer be forced upon them.” Thus, it is commiseration for the weakness of erring flesh, unsuccess- fully struggling with the temptations of the Sunday post, that incites Lorp AsHLEY and party to endeavour to put the hands that will break seals into Sunday straight waistcoats; and to make the law a substitute for wanted firmness. Very amiable this of Lorp Asutry and Co.; but why—in their active beneficence—stop at the non-delivery of Sabbath letters ? Why not, in all social and domestic cases, stand between the tempted and the tempter ? Siesuede of well-meaning people do not possess sufficient firmness to prevent them from running in debt—why does not Lorp AsHLEY head a society for the putting down of the tally-man ? Multitudes of the well-meaning cannot resist the misery and destruc- tion of intemperance—by all means let Lorp ASHLEY find means to stand between the drunkard and the gin-shop. Again, how many improvident unions are contracted because the parties want firmness to await the fitting season? Why should not his Fordship eall for an Act prohibiting marriage under certain adverse conditions? If a substitute for moral firmness is to be supplied by Act of Parliament, by ali means begin with the reckless, the drunken, and the improvident. When they are tied over by statute to be thrifty, temperate, and prudent, then let his Lordship—in the dearth of all other iniquity—shut up the Sunday post; an achievement he will again sealiae when he has put down every other social evil (which a Sunday letter is not), and not till then. For his Lordship will never jockey another Derby : never again will his winning post 4 the Sundays. THE SUB-MARINE TELEGRAPH. PROTECTION FOR THE ELECTRIC EEL. “Sir, “‘T wave the honour to represent a numerous class in the domain of Ichthyology, inclusive of all that portion of the sub-marine population which is formed by the Torrepos, that important branch of the great Ray Family. We are distinguished from all other inhab- itants of these dominions by the striking characteristic of procuring our subsistence by the exertion of electric power; an endowment which Nature has implanted in our tails, and of which we have enjoyed the privilege from time immemorial. I invoke the aid of your forcible pen in defence of our vested and ancient rights; in behalf of Protection to Native Electricity. The grasping spirit of Commerce perverting to its own purposes the might of unfeeling Science, has established a Sub- marine Electric Telegraph across the Straits of Dover. We cannot but view the introduction of foreign electricity into our element with the greatest alarm and consternation. A series of electric shocks, in con- stant transmission backwards and forwards across the Channel, must necessarily destroy all the fish in the neighbourhood. When Sub- marine Electric ‘Telegraphs become universal—as without legislative interference it is to be feared they will be—they must and will utterly annihilate our vocation, with which the well-being of our fellow-subjects is so inseparably connected. It is ridiculous to suppose that we can compete with mercantile companies possessing, through dint of capital, the means of generating electricity to any amount. You, Sir, as a naturalist, well know that our power of production is limited by the capabilities of our nervous system ; and that after a certain expenditure of electrical energy we become exhausted. Iam fully prepared to prove these assertions by an array of facts and figures, which would, however, be less suitable perhaps to your pages than to some of your contem- poraries. Britannia is the Ruler of the Waves. Exhort her, Sir, with your accustomed eloquence to beware, lest, in withholding Protec- tion from Native Electricity, she should allow ruin to overwhelm that class of her subjects on whom the stability of her Empire most | essentially depends. _ j “Your obedient Servant, “Gymnotus ELectricus.” *.* We are happy to inform the Electric Eel that the Protection he demands is abundantly secured by the coating of gutta percha, which is | a non-conductor, surrounding the wire. Even were this not so, in order to receive a shock from the Electric Telegraph, a fish would have to complete the circuit, which would require a long tail. Our Protec- tionist friend displays strange ignorance of electrical economy. ee ee a a ob hee

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- eS ee eS eS OSS SS OO eerlté‘“( i lOtOt~™ ad oo PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 121 SKULLS AT COLOGNE AND WIESBADEN. On their way from Frankfort, certain members of the Peace Congress were caught and weleomed at Cologne; and—doubtless to the embar- rassment of some of them—were introduced _to the skulls of the Three Kings; of the “wise men,” says Holy Writ (but the questionable flattery of tradition has crowned them) whose names were—says the legend—Battnasar, Jaspar, and Metcuior. They followed the star to Jerusalem, and did homage with offerings of myrrh, gold, and frank- incense. How they afterwards arrived at Cologne, it might be deemed ill-manners to inquire too curiously. There they are, however ; at least, to the believing ; and their tomb, says an account in the Daily News, “was opened and lit with gas, and the skulls shown through the golden works to the greatest possible advantage.” A beneficial result not always phn o by casting beams of light upon the rottenness of superstition. After all, however, an imaginary dialogue between the traditional Batrwasar and the real Ex1xu Burritt,—between the legendary JasraR and the veritable Joseru Sturce—would be more profound, more instructive, abounding with deeper significance, than the real talk of the skull of Legitimacy at Wiesbaden, with its pro- fessing believers and worshippers. ; ; Take either of the three; traditional Batruasak, if you will; and is not the skull—in its metallic, golden works—as well fitted, as well furnished, for all human purposes, as that relic of the past, that Bourbon skull—with its halo of Sr. Lovrs—on the head of the Count CuamBorD; that old, old relic of divine right—that empty, charnel thing of old- world legitimacy? Compared with the Bourbon in his medieval majesty, with the light of 1850 showing it, not like the gas upon the three nominal sovereigns, late of Bethlehem now of Cologne, to the greatest possible advantage—compared with the talking skull, the stern, ' grim meaning of the naked bone that was the head of legendary Bat- THASAR ponderous eloquence. Henry Cinq is the shadow—the ghost—the outline of long defunct legitimacy, gibbering of vanities— now BattuasaR is a real thing, silently discoursing solemn truths— giving utterance of the tomb and the judgment. _ At Wiesbaden, the skull of legitimacy cries to its believers :— “He whom you regard as your chief, as your king, and who, I may say, is your dearest friend—he will always set you the example; and should France ever be in danger, ah! tell all our friends how proud and happy J shall be to fly with you to her defence!” For all the wants of the day, of even France in her progress, would not the skull of Batruasar serve as well as the head of Cuamzorp, filled with the reek of St. Louis? For how many generations has a human blight been permitted to scourge mankind—and its name is Bourson! If France must have a king, and the nephew of his uncle should miss the crown, we would rather have Jaspar, BattHasar, or Metcuior, in honest brainlessness selected for the royal head of ce, than the head of a Bourson. The name is a synonym for human evil. TO THE LAUGHERS. Tue Peace Congress is a capital joke. It’s so obvious * “bject for fun that we haven’t thought it worth while to waste om on it. All manner of pens have been poking the public in the ribs about it— aper pellets of all colours and weights have been slung at it—arrows rom all quivers have been emptied on its vulnerable sides. “Preach Peace to the world!” The poor noodles! “ Inculcate the supremacy of right over might!” Ineffable milk-and-water spoonies! “Hold out to nations brotherhood for warfare, the award of justice instead of the bayonet!” The white-faced, lily-livered prigs! ‘Why it’s the merest Utopianism,” says the Economist. “Tt ’s neither more nor less than Christianity,” sneers the Statist. 8 . - is the true peace-maker,” says the Doctor of the Manchester chool. ; ied keeps the world quiet,” oracularly declares the Red- apist. “Peace indeed, the designing democrat!” growls the Absolutist. “Peace, with a bloated aristocracy still rampant!” snarls the Red Republican. And they all drown in a chorus of contemptuous laughter a peers voices of the poor Peace Congressists in the Church of a But there are some, voices which refuse to join in this chorus, some thoughtful faces that look on with interest and sympathy at this strange protest in the nineteenth century against the appeal to brute force, which is the only way of settling its quarrels that the world has tried for eighteen centuries since Peace was preached on Earth, and good will to men! _ And there are some, too, of the wise and the great, who can discern in this gathering of friends of peace, this little Babel of various tongues, this tiny Congress of many races, a thing in no way to be ridiculed, any more than the acorn is to be ridiculed, when science de- clares that its heart contains the oak. ALEXANDER Von Humsorpr is, of all persons now living in Europe, a the most experienced in men and Courts; the most. deeply learned ; the most comprehensively and thoroughly informed. He has traversed the domain of knowledge as widely as he has travelled the countries of the globe. ALEXANDER voN Humpotpr does not laugh at this Peace Congress. ‘There is no sneer in well-weighed words like these :— “ The general peace which our continent has now so long enjoyed, and the praise- worthy efforts of nany Governments to avert the oft-threatening dangers of a géheral European war, prove that the ideas which so prominently occupy your minds are in accordance with the sentiments called forth and diffused &. the increased culture of humanity. It is a useful enterprise to inspire such sentiments in the commonwealth by public conferences, and at the same time to point out the way through which wise | and sincere Governments may, by fostering the progressive and legitimate develop- | ment and perfectibility of free institutions, weaken the long accumulated elements of animosity.” Perhaps the grey-haired soe med is laughing in his sleeve, or drivelling, when he tells the Peace Congress that, “ The whole history of the past shows that, under the protection of a superior power, a long-nourished yearning after a noble aim in the life of nations, will at length find its consummation.” Poor Humsoxpt ! Visionary Enthusiast! At Ais time of life, too; and a man who knows courts and countries, and science, and so on! | It’s amazing.—perfectly amazing! But then he’s a German,—and these Germans are such dreamers ! THE INTERESTING STORY. First Ticket-Porter. “ AND 80, YOU KNOW, THAT’S ALL I KNOWS ABOUT ” IT, Second Ticket-Porter. “Writ! I pon’r KNOW AS EVERI KNOWED A Man aS KNOWS AS MUCH AS YOU KNOws!” The Abode of Moonshine. Mr. Greorce Freperick Youne, the Protectionist, writes a letter to the Zimes which is deserving of some little notice, on account of the date ; namely :— “National Association for the Protection of Industry and Capital throughout the British Empire, South Sea~-House, London, August 26.” Protection and its domicile ; inmate and dwelling, are well matched. The character which the place has acquired in connexion with the Monster Bubble, will lose nothing of notoriety by its present occupant. Than the South Sea-House, what edifice in Great Britain could be fitter for a Temple of Humbug ? THE RECRUITING DEPARTMENT. A younG man asked his governor for some money, as he wanted “to go out of town to recruit his health.” ‘“ Recruit your health!” exclaimed the old Captain. “ Well, then, Sir, here ’s a shilling—that ’s all we pay for recruiting in the army.” ART IS EXCEEDINGLY LONG, BUT LIFE VERY SHORT. Ir Mr. Barry is no quicker in being the Architect of his fortune than he is in being the Architect of the New Palace at Westminster, » are very much afraid that he will never live to see the completion of it! THe Greatest, CHANNEL oF Communtcation.—Since the Sub- marine Telegraph has been laid down, we may safely predict that the greatest channel of communication will soon be, the British Channel.

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Scené—WIMBLEDON COMMON. Subject—JONES (WITH WHOM ARE BROWX AND ROBINSON) ABOUT TO RECEIVE “SATISFACTION.” JONES IS TAKEN A LITTLE POORLY. PROBABLY OXee. in Lombard Street, 1a the Precinct ot Whitet¥iars, vo the City of Loadou, asd pudilisned by them a: Nu. so, Biect Stre

P / MY in NWS N > HE SEIZES A PEN, AND DEMANDS (ON LETTER: PAPER, AND IN A TREMULOUS HAND) AN “ EXPLANATION, OR ELSE THE SATISFACTION THAT ONE GENT. HAS A RIGHT TO EXPECT’ FROM ANOTHER.” NEXT MORNING, AT BREAKFAST, HE FEELS STRONGLY THAT THE DRAGOON’S CONDUCT MUST BE NOTICED, HOW MR. JONES SLEPT THE NIGHT OF THE BALL, AND WHAT A DREADFUL NIGHTMARE HE SUFFERED.

ROBINSON, THE FRIEND = = . OF HI8 BOSOM, CONSENTS ROBINSON AND THE CAPTAIN. THE CAPTAIN HAS NO EXPLANATION TO GIVE BROWN, INSPIRED WITH TERROR, STEPS ASIDE, To “acr” FoR HIM. BUT 1S READY WITH EVERY SATISFACTION. AND BRIBES A BOY TO FETCH THE POLICE.

THE DUEL. THE CAPTAIN, NOT WISHING TO HURT JONES, FIRES IN THE AIR; BUT, STRANGE TO SAY, HIS PISTOL NOTWITHSTANDING “TAKES EFFECT” UPON THAT GENTLEMAN. HE IS FATIGUED WITH MUCH DANCING THE PREVIOUS NIGHT. is! » cs. a Pins. C\ a “ts Lda V4 - AFG AY ib *&? < Lo RPE = | S e’*™ ha Ap rc fen =, a ae AALS CRIES ad do

NOEROR OF BROWN AND ROBINSON, AND PERPLEXITY OF THE CAPTAIN AND FRIEND, OVER THE BODY OF JONES. GRAND TABLEAU! ARRIVAL OF THE POLICE. RECOVERY OF JONES, AND SEIZURE OF THE PARTIES BY THE ARM OF THE LAW!

-~} by William Bradbury, of Nol3, Upper Wobura Place, n the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stake Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their treet, muthe Parish ofS’, Bride’s,inthe City of London.—Saruspar, SerremsBep l4th, 1950.

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a > Ge TION NGE HE 2 “®3 LONDON CHARIVARI. Sharp (but vulaar) little Boy. “Hatio, Missus, wot ARE THOSE ?” Old W-nan. “ Tworence.” Boy. “Wat a Lig! Tuey ’Re Appces.” [Zxit, whistling popular air. THE LION HUNTRESS OF BELGRAVIA. Being Lavy Nrwrop’s Journal of the past Season. AmonG the most considerable lions who have figured in my menagerie, I may mention Bossacny BaHawper, the Prince of Delhi, who came over on a confidential mission, from His Imperial Majesty the Emprror AURUNGZEBE, their august sovereign and master. No soirée was for some time complete without the Bobbachy. Of all the Orientals who have visited our shores, it was agreed that he was the most witty, interesting, and accomplished; he travelled with a small suite of Hookabadars, Kitmeltgars, and Lascars; and the sensation was pro- digious which was occasioned by the intelligence, that the distinguished Envoy had it in command from his imperial master, to choose out from among the beauties of Britain a young lady who would not object to become Empress oF DELHI in place of the late lamented wife of the sovereign, for whose loss His Majesty was inconsolable. It was only after he had been for some time in the country that this the real object of his mission transpired : for, for some time, the Bobbachy lived in the most private manner, and he was not even presented at Court, nor asked to a turtle dinner by the East India Company. In fact, some of the authorities of Leadenhall Street said that the Bobbachy was no more an Ambassador than you or I, and hinted he was an impostor; but his Excellency’s friends knew better, and that there are differences of such a serious nature between the East India Company and the Delhi Emperor, that it was to the interest of the Leadenhall Street | potentates to ignore the Bobbachy, and throw all the discredit which they-could upon the Envoy of the great, widowed, and injured _ sover Lapy Lynx took this line, and would not receive him; but the ' mamner in which her ladyship is Jide with some of those odious Directors, and the way in which she begs, borrows, and as J believe, sells the cadetships and writerships which she gets from them, is very well known. She did everything malice and envy could suggest, to bring this eminent Asiatic into disrepute; she said he was nota Prince, or an Envoy at all, or anything but a merchant in his own country: but as she ree tries to sneer at my lions, and to pooh-pooh my rties, and as I was one of the first to welcome the distinguished Bobbach to this country, the very ill-will and envy of Lapy Lynx only xen me the more confident of the quality of this remarkable erson, and I do not blush to own that I was among the first to welcome | to our shores. I asked people to meet the Ambassador of the) | Emperor or Detut. That I own, and that he denied altogether that he was here in any such capacity; but if reasons of state prevented him from acknowledging his rank, that was no reason why we should not award it to him; and I was proud to have the chance of presenting his Excellency to society, in opposition to that stupid, uninteresting Hungarian General whom Lapy Lynx brought out at the same time, and who, to the best of my belief, was an Irishman, out of Connaught, for he spoke _— with a decided Connemara brogue. When the Bobbachy first came to this country, he occupied humble lodgings in Jermyn Street, and lived at no expense , but happening to be staying at the Star and Garter at Richmond, where he one _- came to dinner, I introduced myself to him in the hotel gardens; said I was the Lapy Nismop, one of the chiefs of English society, of whom perhaps he had heard, and that I should be glad to do anything in my power to make the metropolis welcome for him, and introduce him into the best company. He put both his hands before him on his breast, as if he was going to swim at me, Mr. GrimsTONE said, and made me a |most elegant bow: answering in very English that my humble jname and the reputation of my tom ad often formed the subject of | conversation at the Court of Delhi and throughout the East, and that it /was a white day in his life in which he had the delight to see the | countenance of one who was so illustrious for beauty, as he was pleased ‘to say 1 was. “Ah!” he often said afterwards, “why has Fate dis- | posed so early of such a lovely creature? What a lucky individual is |he (meaning Nimrop) who possesses such a pearl! It is fit to be worn in an Emperor’s turban, and I must not speak about you to my master | or show your portrait to him unless I can take you to him ; for he will certainly, when I get back to Delhi, chop my head off from rage and | disappomtment at my returning home without you? This speech, though Oriental, at least shows he was well-bred. As | for my marrying the Emperor, that is out of the question, for Nimrop is alive in the country, and we have no means of pursuing your Oriental ractices of bow-stringing here. I told the Bobbachy at once that the | ‘mperor must never think of me, must never be spoken to about me, | and that I must live and die an English, not an Indian lady. But this | was in aftertimes, and when we grew more intimate together. Mean- j while it gave me great pleasure in introducing into the world this | amiable and polite exotic. | _ At first, as I have said, he lived in a very humble and retired manner jin Jermyn Street, when I called upon him in my carriage with my footmen. The door was opened by a maid of all-work: who told us with wonder that “the Injan gent,” as she called him, lived on the second floor. I toiled up to his apartment (how different to the splendid halls and alabaster pillars and sparkling fountains of the palaces of his native East!) and there found His Excellency on a horse-hair sofa, smoking his hookah. I insisted upon taking him a drive into the park. It happened to be a fine day, and there was a throng of carriages, and most eyes were directed towards the noble stranger as he sate by m side in the carriage in a simple Oriental costume with a turban of re and gold. I would have taken the back seat, and have let him sit cross-legged, but I had Miss Hices, my companion, and Frpo on the back seat. I mentioned everywhere who he was, took him to the opera woot gg and had him at my Wednesday, with a petit diner choisi to meet him. He had not been at Court as yet, nor with the East India Company, for the reasons I have stated; until the presentsfor Her MaJseEsty with which the Burrumpooter Hast Indiaman was oaded, had reached London—presents consisting of the most valuable diamonds, shawls elephants, and_ other choice specimens of Oriental splendour— arrived in the East India Docks, it was not etiquette for him to present himself before the sovereign of this country. Hence his quiet retreat in his Jermyn Street lodgings; and he laughed at the audacity of the landlord of the odious house. “ Landlord,” he said, “he think me rogue. Landlord he send me bill. Landlord he think Bospacny BaHAWDER not pay. Stop till Burrumpooter come, then see whether landlord_not go down on_his knee before the Emperor’s Ambassador.” | Indeed His Excellency had arrived with only two attendants, by the steamer and the overland route, leaving the bulk of his suite and the | invaluable baggage to follow in the Burrumpooter, He was a fine judge of diamonds and shawls, of course, and very curious about the jewellers and shawl merchants of London. I took him in my carriage to one or two of our principal tradesmen; but there was very little which he admired, having seen much finer brilliants and shawls in his own romantic land. When he saw my house he was delighted and surprised. He said he thought all houses in London like that lodging in Jermyn Street,—all sofas black, all sky black; why his dam secretary take him to that black hole? ‘Landlord—dam secretary’s uncle—charge him hundred pound month for that lodging. I represented how atrociously His Excellency had been imposed upon, and that if he intended to receive company, he should certainly transport himself to better apartments. It is wonder- ful how these simple foreigners are imposed upon by four grasping countrymen ! |_. The Bobbachy took my advice, and removed to handsome rooms at Green’s Hotel, where he engaged a larger suite, and began to give entertainments more befitting his rank. He brought a native cook, who prepared the most delicious curries, pillaws, and Indian dishes, which really e one cry—they were so hot with pepper. He gra- dually got about him a number of the most distinguished people, and, thanks to my introduction and his own elegant and captivating manners, was received at many of our best houses; and when the real object of his mission came out (which he revealed to me in confidence), that he was anxious to select a lady for the vacant throne of Delhi, it was wonderful how popular he became, and how anxious people were about him. ‘lhe VOL. XIX. i?)

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excellent friend. | blaekamoor from another ? 124 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL portrait of his imperial master, the Emperor, seated on a gold throne, was hung up in his principal drawing-room ; and though a vile daub, as most people said, ana that envious GrimsTonez, who said he must have bought it of some Strand limner for a guinea—yet what can one expect from an Indian artist ? and the picture represented a handsome young man, with a sweet black beard, a thin waist, and a necklace of diamonds worth millions and billions of rupees. ; If the young ladies and mammas of London flocked to see this picture, you may imagine how eager the mammas and young es were to show their own beauties! Everybody read up about Delhi, and was so anxious to know about it from His Excellency! Murs. CRAMLEY, hearing that the Orientals like stout ladies, sent to Scotland for that enormous Miss Cramury, who is obliged to live in seclusion on account of her size, and who really would do for a show; old Lapy Gtvm said if she allowed her danghter to make such a marriage, it would be with the fervent hope of converting the Emperor and all India with him; little Miss CocksHaw was anxious to know if the widows were burned still at Delhi. I don’t know how many women didn’t ask His Excellency when this news was made public, and my lion } * was nearly torn to pieces. It was “Boppacuy BaHawDER and suite,” “His Excentency Bosppacny Banawper,” “ His ExcELLENcY Prince Bossachy BAuAwDER,” everywhere now, his name in all the newspapers, and who should be most eager to receive him. The number of pictures of young ladies of rank which my friend received from all parts of the country, would have formed a series of books of beauty. There came portraits from = gpenally my from Tyburnia—portraits from the country; portraits even from Blooms- bury and the city, when the news was made public of the nature of His Excellency’s mission. Such wicked deceptive portraits they sent up too ! Old Miss UnuicksHanks had herself painted like a sylph or an opera dancer; Mrs. Bren, who is five-and-forty if she’s a day old, went to a great expense, and had a fashionable painter to draw her in a crop and a pinafore, like a school-girl. Fathers brought their children to walk up and down before His Excellency’s hotel, and some bribed His Ex- cellency’s secretary to be allowed to wait in the ante-room until he should pass out from breakfast. That Lapy Lynx said that the only ready money which the mission got was from these bribes, and the ictures, 1 must confess, were sold upon the Minister’s withdrawal rom this country. A sudden revolution at the Court of Delhi occurred, as is very well known, in May last, and the news of his recall was brought to my The demand for his return was so peremptory, that he was obliged to quit England at a moment’s notice, and de arted with his secretary oon y, and before he had even had time to take leave of me, his most attached friend, A lamentable accident must have happened to the Burrumpooter India- man, with the diamonds and elephants on board, for the unfortunate ship ” never reached England, and I daresay has sunk with all on oard. But that is no reason for the slander of ill-natured people, who want to make the world believe that there never was such a ship as the Burrumpooter at all; and that the Bobbachy and his secretary were a couple of rogues in league together, who never had a penny, and never would have made their way in society but for my introduction. How am I to know the pedigrees of Indian Princes, and the manners of one If I introduced the Bobbachy, I’m sure other people have introduced other dark-complexioned people ; and, as for the impudence of those tradesmen who want me to pay his bills, and of Mr. Green, of the hotel, who says he never had a shilling of His Excellency’s money, I’ve no words to speak of it. Besides, I don’t believe he has defrauded anybody: and when the differences at the Court of Delhi are adjusted, I’ve little doubt but that he will send the paltry few thousand pounds he owes here, and perhaps come back to renew the negotiations for the marriage of his imperiz master. An Expensive Game of Marbles. Joux Butt is again engaged in a ruinous game of marbles with the Great Marble Arch, by which he has already lost so much, in front of Buckingham Palace. Poor Joxn is called upon once more to “knuckle down” to a very extravagant tune, for the removal of the Arch, and, even then, the material difficulty is to know what to do with the material. The reconstruction of the Arch will cost more than it is worth, and it has been suggested by an indignant economist, that it would be better to hand over the whole concern to the Arch-fiend, as the natural patron of an arch that has been productive of so much wasteful expenditure. Another Conscience-Money Maniac. Tue 7imes announced the other day that— “ The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has received from ‘Quere the sum of £25 for income-tax.” mere ?—Quere ?—Is the name spelt properly ? Isn’t the unfortunate individual QUEER ? EARLY CLOSING OF GLEN TILT. — ’ ERCY on us! The DUKE OF i Arxoz is still resolved to shut up Glen Tilt. His Grace, it is said, loves perfect solitude, and cares not with the French poet to exclaim— “But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper—Soli- tude is sweet.” His Grace—it is so whispered over the Bor- der—has determined to tum Highland hermit; to let his beard, and par- ticularly his nails, grow in reverence and thank- fulness of the beneficence of Providence, that has made him a Duke and carved out for him, as we opine in trust only, so fair a slice of earth as Glen Tilt. How fortu- nate is it, that a Duxe or ATHoL cannot hide the sun with his bonnet or tie up the winds of heaven in his garters as Lapland witches knot fair | breezes in ropes. Could his Grace achieve such potency, we are afraid he would bargain for very dear penn’orths of sunshine to the farmer ; and sell fair winds to the ruinous sacrifice of the merchant an sailor. Shut up Glen Tilt! That any mere man—so much doomed worm’s-meat at some uncertain date, this very day, or this day twenty years—should have the audacity to put his private mark upon so grand a piece of God’s work, making the intensity of human selfishness the best human enjoyment! ‘To such a man the glory of the heavens and the bounty of the earth should be as a reproach; softening and shaming him into justice and gentleness towards his fellow-creatures. Shut u Glen Tilt! And no doubt the man says his daily prayers, giving alib utterance to those solemn syllables that speak of forgiveness of tres- passes. Shut up Glen Tilt! Spirit of a departed turnkey, thou hast transmigrated into the carcase of a Scotch Duke ! | PUNCH’S NOTES AND QUERIES. As Michaelmas Day is at hand, perhaps some of our readers will let lus know whether the “goose look” mentioned in SHAKSPEARE was \in the eye, or the nose, or whether it was a peculiar feature of |the times. Sympathetic cures used to be much in vogue, but we |eannot undertake to answer the query—though accompanied by a £10 | note—of the individual who wishes to know whether he can cure a pain in his side by curing a side of bacon. We have heard that eating snakes was formerly reputed a good method of growing young. Wecan recommend something that would be {perhaps quite as efficacious, and a little less nauseous possibly, than eating a snake, namely, to swallow some of the Serpent-ine. | The practice of using manuscripts and unsaleable printed works for | the lining of trunks doubtless had its origin in the superstition, that | the excessive dryness of the matter would keep the water out. There may be something in this idea, for the substances in question are quite incapable of absorbing anybody or anything. | The Irish-American Sea Serpent. | out of the hands of the Yankees. It is a difficult labour to imagine an | Irish-American Sea Serpent. The only picture we can draw of him is with a short pipe in his mouth, brandishing a shillelagh with one of his fins, shouting out, “ Will any jintleman just tread upon my tail ? ” ENGLISH LOCUSTS. In the East they have armies of locusts that quite darken the sun. In England, we have no locusts, but we have tax-gatherers; for lit is doubtful if anything could block out the light more effectually than the Window Tax. |_ Question FoR Baron Roruscuix. _ | London election apropos of Haynavu.— Who’s your friend ?” Tue Irish seem to be taking the American Sea Serpent “quite intirely” | To be asked at the next |

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ro S fue O Dee OD i ~~ . OO OCP RS mt ee Rr ce Om co Pa ee Oct rw = Sew SVT’? = +S e.|CUmhwh —_ SS PUNCH, )R THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE’S ANNUITY. Tue Times calls attention to the fact—the melancholy fact to long- suffering Englishmen, with the of a renewed income-tax—that “ the first — payment of the or CamBRiper’s annuity of £12,000 wi His Royal | become Len ty on the 10th of next month.” Highness will then touch £3000! There is, however, a glimmer of hope among the gold coin—it is this: “the annuity is to cease should the Duke become the sovereign of any foreign state.” On these terms, should Hanover, or any newly-created kingdom, want a sovereign, we are pre at a minute’s notice, to supply a potentate for nothing. This first quarter’s pa t of £3000 should, however, be comme- morated in some way. Will not the Duke’s tradesmen dine together in honour of the event? They might, moreover, enlarge the mahogany on the occasion, for the accommodation of those disinterested chairmen and secretaries of the Good Cambridge Testimonial, whose charity is whetted by ambition, and whose names are to be engraved the monumental pillar—a Pillar of Real Smoke, we take it—erected to the memory of the late good-natured chairman and amiable diner-out. Any way, the tradesmen must illuminate. And what fitter, what more siguiicant blaze than the numerals in coloured lamps? As thus :— ee €. ‘£12,000! The notion suggests a pleasant mode of divination, by which—if we may imagine a sympathy of whale oil with dueal worth—we might arrive at the hee omar value of his Royal Highness. Asthus: if every G. lamp burnt s y—the whole £132,000 going out her—we might the consentaneous extinction as illustrative of the fact that the e was worth the £12,000, to end only with his life, and not afigure less. But supposing that the £12,000 burnt as thus: £ 2,000 Or thus— £12,00 Or thus— £1 00 Or even, yes, eventhux- £ re) The gradual subtraction of sum by the extinction of figure or cypher might, in the bosoms of the superstitious, patriotically tender towards our monetary institutions, indicate a probable deduction as the years of His Royal Highness waned, flickered, and went out in smoke. Be this as it may, let us by all means have the £12,000 —exchequer cherubim in burning row, testifying to Englishmen the cost of royal cousins and the pliancy of Whigs. And, whereas, in gland the human animal is only made by money, so let an appro- priate motto set forth the characteristic creation of His Royal Highness. ‘The child is father of the man,” says the poet. Very well, “Che Cash is Maker of the Duke,” om Pad. Loyal and illuminating public, get ready your lamps and whale oil for the glorious 10th! “Turn on, Old Thames.” Ir has generally been considered that married couples only are capable of leading “a cat and dog life,” but we know an instance of a single old gentleman in London—we mean poor old Father Thames—who leads a “cat and dog life” im the most literal sense of the term, as a walk by the side of his bed will amply testify. SILENCE, PRAY, SILENCE FOR A PUN. THE EARLY CLOSING SHOPKEEPER TO HIS CUSTOMER. | I am a linen-draper bold, (Please to walk this way, Ma’am.) I don’t fear being undersold: (What next shall we say, Ma’am ?) My shopmen there—those spruce young beaux,— —— I know, their due repose ; An ao th cient cae i Oa : I ny S er article to-day, rem 2 won’t destroy my men’s 3 (Warranted to st, Ma'am. oe of all bea oy we our ve 7am.) Ho one . hot pny: ee meant Till nearly midnight to be pent ; Nor shall m this establishment : (That eannot be surpass’d, Ma’am.) Consumption here we don’t allow, (Very lovely chintz, Ma’am.) Tf we can help it anyhow: (Recom these prints, Ma’am.) No mealy cheek, no hollow eye, Behind my counter, Ma’am, have I; bey eight ’s the reason why : Ths likewise. to an the _ us, , to improve _ (Reasonable too, Ma’am. A little time my shopmen : (Not too deep a blue, Ma’am.) Fea be 9 answer in the ae ook upon me as a And I can on the lads depend : (Thank you, Ma’am—I ’m much obliged to you, Ma’am.) Now I know you’ll be so kind (Wish to see that shawl, Ma’am ?) As to let me sj my mind: (Trouble ?—not at all, Ma’am.) The good that might be done’s unknown, Would ladies deal with those alone ose shops close early—like our own— (Early closing—hope an early call, Ma’am.) A MILITARY PLURALIST. F. M. tHe DvuxKe or WELLINGTON has accepted the office of Ranger of the Parks—a post which, to our ears, smacks exceedingly of beadle- dom. We know that the abilities of His Grace have comprehended a very wide range, but the part of Ranger is, at his time of life, rather onerous, for if its duties are performed in person, we shall be occasionally startled by a situation something like that of the disguised Beefeater in SHERIDAN’s Critic, { back his gold-laced collar, and standing revealed before us as the hero of Waterloo. « We should have thought that the hand so long familiar with the Field Marshal’s 4d¢on would have found it rather infra dig. to begin grasping the beadle’s staff, and the voice once accustomed to command field, to persuade in the Senate, and advise in the Council, must be or in murmuring, “Come, come, this is not allowed,” to some idle infant, listlessly pitching pebbles into the Serpentine. There seems to us something like bathos in the “hero of a hundred fights” coming | down to be the Ranger of half a hundred gravel walks, and Inspector- General of park-palings. Fortunately, the British “ Boy ” is an animal that is easily alarmed at the very appearance of a park-keeper, who has only to shake his staff to create a perfect panic in the juvenile breast; and, therefore, it is not probable that any park-keeper will find himself compelled to give chase to a turbulent urchin who will cut his name upon a tree > In return for the present of a sword belonging to “the Emperor,” Genera Narvaez has given Louis Napoteon a sword belonging to Fernanpo Cortez. The Spanish officer could not have performed towards the French President a nicer act of Cortez-y Protectionist Pluck. By a Restricted Trade contemporary it is stated that Mr. T. W. | Booker, “an unflinching Protectionist,” has come forward to supply the | vacancy in the representation of Herefordshire. Why is a thorough- | going Protectionist always called “unflinching?” Isit because he shows self to be insensible to the most striking facts ? or indulge in any other freak that it is the office of a Ranger to guard agai ! for when we are taking a quiet stroll by the | Serpentine, we shall perhaps have one of the park-keepers throwing | in the | rather ingloriously occupied in exclaiming, “ Hallo! come off the grass,” | nst. | The Duke, in addition to his other duties, will, of course, have to | | regulate the cake and apple-stalls in the various parks, and control the | | curds-and-whey. tariff, for His Grace has the reputation of attending to coagulated matter, and discuss its spice nut with the fi in such illustrious Rangership. A Cockney’s ExctaMaTIon, UPON SEEING THE CELEBRATED HeI- DELBERG Ton.— Well, it is (S)ton-ning! ” small things as well as great, when it is his duty so to do, and the | public may, therefore, eat its ha’p’orth of gingerbread, quaff its milky | est confidence |

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MUN i, lly. MAN Nj, er a ! DY rT, Dip | Wy aqui ltt wy ; STL ML h 8 TOTTI wile aT am nui tanre Ayn » WON ant! ie ives ray oH Hy. eh fe Woy Nyeutagal Hye eS wNssct aceulty \ ij : Nt \) \\ tit My ny snneti {WRU ‘| ja tt ’ wi" Nie Mr. Brices THInks oF Runninc Down THE Day arrer To-morrow To HIS Frienp Haycock ror a Day’s SHOOTING, AND HAS BorrowepD a Doc To Go witH HIM. For tue Ninta Time DURING THE NIGHT HE HAS BEEN DISTURBED BY THE How.inG OF THE ANIMAL. War with Austria! [By Punch’s Own Exxectric Telegraph.) Punch Office, at the last moment before going to Press. Tne Emperor or Austria, with a sh of new affection towards GENERAL AYNAU, has ordered his Ambassador at the Court of St. James’s to demand his —— unless ALL the draymen of . ARCLAY AND PERKINS’s are sent in chains by special train to Vienna. At this hurried minute we can scarcely conjecture what will be the result, but it is believed (by the Morning Chronicle) that Lorp PALMERSTON will refuse to give u the draymen ; but as a mark of auth respect—half-sympathy, half-apology—will offer the effigy of a drayman, with a real whip and an unexceptionable brewer’s nightcap ! MR. BRIGGS NO SOONER RETURNS TO HIS BED, THAN .MRS. BRIGGS SAYS, “MY DEAR! THERE’S THAT NASTY, TIRESOME DOG AGaIN!!” | MERSTON upon If. | Tale of an Emigrant Tub. Sucu is the force of enthusiasm occa- —for us during the last ten years, has packed up all her washing apparatus, in- cluding a stiffish quantity of starch, with the intention of proceeding to California, where she purposes advertising for a few families’ old-washing. She has laid out the whole of - capital m her outfit, and will arrive without a halfpenny, so that the foolish woman, when she steps on shore, in the character of a washerwoman, will not have a copper to bless herself. | “ wHAT’s IN A NAME?” A DEAL of money sometimes; for just take a puompest to the Foreign Office, and you will find that you are charged £273.0d., merely for putting the name of Lorp Pat- Mawworm Redivivus. An advertisement emanating from a Society conspiring against the convenience of the ay at 14, Chatham Place, proclaims that “a t struggle” is about to be made “for the cessation of all postal bour” on the Sunday. This is a warning to every rational English- man to be at his post—unless he wishes it to be seized upon again by the Sabbatarians. A VERY DEEP TRAP. Tue opinion entertained by the more intelligent class of fishes with regard to the Submarine Telegraph is that we are laying down wires for the purpose of catching the American Sea Serpent. A Meteorological Phenomenon. Ir is a very curious coincidence which has been observed to occur, with almost unerring accuracy, amongst meteorological phenomena— more especially that branch arising from the difficult process of “ Raising the Wind ”—that, if a man has accepted a bill, he is pretty sure to eva- porate on the very same day that his bill becomes dew. Lovis Napotgon’s ELoquence.—It may be remarked that in all his | speeches during his tours in the departments the President of the French Republic manages to bring in the name of the Emperor. This | characteristic of Louis NapoLEon’s eloquence is natural enough, for | whenever he begins to spout, he, of course, thinks of his sacle. sionally in the female mind, that our laun- | dress, who has washed—but not quite done |

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THE PEACE CONGRESS AT CHERBOURG.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 129 BARCLAY AND PERKINS’S DRAYMEN TO PUNCH. Puncu,— FEELING, that as one of Bar- CLAY AND PERKINS’S Draymen, a Firm which I always con- sidered the brightest jewel in Her Majesty’s Crown, and the strong- est bit of Her Ma jesty’s sceptre, and the best piece of the golden ball—(all of which, God bless her! I myself see her with on the day of her Crownation) —feelin that our Firm is a this, and a pot to come in, in the Con- stitution of England —for who knows how much of the sinews of the country is got out of pewter, and how much of its sense from the atop of it—I say, feeling all this, and mereover feeling that the Eyes of the World, like so many burning-glasses, is mpon us—I take u my Pen to write you our sentiments, as men, as Englishmen, an as Barciay AND Perxtns’s Draymen, about this little brush with the Friend of Baron Roruscuttp, M.P., with nothing as yet to sit down bat and after what has happened, if he goes to the Poll again, I should say, with certainly not a leg to stand upon. And First to Begin with. We—Banrctay anp Prrxrns’s Draymen —won’t hear of what is called a Testimonial. What we’ve done, we could no more help doing than if a steam-engine of 1000 Horse-guard power had druv us to, and we won’t be silvered or gilt a bit for it. I am emboldened to say this at once, because we’ve heard that we’re all to have a silver Pon. Bi a-piece made in the shape of a wild beast —a Hyenav on his hind legs, with precious blood-coloured stones for eyes—which we at once deny, and refuse, being content with a reward- ing conscience and humble pewter. Sir, I am chose as a humble dividual (you will with your ’customed iberality excuse and touch up bad spelling), to set our case before the world. Sir, we’ve been blamed for pelting a Gen’ral Butcher with grains. Permit me to ask, if there isn’t worse pelting than what comes out of a brewery? What’s grains to ink? And, Sir, there’s been so much of it flung at us, that if it could only have stuck, our wives and families wouldn’t have knowd us. First, we, Banctay AND Perxins’s Draymen, are rebels and damy- crats. Sir, do you remember a certain 10th of April, when Barciay AND Perkins’s Draymen all went and turned themselves into specials, and had the thanks of the Go vernment, with Lorp Joun Russe. | ready—(only we wouldn’t trouble him)—to come down on the 11th, to the Brewery, and shake hands with every one of us? We wasn’t rebels then—but reg’lar bricks ! { Second.—It was a plan brewed, and bottled to attack the red-coat butcher. I repeat, what we did, we couldn’t aap doing. Afore we | knowd that Haynav was in the Brewery, we knowd that something was | wrong. Mr. Punch, we felt it about us, just as you feel there’s| } man and lightning at hand—we felt, just as my poor old grand-| mother couidn’t abide a cat, and was all in a fume and a fidget, with her blood simmering, if even so much as a blind kitten was shut up in a cupboard, though she didn’t see it. I can’t account for it, no more | than I can tell why the ’lectric fluid carries a message through the! bottom of the sea, without being put out. All I knowed, is, there was a kind of ’lectric fluid went through every drayman’s heart—(and he ought to be ashamed to look a honest horse in the face again, if it + been so)—and what we did, we couldn’t help. Mind you, if it was to be put to us in cold blood to plan a licking of | the sort, we wouldn’t do it. No; we should have time to think of the | matter—time to get up contempt—but contempt, Sir, though I’m no scholar, as you see, is a thing not at hand on a sudden notice. No, | Sir, contempt, I take it, is red-hot passion grown cold. Bless your'| heart ! Mr. Punch, if Haynav could only come among us once more, he ’d find we ’d now contempt as cold—yes, cold as the corpses made | by his own bullets. And then, as for trying to kill the Man-Cat that clawed poor naked women, we never dreamed of it. All we wanted was to disgrace him. There he was in the eyes of all of us one bit of muddy blood—and we flung dirt at him. He had burnt houses by hundreds, with the poor souls in ’*em,—and what did we do? Why, we just give him a taste of the cinder-bin. But, then, Haynav was such an old man! When he! most wanted in France just now is THe Emprre of Reason. flogged the poor lady, whose husband shot himself, I do persume he was no chicken. Anold man! Well, if you want to make the Devil — he is, clap a wig of white hairs upon him,—that’s my ought ! And then as for cutting off the Tyger’s beard,—why, Mr. Punch, do you know what it was tried for? Just to sell locks of it to those very fine folks who’d like to carry a remembrance of “the brave old man,” —as I’ve seen the monster writ down,—all of ’em, I’m bound, willing to pay a handsome price for the relict. For my part, I’m sorry we missed the beard. At only twenty shillings a hair, it would have made a tol’rable sum for the English Hungarians—that is, if they’d have pison’d their hands with a farthing of it. I’m sorry, too, we throw’d the Tyger his hat—sorry that he got off with his rags of clothes. They a have been worth any money to aME TussauD, to stand aside Rusu in the Chamber of Horrors. Howsomever, I understand the whole thing’s to be done in a painted anoramy ; beginning with the Dropping of the Truss of Straw—the Hustling—the Flight along Bankside—the Hiding in the George Public- house—with the Retreat to the Dust-bin—the Police Delivery—the Taking Water at the Bankside—and View of Bedroom at Morley’s Hotel, with Haynav a Drinking Hot Brandy-and-Water between the Blankets. The whole to conclude with the Departure of the Tyger from England in a suit of clothes handsomely sent to Him by Baron Roruscui1p, with affectionate Wishes for the Journey. All Barctay AND Perxkrins’s Draymen have promised to sit for their Picturs bigger than life. "Wouldn’t it make a lovely show, framed and glazed for 1851 ? As for the Visitors’ Book, where Hayxav’s mame was writ, there’s a great fear it’s quite spiled. They tried to scratch Harxav—(which, though writ with black ink, turned as red as blood)—onut of the page ; but it sunk through and through, as if the letters had been changed into red-hot iron; and though I don’t know many leaves have been torn away, and how many quarts of vinegar have been laid out,—the whole smells, as one of our old porters says who was at Waterloo, like a bit of carnage three days arte And now, Mr. Punch, I shall lay down my bit of iron. I only wish to repeat that we want no reward for what we’ve done—no HyENAv mug—no silver warming-pan for our wives—no corals and bells for our babbies. What we did, we couldn’t help doing—it was a bit of whole- some indignation that’s done us good; and so, Mr. Punch, feeling that virtue is its own reward, whether in silver or in ha’ pence, I remain your Constant Reader and (for the body of us) Barciay AND Perktns’s DRAYMAN. P.S. Some of the gents of the Press call for the treadmill for the ruffians (meaning us) that thrashed the Tyger-Cat. Very well. Praps, Mr. Punch, Generan Hyena Haynav would like to come to the Brewery again just to ’dentify us? FEATHERED CHORISTERS FOR CANTERBURY. Tne natural historian will learn with interest that an extraordinary migration of the feathered race will take place this year. Besides the nightingales, swallows, cuckoos, and all the other regular birds} of passage, a large flight of. goldfinches, chaffinches, greenfinches, bullfinches, yellow-hammers, linnets, robin-redbreasts, wrens, larks, thrushes, black- birds, tom-tits, water-wagtails, and hedge-sparrows, will take their departure from these shores. This pretty warbling quire will join the Canterbury pilgrimage, in addition, we presume, to the surpliced choristers who will be necessary to complete the character of that shovel-hat exodus. Our Evaminer says, that “ The emigrant vessels for Canterbury, in New Zealand, not only carry out houses, and every necessary for domestic comfort on landing, but every variety of English singing-bird, which, on landing, the colonists will release, in order that they may propagate.” Together with their singing-birds, the Canterbury emigrants should not forget to carry out a sufficient number of those truly ecclesiastical birds, jackdaws and owls. Their ornithological exports will include a great many geese, of course; for such must be the case with people who are going to pay three pounds an acre for land when they might get it for one, all because they will be tied to a Bishop’s apron-string. Alarming Prodigy. Tue Scotsman relates that one of the lionesses in WomBWELL’s Royal Menagerie has given birth to two fine cubs, “and, strange to say,” adds our Caledonian contemporary, “they are pure white.” We are not superstitious, but we cannot help regarding this circumstance as very portentous. Wherever a White Lion has appeared hitherto, it has always been a sign to the Public (house). A Love py THE Exectric TeLecrara.—The form of Government

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PUNCH, OR THE 10! YDON CHARIVARI. ~

Telly, let 02 70 here - ee alee hunlen a buch a mf athe. —— = = Sa > ee es az { Yao [SY SAGACITY OF THE DOG.

COST OF OUR CONSULAR ‘little work being done, for we cannot help thinking that the present |Gentlemen (if you can call Gentlemen present who never are 80), | are not working, but only playing at Sewers !

ast oe? iawn oe ee oh. —" SD Sa Parser star wea omoworoe

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131 PATRONAGE OF THE DRAMA. ‘DOUBTEDLY this is too bad. No sooner does a man of ardent temperament evince an enthusiasm —a little oddly, to be sure, but then is it not the character of en- thusiasm to be wild ? —than_ the display is made a_ police matter, and bail is required against a repetition of the generous act. One Epwaxp Bisuoris so struck by the truth- acting of Mr. Hiecre of the Vic- toria, in the Mouse, that he dedicates to the artist “a cauli- flower of some mag- t : - in! : i, : i oe —= | nitude.” And for this patronage of the ¢rans-pontem stage, the patron is ordered | to find bail. | } | | ! i , erect a barricade, it is a good one, and lasts sometimes for a month. | more dangerous, too, we think, than its Parisian brother. We advise Mr. Bisnor to carry the matter into a higher court. Bouquets much bigger, and far less useful, than a cauliflower of some magnitude, are received in po na of honour and distinction flung at tender warblers and fragile fays—yet HicGre rejects a iflower ! ad the cauliflower been thankfully received, on some future night an acknow- ledged heroine of domestic drama, betrayed and deserted, might have received the homage of a bunch of turnips; and the turnips received as every well-meant offering ought to be, nage tangible and increasing might have succeeded. The fips ) in good part, is it too much to believe that legs of mutton would have ollowed ? Mr, Brsuor had, but disdained to make use of it, an excellent defence. The Mouse, it appears, is taken from the French; and Mx. Bisnor thought a cauliflower ought to go with the cabbage. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FRENCH AND ENGLISH BARRICADES. Tue French make their barricades of stones, and everything they can get hold of. Tf there is an omnibus or two on the top, so much the better; but their barricades rarely last more than two or three days. We English make our barricades im a much more lasting manner. When we It is much If you attempt to walk over it, the chances are that you will be precipitated down a yawning abyss some 20 feet underneath you, and, when you recover, that you may find yourself floating down the Thames. The paviours, and rival gas-men, take good care to make ‘it as formidable as possible, so that all thoroughfare through the street shall be completely blocked up for weeks together. Communication between the opposite sides of the street is even cut off, and if two shop-keepers, who face each other, wish to exchange a word of compliment on business, they must do so through their second-floor indows, and make known their wants through the friendly medium of speakin trumpets. It is true that a middle path is always open to them across the road, and rather too open, for if they attempt to cross:it, and meet half-way, they run the risk of topping over the narrow plank, and finishing their discussion at the bottom of the sewer, or else clinging on to a projecting gas-pipe, with their legs dancing midway in the black atmosphere, and pick-axes flying in all directions about their ears. This is a superior kind of barricade to the French species, and we are indebted to our gas and water companies, and our Commissioners of Sewers, for the vast improvement. Another kind of barricade is not unfrequently produced by stones, and bricks and mortar. This is not attended with the same danger as the barricade that takes place right in the middle of the strect, but still it is a great nuisance, and stops up the thoroughfare honey for months, This sort of Reecheatte is caused by building a new house, the scaffolding of which runs over the entire pavement, and overflows one half of the road. This nuisance is more applicable to public buildings, which are not renowned for the same rapid mushroom growth as private dwellings, but take their time about it. The National Gallery, the Nelson Column, and the whole of Trafalgar Square, was a standing proof of this for years; though if we were in want of a great illustration, we need not run through the scaffolding-poles of the past, when we have so prominently in view the ladders and wheelbarrows of the'present. Look at the New Houses of Parliament, with what a sluggard’s slowness they have been rising out of the bed of the river! In fact they are not “up” yet, and will not be properly dressed and finished, we will make any wager, for several years to come. They do not impede the public highway much, it is true, but still they stop the way of public business ; for no wonder that ministers have sometimes such a difficulty in “making a House,” when the architect will not make one for them. Taking the slowness of the building into consideration, and the delays and impediments of which it has been the prolific cause, we think we may safely point to the New Houses of Parliament as the greatest BARRY-cADE that has ever been erected in eehek SONG OF THE CAMBRIDGE DON. CowLinG, scowling down improvement— Cow 1n6, howling ’gainst all movement— Pleader, leader in quirk and quiddity— Speaker, weaker than av’rage stupidity— That ’s the man for St. John’s and me, That’s the man for the ’Varsity! Jurist, surest opponent of law-reform— Wrangler, strangler of ripe or raw reform— Stander super vias antiquas, Right or wrong, eguas or iniquas— That ’s the man for St. John’s and me, That ’s the man for the ’ Varsity ! Pig-headed, bigotted, heavy as lead— Cyclop, with eye at the back of his head— Staunch Protectionist—High-Church sectionist— To new lights of all sorts edged objectionist— That ’s the man for St. Tohn's and me, That ’s the man for the ’Varsity ! ALARMING RAVAGES OF MICE IN THE PARKS. Tax Session being over, and politics in abeyance, in the present quiescent state of the dominions of her Majesty, our contemporaries are reduced to fly for intelligence to the vegetable and animal kingdoms. One of them, the other day, thought it necessary to call public attention to a des- rate attack made by a sparrow-hawk on a goldfinch. onderful turnips make their appearance by loads, and shooting season of stars commenced in the columns of the journals. The sea-serpent has shown himself, in spite of having been crushed by Proressor Owen, and continues to hold up his head at intervals, not- withstanding that there are six rifle-balls in it, fired by as many Irishmen, right through his eye. For our part— always prepared to comment on the topics of the day—we have an observation to make on the extraordinary ravages which certain Mice are committing in the Parks. The western extremity of St. James’s Park is laid completely waste; the plantation which formerly flourished there having een destroyed as if by locusts. A large portion of the Green Park is disfigured by an inclosure of wood, which these insignificant but mischievous creatures have con- structed to surround the Marble Arch, by way of hoarding, jfor much longer than the winter. The done by these animals in the Parks will cost from first to last, it is apprehended, at least £17,000 or £18,000. By a transition from Natural History to Moral Philosophy —and taking into account the circumstance of the sittings | of Parliament being mugen’ and Mr. Joseru Hume, as well as the most influential persons of the metropolis being out of town—we may remark that the conduct o these mice, which constitute the Woods and Forests variety of the mouse, only serves to exemplify the good old adage, that “ when the cat is away the mice will i” t--) Tribute to Haynau. ‘A Letter from Vienna,” says the Morning Post, “states that GrNERAL Baron Haynav is to be imme- diately raised to the dignity of Field-Marshal.” By giving Haynav a Field-Marshal’s ddton, the Austrian Govern- | ment will certainly show its gratitude towards him; but \it would evince a more disce sense of his services if it were to present him with a hangman’s cat. Perad- venture the Jdton is meant to compensate the woman- | whipper for that stick which he was obliged to cut the other day. A QUESTION TO THE FRENCH. Now, be candid, and tell the truth! Would you not j be glad to part with all your change if you could but get 1a good Sovereign ?

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. emery Ee | | ——— THE GENTLEMAN a | | (ar ~ REAL HEAD Wiis | — File oF HAIR —y AFRICAN] Yes! BL IC\] | EXHIBITION | THIS 13 IN Twe ' , SHOP L ne FOREIGN ft. HERE "| DEPOT. | \ToPERSONS ABOUT | To MARRY, ZOLLCCICAL GARDENS HIPPOPOTAMUS fo Be See SS be, \ y ‘THE STOCKS IN AID OF THE PULPIT. We all know that secular and religious instruction ought to be united ; indeed that the former is not worth a button, unless combined with the latter. Therefore everybody agrees that religion must be taught by all means. In the meantime nobody has succeeded hitherto | in devising any means by which it may be taught effectually. The | affections rather than the intellect have to be tutored—there is the | difficulty. It is easy to' cram the head with creeds: but how to| inspire the heart with pious sentiments? Rejoice, all men, to know that this discovery—which, of course, infinitely beats the invention of the | Electric Telegraph—has been’ made ; and that, will it be believed? by some humble country magistrates whose very names are at present | unknown. The Lincolnshire Times first announced it to the world in | the subjoined unassuming paragraph, which we copy from the Morning Post, under a heading furnished, we suspect, by our oligarchical con- | temporary :— “SatuTary PonisHMent.—Gainsborough has been kept ina state of considerable excitement during the week, by the exhibition of a number of boys being placed in the stocks in the Market-place, for the crime of Sunday gaming. They were sentenced to be confined three hours each; two of them had their turn on Monday morning, between the hours of seven and one; others were confined on Wednesday and Thursday.” This is the way to teach the proper observance of the Sabbath, and, by parity of reason, religious knowledge at large. ey to direct the steps of youth—put their feet in the stocks. How beautifully simple! Whilst the philosophical preceptor is perplexing himself in the endeavour to soften callousness and enliven stupidity, so as to beget some sort of sensibility to celestial influences, the Gainsborough Ma | poignant regret that ¥ Se t ' 3 (kes ~ = ~ a 3 ol a ' = ty 25 | i {| i; ~ebstt / IT. ir ~ . \ © pee V% ., + ode “as % -~\ ES 5 om °% yy i es ey ro FULL recount} | | | GREAT ba EXHIBITION KK; i ! Npulkstin willl | Mn late | OAL NATIONS EO ges preacher. The Gainsborough authorities must really send this inge- nious instrument—their contrivance for the conversion of juvenile sinners—to the Exhibition of 1851, to be tried by all those who are willing to put their foot in it. THE FRATERNAL DEMOCRATS, Wuen folks of choicest respectability and best education champion Haywnavu, as only the sanguinary tool—the material whip or sabre in the hand of Austria, and therefore ask for him the most charitable construc- tion of the soldier’s dastardly and bloody doings—they ought not to marvel when the unlearned humble give utterance to their exultation at the rough teaching of the executioner at the henceforth historical brewery of Barctay AND Perkins. A few persons self-dubbed the Fraternal Democrats, have met to express their sympathy with the | teacher draymen ; but we should hope that, however the teachers may receive the meaning of goodwill, they will reject the mode in which such sympathy is expressed. One frate speaker declared his i AyNAvu had not been boiled in a vat; another ull of brotherly love was profoundly touched that the General had not been sent to the infernal regions to keep a place for his master. All this is very wrong—but when we find Austria supported in choicest leading articles written by scholars and gentlemen, are we to wonder at the strong Doric of costermongers, speaking in opposition ? As for the Fraternal Democrats, whence —after such homicidal aspirations—do they derive their fraternity? From ABEL? Surely not ; but from ABEL’s brother. We advise them straightway to drop justices solve the problem in a trice by their converting apparatus. The annoyance of an uncomfortable position and the stimulus of banter must obviously produce the impression which the Post or the | Lincolnshire Times calls “salutary ;” in other words must dispose the | mind of the patient to serious and contrite meditation. No doubt | the stocks have convinced these boys of the wickedness of Sunday | chuck-farthing; for it is not probable that they desecrated the day by Jansquenet, or any other species of gambling equally high. This | is the age of machmery; but here we have a mechanical instru- | ment performing a spiritual function; the stocks superseding the! the connection. No doubt these men, in their way, admire Liberty ; but we would as soon trust the mountain nymph to admiring satyrs, as resign Liberty to the brotherly love of the Fraternal Democrats, ATTRACTION OF THE BOTTLE. Some “ bottle-nose whales” have been seen off Ireland. It is but fair to infer, then, that they were pointing their noses towards Cork. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Uuuren Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd esex, Printers, at their Orfice, ia Lombard Street, 12 the Precinct of Whitefriars, ia tue City of Lond a, and published by them at No. 33, Fleet Strezt, ‘nthe Parish of St. Bride’s, ia tue City of Londoa.—Satusvar, Seereuser 21st, 1390.

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nge- enile - are but PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 133 THE REAL STATE OF THE CASE. THE DUKE IN THE PARKS. Tue Duke or WELLINGTON has been ap- pointed to the Rangership of the parks. For LL the facts of the; ™any years he has, by bronze proxy, and almost conspiracy to which | in primitive gardening attire, held Rangership of our beloved hero had | Hyde Park ; but now he is actual Ranger on full lately well-nigh fallen | Service. The Zimes hopes that His Grace will a victim, have been|turn his attention to the improvement of his traced totheirsource: | 2ominal domains ; and Punch is, of course, ready and we can state from | With a practical suggestion. ; ---=» undisputed authority| .The greatest of men have delighted to end *... that the Barcuay-| where the first manbegan—inagarden; CowLey’s PERKINSISH dray-| picture of DiocLeTIAN in the shade is, in these men were not in the | days, familiar to the lightest reader. Moreover, , slightest degree im-} veterans delight to fight their battles over again. plicated in that ne-| Therefore, says Punch, let the Duke combine the * farious transaction. |two delights ; and whilst soothing his last days Neither is it true that | with the amenity of trees, and shrubs, and flowers, Barcuay and Per-|—let him, in a manner, so lay out and plant ; KINS had engaged | Hyde Park, that the world may have green and French or German| growing recollections of two or three of the brewers, as ill-in-| mightiest achievements of Artuur, the Ranger. formed accountshave | Thus, the Duke might give us Torres Vedras averred, the English | beautifully laid out; and every year describe, being brutally pre- | upon a small scale, the field of Waterloo, marking ‘judiced in favour of |the different armies with different coloured | their own method of brewing, and preferring that horrid compound of treacle and logwood, &c. |rockets, double and single. Nothing could be (in which negroes are continually boiled), to the purer and thinner beverage of the continents | prettier than to have a field of battle rendered of Europe. | in flowers : things of death and bloodshed “turu’d And as the British beat their wives, and are encouraged by law to do so, zwar with a stick | to prettiness and favour.” A very respectable that is only finger-thick, it is not to be supposed that the correction of a female by the rod, | Belgian Lion might be planted and cut in cedar; | as performed by the orders of the officers of His Imperial and Royal Majesty, in the ever-memo- | @ lion that should afford from its tail and mane rable-and-over-the-Hungarians-victorious campaign, should inspire any indignation in the|@ sprig for the button-hole of every member, Thames capital. The real truth has only lately, and in an irrefragable manner, come to light. | foreign and British, of the Peace Congress, who, Spies or Government subordinates were set upon the dwelling of the Field Marshal so soon |in Hyde Park, would hold most triumphant as His Excellency reached ——’s ; nor of this can it complained be, as the practice is adopted gatherings. The Duke, in his day, has surely had universally in our own parental state. And it being ascertained that he was about to visit the | Sufficient of parks of artillery—there is now open Barciay-PERKINSISH Brewery, the enemies of this great man, who are the enemies of order | to him a new command in the laying out of poy and peace in Europe, determined this great peace-and-order-supporter to destroy. of timber ; parks with walks instructively ordered, Emissaries of the F——- O—— were despatched to Bankside to agitate the thousand|and beauti a | illustrated. With just half-a- ‘ workmen there; but these men, knowing salle of foreign disputes, and careless whether dozen lessons from Mr. Paxton, and F.M. Tur Frau Von Maperssacu had or had not met with a treatment which is of daily occurrence in| DUkE oF WeLLINGTon will cultivate fresh England, refused to listen to the instigations of the Minister of the F—— O—, and that! laurels on the fields of Hyde and St. James, spirit of mischief was left to work for himself. And thus, instead of rushing to see the Duke Two hundred thousand barrels doppel X, two thousand tuns of “stout,” two hundred | review the Household Troops, we shall have all fifty-two thousand “hocksheads” of “schweips,” were ordered for the Court cellars from | the world at gaze, delighted with WexLincton’s Messrs. Barciay and Perxiys, and the price of the cerevisian supply £175,000, that instant | Tulip Show. From the “ Own Correspondent” of the “ Wiener Zeitung, paid by Lorp P—, with a check at sight on the First Lord of the Treasury. os oopgy Wy? ~ e . mg ki pe Roel the title of Baron Swipington; his eldest son a Bishop; and his daughter a Maid of Honour. | TIE VE J mRY’S Pruners was created Knight of the Garter of the first class, and Colonel of the 10th} THE VERBOM GALLERY'S HOLIDAT. Guard Regiment ; his son was raised from the rank of Midshipmite, Marine-Officer of the 10th} Passtne the other day the end of Pall Mall, , class, and made Admiral of the Blue; Mrs. Perkins was created Countess Tunbridge, | our eye, which is always tumbling from side to —for PERKINS, pretending to be of the popular party, refuses any title but his own of simple | side, fell upon the gates of Marlborough House, baronet, which gives him his seat in the Unter-haus. | where we read the intimation that “The Vernon By these bribes to the chiefs, and by the promise that B—— Parliament’s mitgliep for | Gallery is closed for the holidays.” The idca of the grafschaft of Middlesex, would give the men and their families a white-bait “feed” at) pictures requiring a holiday, struck us, at first, Greenwidge, the men of the Barctay and Prerkrnsisu establishment were withdrawn from | as rather odd, but when we remembered how long the Brewery, and their places were supplied by the clerks of the F——- O—. |the unfortunate inmates of the Vernon Gallery Lorp P—., the Secretary for F--n Affairs, Lorp E., the Under Secretary, each commanded | were confined in a dark cellar, we felt that to a division. Lorp P. wore a shovel-hat, which by Bishops and draymen is alone worn in| grudge them a holiday, for the purpose of getting Briton. Lorp E. was in breeches of crimson plush, with the national boots called high-lows.|a little fresh air, would have been an act of Herr O. F. G. X., and the runners and officials of the office, were placed about the premises, | cruelty. Many a painting which had been once , along with the most athletic Members of the House of Commons, who support the desperate “the picture of health,” had begun to lose its policy of the Foreign Minister. colour in the black hole at Trafalgar Square, When His Excellency the Baron appeared, the signal was given by the overthrowing of a' and we have no doubt the holiday has been given grain-shovel full on his head, and then the attack took place whereof our papers have given an in the hope that the members of the gallery may account only too faithful, and for which every subject of His Majesty the Emperor or Austria find means of renovating their frames, and im- and Kine or HuneGary will demand a bloody reparation. You may rely on this account as proving their complexions, after the very long the only genuine one. confinement they underwent in the close crowded = cellar to which public parsimony and bad taste had consigned them. INTERPRETATION OF AMERICAN SENTIMENTS. ee ee KossuTH in captivity—from which speedy liberation to him—writing to GenerRaL Cass— one officer “a worthy interpreter of the generous sentiments of the great American The Force of Experience. eople.’ | ’ The brave Hungarian may not know, perhaps, that certain sentiments of the great American; I seems that the Constabulary force is to take eople require interpretation, and that of a very partial kind, to be understood as generous. | the Census of Ireland next year. ‘This appoint- Their notion of human flesh being—if black—“ a species of property,” bespeaks a sentiment | ment is not so ridiculous as, at first sight, it rather short of generosity. The sentiments, too, which dictated their recent law, in regard | may appear; for, with the pugnacious habits of to runaway slaves, need a clever interpreter to reconcile them with anything like nobility | the country, it stands to reason that none are so or magnanimity, except a magnanimous contempt of the Christian religion, and a noble| well qualified for taking the Lrish population as disregard of common justice and humanity. the Constabulary. VOL. XIX.

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_ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

BYRON’S MAZEPPA. AstixEy’s Edition. sTLEY’s has long been the Zhedtre His- torique of the Surrey Side of the water, where the student may have seen peculiar lights—the dramatic footlights — thrown upon some of the principal events of both the ancient and modern era. Not stopping short at our histories, the administration of AstTLEY’s have sometimes taken our poets in hand, and Byron’s Mazeppa has, for some time, enjoyed the benefit of an Amphi- theatrical edition. The ability and success with which this has been brought out, may be judged from the fact of the great popularity of the ASTLEY version, of which there has been a re-issue this year, and we were present not long ago, with some thousand or two of other subscribers, on the eighty some thingth—we plead guilty to the coining and uttering—occasion of its delivery. There are some important deviations from the text of Byroy in the AstLEy’s edition, as the following analysis of the latter will testify :— The curtain rises on a court-yard, with a sentinel on the watch, whose duty, like those of stage sentinels in general, appears to be to mistake all human voices for the wind, and to see nothing. While he is prams te practicable platform, a portion of the “ Machinery by Mr. R. Surrn’ —a stalwart Vor m—that of Mr. Hicks—crosses the stage, and invokes Olinska in a voice which induces the sentinel to remark on the loudness of the wind, and to walk off at the wing—a palpable desertion of his s0st—for the purpose, probably, of ascertaining ‘* what ’s in the wind,” instead of looking before him to find out who is in the court-yard. The coast being quite clear, Olinska, a young creature in Adelaide boots and a brown silk Polka, appears at a w indow, from which she issues to stand upon a sort of coping stone—for there is no balcony. The interview is not very satisfactory, for ag seized with a sudden sense of the i im- oropriety of the proceedings, declares she will have “no more of this.” ‘hat, in fact, Mr. Hicks must “ask Papa,” and, hopping off the ledge, she retires within the window. The next scene reveals the fact, that Olinska has been promised to a Palatine whom she has never set eyes on, and Mr. Hicks, who seems to get a private interview with the young lady whenever the exigencies of the plot require it, proposes a flight to the ‘Desert. turns patriotic, and won’t go among “ her country’s enemies ; her papa coming in, takes no further notice of her ¢ée-d a- téte with Mr. Hicks, than to appoint him “ officer of the men-at-arms,” or head beef- eater. ‘The arrival of Olixska’s intended now takes place, combining “a splendid cavaleade” of six horses, who will insist on dancing to the music, and the rear is brought up by a sort of French bedstead on = els, from between the curtains of which issues the “ werry identical” Palatine. We had forgotten to mention that the cortege is received and marshalled by a comic Chamberlain of the Household, t who exclaims every now and then, “1 believe you, my boy” to Drolinsko, a sort of facetious gentlem: um-usher, represented by that renowned “clown to the ring,” the famous Barry. Mr. Hicks isina frightfu state during the whole proceedings. Apostrophising his “rebel nature’ as he would a too playful puppy, he desires it to “keep down;” he shakes his fist, at everybody and everything, though nobody sees him. He mutters “vengeance or death” in Olinska’s ears, and not only exemplifies the great truth, that “none are so blind as those who won’t see ;” but also that in re fusing to se e, there is none more resolute than a dramatic rival, father, ch: unberlain, attendant, or courtier. night of our visit, the energetic tragedian positively tumbled over a whole row of tassel-booted feet of nobles, which, if the Polish aris- tocracy are as liable to corns as our peerage must be, judging from the great EisenperG testimonials, must have rendered them painfully sensible of Mr. Hicks’s presence. We next find the lovers enjoying another ¢ée-a-¢éte without any one being at hand to look after the young mit or to collar and kick out the gentle man. He reproaches her as a “ fair pestilence,” a * bes wuteous treason ; ” he might as well call her a “lovely measle,” a “precious rheumatism,” or “an enchanting burg: ury;” and she, overpowered by these harsh epithets, declares her heart is his, though her hand must be another’s. This is quite enough for Mr. Hicks, who swears to deserve her; and the comic Lord Chamberlain, who has been present, with his eyes and ears shut, during the whole time, prepares to escort Olinska to the Tournament. The tourney comes off in sight of Olinska, Papa, and the Palatine, all seated under an ornamental shed; while Mr. Hicks and others contend, first with battle-axes, then with lances, and, ultimately, having come to fisty-cuffs, they pelt each other with their helmets. Mr. Hicks, of course, vanquishes every thing that comes in his way, and has aw ‘reath dropped on to his head from the hand | of Olinska,

:

goblet, ond drinks the health of the affianced pair in a » hag draught of wool—the usual dramatic beverage. The tournament is closed in by a pair of flats which form the Palatine’s bedroom, and we find the Palatine escorted to bed by several | |of which has a wolf’s head nailed on to the top, w | continually bobbing up At this Olinska | ?? when | | be called a water-khan, for he On the | |attendants, with ordinary links—such as are used by our modern link- Koys—and who leave him to undress and “turn in” by the light of a solitary candle. He is just going to make himself comfortable for the night when a gentleman in a black velvet dressing-gown, put on the wrong side before, coming open at the back, and displaying a large red cross on the wearer’s che st, rushes in, and challenges the Palatine to single “cumbut.” A fight ensue s, the Palatine yields, the intruder’s dress comes off all in one piece, ‘as if he was going ‘to change into Harlequin, and Mr. Hicks stands revealed before us; alarm bells are rung; Olinska’s papa appears, and dooms Mr. Hicks to be sent adrift on the back of a wild horse that has been found quite untameable. The horse is brought, and the groom, in order to show off the animal’s wildness to the best advantage, makes him walk on his two hind- con, and by various pinches tries to frighten him into a sufficient state of savageness; ‘The brute, of whom Byron says— ‘’Twas but a day he had been caught,” but who is, in fact, a veteran member of Barry’s stud, a most attentive horse to his business—never missing a cue, or capering at a rehearsal, but always with his eye on the stage manager—is then led off that Mr. Hicks may be f <n: -d on to his back, and a sieve of oats being shaken on the O. P. side, the animal darts across the stage from the P. S. wing to make for the tempting provender. A fresh sieve being stationed at the exit from each of the three ranges of platforms, the sagacious beast canters from side to side in pursuit of corn under difficulties. In the next scene we have the horse standing as quiet as a lamb, chewing a bean given him to keep him steady—most probably by the adroit hand of Maz cepa, himself, w ho attributes the courser’s quiescence to “exhausted nature” instead of to the farinaceous London that has just been administered. The bean being discussed, and the well-known sound of the corn-sieve being heard at the wing, the horse moves towards the “old familiar” me asure, and Mr. Hicks, exclaiming * Again he urges on his wild career,” is "carried off by the business-like quadruped. In the next scene we find him between two set pieces of water, one hich the hand of a | carpenter alternately raises and depresses, while a judicious manage- {ment of a few oats by another hand keeps the mouth of the horse and down to give it a sortof undulating moveme nt. While this is going on, that “well-known property,” the old theat rical “bird of prey,” who flapped his wings for one hundred successive nights in Der Freischutz, and who having lost all his youthful buoyancy, is obliged to be supported in the air by wires; that feathered member who looks like a couple of funeral plumes fastened on to a small hearth- broom for a body ; comes and hovers over Mr. Hicks, to represent the “expecting raven” who is supposed to be waiting to pick a bit of Mr. Hicks at the earliest opportunity, An apropos display of oats at the wing, sets the horse once more in motion; until at length a storm opportunely comes on, which knocks down ‘a tree, behind which four grooms are enabled to tie the animal’s legs, hold him down by his tail, and otherwise prepare him to show the effe sets of “exhausted nature,’ when the tree 1s de ared away, and a ¢adleau is discovered, in which the horse is seen thoroughly worn out, with the exhausted Mr. Hicks still secured to him. The horse has, it seems, found his way to Tartary, where there is a poor old Khan in a very totte ring state, who ought io is constantly in_ tears, which flow still more rapidly, when he discovers i in Mr. Hicks his “child!” his “boy pe his “long- lost son!”? who is recognised by a “jewelled star” on his *boosom,” which though so tremendously shaken, has never been taken away from him. The Khan hastwo conspiring generals, who want his throne—a small camp- stool brought on by a stage-carpenter—and his sceptre—a sort of dusting-brush made of feathers, and used for dusting picture-frames. The Khan has a court of three faithful elders with very long beards of very white tow, and rather scanty cloaks, evidently made of the same piece of stuff, as if the elders had bought bebpeen them a cheap remnant. The conspiring generals have got twelve soldiers, who say “ We Will!” to everything that is proposed ; but when a dispute arises between the Khan and the rebel chief, the former orders a curtain to be drawn aside, and the very same twe sve men—we know them again by thei ir high- lows —are standing ready drawn up to assist their Sovereign in some unin- telligible plan for “invading Poland.” Mr. Hicks himself, now the acknowle deed heir of the Khan, is placed at the head of the ‘cavalry— a body of six in chintz dressing- cowns—and mounts the “Wild Horse,” whose wildness has all been taken out of him by a good feed, and he becomes instantly civilised, falling into his place in the procession, keeping time to the music, and conducting himself in every way like a decent member of Mr. Barry’s company. The Khan and his subjects proceed to invade Poland with the ten Papa, who has no doubt found it and work, calls for aj horse, the twelve foot, and several young women whom we had seen

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. before at the Court of Laurenski, and who are now leading a zebra, who goes to every battle at AsTLEY’s, a couple of miniature poneys who were certainly at the siege of Moultan, and a refractory stag, who is obliged to be kicked, pushed, and jae, to make him uietly anywhere. On arriving in Poland, Olinske’s bridal festivel—having been put off all this time for dramatic effect—is being celebrated by a characteristic pas, when Mr. Hicks, appearing at the top of the staircase, claims his eloved ; and as he is not allowed to take the lady, he proceeds to take the whole kingdom, which is speedily effected by the twelve highlowed mercenaries who said “We Will!” to all the propositions of the rebel general. Poland succumbs, in the midst of blue and red fire—a large shovelful of whieh is suddenly thrust out from a hole in the front of the stage—and Mr. Hicks, clasping Olizska in his arms, with the poor old Khan overbrimming with emotion at his side, waves a Tartar flag, and the curtain falls on the TRIUMPH OF MAZEPPA. We ought not to terminate our analysis of this Astleian edition of Byron without adding that it is brought out in splendid style, like everything else at this popular place of amusement, and that Mr. Hicks gives the utmost possible effect to all the words set down and the situa- tions prepared for him. Though the Mazeppaof AsTLEY’s is not exactly that of the poet, it is a great deal more effective than the latter could have been for the purpose designed, and we should have no objection to read Byron all through with the aid of Mr. Batty’s brilliant spectacles. THE GOVERNMENT AND THE PARKS. Cut up the Parks? And wherefore not, To please an influential taste ? Fear we the People? Not a jot. They ’ll see their “ Playgrounds” all defaced, And only raise a futile growl, An empty hiss, a harmless howl. The People? Nonsense! Who are they ? The Rabble, Populace, and Mob; Think you we care for what they say? What can they do to stop our Job ? Why, we’ll shut up their “ Playgrounds” next, They ’!l only grumble if they ’re vexed. The Press? And what’s the Press to us? Tt tells us what the Public think. Well—let it make its daily fuss, And waste its weekly floods of ink: [t only pelts us with its wit, And we don’t feel ¢ha¢ when we’re hit. The Statue upon Burton’s arch, Not merely the Duxe’s monument, Commemorates a glorious march Stolen upon GENERAL Discontent. And so we'll treat the Parks, in spite Of clamour, just as we think right. We know we ’re safe—there; that’s the fact. No Opposition we ’ve to dread. Were we from Office to be pack’d, Whom could you have just now instead ? The Court won’t much blame what we do: And for the Nation—pooh, pooh, pooh! As long as inthe People’s House he People have their present share, At least we will not stick to chouse Them out of exercise and air; And with their pence play ducks and drakes To fill their ornamental lakes. Headless Hoax. Tue boldest of the Irish gentlemen who have described the Sea- Serpent, infers that it is a great electric eel, from the circumstance that an individual of his crew received a shock of electricity from one of the sprats disgorged by the nauseated monster into the boat. If the same sensitive person were to pick up a partridge just shot, it is to be pre- a a some of the charge that killed the bird would hit him in e hand, THE Austrians say that thrashing women is perfectly allowable in war ; for FREDERICK THE GREAT notoriously thrashed Marta THERESA. Wuy did Napoteon thrash the Austrian Generals when he said so many of them were old women ? . THE FRENCH IMPROVING. To M. Scrrse. Yo Y DEAR MowsIEUR, ‘ T Ask you, as a great Operatic au- thority, whether the usual conduct of our people on pub- ic occasions, is not precisely like the acting of chorus- singers and super- numeraries on the stage of a theatre ? Whether your in- ‘ surrections—revolu- ‘ tions—political de- ‘ monstrations — are not, in fact, so much melodrama? I think ou will reply, yes. You will probably ¥ confess, also, that SS: this melodrama is a * little too serious. Real bloodshed — ball, yn will admit . to be somewhat over-melancholy. And besides that, as compared with our Adelphi per- formances in this kind, you will own that those enacted in your streets are remarkable for an absolute want of fun. You have plenty of O. Sirus, but no Mr. Wricut or Mr, Pav Beprorp. Your horrors and sentiment lack the relief of drollery. I speak generally; and very glad I was to observe a case of exception to this rule, which occurred the other day on your President’s return to Paris. Whilst me mob was hallooing and bawling with their usual enthusiasm, says the Times’ correspondent,— “ An omnibus passed, or tried to pass, through the dense crowd, and the driver, who must have been somewhat of a wag, stood up in his seat, and taking off his large and yellow glazed hat, bowed with the utmost gravity and politeness to the right and left, to the windows on both sides, and kissed his hand to the women who were waving their pocket-handkerchiefs, just as if he were fully convinced that the cries of ‘ Vive le Président !’ ‘ Vive Napoléon !’ and even ‘ Vive la République!’ were solely intended for himself. This incident restored every one to his good humour; ‘inextinguishable laughter’ met his improvised dignity, and the only unanimity that was observed on the occasion was when the shout of ‘ Vive le Cocher!’ followed him to the end of the street.” This bit of jovial buffoonery is delightful, after one has been nauseated by reading of maidens in white offermg Jouguets to the President, and such like imbecilities. The whole occurrence is the most hopeful indi- cation that has been evinced by your public for some time. Such an appreciation of burlesque, on the part of Frenchmen, is like a touch of compunction enbihited by a supposed reprobate. I am very much delighted, indeed, to find your countrymen beginning to laugh at the mock-pompous: susceptibility of that kind wall have saved com from many sad fooleries. I believe that they have acquired this perception | from us; with whom, to the immense diversion of everybody, a royal procession or any other grand display, is invariably closed by a butcher | on horseback. The omnibus-driver—a capital fellow, whoever he is— must have been imbued with English ideas. International commu- nication is already benefiting you; British humour is correcting French melodrama; and with the assistance of the submarine Electric Telegraph, we shall, in time, make you jolly good fellows. Accept, Monsieur, the assurance of my distinguished consideration, PUNCH. Destruction for the Million. Pustic indignation ought to be violently excited by a flagrant wrong which is inflicted on the proprietors of powder-mills. The other day, a fireworks-manufactory in Spitalfields exploded, and blew up the greater art of three streets. Similar occurrences are by no means rare. ‘here is no law, it would seem, to prevent fireworks-makers carrying on their business in the most crowded neighbourhoods; subject, of course. to these casualties. It is most unjust that an adventurous individu should not be suffered to work a powder-mill, under the same circum- stances, and at a similarly trivial risk of blowing the surrounding district into the air. THE MATRIMONIAL KNOT. Q. Wny did the Siamese Twins get married ? A. Because they could not remain single. firing with actual |

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| | | No. 70. TES ) sumers snd Cvstomsof 7 Gnelyshe «New der 4) 6 SAVAN: ‘ INC.* LECTVRE OF AN . EMINENT DVR \ NSTITVTION . c.Lp -NTIEI CIE

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hoy). Fund ame y a Xe Cc /, —__ 22. Cg LY i fe ( . # % “He WENT away witH A Fiza in wis Ear.”—Old Saying. | IN GENERAL HAYNAU’S EAR. SKETCH OF A MOST REMARKABLE FLEA WHICH WAS FOUND |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 139 “TO ERR IS HUMAN.” “Maister Puncu, “ Edinburgh, 2\st Sept. 1850. “Nak doot ye think yirsel verra clever wi yir jckin, and daffin, and jeerin, and 1’se no deny but what ye’ve some aa sr! aboot ye, and that ye whiles gi’e the richt nail a chap on the heed; but, odd man, it garred ma bluid bile the ither day, whan I saw yon long story aboot the callant that wud steek himsel to the QuEEn’s tails, that mornin she gaed to tak her bit walk on oor bonnie hill. “T hinna blushed this thretty year; but whan I read hoo thon silly cuif strutted aboot, and gied himsel airs, and hearken’d to what Her | Mrsesty and the Prince were sayin, and prided himsel aboot liftin | doon the Royal Sprigs, as if the bits o’ bairns were sae mony electric | machines choke fu’ o’ nobility, and juist needed to be touched to send it aff, dirlin’ through his finger-ends, chappin’ at his elbows, and kittlin’ him into a’ kinds o’ daft-like ecstacies: odd! whan I read it, | my face bleezed up like a fluff of pouther, to think o’ siccan like on- | gawns, i’ the great capital o’ the Scottish Empire; and then it was | verra gallin’ to see yir comments on the subjec, hoo that ye did think | ance, that naething could bate the Inglish for flunkeyism; but noo ye had discovered that the ** Snob o’ Snobs” (I ken that word means some- thin’ verra impident, though its no in my dicshonary) ; but, as I was remarkin,’ ye said that the royal snob actually lived at Edinburgh, and added muckle mair sic like, castin’ seliecahions on the weel earned character for proper pride and independence, which frae time immemorial has aye belanged to the Scottish nation. Noo, it juist happened that I | was oot at my tea last nicht, and on expressin’ my indignashion at the affront pit upon oor. country; something was whispered that set me spierin’ and spierin’ the day, till what do ye think I fand oot ?—that this “Snob o’ Snobs,” this king o’ flunkies,,this callant that lives in Edin- burgh, and corresponds wi’ “the Scotsman,” is nae countryman 0’ mine, but an Juglishman after a’. ; “Noo, Maister Punch, I ken ye’re a guid hearted chield, that wadna hurt the character o’ ony single man wrangfully, let a be that o’ a nashion : sae, for the sake o’, truth and justice, for the credit o’ Auld Reekie, and the gude name o’ Scotland, juist stand oot manfully and tell them, that for ance in yir life, ye’ve ta’en the wrang soo by the lug. “Yours, verra truly, “SaunpEers Mc Sawney.” THE PREMIER AT PLAY. =) HE North British Mail, in allusion to our recent highly-popular cartoons of the Pre- mier’s holidays as they really are, and as they are supposed to be, observes, that we have made a random hit, and that the “ supposition” was the correct description, for that “ Lorp Joun RussEtn was one day last week seen enjoying himself with his children in sending up paper balloons into the air, and chasing them over the lawn.” This in an ordinary personage would no doubt be a pursuit bespeaking a mind at ease, and wholly unoccupied with graver objects; but is it not quite clear, that in the case of Lorp Jonn Russe 1, the sending up pieces of paper is to be looked upon as balloon-flying in sport made statesmanship in earnest ? It is always essential for a Premier to know which way the wind blows, and as the throwing up of a straw often determines the course of events, why may not the despatching of a balloon lead to the same important conclusion ? waited objects over the lawn would be called by his opponents a most characteristic proceeding, for they would say, a Whig Minister always — to see which way the wind blows, only that he may endeavour to ollow it. High Qualifications for a President. THe Morning Chronicle, talking of Louis Naronxon, says “He rides admirably, and looks well on horseback—most important qualities in France.” If these are qualities that are looked up to in France, we would recommend that the candidate for the ensuing Presidency should be selected from the equestrian company of the Hippodrome, or Mr. Barry’s Circus. The chances of success would be divided, we should think, amongst Mazeppa, Monsteur Desean AvRIOL, and the Courrier of St. Petersburgh. e latter making his triumphal entry into Paris on the backs of “Six wild steeds” would be sure to carry everything before him ! Tue Austrians could not thrash the Hungarians, because the Magyars would not show them their backs. The fact of Lorp Jonn’s chasing the breeze- | THE INCOME-TAX RAISED UNDER THE ROSE. “ * An Innapitant oF Hammersmitu,” describing himself as “a poor author,” has written a letter to the Zimes, complaining that, ' whereas he returned himself, in answer to the income-tax queries, as making £50 a-year by his pen, he has been assessed at £300, at which rate he will be diddled out of nearly one-fifth of his earnings by the | |Government. From other information we have received, we believe ‘that an extra wrench, generally, has been given to the vice of income- taxation. Now is it, or is it not true, that the following ,communica- tion has been issued to the Income-Tax Assessors ? “ On Her Majesty's Service, strictly Private and Confidential, | oa You will please, in the first place, to understand ‘that your situation will depend on your keeping this memorandum a profound | secret. | ©The exigencies of Government Pa ewoynans A require that the | Income-Tax should be rendered as available as possible for the increase | of the Revenue. ; | “You are aware that we are under the necessity of reducing our | embassies and consulates; that we cannot afford £2000 for the comple- | | tion of the Criminal Law Digest, and are obliged to make the veterans whom we decorate, buy their own medals. Further, that we have had to ineur the heavy expense of Mrs. WacuHorn’s pension, whilst we have been unable to allot more than the pittance of £12,000 a-year to His Royat Hicuness the Duke or CAMBRIDGE. “Tt is also well known to you that we shall require above £26,000 for the alterations in the Parks, and a considerable sum besides to build the Prince or Watzs a coach-house and stables. Our wish is so to effect these important objects as, whilst giving full satisfaction to illustrious personages, not to incur the unpopularity of proposing a new impost. “Our end would be gained at once by @ direct increase of the income-tax. But, warned by experience not to attempt that, we must have recourse to its virtual augmentation; for which we require your assistance. “You will therefore please to have the goodness forthwith to raise and, in cases where a return has been made, to assess the income of therein. It is needless to add that zeal in the performance of this service, united with discretion, will not be forgotten. /on your assessment of professional persons or tradesmen. your assessments of all incomes derived from trades and professions; | the party making the return as considerably higher than that stated | ** You are not to exercise any needless caution in making an advance | Her | | Masesty’s Ministers are emboldened to impose almost any exaction | junder the name of income-tax on those classes, by the consideration | |that want of time, owing to the requirements of business, makes it | practically impossible for such persons to appeal against an overcharge. | | Also, | will induce them to submit to what, under different circumstances, | might perhaps be called the grossest extortion. ce ihave so long—unresistingly, if not uncomplainingly—suffered their | casual earnings to be taxed as highly as the interest of fixed capital. favour of loyalty and order made on the ever-memorable 10th of April, | by the classes that pay income-tax under schedule D. The Government | has no doubt whatever that they will repeat their admirable behaviour | on that occasion whenever it may be necessary. We therefore fearlessly desire you to augment their assessment. under the said schedule,—con- dent that scarcely any provocation will overcome their love of peace | and quiet; and that they will the more willingly endure the burden, | rom the idea that it has been imposed to maintain the splendour of the Duke or Camsriper, to please the taste of the Prince Consort, and | to provide for the Prince or WaLEs’s recreation. (Signed) ** Downing Street, Sept. 19, 1850.” « J—n R—ss—1.” WoMEN-THRASHING is considered in Austria so much better sport amusement, and got the Russians to thrash ¢he men. The Wild Huntsman of Africa. Mr. Rovateyn Gorpon Cummine tells us of the sundry rifles and guns which he used to kill his lions, elephants, aud sea-cows; but he says nothing of that Long Bow wherewith he is reported to have shot the greater part of them. “Gorne THE ENTIRE Antmat.”—Hunting the Hyena. * Her Masesty’s Ministers can never forget the demonstration in | that the dislike, or dangers, of revealmg their pecuniary affairs, | Ve have, moreover, a strong reliance on the patience of those who | | than man-thrashing, that the Austrians in Hungary disdained the latter |

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their position, which has doubtless been chosen for the purpose of | appropriate name for it. ‘ ANG . Ni ov ‘.. sgh | ! Nh ; Sate |||! | oi rh ay | j } ~ ie } 1} : iit) May hi Ht - ie Ny , | {tu iy | | SUNDAY TRAINS. “Mr. Puncu, ““T am very glad to see the BisHop oF GLoucesTeR and his Clergy have taken the Sunday trains in hand ; and are preaching against the wickedness of railway directors who, m the wursuit of the root of evil—which grows as [ iave heard, all the stronger in a sulphur soil— lower their fares to tempt men and their wives to rush from their he»: Se te to see Bath Bristol, and so forth. Sir, it’s infamous—and something is sure to happen. “Thave kept the Cock-and-Bottle for twenty years; and I have never known such a season as this summer. Where I used io sell a gallon of beer and a pint of gin on Sundays, I don’t now sell above half-a-pint and a quartern. And why? Because the workpeople in the neighbourhood save up their money to take their wives and children a hundred miles from home, coming back to go in time and sober to bed. Therefore, I beg to thank the Bisuor or GLovceEstTER for NINN} 1 HL i, With 1} ‘ty cursions as being ruinous to “Yours, BonIFACE. “P.S. Do you know where I can get the Bishop’s me E as I should like to hang it up in my parlour ? ” Blind Competition. hibition of 1851. The prize, however, must be carried off by Government, if it only thinks of sending in as its contribution the Winpow Tax, for that is universally looked upon as the Lady. “ By tue way, Mr. Tones, I nave vsep THAT Borris or Baim or Cauirornia,; | most perfect specimen of Blindness that was ever But I Frnp My Hatr STILL COMEs OFF.” PENNY-A-LINING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. THE mageotinast snobs who are employed to eaves-drop under the windows of royalty, complain very bitterly of the difficulty of getting near Her Masesty and Prince Avsert at their retreat m Scotland. An unhappy penny-a-liner, writing from “Cr ATHIE,” says :— It is a work of time and labour to “Balmoral Castle is well situated for seclusion. approach it.” It seems there is no inn nearer than two miles off, and— “These two miles give no idea of the distance to be traversed between the two | places, because, the Inn being on the opposite side of the Dee, when you'have gone the length indicated, you are only opposite, not at the Castle; you must continue your journey until you reach a bridge—a rather ricketty suspension—which will be found at Crathie, a mile fartheron. that crossed, you have then of course to retrace your steps another full mile ; so thatthe real distance between the Royal residence and that of any stranger is somewhat more than four miles.” We congratulate the Queen and Prince on the inaccessibility of baffling those impertinent imbeciles who would otherwise waylay them in their walks, and dodge their movements, in order to contribute a column or two of trash to “our own reporter’s” department of the newspapers. Thanks to the judicious selection of their retreat, the | royal pair supplied material to the baffled penny-a-liner for nothing but | the remark that— “ This week has been wholly spent by the Court in the enjoyment of quiet.” We are rather amused at the idea of the “ricketty suspension bridge” over the Dee, for we have a shrewd suspicion that the bridge alluded | to has been purposely placed there as a piege to the audacious penny-a- | liner, who, in his ardour to force his way into the family circle of the QurEN, might be tempted to trust himself once too often to the | ricketty bridge, and find himself the victim of a well-merited ducking. | We wish that some ingenious mechanist would prepare, to exhibit at | the forthcoming Exposition, an article on the principle of the steel-trap, | to seize intruding noses, as the latter article catches hold of trespassing legs, for we are convinced that a little machine of the kind all ce mand the patronage of Prince ALBERT as a sort of corrective to im- pertinent curiosity. If any artist should be successful in inventing something of the kind, we would suggest the Anti-Proboscis as an put before the eyes of a nation. THE CELESTIAL FAMILY. THE newspapers ought really to open a new department of Birtus, what he’s doing, preaching against Sunday ex- | We see that is the intention of the different | Blind Asylums throughout the country to con- | tribute works of Art and Industry to the Ex- | to chronicle the sp and almost daily increase which the stars | are making to their already numerous family. We find from a recent letter of Mr. J. R. Hin, who writes to the Zimes from the ‘‘ Inner Circle of the Regent’s Park,’”—which is perhaps a “ ring” of one of the planets overlooking the vicinity specified—that he has to record “another interesting addition ” to the solar system, by the introduction of a new member, of which the constellation Pegasus has been safely delivered. This “ new member” is announced as “the twelfth of the group,” and the third in reference to which Mr. J. R. Hryp has been, as he says, | “fortunate enough” to act as a sort of astronomical accoucheur, or scientific man-midwife. We have made enquiries at the Greenwich Observatory, and are glad to hear that the great planet Pecasus, and the little one, are both going on very favourably, and are, indeed, “doing as well as can be expected.” ‘The planetary population has increased, lately, to such an | extent that the starry census, when next taken, will show a vast aug- mentation, and the astronomical observers are constantly complaining that their celestial apparatus is continually growing obsolete, unless | they keep painting in or picking out a score or two of new comets, con- stellations, and minor stars, at the commencement of every season of their exhibition. Amone the products of Austrian ingenuity which are to figure in the Exhibition of 1851, there will be exhibited an ingenious instrument (patronised by H. M. the Emperor and Krn6), for flogging ladies. It has been found highly useful in the Milanese, and most efficacious in Hungary. The Rights of Englishmen. Wuen Drum-Major Catriin, of the 150th, was told that a Hun- garian lady had been flogged, the Drum-Major, who is an enthusiast, asked what business they had to waste flogging on women? “ Flog- ging,” says Drum-Major Carty, “is the privilege of British soldiers | and sailors.” Aw Escare For THE Ruine.—GeneERAL Baron Haynav was not | ducked at Cologne. a oe ee hn i i oe Re

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Toa = eS ae ee —e eee it oes eT Se a "soe ae Swe rw wy = cr ve looked tionately upon our little QuzEN. She my gain an acre or two of land but it would be at the cost of a large bit of the nation’s | heart. Talk of court ing; why, Mfr. Punch, with any portion of | was left to the nocturnal mice, and he, the Minister, was far away on | the everlasting Scottish hills, before the attempt to ag the people’s PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 141 | of turf so seurvily acquired ? ST. PEOPLE’S PARK. Mr. Puncu,—I, for one, will not believe in the wicked report that some enemy to the House of Guelph has set afloat, that it is the intention of the QuEEN —sup- THE IRISH SEA SERPENT. (From Punch’s own Correspondent), _On my arrival at Kinsale, faithful to your instructions to get a sight of the Sea Serpent at all hazards, I took a vessel, and put out instantly, in_spite of wind and weather, both of which were dead against me, determined, as Mr, Roger W. Travers says, “to go any lengths” to satisfy myself and your readers of the existence of that monster. = and abetted by 1er Ministers—to cut | off a large slice from St. James’s—I mean St. People’s Park, in| order to add the| stolen bit to the gar- | dens of Buckingham | Palace. Is it like her | H cracious Magesry ? Would it become the other of a People mu to take from her thou- | sands of children, of mix larger growth and > small, their heredi- tary bitofgreensward, that the PRINcE oF Watss and his” bro- thers and sisters might enjoy the bit I won’t believe it. Such A+. would cloud the oe of 4 ss that have ever St. People’s Park taketi from the people’s mourning ; ribbons black and green at every man’s button uole. on every woman's bonnet, on every defrauded infant’s cap. But it cannot be—I won’t believe it. a Again, would the Whigs strike such a coward’s blow? Is it likely that the chivalrous RussELL would wait until the House of Commons roperty was made, in the name of the Queen? Is it likely that any English Minister would incur the charge of such flagrant injustice, masked by such pitiful poltroonery ? I won’t believe it. 2 Further : would the Doxe or WELLINGTON accept the Rangership of St. People’s Park, only by his valiant name to authorise court pillage ? “Why, that’s it,” says Chartist—“that’s exactly it. The Minister believed that upon any attempt to defraud the people of their property, the people would rebel ; and the e was, of course, made Ranger that he might bring his military genius to the aid of the Crown, and by any means, awe and put down the discontented mob.” So says Chartist, but—I won’t believe it. eople, I would certainly advise a| Unlik My desire was soon gratified. An object resembling the letter §, after the lapse of about three quarters of an hour, appeared in the horizon, and gradually neared us, getting larger as it approached. At the distance of a mile we could olainly see that it was an enormous reptile, but whether of the ophidian ot saurian class we could not tell till it had come close to us. Even then our zoological knowledge pase inadequate to its exact classification. your scientific opinion think it would have appeared very like one of the cetacea. Mr. TRAVERS is incorrect in stating that it is rather over than under thirty fathoms long. The reverse is the ease, I should say, by an inch and six-eighths. In diameter it may be about seven feet, I will allow. But the length and size of the Sea Serpetit—for serpent, on the whole, it appears to be—are not half so wonderful as its conformation, which sets every canon of natural history at defiance. Depend upon it that comparative anatomy is all a delusion; and that Proressorn OWEN, though he may be a respectable man, deceives himself completely if he believes in that imposture. ‘The head of this anomalous inhabitant of the deep, being covered with scales, in some measure resembles that of a reptile, and this similitude is heightened by the form of the snout, which is that of a crocodile’s, though terminating in a sort of t , like an elephant’s. The mouth is full of long, sharp teeth, besides a pair of enormous fangs in the upper jaw. But the latter are like the canine teeth of a age ape, and this mark of alliance to the simi@ extends to the cranium, the frontal portion of which is as elevated as it is in the chimpanzee. In spite of the length of the jaw, therefore, the facial angle is considerable. se any other reptile that I have ever seen or heard of, the Sea Serpent, moreover, has undeniable ears, which I can affirm, from close observation, até as conspicuous as those of an ass. Its eyes are fur- nished with regular lids, as it proved by continually winking the left one whilst it stopped looking at us. From the bloodshot appearance of this eye, I have no doubt it was that which Mr. Travers and his friends fired their four bullets into. The crown and nape of the neck, are surmounted, not with a mane, as has been erroneously stated, but with a crest of feathers, and from above each eye protrude a species of horns, which the creature draws in and out like those of a snail. Its body was certainly not that of an eel. It had no gills at all; its respiratory apparatus consisted in a series of spiracles, or ——- holes, arranged in a row on either side of it, along its whole length, marked by a line of a greenish hue. Above this line, and over the back, the integument had a leathery appearance ; below, it consisted of scales of a silvery whiteness. Between the spiracles, of which there were forty in each row, were situated the organs of locomotion, being an alternation of flappers and fins. Its tail was of a spiral form, like a corkscrew, and terminated in an apparatus of loose bones, the collision And, finally, is it likely that a wise regard for the growing fame of the Prince or Wates would put his innocent boyhood in a false position, making him and his brothers and sisters the despoilers of tens of thou sands of brothers and sisters, the born inheritors of the greensward of | the Park of St. People? Such a beginning would be sullenly accepted | as anevilomen. Folks looking through the magnifying glass of time | would be all too likely to behold ia little Prince Arpert a future bloated Gzorce THE Fount, of gold-frog memory. No, Mr. Punch, it is impossible that this can be: and to conclude, ? | a I Won’t Be.teve Ir. THE SABBATARIAN POST. CACTLION.— Whereas, certain clergymen and others are known to perambulate their parishes, carrying with them skins of parchment, pens, and inkhorns, for the purpose of obtaining the signatures or marks of the ignorant, the unreflecting, and unwary— This is to caution all persons so called upon to consider well before | they affix their names or marks to the sheepskins aforesaid, inasmuch as | there are individuals who, in their weakness and darkness, believe it an act of self-assertion to sign or make a mark to any Petition soever. Honest and guileless people, beware of sheepskin, pen, and ink. Vivat Reena! PUNCH. of which, I should have mentioned, proclaimed its approach when at least two miles off. It remained stationary on our sphent bow about ten minutes, and then suddenly dived and disappeared. Two large mamma, situated between the pectoral flappers, seemed to indicate that the creature was a female. From the above description the scientific naturalist will discern that the Sea Serpent—the Irish variety at least—is a combination of the lizard, the elephant, the ape, the cockatoo, the snail, the fish, the por- poise, the rattlesnake, and the caterpillar. On the anatomical difficulties involved in this complicated structure, I need not dilate, but, commend them to the consideration of the College of Surgeons. Whether for our amusement, or its own, the Sea Serpent, whilst under our inspection, kept alternately tying itself up in knots, and untying them, accompanying each contortion with a peculiar whistle. I had a capital opportunity of shooting it, which I waived, aware that you disapprove of the wanton destruction of animal life. The Prince of Wales’s Studies, Tue Court Circular every evening informs us that “the Prince or WaALtEs enjoyed his usual exercise.” We have been given to understand that his “usual exercise” is half a page of “ Latin Delectus,” and it is a proof of his Royal Highness’s relish for study that his exercise is matter of “enjoyment” to him. The Prince takes great pains with his translations, and has already, it is said, asked his tutor when the progress of his studies will bring him to the “ translation of a Bishop,” which the royal pupil has heard spoken of. The tutor, it is believed, Ir Haynav gets a Marshal’s ddton, whereabouts ought he to get it ?| looks forward naturally enough to becoming himself the subject of such and who ought to give it to him ? 1a translation at the proper period.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. “ta “LEMME ~sa4 SALLI TC: “se #26 AUSTRIAN SOLDIERS RAMPANT. A tHouGu the stripes of Haynau have been salved by the sympathy, ind washed with the tears, perhaps, of his Imperial Master and compa- tions in arms—their smart does not appear to have derived much allevi- ition from the unction of popular commiseration on the part of his countrymen. From a Vienua letter in the Kolner Zeitung, as quoted by the Zimes, we learn that, “ Owing to the state of siege the news of the outrage committed upon GENERAL ilaywau met with a favourable reception by part of the population. ‘ Three cheers for Old England’ was proposed in the coffee-houses.” But the decorated of Francis JoserH will perhaps care little for public opinion—not impressed as it was the other day on the drubbed of BARCLAY AND PerkiNs’s Draymen. And what are the sentiments of his vulgar countrymen to the horsewhipped hero against the condolence of his brother braves 7 one of whom, according to another account from the above sources, thus characteristically expressed his indignation at the flogging of the woman-flogger. “In the Café Daum, which is haunted by our officers, there was, amidst the portraits of other royal personages, a portrait of QUEEN VicrortA. I say it was there, for it was yesterday assaulted by a Croatian Officer, who, drawing his sabre with a volley of immprecations, smashed it into atoms, while his comrades cheered him and cried ‘ Bravo.” Bravo !—bravissimo! Gallant Officer—gallant gentleman! A sword drawn, with a volley of imprecations, on a lady’s picture, is an improve- ment upon the peculiar gallantry of the Austrian army—a gallantry, doubtless, equally peculiar in regard either to a woman or a foeman. | | JOHN BULL ENJOYING THE PROSPECT IN HIS PARKS. | that we could not help crying out. The valour of heroes of the Haynav breed really seems to consist in an | instinctive antipathy to the fair sex. Should there ever be a genuine “ Revolt of the Harem,” these would be the fellows to quell it! They would prove a veritable scourge to the rebellious Odalisgues. One more specimen, in continuation of the foregoing, of the manhood of these (unacknowledged) sons of Mars :— “They rattled their swords in a most alarming manner, and they curse the islanders ‘whoa they cannot get at,’ and whom they long to ‘shiver,’ as the officer did the picture of their QugEN.” Should they ever have the misfortune to “get at” the denounced islanders, the shivering, it may be pretty confidently expected, will be rincipally on the side of these warriors who are such Tartars to the es. | which poor Joun Butt’s chest is painfully susceptible. THE MALEDICTION OF THURLES. To Mr. Puuch. | “ Srrn,—We understand that the Irish Roman Catholic Synod at Thurles has condemned by a majority of one the ‘Queen’s Colleges,’ | instituted for imparting to all creeds indifferently what all creeds in- differently in Ireland want very much; that is, useful knowledge. As the Colleges are intended to purvey mere intellectual provender, leaving the supply-of spiritual nutriment unobstructed to the legitimate vendors, to anathematise them is, on the part of the priests, equivalent to cursing butchers’, bakers’, or grocers’ pd established by protestants, even whilst their reverences are at liberty to consecrate,’or purify if need be, the beef, loaves, tea, sugar, and butter. They might as well have ex- communicated the Indian meal and other provisions which Government | sent to Ireland to relieve its physical destitution. As Pius tue Nintu —his Holiness apart even—is well understood to be no booby, we do hope that he will withhold his sanction from the decision of the Thurles Synod, and not confirm that monstrous Bull by one of his own. You may be surprised, Sir, at our venturing to address you; but really the absurdity of banning Latin and Greek, mathematics, history, the natural sciences, geography, astronomy, and the use of the globes, is so gross “ We are, Sir, &c., “Tue STONES IN THE STREET.” The Lungs of London. THE inhabitants of London are naturally rendered very anxious and uneasy by certain proceedings in the Parks, which seem to threaten a stoppage in the lungs of the Metropolis. We are not among those who seriously apprehend inflammation of the lungs by the excessive circu- lation that will be next year thrown into Hyde Park ; but we look with somewhat more alarm to the congestion of which there are symptoms in the St. James’s lung, where a slight stoppage is already perceptible. Unfortunately the attack on the lungs near Buckingham Palace is attended with considerable expense, and consumption is a disease of Printed by William Bradbury, of Nol3, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row. Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their Ustice, in Lombard Street, in the Preciact of Whitefriars io the City af London, and published by them at No. 35, Fieet Street, iutne Paris of St. Bride’s, inthe City of London.—Saruapar, Sarremser 2th, 160.

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DS ll and 1a vho cu- ‘ith ms ble. . is of at their b, 1950. | good-natured CAMBRIDGE ? | yew may be found desirable, symbolic: namely, when an English PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 143 STATUES OF THE GREEN AND GOOD. Tue Good Duxe or CAMBRIDGE shall have a statue; an enduring memorial of the cheerfulness and greenness of his old age. A statue in much cheaper, and far more significant material than stone or bronze. A thousand pounds or two would be demanded by the sculp- tor tasked to produce a vera effigies of the distinguished diner-out ; fifty, or a hundred pounds at most, would purchase the material, and i y reward the artist proposed by Punch, to enshrine the memory of the virtues of departed royalty. The reader has, probably, amo in yew-tree; with, possibly, a his oldest acquaintance, peacocks cut | ragon or so, in box; original crea- | tions of the Dutch mind, flourishing in our gardens in the time of | Dutch William. Apam and Eve in hornbeam, all alive and shoot- | ing, were often found in the Edens of England. We have somewhere | read of a pig grown in lavender, that exhaled its sweetness in the | garden of a London citizen. Now, all that Punch proposes is, an immediate return to the good old custom of growing the figure—as our great father was originally grown—from the earth itself. The mode is | cheap, and beautifully primitive. Certain commentators on the Koran | | make a fanciful affinity between man and trees, declaring, that from the | | remainder of the clay of which Apam was formed, were created the , cocoa-tree, with its jack nut—“‘on which all the parts of a man’s head may be seen, mouth, nose, eyes, eyebrows, hair and whiskers ”— | together with palm trees, and a we arboreal benignities. There is a beauty in the fancy, a reverence for palm and cocoa in the grateful | superstition. But to proceed with our Man-Trees or Tree-Men of | verdant England. | At the present time, there is a magnificent opportunity for Lorp | SreymMouR—our new sylvan Minister—to distinguish himself. Let | him lay out what remains to us of St. James’s Park with an eye to the planting of yew, box, holly, and other vegetable statues of men who have deserved well of their country. Let him show how the Dutch mode of clipping trees into peacocks and monsters may be improved and predere. 4 by turning his creative shears to the cutting out and runing of men. Let us suppose that Grorce THE THIRD and his sons the two Fourths with, if you will, the Duke or York, flourished in monumental yew in St. James’s Park—should we not gain by the change from metal to vegetable? Any way, we may begin with the statue of the Good Duxr or CamBrinGE, and the statue—or rather, the tree for the statue—might be inaugurated with a pleasing serious- | | ness, a glad solemnity, due to the gravity of the subject, and highly | | satisfactory to the feelings of the noblemen and gentlemen of the | Committee. | And first, what tree shall be planted to grow, perennial statue, of the Yew-tree? No: it is too funereal; even the bees reject and shun it. Nevertheless, upon occasion, a statue in Sunday shall be put in deep black, and an Act of Parliament shall dumb-found the very birds on the Sabbath, and stop the flow of the Thaines on the seventh day—then may we have a statue in congenial vew of the noble, bilious Lord who shall achieve such glory, to eternise i fame :— “ Nor wilding green, nor woodland flower, Arise within its baleful bower.” No, we will have none of yew for our CamBripcE,—but a holly-tree, holly, and no other. There are thoughts and recollections of Christmas | and Christmas fare—beef and plum-pudding—that, as other trees are | sacred to certain heathen heroes, as the poplar to Hercutes, make the | _ the especial tree of the Good Duke oF CampripGe. It is decided | then. Our first green statue in St. James’s is that of the good Duke, and the tree, the holly. | We cannot in our present page draw out a programme of the cere- | mony of planting the ducal tree; but the rite may be performed | with many significant meanings. Crcero—on the authority of Piiny —would often irrigate his plane-trees with wine; and, in our day, | animals are buried under the roots of trees to make them fruitful; | witness the renowned tom-cat deposited under the gooseberry-bush that, ever after, bore hairy gooseberries. Well, the holly planted—the | holly that shall afterwards bear a monumental aaeiiene (when | artistically cut) of the Good Duke or CamBrinGE, may be irrigated | with port or claret, poured forth by Bensamin Bonp Case Lt, from | an historic wine-cooler of the London Tavern. A haunch of venison, | from the larder of the same hostelry, may also be deposited under the roots of the holly to enrich and stimulate its sap. Holly, fed by claret and venison! Is it possible to suggest a more fitting, a more truth- pr monument to a man who has eaten thousands of dinners for the good of his country ? Well, the holly is planted, and the gardener-artist goes to work with his shears ; in proper season ap ony a strong, leafy resemblance to s done, GEorGE THE THIRD and GEORGE the Duke or CamBripcGe. T THE FourtH duly planted, may demand of the artist an improved touch. And so the gardener-sculptor— From holly wood Clips CamBRipGE good, And then he trims the Gzonazs, oh! And here we may briefly ask, whether the custom of planting and cutting tree statues of great men may not give more fitting employment to much unregarded genius, doomed to the stone-yard, or we should say, the stone-cupboard of the Royal Academy? Many aman who has no chance of making a figure in marble, might flourish for years in holly, box, or hornbeam. ‘There would be work two or three times every year upon the same effigy. For instance. Here is CAMBRIDGE IN THE SPRING, AND IN THE WINTER, Thus, with memorial effigies cut in trees, there would be a ve wholesome demand for surplus sculptors; and when St. James’s Park is green and alive with budding, shooting heroes, when it is an arboreal Walhalla with the Grorexs, for instance, as green as were their subjects. economy will have embraced beauty, and much ill-used bronze be sent to the melting-pot. Again; if any of the tree-statues outlived the reputation of their originals, the trees might be suffered to run wild— to grow at their own sweet will—for a year or two, and then be clipped into another and a better hero. Thus, a GeorGE THE FourtH might be suffered to outgrow even his own abdomen, and then be cut close to a SHAKESPEARE or a Newton. And so, the sap that gave viridity to the spendthrift king, may feed the necessities of the poet or philosopher. Nor do we see any difficulty in the matter of inscription. On the contrary; the inscription may be in admirable harmony with the material of the effigy. Let us take our first holly statue—the Good Duke or CAMBRIDGE. On a given piece of earth, at the foot of the statue, may be grown, cut, and continually renewed, a record of the Duke’s many excellent qualities in cress and mustard. They would be symbolical and pungent of the tavern salad. Or, indeed, the inscrip- tion might be pricked out in civic parsley. In the old heroic day we know a crowned the temples of the hero. Very well; with us it is said hero-worship is turned topsy-turvy ; so let our great men have the parsley at their feet. A Common Councilman on Lending. Mr. Common Councitman ANDERTON opposed the motion made to lend books from the City Library. He was quite against such free circulation of knowledge. The wizard further observed, “ the worst thing a man could do was to lend.” ANDERTON is wrong—grievously wrong. ‘The very worst thing a real man can do is to—borrow. ENTOMOLOGY AND THERAPEUTICS, SprIpERs are mentioned in “ Notes and Queries” as an old woman’s remedy for ague. The principle of their administration, however, is perfectly scientific. It is simply that of counter-irritation—a crawling in the stomach is occasioned to cure a creeping of the skin. VOL. XIX. Q |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE PARKS AND THE PEOPLE. UsT now it seems Woods and Forests must play at ducks and drakes with the public money, and, as it appears, that a Park is necessary as a play- ground for this costly and very unpopular sport, we beg to suggest, that, in order to spare Hyde Park, St. James’s, and the Green Park, another Park should be set apart for the Woods and Forests to play their pranks in. Withaviewto varrying out this arrange- ment, we have the pleasure of submitting our own Whetstone Park to the notice of the authorities. If a Park is wanted merely for the purposes of jobbing, there cannot be a better locality, as there are two orthree job-masters already on the spot, and therefore a few jobs more or less cannot injure the neigh- bourhood. We do not see why a Rangership with a “tremendous salary” should not be attached to Whetstone Park, and as to “alterations” designed for the purpose of giving jobs to contractors and others, Whetstone Park, though limited im space, is quite large enough to admit of the erection and pulling down of} arches, the digging out and filling in of ground, together with such other costly operations as are occasionally carried on in Parks more frequented by the public than Whetstone, and therefore more deserving of protection against the pranks of the Woods and Forests. We could easily “hit off” a little plan for applymg to Whetstone Park a great deal of the expense—and consequent patronage—now being occasioned by what is going on in those Parks that have been called emphatically the play-ground of the Londoners. We would begin by throwing up an esplanade, commencing on the south side of Little Turnstile, and terminating at a point exactly opposite to the northern end of the pump-handle in the neighbourhood. There would be no difficulty in throwing up an embankment, for the purpose of elevating the level, for the materials are all on the spot, as the neighbourhood abounds in oyster shells, old shoes, and other similar articles. We would, in fact, pledge ourselves that there shall be no “ engineering difficulties ” in the way of raising the ground, if the public will only raise the money. Park we would erect a cistern, so that the gutter, now running through- out the entire centre of the Park, may be converted into a open of ornamental water, which in purity, if not in extent, would be very superior to the Serpentine. We would then lay down a “rotten row ” from east to west, and a portion of the materials would be supplied from | . the articles cast from their windows by the inhabitants. When we reflect that all this and a great deal more might be done in Whetstone Park, without cutting up the greerturf, of which we have not a foot too much for the recreation of the smoke-dried Londoner, we feel doubly the cruelty of the goings on in the West End Parks, and we wish, at least, that the direction addressed to the public, who are here and there “requested to keep off the grass,” were respected by the authorities themselves, and that they, with their waggons, their ickaxes, and their hoardings, would “keep off the grass” for the uture. Haynau’s Entire Honours. Tue Zimes correspondent says—“ The Austrian government will show its sympathy for the insulted general by raising him at once to the rank of a marshal.” How much will he owe to Barclay and Perkins ! find it issuing from a bung-hole? What conquest in battle has not done, a retreat from a brewery has effected. He who is not rewarded for standing lead and iron, is made a Marshal for running from pewter ! SHAMPOOING MADE EASY. EnGuisu travellers are informed, that on landing at Continental custom-houses, where the practice of searching the person for contra- band articles of traffic is enforced, the searchers, in the strenuous execu- tion of their duty, will Suampoo them GRATIs. the | FEMALE BARRISTERS. An attempt is made, every now and then, by an energetic lady, the wife of an imcarcerated barrister, to appear in the courts of law, and argue before the judges. Whenever this lady presents herself in counsel’s place to make a motion, a terrible com-motion is the conse- quence. The learned judges are naturally opposed to the principle of hearing ladies in court ; for the precedent would be dangerous indeed, as a fair pleader would, as a matter of course, make her own rule abso- lute. A female bar would, no doubt, soon restore to Westminster Hall its reputation for eloquence, and the name of “ utter barrister ” would become appropriate indeed to a sex remarkable for its abundance and volubility of utterance. The honours of the profession would not be sought alter very eagerly, for every female barrister would remain a “junior” as long as she could; and the idea of being ranked as a “senior” would be quite insupportable. Perhaps, however, the offer of a “silk gown” might occasionally be found irresistible, though we do not see how the forensic costume could be preserved, inasmuch as a public avowal that she wears a wig could never be expected from a female advocate. THE GORDON IS CUMMING. A ROAR FROM A WILD BEAST. THE GoRDON is CumMING, oh dear, oh dear ! The Gorpon is CumMING, oh dear, oh dear ! To slaughter us wholly; that’s clear, quite clear.— (L’ve a bullet of his in the rear, the rear). He ’Il cut us all up, branch and root, and root, No creature he spares from pursuit, pursuit : The King of the Beasts he will shoot, will shoot, And the antelope, also, poor brute, poor brute ! He blows out the elephant’s brains, his brains, His hand with giraffes’ blood he stains, he stains, As he in his volume explains, explains, Disregarding the animal’s pains, its pains. The sea-cow he peppers, pop, pop, smash, smash! She flounders and rolls in her gore, splash, splash ! At last goes a ball through her skull, crash, crash! What a mercy it settles her hash, her hash ! Perhaps we were made with intent, intent, That balls through our sides should be sent, be sent, Our nerves were contrived to be rent, be rent, And our bones to be shattered were meant, were meant. If that is why we were sent here, sent here, Of course ’tis all right—though ’tis rather queer— And to put us to use in our sphere, our sphere, Mr. Gorpon is coming—oh dear, oh dear! At the Gate Street corner of Whetstone | THE ATHOL PASSPORT OFFICE. An office will shortly be opened in Edinburgh for the purpose of issuing passports to Glen Tilt and other impassable passes of the Athol estate. It 1s to be called the Arnon Passport Orricr. Travellers will be expected to give their names, addresses, and occupations, and motives for travelling, besides finding two sureties for their respect- ability and good behaviour. Another stipulation also is, that they are to carry neither gun, nor fishing-rod, nor fowling-piece, nor stick, nor sword, nor knife, nor pencil, nor sketching apparatus, as the Duke is determined that nothing, not even a view, shall be carried off his estate —at all events, not till a Court of Law has thrown it open to the public. Every passport will have his Grace’s signature and seal, and a price, somewhat less than what is charged by Lorp PatMerston for a Foreign Passport, will be demanded for it, so as to keep the country within the walks of the very highest. This measure will have the effect of increasing the Duke’s income, even though it should close and make still narrower the respect that is universally felt for the narrowness of his ways, and the unenlightened selfishness of his views. May we not then trace the noble rank of Haynau till we | Haunted Churchyards. Ir is not perhaps generally known that churchyards in this country are infested by ghoules and vampyres. One “Justit1a,” however, writes to the Zimes, stating that on sending a person lately into Walthamstow churchyard to cut a new inscription out on his family tomb, the man was pounced upon with a demand of ten-and-sixpence, and two half-crowns, by three horrible creatures in the shape of | the parson, the sexton, and the clerk. | |

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a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HATOPHOBIA. THERE is a society organising in favour of the heads of society against | the hats of the same. Never was there a movement which deserved a ment gone, the others speedily followed, till, under WiLL1AM THE TuIRD, One side of it yielded under Cuartes THR SECOND, and one seg- | yrofounder sympathy or a more universal adherence. ‘The Red Repub- the brim was turned up all round, and vainly endeavoured to make up | ican demands “ a million heads ;” the Hatophobist contents himself with | by its brim and feather-edge for its lost breadth of shadow and sweep of demanding “a million hats,” and that demand we beg to echo. | line. (No, 9.) | what a decline and fall do our head-eovers exhibit ! The history of hats is enough to shake one’s faith in human progress. | Instead of advancing, we have been retro ing, or, to make the most of it, we have not yet got beyond the wide-awake. It appears on the frieze of the Parthenon. (No. 1.) It is worn by the clod-crusher of | Wiltshire. (No. 2.) | | | But between these two extremes of what we may call the ideal Het, | There was the hood of the Saxom held its ground to the‘end'of the thirteenth century. (No. 3.) Its tail’was cut up and twisted rewid'the head, into the bonnet of the fourteenth: nobs, bobs, steinkirks, keveuliullers—or by whatever name they are known. With the French Revolution fell the uncocked hat-—but,. alas, only to see the odious chimney-pot’ of our own day take itsplace. — Society has struggled under its hat. In its uneasiness it has tried all modifications of that central cylinder, and'tampered in every way with the insignificant brim, but to’ née’ pu \ n Prixck A®BERT’S daring attempt at a composite’ of all these has been genefally pro- nounced a failure. (No. 10.)) The human heackeover has still comtinued to resemble a truneated: section of iron pipingy:(No. 11), and we seem _ The tly turban was next modified into tle jaunty bonnet of'tlie Fifth, S$ aid'Seventh Hunrtres. (No. 4.) The Eighth Henry exhibits the first development of brim. (No. 5.) still to lie under the disgrace of the ugliest hat that the’world has yet seen, unless a vigorous effort is made to shake‘it off. (No: 12). Such an opportunity presents itself in the Exhibition of 1851. Let the European world of inventors be called upon to come forward "he wy ¢ i 7 & ‘ » - " wr . | e The crown and brim broke out into more luxuriant proportions under | hat in hand, and try what can be done to crown humanity in the nine- Exizazetu. (No. 6.) 6 The same development was at work under Mary and James—till, in CHARLES THE First, the Hat reached its apogee, and stood revealed in the cavalier’s head-gear, the most graceful that has ever shaded English Heads. (No. 7.) From that moment we have to date the decline and fall of the Hat. (No. 8.) | teenth century with something less like a chimney-pot. We know of | wear on our heads—it is hot in summer, it is not) warm in winter; it does not shade us from the sun, it does not shelter us’ from the rain; it is ugly and expensive ; you cannot wear it in a railway carriage, it is always in your way in a drawing-room; if you sit upon it you crush it, yet it will not save your skull in a fall from your horse; it will not go into a portmanteau, you are sure to forget it when suspended from the straps of a carriage roof. It is too hard to roll up; too soft to stand upon; it rusts with the sea-air, and spots with the rain ; if it is good, you are sure to have it taken by mistake at a soirée ; if it is bad, you are set down for a swindler—in short, it has all the bad qualities that a | thing can have, and not one good one to set off against them. Rally then against the -Hat of the nineteenth century! If you ask what is to be substituted in its place, We answer Not the bonnet rouge of red republicanism ; Not the white felt of ditto in Germany ; Not the black steeple-crowned ditto in Rome ; but a hat that may recall the grace of the days of Cuartes THE First without awakening the remembrance of their dissensions—a_ hat which combines, like our mixed Constitution, King, Lords, and Commons— the crown of the former, the cavalier grace of the second, and the serviceable substantiality of the third. We would not have revolution in dress stop here. We have something to say on coats and continuat ions. And then comes the profoundedly esthetic question of Bonnets, and | Lapres’ Dress In GENERAL ! nothing that can be said in favour of the article which we are forced to | It was no use—all forms of “the cock” were odious— |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JENNY LIND AND THE AMERICANS. From our own Reporters. Uy, BS ye — TM HL we”6O AT Wy Wey eT Mi Tue moment it was known by what vessel Jenny Linp was about to cross the Atlantic, we dispatched an efficient corps of reporters and correspondents on board, who were present in various disguises about | breath—as far as practicable—out of their bodies. Mil CORONATION OF JENNY THE FIRST—QUEEN OF THE AMERICANS. Y x , N : \ iP \\ AN hd i : , Lt \ 4 ~ : = | sight, the only mode the police had of keeping the enthusiasm of the | crowd within decent bounds, was to check their cries a knocking the ions had their the ship, for the purpose of watching every movement of the Nightin- | heads turned, and hundreds had their heads broken, but all was of no gale. One of our most esteemed contributors might have been seen | avail; and in spite of the exertions of the constabulary to stave off the | flitting about in a dreadnought and sou’-wester, from spar to spar, | people with their staves, the quays were in a state of dead lock from the and yard-arm to yard-arm, dodging the delicious song-bird, as she | throngs that covered them. As the vessel entered the harbour, the Night- hopped from paddle-box to paddle-box, utterly regardless of wind and | ingale was seen perched on the deck-house, supported on either side by | nile member of our extensive establishment was on | Messrs. Benepictand Betetti. Mr. BarnvM, the enterprising show- wave, while a juve | man who has speculated in Jenny Linn, as he has already done in Tom board, in the humble disguise of a lob-lolli-boy. It has been erroneously supposed, that because MapEMOISELLE | Tuums, and other popular idols, was running a race along the pier with Jenny LIND was seen to hon Lasenel waving her white handker- la Mr. CoLiins—perhaps a rival showman—each holding an enormous chief from the very top of the deck-house over the companion, and was | bouquet, and a fearful struggle took place as to which should be the seen to enter the American harbour waving the same white handker- | first to clamber up the paddle-box. Barnum made a desperate spring chief from the top of the same deck-house,—it has been, we say, erro- | neously, though naturally supposed, that, from the time of her starting to the moment of her arrival, Jenny Linp was constantly employed in the way in which she is represented to have commenced and terminated her journey. We are enabled to assure the public, on the very best authority, that such is not the case. The time occupied in the voyage passed very pleasantly. Every evening there was a concert for the benefit of somebody or other, | concluding with one for the benefit of the crew, which was somewhat marred by the boisterous state of the weather. The piano was soon sent up to an inconveniently high pitch, the glasses insisted in joining in, as musical glasses without much regard to harmony or effect, but | keeping up a sort of jingle during the whole time, there was an occasional accompaniment of wind and stringed instruments by Borzas | playing fearfully on the ropes of the rigging, and every now and then | everything was rendered a great deal too flat by a too rapid running up of the ascending scale and coming very abruptly down again. The voyage having been safely got over, we now come to the pro- ceedings in America; but we are bound to say that our contemporaries | have so fully occupied the ground—and their own columns—that room | is scarcely left even for us to say anything. | For some days before the steamer was expected, New York was in a | state of intense excitement, so that when the ship actually came in on one side, while Conirys took a terrific leap towards the other, an the latter being the more fortunate, or the more active of the two—or perhaps he had been taking lessons in gymnastics beforehand of some i aecouher brothers—sueceeded in being the first to stand at the Nightingale’s side, and to present her with a nosegay twice the size of that which Barnum pushed into her hand a moment afterwards. Either to see better, or to escape from the energetic CoLLtns and the frantic Barnum, “JENNY Linp moved to the larboard wheel-house,” and seeing the American flag, the Nightingale—with a sly sense of | humour, no doubt, and a general recollection of all she had heard about the slave-trade, and the treatment of Mr. Freperic Dovetas, the “coloured” newspaper editor—exclaimed, “There is the beautiful standard of freedom, the oppressed of all nations worship it.” As the ship neared the pier, every mast seemed to be made of eyes, noses, and mouths; every window was a mass of heads, and the roofs | of the houses looked as if they were slated with human beings, and had men and women for chimney-pots. The Nightingale was so struck with the respectability of a Yankee mob, that she asked “where the | | poor were ?”—intending, no doubt, if there had been any poor, to have |sung at once—sung out from the top of the paddle-box—for their | benefit. | was drawn up in readiness Barnum’s carriage. When one hears of a It now became time for Jenny Livp to land, and at the pier gates |

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— SS ——- zz oe . “at” ae 8 OS Flee _- 7 RAAS MND JyAV RBS - _ \ WA bie 2223: NN ; :, a mame: S\N) Ne a /, | —— S Et /} = 7 + y — N SS a Tee f “s 4 aS 4 & ea\| ess _ WN ll ‘il \' ‘ \\\ - Yall NS | \\ NS ae ———— - uM | WLLL ae IH) } THE CONTRIBUTION OF THE ADMIRALTY TO THE GREAT EXHIBITION.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 149 shovanan's suing a this enniny yo mind re ag me toa van into which the public are invited, indiscriminately, to “walk up ;” but such was: not the vehicle in which Barnum was prepared to receive LEADING ARTICLE ON THE ADMIRALTY his Nightingale. The horses were figged out in a style well adapted AND THEIR IRON STEAMERS. to advertise the museum of which Barnum is proprietor; and, though the trappings were well calculated to act as trappings, and catch the} We never think of CrvpErexia without being reminded of the Lords eye of the vulgar, good taste could not help feeling that the “capari-|of the Admiralty, because an iron war-steamer is an invention so sons” were “odious.” The Nightingale entered the carriage with the | analogous to a glass slipper. To dance in glass shoes, it is manifest, assistance of Barnum, who a mounted the box, ordering his | would be about as practicable as to fight in iron vessels; and either servant to make a circuit towards Irving House, it being very clear to | material would be equally likely to stand a ball. CrvpERELLa’s glass all what he and his coachman were driving at. The progress to Irving ; dancing-shoe, however, is a harmless fable; but the Admiralty’s iron House was one tremendous crush of beings, so densely packed together | fighting-ships are serious fabrications. As to the slipper, the youn that an exceedingly ripe cheese, in spontaneous motion, is the only | lady never put her foot in it, which cannot be said of my ords in regar thins to which it would bear comparison. |to their iron steamers. The Zimes, having devoted a first leader of nearly three columns toa} Surely it might have occurred to any being but an animal which digest of the proceedings—including the telegraphing of Mrs. and | shall be nameless, that a vessel made at a foundry would be certain to Miss Barnum, who were coming up from Cincinnati, the rush of | founder. We cannot conceive how anybody could think of using iron Bishops and Clergy, the crowd of “fashionable ladies,” the deadly | to build vessels of war with, unless in consequence of having taken an scramble for the stone of the “identical peach,” supposed to have been | over-dose of a chalybeate, of which the iron got into his head. Did the eaten by Jenny Linp at dessert, the search for a “ sensible old horse,” | Admiralty distrust the valour of the British sailor, and think to depend who must be a rare animal among the tribe of senseless donkies in the} on the metal of the ship, instead? Doubting, it would seem, the States—these things, we say, having been sufficiently dwelt upon else- strength of our naval bulwarks, they chan “yy te for defences which where, we think reiteration of the facts would be superfluous. We'are mere bulrushes. The harmony with which they united in the per- are, however, expecting to receive telegraphic dispatches of a some-| petration of their Iron Follies can only be explained on the supposition what startling character, nor should we be surprised if the next |that they are harmonious blacksmiths. Indeed, their unanimity in “Latest from America” should announce the dissolution of the] such absurdity would induce one to believe that they had but one mind Republic, and the proclamation of Jenny Lip as Queen of the United |—and that a disordered one—to share among their whole number. States, with Barnum as chief Secretary for Foreign Affairs—a post} Of course, the iron vessels cannot exist a moment before any gun for which his long acquaintance with such foreign affairs as Tom THUMB, but a pop-gun. Had this not been demonstrated by experiment, the the Sea Serpent, and other contents of his museum, renders him fully | iron determination of the Lords of the moore pe | would doubtless have , i qualified. = ; ae soon converted our whole navy into,a material which can only stand fire Our anticipations are realised, the following is the in the shape of a kettle or a saucepan. In fact, we should have thought that to construct a man-of-war of sueh.a substance could have occurred ; LATEST FROM AMERICA—JENNY LIND. to nobody at all connected with nautical affairs, except the son of a sea- cook. The same ingenuity that would have built iron line-of-battle- By Execrric TerecRarn. ships, would probably have furnished them with tin sails, cotton . : Mr. Punch’s Office, 85, Fleet Street. | cordage, anchors of gutta percha, and w eannon. _ Wirutn a minute of going to press, we have received the following} The idea of putting to sea in a wash-tub.is.quite distanced by that of important intelligence from Liverpool :— going into action in an iron pot, as would sg9on have been done when The Tarnation, Cavtatx Smakt, has just arrived from New York, }every dockyard in the country had been eonverted into a marine pan- after five days’ passage, and brings the following authentic information. | technicon. “Jenny Lip does not return to Europe. On the conclusion of her} We hope the Admiralty will no longersfile their mind with a view to engagement (which will be considerably shortened) with Barnum, | supersede the British oak, if they can. ,produee nothing better for that Jenny will be crowned Queen of the United States, the actual Pre-| purpose than iron filings. We trust:that they will have no more such sident politely retiring. JENNy accepts office under contract always to} irons in the fire as iron war-steamers, but will rather commit all their sing, in so many airs, to the ey: of the smartest nation upon earth, | plans and designs of such monstrosities to the devouring element. If what has been hitherto printed as Presidents’ Speeches. they intended their ferreous freak in naval architecture for their amuse- “Two stars and one stripe have been added to the Amerigan flag: | ment,merely, they have been amusing themselves most. unjustifiably, at the stars are JeNNY’s eyes, and the stripe a lock of Jennv’s hair.” the expense of the nation, in a strain of bitter irony, far too severe. Fortunately, they have drowned none of our brave sailors in their war- EEE kettles; but they have sunk a mint of copii We wish they could convert their ironmongery back into gold; but such alebemy is far ADDISCOMBE GEESE. beyond those, who, quacks though they may be, are no conjurors. In the meantime Joun Buu rues the blunders of these ship-smiths. ah iron has entered his soul, and the money has gone out of his pocket. We received a letter last week from a Corporal—not in the Guards, | but in the Honourable Company’s Establishment at Addiscombe. This communication is signed “'TRim,”—which betokens an acquaintance with literature that we are glad to meet with in a young callie: and there is only one grammatical error in it; but even that we believe to | a ’ be a mere slip of the pen, not at all deserving corporal punishment. | MR. PUNCH’S GAME LIST FOR 1850. Our correspondent wanted to know how he was to divide one goose | equally between ten cadets,—a problem which the liberality of the onourable Company would require him to solve on Michaelmas Day. Could we have answered our young SHaNnpEaN friend in time, we should have advised him to cut the goose into small bits, and serve them out by spoonfuls ; by which means he would at least have afforded his com- rades the satisfaction of a perfect mess. Not five East India Directors, | SiR. PUNCH, we will venture to say, ever sat down with but a single goose at table ; | id iis ttt hd tineatiei tinal and it was shabby to expect twice that number of young men to dine off | | 85, Fleet Street. ‘ a bird which though “too much for two” is “not enough for three.” We are not, however, altogether sorry to hear that there are ten cadets at Addiscombe with only one goose among the lot. In the Game List of this year, we do not meet with the familiar name of Mr. Puncn. This is an omission, almost amounting to a yublic insult, for it must be confessed that no one provides the United ‘ingdom—the United World, in fact—with such capital game, and such a constant supply of it, as The following is a correct list of the gentlemen and public bodies, ; who have kindly consented to find Mr. Punch with Game during the | ensuing year :— Complete Pacification of Ireland. | mgr Sanaa Lincoln. | Lorp gee oe yen Hall, Pen- [HE AMERICAN SEA-SERPENT. rith, a Jannes, France. Tas wisdom of the Synod of Thurles—a wisdom denouncing the | Mr. Barry, Houses of Parliament. Tue Royau ACADEMICIANS, National Gal- dless colleges—a wisdom, no doubt, as wisely, as sincerely, and, | ™* J0#% 0'Cosxett, Conciliation Hall, fe go 5 ¢ eed ) y, as ay ’ (if still existing). Mr. Fearcus O’Cowrnor, Snigg’s-End. withal, as reverently admitted by Mr. Gavin Durry, of the National—| Mavame Tussavo's Chamber, and all| Tue Dean axp CHarTer or St. Pavt’s, bids fair to stir up the passions of the land, renewing the ferment that | ___ other Mesa. , and all other public exhibitions. hopeful folks believed about to be stilled. Nevertheless, there may be | os -necseapiaananealnaaie.') “Tada,” a ee grounds of hope for the ultimate tranc uillit y of Ireland, in the prophecy | Arr CHow ers, FERRANDS, Agitators, | ALL SiINnEcURISTS, AND PENSIONISTS, AND of GrraLpus CamMBRENSIS, who declares that that country shall be| and Howlers. DUKE oF CAMBRIDGEISTS. tranquil a little before Doomsday—“ vir paulo ante diem Judicii!?” A Att Haywavus, and tyrants, and women- Sim Peter Laverie, and all those who put little before Doomsday! After all, may not GrraLpus CamBRENSIS be a little too sanguine ? And numerous others, far too tedious to mention. floggers. themselves up to put everything down.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. WOMAN AND THE CAT. Ir seems then that, with our thumb in our mouth, we must stand rebuked. We must accede to the diction of certain of our contemporaries that it is a necessary part of generalship to flog women. Authorities have been sought out to find cat companions for Tiger Hayvnav. Even the Deke or WELLINGTON has, in the course of his long and glorious life, bestowed six-and-thirty lashes a piece on adozen women. “None but the brave ‘castes the fair.” To be sure the women flogged in Spain were trulls of the army ; Moll Flaggons, who plundered and pillaged, and in many cases did not quietly set themselves down to wait at ; of the personal effects of the dying—watches, purses, epaulettes, whatever the booty might be. “And booty,” says SuwaRRow, in his Soldier's Catechism, “booty is a holy thing!” Thieves and suspected murderesses were flogged by the Iron Duke in Spain: the truth of this is shown by the evidence of a Highlander; evidence quoted in Scort’s Paris Revisited ; and therefore, Haynav is to be held free of odium for flogging AME MADERSBACH, a matron of spotless honour, whose only crime was sympathy with the Hungarians. Merc Donatpson “the best woman in our regiment, for whatever ry might take she did na keep it all to herself’—Mes, the liberal thief, takes rank with a noble, high-souled woman, whose husband, maddened by the infamy wreaked upon his wife, blows out his brains, leaving the outraged lady a desolate widow. And these are the examples set forth in defence of Haynau! Why not go further? In his time, Catcrarr the hangman has, we doubt not, flagellated female thieves and wantons. Why not produce his example in extenuation of the acts of the Austrian ? There would be some sort of fitness in pairing the hangman and the butcher; but we protest against = use of the Duke in aid of the Marshal: Haynau must not be whitened by the pipeclay of a ELLINGTON. CEREMONY OF PRESENTING THE BATon TO THE “ Warrior” Haynav. LAYING ON THE CAMBRIDGE BUTTER A LITTLE TOO THICK. Mr. Coin MACKENZIE assures us, in a letter to the Zimes, that none of the subscriptions for | the proposed testimonial to the “good Duke” or CamprinGe have been drawn from the funds | wished to honour. of any Charitable Institution. We would not contradict the word of any Secretary, but we will swear that, amongst the printed subscriptions to the above object, we saw the following line :— “Drury Lane Theatrical Fund . ’ ‘ e - £10 10s.” This sum is drawn, not from a flourishing fund, but from one that is rather struggling for means. Have the Camsrince Testimonial Committee accepted the £10, and, if so, do they intend to keep it ? Do they mean to go upon the principle laid down at the bottom of the Drury Lane play-bills— when Drury Lane had play-bills—of “No Money Returnep?” If so, we propose that at the next anniversary of the Drury Lane Theatrical Fund Dimmer, at which, of course, the present Good DuKE oF Camsrince (“ good” for about £26,000 a year of the people’s money) will preside, the above Committee, with Mr. Corin Mackenzie at its head, be made to walk round the room of the Freemasons’ Tavern, in pursuance with the plan generally followed out at public dinners by schools, and other recipients of a charity. Really, this erecting a monument on a poor-box is bringing disgrace on the very name it is It is taking the bread of the living to give a stone to the dead. _Goop News ror tHE Kitcuen.—We find, from the astronomical intelligence of the month, that, on a given day, “the moon willenter Aries.” We have received several communications from cooks and others | in the domestic interest, who are anxious to know, whether, as the moon is likely to enter Aries, there | js any chance of the sun entering underground kitchens, to which that luminary has long been a stranger. close the eyes of the wounded before they possessed themselves | A TESTIMONIAL TO MR. WALKER AT LAST! | Ir any manly breast is the better |for a badge of honour, there certainly is one special case in which that part a heart truly philanthropic should, of all chests, have a Star on its exterior. Sanitary heroes in particular—the men of intrepid souls and_ indomitable stomachs, who face typhus and nose sulphuretted hydrogen, who brave Death in the mouth of his own gravepit— deserve to be adorned as to the pectoral region. A great con- queror in the field of filth might be most appropriately invested with the Order of the Bath and Washhouse. To which might be added—in case of need, which generally is the case— another order; a cheque on the Trea- sury for a certain annual sum, not less than £25, nor exceeding £12,000. It is contemplated by Government to accord some such tribute as that referred to last, to that really enor- | mous benefactor of his species in general, and of the metropolitan va- riety thereof in particular, the author of “ Gatherings from Graveyards,’ and of all the good there is in the Inter- ments Bill, Mr. Grorce ALFRED Waker. Vulgar incredulity need not echo this gentleman’s surname. We have stated the fact. Government is about decreeing a Testimonial to WALKER. | Be it, however, understood that the Government alluded to is not the firm of Messrs. Russett and Co., Tax- masters and Providers for the Royal Family. That concern has quite re- linquished the higher departments of State-business, such as the promotion of political and social reform, and, with a view to it, the reward and en- couragement of eminent merit. Their of the human body ought to be de- | |corated. The thorax within which is | patronage, of late, has been confined to | that comparatively unimportant district | of these dominions termed Flunkey- dom; and they have nearly limited their operations to the aristocratic estate and agency line. The Govern- ment which is going to grant Mr. WaLKER a Testimonial is the Govern- ment of His Masesty THE PuBLIC, to which the Downing-Street Cabinet leaves the consideration of all matters of higher consequence than six-and- | eightpence—except, always, the salaries of Royal Dukes, and such like. No other tax will be imposed on account of the WaLkEeR Testimonial Fund than a small per-centage of con- silence-money. In addition, it is only necessary to state that the sums now due for this object from national grati- tude may be paid to the credit of Lorp Duprey Coutts Stuart, at the Trea- sury—Messrs. Coutts and Co.—or at the branch offices, which are all other banks in town or country. A Warning to Small Sovereigns. Hess CasseLremains quiet, although the Elector remains away! Should not this fact be a warning to little kings? |‘ Affairs,” say accounts, “are taking |their every-day course,” no doubt to | the wonder of the Elector. The wheel contrives to go round, although, to the | astonishment of the fly, the fly is | whirled into the dust!

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er- ed Tm- net ers nd- ries nial on- OW ati- rea- r at her igh not zs ? ing eel the PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 151 THE POACHER OF WESTMORELAND. | THE GOVERNESS-GRINDERS. | We were taught from the nursery songs of our infancy to have a _ |decent horror of those monsters whose practice it was to “grind the I rrrst began as a lawyer; in| bones” of their fellow-creatures to “make their bread,” but the process time I was made a Peer, (of grinding down paaee beings is not unknown in these days—the And I served my country | Scene of the operation being often the nursery itself, and the victim the faithfully for more than | 2UtS¢ty-soverness. We are sorry to say the purpose of this revolting arpa “| process is not so justifiable even as the object attributed to the giants forty year, |in the fairy tales, who were in the habit of grinding bones, at all events, mm ‘ ‘ ° ? £ 7 Till 1 came down to poaching; | to “‘ make their bread,” but the governess-grinders of the present day the truth you soon shall/resort to their inhuman practice for the purpose of rendering the hear: task of, manag bread” so irksome and difficult as to be almost Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy | POSS! le. ; , " ; night to fish with net and, .W¢ are determined to “put down,” wherever we can detect it, that —_ |mingled mass of. — and meanness, that base compound of affectation Spear : and cruelty, which is to be met with amongst people who like to boast . P Lan) > ¢ 7PITN es “he ry ik ‘a me« 1C1e: As me and my companions of “keeping” a governess, when they know they are insufficiently oor take a len ease | maintaining an educated person to do double the work of the domestic P scapes ces ‘ — | drudge, at scarcely the wages of the lowest menial. We beg leave to The water vailiffs was watch- | ask any one not belonging to the governess-grinding class—and even ing us, but for them we!some of them would blush to be found out in such an affair as we are didn’t care ; | about to disclose in the following well-authenticated case—whether the For we thought we should be | Person or a set a So is ——e — - o “es | HH a > or é 4 or Oo € “vu > > » > ‘ a match for them if they |" impertinent humbug, if, having got a poor wretch to enter the . . | 4 € C V. a pose poate aay : | domestic Pandemonium implied in an attempt to fulfil the annexed “wey ; : | conditions, she, “the lady”’—as one of the contracting parties is, in And ’tis my delight of a hazy | these cases, by courtesy, called—has the impudence to boast of “keeping night to fish with net and|a governess”? The following proposition—the truth of which has spear ! been respectably guaranteed to us—was made, not long ago, to a well-educated young lady who had advertised for the situation of a dthe M D Lour lady-folks and B ee There was me and the Marquis or Douro, and our lady-folks and Brix; | governess. Likewise Joun WuiteE the gardener, renowned for art and skill ; “She was to sleep in a room with three beds, containing herself, And Rosson too, and ArmstronG, both old hands well known up here: oa — ee —_—: to a ro as toe en the — a ee a dal + lath to tid, Git ont ond eneer? yaths, dress them, and be ready for breakfast at a } to 8. School, Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy nig , I 9 to 12; + ag 2 to 4; and BESIDES THIS, to give two hours’ lessons All in the river Eamont our nets we scarce had laid, in —_, ‘o — tr or os agg = . sage si — When down the watchers came on us with Prerirn at their head, Gs Possiiee), and sencral knowledge. 10 eo proucient in pain aD : : fancy work, which she was to spend her evenings in doing, not for And arter us they boldly plunged in the stream so bright and clear : herself, but for her mistress. She was to have the baby on her knee Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear ! while teaching, and to put all the children to bed. Salary 10 guineas per annum, and to pay for her own washing,” , : : gel , Putting aside the downright brutality of this proposal, there is a An i “ks m i sir might and force ; 3 “ap Se: ss ; d our side pulled away ’gin theirn with all their mig — degree of ignorance perfectly characteristic in the bare expectation Whilst me and noble Douro did our companions cheer : of being able to meet with a female Cricuton, who should com- Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear ! mand all the qualities required, and execute the educational part of her duties “with the baby on her knee.” Perhaps the “lady” wishing her “governess ” to be a model to her children of all the virtues, is Dedicated to Lorp B—m anp V—x. They tried to seize our tackle, which we wouldn’t stand, in course, There was Sir Grorce Muscrave’s gamekeeper a pulling for his life, When what does Jounny Peeritn do but helps him to a knife ; anxious to place her in positions which must bring out the attributes of By which means of our tackle he cuts off eiyht yards, near : ja saint, if she is fortunate enough to be possessed of them. Patience, Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear ! | Humility, Endurance, Industry, and fifty other admirable qualities, . ss ” | would be necessary at every hour of the day for the proper discharge Joun Rosson, notwithstanding, held on to it so tight | of the various tasks set down for this paragon of a ten-guinea governess. That they dragged. him out on t’other side, when he offered them to fight ; | She must have no pride, for she is to sleep.as one of six ina room with “Come on!” he says, “I’m ready for the best man standing here:? | the servant; she must discharge the duties of a nurse, but she must be : : - ¥ . ; | satisfied with far less than a nurse’s wages, and she must spend her And ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear! | evenings in needlework without even the paltry earnings of a povtio- P : h no we went }woman being paid to her. She must give separate lessons for two The ———— pang por she tap 7 one hours each day in music, and, in fact, do the music-master’s work For to have the case decided, w = still we l policing | without getting one farthing of the music-master’s money. As they ai it dead agin us ; emg tong s wae a, , | In addition to this, a certain adroitness in the art of leger de main Oh, ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear! will be essential; as, “ while | she must have the baby on her ’ NT eae oe | knee ;” a piece of manual dexterity that must require some experience Bad luck to fish-preserv ers, all that d well - rt ry shire, | in the science that “ PRoressor” Ristey and other posture-masters The same to water-bailiffs, who won’t let us drag and wire ; are in the habit of practising. Success to every poacher, by river, brook, or mere : | We will sim ly ask what the parent deserves, who consigns four And ’tis my delight of a hazy night to fish with net and spear! children mentally and bodily from morning till night, beginning at the wash-tub, passing through the primer, the piano, the exercise-book, =———ooooe : the French language, and terminating at night in the bath—we ask 6 | what does a mother deserve who consigns. four children for all these The Cambridge Monument. | purposes to “one pair of hands” at ten guineas per annum? Would Leeks, the Hon. Sec. to the embryo Cambridge Monument (“the | she not be rightly punished if the unfortunate brats were to be half- nature of which, whether a charitable institution or otherwise, will be | Washed, half-taught, and occasionally half-killed, by accident, or by decided” when the money is collected, which, we take it, is giving a each other, owing to the confusion existing in the bewildered brain of retty long day)—Leexks has called another meeting of the General the less than mt governess employed to nurse, educate, and ommittee, to count the halfpence up to the present time subscribed, | otherwise completely “do” for them ? and to solicit further contributions. All we have to say is—“Gentle| We admire the affectation of such persons.as the would-be contract- Public, take care of your pockets.” Leeks is evidently not a moving | ing party in this case, who, when they really want a very humble descrip- hand at a begging advertisement. Why, then, does not the Committee | tion of maid-of-all-work, have the audacity to insult the educated cashier LeExKs and try Onions ? |portion of the female community, by advertising for a “governess.” | Let things be called by their right names; and henceforth, let the words, “Wantep A Domestic Drupce!” be placed at the top of all Tue “Maytrorp Wrirer.”—Mr. G. P, R. James. similar advertisements.”

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BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON CONCEIVE THE IDEA THAT “NOW IS THE TIME TO THEY ARE DELIVERED OVER TO A ROUGH RIDER, WHO GOES FOR TAKE A FEW LESSONS IN RIDING, BEFORE THE HUNTING SEASON COMES ON.” THY THE HORSES. ARE HERE SEEN AT THE BARRACKS, IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KIDING-MASTER. JONES, AND ROBINSON.—THE RIDING-SCHOOL. wa Uanes HERE IS JONES AT THE MOMENT WHEN, AS HE AFTERWARDS REMARKED, “HE FELT AN AWKWARDNESS IN GETTING UP.” | HBS ISNANS las BACK VIEW OF BROWN AS HE ROBINSON FEELS SO MUCH IMPROVED BEFORE THE END OF THE LESSON THAT HE APPEARED TROTTING ; LIKEWISE ROBINSON DOING THE SAME. INSISTS ON TAKING ‘‘ JUST A LITTLE” LEAP. Printed Office, William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Chureh Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd'esex, Printers, at their Lembard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No. 3, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of London.—Saruspayr, Ocrosgs 5th, 1300

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a PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARi. 153 THE GREAT WELSH EISTEDDVODD OF 1850. SS MLMrRpNTsppwN AP TKNCWDM, THE CELEBRATED WELSH HARPER. word Gruff, from Grurrup) invited some Hibernian minstrels to hibernise or pass the winter in Wales, and practise their music. This led to a triennial meeting, when degrees were con- ferred, a Master of Music being called a Disgyblaidd; and from these blaidds or blades, the selected their Mus. Docs, who were called by some name, which is eonsonant no doubt to Welsh feelings, but consisting of nothing but consonants, is not at all consonant to ours, and we therefore beg to take the privilege of omitting it. muzzed” to such an extent, as to know, among other matters, 40 cwlwm, 20 cydgerdd, with a smattering of the 3 mwchwl, when, if he was tolerably well “up” in all these un- sronounceable affairs, he was himself pronounced competent. In the infancy of the art, the Velsh Bards’ favourite companions were their pipes; but the advance of improvement soon put their pipes out, and the bards adhered stringently to stringed instruments. ; Grratpus Camprensis tells us, that formerly all their music was in one key; but unless it had been a street-door key, we doubt whether it would have been sufficiently capacious for their purposes If we thought fit to parade our learning, we could tell how Twm BAcn—poor Tom Bacu, the ancestor no doubt of our old friend Sepastran—was a celebrated harper in ELizaBeTn’s time, and how one Powet, who lived in the reign of GzorcE THE SEconpD, has gained celebrity, or rather got a handle to his name, by the notice and friendship of HanpEL. Coming, however, slap down upon the Bards of 1850, we find them in some old ruins at_ Rhyl, where they have planted themselves among the crumbling brickwork of the dilapidated Castle of Rhuddlan. The Welsh are sufficiently English to be unable to do anything without a dinner, and there There were some patriotic speeches of such a stirring character in the Welsh tongue, that it is a wonder the teeth of the orators were not cracked to ieces by the rush of consonants, which was so terrific, that in the utter absence of anything was a sort of picnic in the ruins. SAAN SQN HERE has just been held at Rhyl, among the rills and mountains of Wales, a great Congress of Bards to celebrate a feast called an Eisteddvod. The origin of this feast, though the learned have had a tre- pat gen 7. i the forests of antiquity has not been found; an the learned might just as well have indulged their antiquarian sportsmanship by hunting a Welsh rabbit. An irreverent inquirer has pretended to ascertain that the Eisteddvod was « originally a feast of Eisters S —now written Oysters ; | but as Wales never was the source of Oysters— for who ever heard of Whales with oyster source —we reject the hypo- | thesis. Better authorities tell us that Prince Grur- Fup—an Irish Welshman or Welsh Irishman — having a tolerably dee voice (acircumstance which has no doubt given us the The Welsh Mus. Doc. was supposed to have ike an a@eio or u, it was quite refreshing to meet with even a stray #; and when the excited auditory burst out with roars of “ Clywch, Clywch,” the ear felt relieved by having something pronounceable to dwell upon. Those who could not understand the speakers had a fortunate escape, for the Welsh rant turns out to have been an appeal for ramming the Welsh tongue down all our throats, insisting on The contest for the | “the leek, the whole leek, and nothing but the leek,” as a great political principle. | evident that the leek—unlike the onion—has no affinity with the sage, at least im the mouths of | the Welsh orators. It is rizes was the real business of the Eisteddvod, and ten Bards were com- petitors for a gold medal, to be given for the best variations on “Pen Rhaw,” but most of them deprived the Pen of all its pith and point, besides completely spoiling the Rhaw material. | Judging by the effect of the Welsh harp on ears not naturalised, or having had their sensibility destroyed by that odious nightcap—suited only to the dark ages—the Welsh wig, we should} say that the Welsh harp ought to be hung up for ever in Tara’s halls, if Tara will allow of such| a nuisance at the bottom of his staircase. he | _ If the Welsh can have an Eisteddvod in Wales on the| strength of their instruments, the Jews might certainly get up with their harps in Holywell Street | a kind of Ouldclousiodd of an equally interesting character, nor do we see why the Scotch should | fiddle. | not come boldly to the scratch and hold an opposition gathering by virtue of their Scotch | We can imagine the installation of Smoucuesr, the Rag-Fair Bard, executing in a minor worthy | of the Minories, a strain like the following, which is at all events more intelligible than the song beginning, “ Guwell n’ar gwin yw'r Medd per hidlard,” sung at the Eisteddvodd. Clow, Clow, Clo, Clo, gentle Cutor, _ Vasht you visht to buy or sell ? Vat if I should loosh a joey, VOL, X°X. | | | Shelp me, I shall udge ye vell. Vi, vot’s this—a coat yer call it, Lookey ear, and ear, and ear ;! R mendous hunt after it in} Ven I comes to overhaul it, Plesh me—tuppensh would be dear. Vell—I musht e bishness vid yer, Ave yer got a vescut old That vun—vell—I’ll sixpence bid yer; [Hands = the sixpence, and looks once more at the articles, Plesht, if now I’ve not been shold. The Eisteddvodd was unpleasantly brought to a close—though every one had thought that its coming to an end must always be a | subject of congratulation—by one of the |. leries sympathising with the surrounding ruins, and tumbling to pieces. Happily no one was seriously hurt, and the only wonder | at the Eisteddvodd, where the walls exhibited is how the timbers stood so long under the | infliction of the very heavy music. Its weight | might have crushed a more substantial struc- jture in half the time; but, though it stood the affair as long as possible, wood and brick —like flesh and blood—may be taxed past endurance; and if there were any doubt as to walls having ears, the point was settled sufficient ear to refuse any longer to listen to the twangs and moanings of the Bardic com- petitors. After the harping was ail over, there was held a Gorsed Guwynnedd, or Assembly of Druids, where a Norma-like proceeding was got up in the Castle court-yard, with twelve mile-stones ina circle, and a couple of large stones placed on each other in the centre— as if the Druids were going to have a game at duck—just as we have seen it arranged on the stage of the Opera. There was no admission for anyone but the Druids them- selves; unless anyone had been fortunate enough to have walked out in his bed-clothes, when, in this curious specimen of sheet- armour, he might have been mistaken for a Druid—such as we have seen them in Normv —and gained admission among the mile- stones. Old customs are very good things to kee): up when they are really respectable, but a this Bardic mummery appears to be so essen- tially heavy, unmeaning, and “slow,” to the eyes and ears of nearly the whole of the exist- ing generation, that we are inclined to re- gard the whole thing as a silly riddle, that ought to be “ given up ” immediately. THE DUCKS AND DRAKES IN ST. JAMES'S PARK. Tue public is requested by the flattering appeal of many signboards “to protect the ' valuable collection of aquatic fowls in St. James’s Park.” We wonder no one has ‘listened to this appeal by scaring away thc ducks and drakes which Ministers have been recently playing with that property; for though it may be most delightful playing to them during their vacations, it can be any- thing but agreeable sport to those who are compelled to look on, and quietly witness the damage which their ducks and drakes are committing in every direction. It is time they were driven out, or else there may be no end to the m‘schief these villainous birds | will leave behind them, wherever they arc | allowed to play. “ Play” is a curious term for that which is so serious in its conse- quences; but in this instance it is perfect); well applied, for the ministerial game o! Ducks and Drakes in St. James’s Park during | the recess, when there is no possibility of stopping it, is certainly the greatest instance of “fowl play” we ever witnessed. Very Curiovs!—There has not been a fire at Gravesend this week !

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SHERIFF CARDEN ON “THE ARMY AND NAVY.” GoosE is sacred to Michaelmas ; and R. ALDERMAN CarpEN, bran-new sheriff, sworn in on the morrow of St. Michael, delivered himself of a speech, quite worthy of the legendary vigilance and sagacity of the feathered monitor. CarpEn spoke of peace and war; and when he hadspoken, surely a sympathetic cackle must have been heard on every moor and common, and in every farm- yardof the kingdom. The multitudinous geese of the fens of Lincoln must have raised themselves upon their legs, and wings, cackled—“ Io The sage owl was dedicated to Gencuis Kuan; let the

with van-like flapping of a hundred thousand CaRDEN.” sage-and-onion goose be henceforth quartered and taken to the arms of CARDEN. Mr. AtpERMAN CARDEN, at his inauguration banquet, gave “the nealth of the Army and the Navy ;” thereupon declaring that “it was the interest of a// nations, he believed, to be prepared for war, for in | that consisted the best means of preserving peace.’ Thus, it is the interest of all nations to play at beggar-my-neighbour + } } in building ships, enlisting men, and casting cannon, that the ships may never be launched, the men never be brought into the field, the cannon never be fired. CanbEn is for preserving peace; but then it must be peace at the “make-ready” position. All nations may be at amity, if all nations have their artillery at full-cock. | ALDERMAN CARDEN was, in his early days, a soldier. “ But the} prospect of peace soon convinced him ”—said Mr. Buttock, Common- | Sergeant, and official eulogist of the callow Sheriff—“ that the army | would no longer afford sufficient occupation for his energy and industry.” | Whereupon, Mr. Carpen, taking the bull by the horns, “ became an | eminent member of the Stock Exchange.” Mr. Carpen “employed himself in the monetary transactions of great nations in amity.” He! turned from gun-metal, and subsided to bullion. Nevertheless, like a bit of old cartridge-paper, CarpEN—the financial and peaceful CarDEN —continues to smell woundily of gunpowder. And yet ALDERMAN CarDEN has latent hopes of peace.

Yes—

“He also was of opinion that the mighty idea developed to the world by Prince | ALBert, with reference to the great Industrial Exhibition of all Nations, would afford a better chance for the continuance of peace than all the Peace Congresses, whether held in London or Frankfort, or in any other quarter of the world, or all the rhodo- montade speeches that might be spouted in such assemblies.” In 1851, Suerirr Carden, as an important civic officer, will doubt- less have to entertain the representatives of the commerce and industry of the world, conjured into Paxton’s crystal palace, by the “ mighty idea developed” by Prince AtBert. Well, will the Sheriff, should he | speak to or of these men, will he dilate upon the glorious manifestation of the world’s industrial and commercial power, only as the preface to a| martial charge? Will he, in the fulness of his heart, discourse of the | family of man, and the common interests and common blood of human nature; only to advise every member of the family on his return home, to build ships of war, and maintain standing armies? Peace may grow her palms in the glass-house of Hyde Park; but, nations of the earth, PUNCH, OR THE LOND

ON CHARIVARI.

|had once been in the service, and ambling along, bearing legs and shoulders of mutton, heard the well-known trumpet, and forgetful of jhis later calling, gallopped to the ranks. He was laughed at, and spurred, and beaten back. Therefore, let no stockbroker CARDEN, in the days of his youth a soldier, trust himself to drink “The army and navy.” There is, we allow it, a stimulating music in the syllables; and the civilian, in the fervour of port, is all too apt to feel his neck clothed with a cravat of thunder, and to paw the mahogany, and to cry * hee-haw.” THE PURSUIT OF JOURNALISM UNDER DIFFICULTIES. A KINDLY sympathy prompts us to offer a hint calculated to meet the difficulty under which French journalists now labour, in being obliged either to write tamely, or to expose themselves to prosecution through the law, which compels them to affix their names to their leading articles. Here is a fragment of a model spirited leader relative to an imaginary ministry; an article which, as far as the authorship is con- cerned, would, we are bold to say, defy indictment :— “The consequences of Lorp MovuntBUSHEL’s accession to the Premiership (BROWN) are manifesting themselves with a vengeance (Jones). The funds—the nation’s pulse—are (Roprxson) falling fear- fully (Tomxrys). Discontent is (Jonnson) ripe at Manchester; fifty mills have already closed, and the streets are thronged with (SNooKs) frantic crowds, exclaiming (StyLEs) Bread or (NoKEs) Blood! (HoPpKINsS). A hundred thousand men have already assembled at Birmingham, pre- pared, if need be, (Braces) to march on London (Hosss). Now is the time, or never (Stusns). Awake! arise! or be for ever fallen! (Mitton). Raise the song of the patriot in every street (Dopss). Britons never shall be slaves!” (WALKER). Thus might Liberty—Goddess of the French Press—dance a mighty ) pretty hornpipe in fetters.

~ = —S : SSS Qw ~ ~~

A"SKETCH OF CHARACTER BY PROFESSOR MILKANSOP, THE CELEBRATED GRAPHIOLOGIST. Gentleman (reads).—* * INTELLIGENT ; STRONG RELIGIOUS FEELINGS ; Fonp for all that—implies CarpeN—keep a sharp eye upon your grape and|or tiitce Cuitpren; Loves Music, Poetry, AnD THE Five Arts ; cannister. We would rather advise that nation should “take stock” |1s Rexuctant to Take Orrevce, Generous AND Foreivinc.’—WELL, of nation—but CarbeEN says no; let every nation be armed to the teeth,| I’m Butowep, 1f THAT AIN’r WonDseRFUL; WHY, IT’s my Karacrur and then, and only then, it may enjoy the perfect sweets of peace. what means shall we best hope to love our neighbour as ourself?” we might expect this pithy answer—“ Buy a blunderbuss.” A man once ignorantly sowed gunpowder for onion seed, and waited in confidence | for a crop. CaRDEN, in his intelligence, would sow bullets, that he might sit under the shade of olives. A great year is before Suerirr CarpEN; therefore, we submissively hope that he will forget he was once a soldier. That he may do so, we incline to offer him a brief story. Once upon a time, a butcher, with a basket on his arm, was carried at full alee into a regiment of dragoons at a review. The old horse toa T!” Thus, were we to ask a modern councillor of the CarpeEn class, “ by | -

Sporting Intelligence. Mr. Gorvon Cumuine is actively engaged fitting out a large boat, with which, having exhausted all the dangers of the Continent, he is about to brave the perils of the deep. The object of his nautical expe- | dition is, as rumour is too busy in circulating, to capture the American Sea Serpent. it or perish in the attempt. with him, and hang it in festoons, like an immense garland, round the }walls of his South African Exhibition. He has been heard to observe, that he will either catch His great wish is to bring the skin home

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‘TES. t the liged ‘ough ading fo an con- the ance fear- fifty }OKS) INS). pre- ; the len! BBS). chty oh ne ne

PUNCH,

BOARDER LIFE IN ENGLAND. MURRAY OR MAC HALE. _ Our feelings have been much shocked, and our Glauber Salts accord- | wom 39 ingly exhausted, at the perusal of an advertisement commencing as | j S OLLOWS :— An Irish Correspondent wishes to know (what a strange wish to know!) whether Father Punch inclines to - the Murray or the Mac- _ Hate side in the present - episcopal row pending in a te and whether we are for mixed education or no education. You silly Pappy, how can you ask such a question? on’t you know that we

Boarp (Private and Superior).—Terms, for single gentlemen, Foreign or | English, of good position, from 25s. to 30s. per week. A Married Party, 45s. 1 When we had got thus far, we could proceed no further, so shocked were we at the idea of a “married party” being advertised for as inmates of a British Boarding-house. A “party” must, of course, include more than two, or a “married couple” would have been the term used; but a “married party” evidently points to the Eastern practice of a plurality of wives, and the advertisement is clearly addressed to some travelling Pacha, or other matrimonial pluralist, whom | vdieo gq ot oe uapaaeas with all parts of the world may have | are English Protestants We trust this humiliating proposal does not reflect a true picture of | > eos 4 ag ge en the Boarder Life of England, which, though presenting some remark-| |. . dk oie 2 oo wor age thse gy able phases, is, we hope, free from that polygamical tinge which the | ik omg oy ee “a ty your sha oe a advertisement we have quoted would seem to attach to it. Fg Po ofa Baath gus Degas Boy 4 hg hg 7 i pel po Bonne , oo eal 2? ee: | a § ars, 9 ng 4 as Cle announcement adds, Lag ee a party small and select ;”° from which /as ours and six times as numerous, may win the prizes and scholarships, we may infer that there is already in the house a case of the kind, and) 9.4 4h, government-places and ‘snug-berths, fit themselves for the that the “married party” is not very large, though we must protest j a . ‘ a S oy ee learned professions, and so forth, and turn us out of what at present we ~ omar gal number beyond two, as opposed to all our views of hold a a we vote for Joun or Tuam and Paut CuLLey, not for ’ ¥ ; — -,,|poor D, Murray, : : As a further specimen of the Boarder Life of England, we may cite Dr. Murray is a well-meaning man, but he’s a class legislator, other advertisements in the same paper, some of which are quite : ’ fu Fe SRR PA Herodian in their emphatic intimation t rat “children are objected to ;” Fiat salem shading tha —_ — = _ ae — while in several there is a rich vein of pride, indicated by hints that the | heatal f fell " rearing wernt ly | j if advertisers are actuated by a wish for society rather than for cash, and |t a — - q — pen ae on ih niet ir gr ge d one “lady, occupying her own cottage, with nearly half an acre of |YOU Shalt go, ang learn grammar and -anguage, or marremaics ane median "Ot, ood cemestemeel tm tmeatees” bet hes Oe objection, for astronomy, with Protestants and heathens. Believe, with Paut Cutten, the maauilinat ciondinn at é pound pen § om oh on ah an that the sun is six feet in circumference, accommodate your mathematics inmate” We do not eave the Boasder, whose il me "a sonn tt pena (God be his — Reverend Lordship), and see how 4 -. e +h; Oe ae am | youll get on as an Engineer, my boy, | : ph sang A. — Ww piglet mond ag ; ee : warter's salary, | worn out, pith and all? We hope not, for we wish to hear that Louis secre ae paid “Se to his Royal Highness. ‘The festival was | \ 4 po.eon is wielding it again with all the strength of a THrers—or eld at the George and Bore. else it will look as if he were ashamed of his literary offspring—so much | so, that he does not dare give his name to them.

Sagacity of American Cats. A New York paper says— “ While the cholera raged at Harper’s Ferry all the cats left the place. They went

A NEW SHELL. in droves by night.” A Frencu chemist has invented a new shell that, it is said, “in afew | The fact is, all these animals were of a Pennsylvanian stock ; and | minutes will send to the bottom a ship of 120 guns.” Will the shell be they adopted the cholera as a subterfuge merely, to repudiate their bills | exhibited in 1851? We hope so. It is from such a shell that time for cat’s-meat. {may hope to hatch the dove of peace—perpetual peace.

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156 MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER DAY’S FISHING. He Is sO FoRTUNATE AS TO CATCH A LARGE EEL. THE GLASS PALACE AND ITS ARCHITECT. THE promised glory of Mr. Paxton’s glass palace has run through Ireland. Indeed, since the tale of the glass slipper, no glass seems so likely to become immortal in story. ‘he Irish intend to contribute a model landlord—a model tenant—a model farm—and a model Bishop (not from Thurles). Indeed, there will be an entire model Ireland, on a small scale, ‘oneal the hospitable roof of crystal. Paddy gave a mighty greeting a day or two since to—shall we say—the glass architect? Hear the Cork Reporter :— “Mr. Paxton being recognised just as his carriage was going to start from the hotel door, he was cheered to the echo by a great crowd who had collected there, as also were his fair daughters and his son, a fine youth who occupied a seat with his father in the front of the carriage.” Many extraordinary trees have been grown, and are flourishing in the Chatsworth Conser- vatory; but the tree of trees to be _ is the gigantic olive that is expected to take root in the Paxton Palace of Hyde Park; an olive strengthened, sheltered, and protected by the glass walls and roof that admit the commercial trophies of all the world—a veritable Peace Congress manufactured by the many-coloured hands of the whole human family. ZS not see why there should not be an Order of the Olive. Will Prince ALBERT think of it? | “A SEA OF HEADS.” Was it the Black Sea—the White Sea—or, the Red Sea? No matter, the sea was the heads | of 6,000 persons—so no doubt a sea of all the three _colours—that made the ocean of brains that Jenny Linp first sang to in New York. On that occasion Barnum offered a handsome sum to the governors of the Madhouses of the City for the most incurable lunatic, to attend to report the proceedings. The poor fellow was relieved of his strait-waistcoat ; and, being fur- ther stimulated with cobbler and gin-sling, pre- pared for the task. Be it understood, that to inake the madness perfect—if perfect madness be allowed—the maniac dipped his iron pen in his flesh, and wrote as follows in his own red ink :— “A vast sea of heads swayed to and fro, sparkling beneath the starry lights in the firmament of song, here and there thickly sprinkled with the foam of beauty, anxiously expecting the ApHRopITE of music to rise amid the waves, while the Tritons, with their horns and sonorous shells, in awkward groups hung around the scene, immediately to be graced by her advent.” The heads, sparkling beneath starry lights of song, were sprinkled with the foam of beauty ! Amidst this foam of their heads, Jenny Linp was to rise, like Minerva, from the brain of the Thunderer! As for the Tritons, we give them up, horns and shells, and all! However, idiots are respected in the East; and, just now, madness has its exceeding great reward in New York; for the hopeless maniac who penned the above, has been crowned with a diadem of straw in the Broadway. Should Jenny Linp refuse the Presidentship, it is be- lieved that in the present temper of the Union, = dignity will be offered to the lunatic afore- said. THE HAT REFORM. Every one agrees that there ought to be a reform in Hats, but, after putting on our con- juring cap, as well as our considering cap, without deriving any assistance from either cozffure, we are still at a loss for the means by which the reat result is to be accomplished. Can society zo back to its original hatlessness, and begin as it were, da capo, by abandoning the day cap, as | it has already, in many cases, flung away the ‘night cap? In the East, we know the Fez was forced on to the polls of the people by an arbi- trary power, which would not have scrupled to take the head into its own hands, if the head-dress had been objected to by the owners; but in this country such a course could not be adopted, even though martial law should be proclaimed, and |a GENERAL Hats-orF placed at the head of the nation. . A proclamation could never accomplish a hatty reform; but we are not prepared to say some- thing might not be done by shrieval interference, which would be consistent with those municipal Institutions that all Englishmen cherish. Yes, yes; something towards a reform in hats might perhaps be safely attempted by a hatti-scheriff ! Curiosities of Government Economy. Ricues, it is said, have wings. The treasures, however, of natural history and antiquity, where- with the British Museum is crammed to repletion, }have not wings enough; and, to be creditably disposed of, require one or two more, which might be added to the over-gorged edifice by Govern- meat, if it did not prefer employing the public An Oren Question.—BarnuM, the American showman, calls Jenny Linp “an angel.” BaRNUM a judge ? money in spoiling Parks and aggrandising Dukes. |

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__ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BABIES AT THE PLAY. thus early against the ad mission 0! to the British f a. ose the abies to the playhouse out,” or by more considerate, though equally noisy suggestions to the mother, to exercise one of the sweetest offices of maternity. People are obliged to leave their bonnets at the door when they enter the boxes, and why should not the same system be adopted with refe- rence to babies. There should be a sort of nursery attached to each entrance, where babies could be ticketed and left, either to be hung up in baby-jumpers, which would then be really of use, or attached to the embrelias of those who had any to leave, until the end of the per- ormance. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR A STATUE. IF a statue is erected to the “ Good Duke” or Camsriner, the same subscribers cannot do less, upon the death of another equally This gentleman, it is charitable individual, than erect a statue to him. true, has not the high advantage of being born a Royal Duke; but putting this advantage aside, his claims fora statue are,in every respect, as strong as those of the “ Good Duke.” He presides at public dinners as often as he is invited—his name is never denied to a public charity, and, what is more, he not only gives his name but his subscription also. The sums he has bestowed during a long life of voluntary subscriptions on publiccharities must amount to manythousands. Thenameof this gentle- man—and we mention it with proper respect—is Mr. Bensamin Bonp CaBBELL. We maintain that i HE theatrical season is noW beginning, and we protest the British baby rformance of the Though not disposed to set our face against a child in arms— which for various reasons is not an agreeable process— we feel it our duty to op- : introduction of Even at Astley’s, the ju- venile theatre par excel- lence, it is unpleasant enough to find the discharge of artil- lery on the stage answered bya roar of infantry from the ee boxes, pit, and gallery; but when listening to a play at one of the other houses, it is absolutely unbearable to have our attention disturbed by the shrieks of innocent helplessness echoed by angry recommendations to “take that child the CamBRinDGE statue is erected, every | A COMING EVENT. Tue blackamoor, under the scrubbing of the Post and Standard, is fast becoming an albino. Mr. George Hupson is about to return to the politest and the highest life. “ The actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.” Especially if it be gold dust. There is in that auriferous soil, a trans- muting power that, after a time, turns hempseed into laurels. Let the | world prepare to read something like the subjoined announcement in the Morning Post :— *Maentricent Party at ALBERT GaTE.—Last night, Grorcr Hupson, Esq., M.P., on his return from Coventry, entertained a vast |assemblage of Jon ton. Covers (all gold) were laid for 100. A ball | followed in the evening, which the magnificent and hospitable host |opened, dancing the first quadrille with the hereditary Ducness oF | DimonpBusteL. Nothing could exceed the splendour of the entertain- ment, except the suavity and high breeding of the founder of the feast ; who, on his return from Coventry, was welcomed with a fervour and, indeed we may say, affection, commensurate with his expected dinners, if not with his deserts. “The exterior of the mansion has been newly stuccoed with a pure and brilliant white, in which colour the just and thoughtful may recog- nise a touching fitness. The stags’ horns and hooves have been gilt inch thick; and Storr and Mortmmer have orders to furnish the animals forthwith, with emerald eyes. “Tt has been stated that Mr. Hupson had purchased of the Govern- ment the marble arch to replace the small stone erection at Albert Gate. It is true that overtures have been made, and the subject entertained; but the statement of absolute purchase is a Little premature.” | RIFF-RAFF ON RAILWAYS. Tue following startling paragraph which ought to have been printed on the most delicate pink note-paper with scented ink, has recently appeared in the London journals: Bricnton RArLway.—We understand there is a great outcry at Brighton against the Brighton railway for the “raff” it is pouring into Brighton by its “ travelling for the million.” Respectable inhabitants are fast leaving their houses in consequence, and it becomes a question whether, if it go on, it will not presently much affect the season tickets, and the first and second class riders, Should it do so, the Brighton policy will be to bring in pence for the present to lose pounds hereafter. The sensitiveness of the Brightonians is of a very peculiar kind; for while it winked at, or rather gloried in, the doings at the Pavilion which caused the importation into the town of less than doubtfu |respectability and decency, the inhabitants are beginning to turn u | their noses at the poor, harmless railway excursionists, who are enable to enjoy a sea-breeze on Sundays for three-and-sixpence. The subscriber, and every charitable fund, and every charitable secretary to | it, who sends his guinea with the understanding that his name is to be | engraved on the Duke’s pedestal, cannot do less than subscribe an | equal sum to a companion statue to Mr. Bensamin Bonp CaBBELL. If they do not, ill-natured people will immediately say that the differ- ence was caused by his not being connected with Royalty. What is a virtue in a Royal Duke is but a common platitude in a private gentleman ! Brightonians, perhaps, think that the sea was made exclusively for them, and regarding it as a portion of their capital, they will, oe bacon deny the “raff” the privilege of even dipping into it. The “respectable” imhabitants are, it seems, “fast leaving their | houses,” because once a week Brown, JONES, or Ropinson, may be |met walking on the beach with their wives and families. We should like to see a geography published under the superintendence of the Brightonians, for the guidance of cheap excursionists, telling them ae ~ go in orgs penn oe “a —e. ey —_ — — . 1eltenham must, of course, be excluded from the Atlas for the use o A Most Moving Tale. f te “ Raff,’ and indeed we see nothing but the Isle of Dogs, as a WE see ‘a book advertised under the singular title of the “ Khan’s | watering ope in which they would be tolerated ; for when Brighton Tale.’ This must be the adventures of the celebrated tin Can, which | begins to be squeamish about “ respectability,” Margate and Ramsgate we all have heard of as having been so repeatedly tied to the unfortunate | may fairly lay claim to exclusiveness. dog’s Tail. If so, its revelations must be a string of the most exciting ups-and-downs, which cannot fail to make a great noise in all circles. | fe think we may borrow for once the eloquent words of the Zvening | Paper, and say, “‘ We know of no book so likely to have a long run as the Khan’s Tale.” No Benefit of the Act. Every now and then we hear of laws being continued just as they were about to expire. We know there is a very wholesome objection to the taking away of life under any circumstances, but there really are |some acts of Parliament which we think might be allowed to die a | natural death without a prolongation of their misery. The renewal of their term of existence is often but a Zamiel-like sort of proceeding at best, and the acts thus allowed to continue their course are frequentl found to go at last to where they might just as well have been suffere to go at first for any good that_has been got out of them. POITEVIN’S LAST FOLLY. Ir was announced the other day that M. Porrevry, the insensate aeronaut, was going to make a balloon-ascent mounted on a live ostrich. | The notion of the wren soaring on the back of the eagle is surpasssed by that of the goose ascending on that of the ostrich. Glazing for the Queen’s Colleges. Toss of the Irish Roman Catholic Bishops who oppose the QuEEN’s 1 : Colleges, seem to object to the simple leht of knowledge. They ; THE SPOONS OF WAR. would have all instruction coloured with their theological views. These| A WRITER in an Altona paper calls upon the women to subscribe over-zealous Prelates would allow nobody a study unless it had storied | towards the war between Holstein and Denmark. He asks for the windows. ‘Their lordships don’t consider that though “a dim religious | precious metals in any shape. “Give up,” he says, “one table or tea- But the ladies do not subscribe; they evidently think that | war has already had more than spoons enough. light ” may be the illumination most suitable for worship, plain sunshine | spoon.” is the fittest for work.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Housemaid.—*1I TELL you wHaT IT 1S, Parker, I SHALL BE VERY GLAD} founding that material somehow with watered silk. IMPROVE YOUR WAYS IN CHANCERY. WE read that the Chancery suit of ATTORNEY-GENERAL 0. TRE- VELYAN, has already lasted 166 years. A great outcry has been raised about improving Chancery Lane. It is all very well, but it strikes us as beginning at the wrong end. Is there not another Lane, as long, more tortuous in its windings, much narrower in all its ways, and which causes much greater obstruction, than Chancery Lane? In fact it is a long Lane that has no turning, ex- cepting to the workhouse. The reader will already have guessed that we allude to the Court of Chancery. Does that require no improvement ? We should like to see a little agitation raised to pull down a few of the obstructions that cause the cruel delays which take place every year in it. Imagine ae detained waiting 166 years! What are a few minutes lost in an omnibus, or a quarter-of-an-hour wasted inside a comfortable carriage, compared to a monster delay like that! Chancery Lane is doubtlessly a great nuisance ; but it is swallowed | up, like a cork in the Maelstrom, in the whirlpool of the Court of Chenoue. Improve your Lane by all means, but do not forget the poor people who are wandering up and down that narrrow Court, and have no means of getting out of it. In short, since public attention has been directed to the matter, our cry is, “ Improve all your Lanes in Chancery.” FLOWERS OF FASHIONABLE SPEECH. Te Follet, as quoted by the Morning Post, informs the fashionable world, touching the fashions for October, that “ The morning dresses of white or pale blue cachemire, are lined with taffetas, which turns over and forms revers, showing the quilting in wreaths of roses, pinks and foliage. Small slippers of quilted taffetas, the same shade as the dress, trimmed with a plaiting of ribbon or narrow lace, are worn with this toilette, and form a complete che/-d’ euvre of coquetry and good taste.” The context, carefully studied, will show that “revers” is a | | } | } | meant for “rivers,” as might be surmised by the masculine reader, labouring under indistinct ideas about taffetas, and con- We should WHEN Missus HAS GOT TIRED OF THIS PusEY-usM. IT MAY BE THE Fasuion ;| like to see the slippers that form a “complete chef-d’auvre of BUT, WHAT WITH HER COMIN’ HOME LATE FROM PaRTIES, AND GETTING UP/ coquetry and good taste”—a combination which, if realised to FOR EARLY SERVICE, AND THEN GOIN’ TO BeD AGAIN, WE POOR SakviNTS| our understanding, would materially aid us towards the conception HAS DOUBLE WORK A’MOST.” AMERICAN ELECTRICITY. Ir would rather astonish the world if the Presidency of the British Association for the Advancement of Science should be filled, at the next Meeting of that Congress of Philosophy, by Mr. Punch. All, however, that Mr. Punch can say is, that there is a corresponding | Society, of which he considers himself to be the fittest person living for the Chairman. The learned body here alluded to is the American counterpart to our own, which blends amusement with instruction, observant of the Horatran adage respecting seasonable tomfoolery. The American Association for the Advancement of Science trims the Professor’s cap with bells, and its President occasionally sits with his tongue in his cheek, listening to a lecturer whose thumb 1s at the tip of his nose. This is a statement requiring corroboration; which shall follow, on authority no less trustworthy than that of our grave con- temporary, the Atheneum, given under the regular head of “Scientific Gossip.” “The American Association for the Advancement of Science has been holding its third Annual Meeting, at Newhaven, under the Presidency of Pror. A. D. Bacue. * * * A communication was made by Pror. Loomis, of novel, and to us curious, phenomena of electrical houses. His statement was as follows:—‘ Within a few years past, several houses in the city of New York have exhibited electrical phenomena in a very remarkable degree. For months in succession they have emitted sparks of con- siderable intensity, accompanied by a loud snap. A stranger, on entering one of these electrical houses, in attempting to shake hands with the inmates, receives a shock, which is quite noticeable and somewhat unpleasant.’ ” The unscientific reader, who may not see the fun of all this, is to know that to be chargeable with electricity a house would require to be built on glass or resin. That the shock would be received immediately on touching the knocker, and that as its force would be equivalent to that of a small flash of lightning, the recipient would be electrified once for all. The next joke is more passable. “ Ladies, in attempting to kiss each other, are saluted by a spark.” Very likely, if ladies wi// do such things in the presence of gentlemen. But to proceed with this tissue of shocking stories : “ A spark is perceived whenever the hand is brought near to the knob ofa door, the gilded trame of a mirror, the gas-pipes, or any metallic body, especially when this body communicates freely with the earth.” When FRANKLIN got a spark from the string of his kite, he inter- of a fried snowball. | | cepted its communication with the earth by a non-conducting medium, and precisely owing to such communication have lightning conductors hitherto conveyed electricity harmlessly away. Jerking of course his thumb over his left shoulder, the Professor | continued, addressing his no doubt winking audience :— “Tn the house which I have had the opportunity to examine, a child in taking hold of the knob of a door, received so severe a shock that it ran off in great fright. The lady of the house, in approaching the speaking tube to give orders to the servants, received a very unpleasant shock in the mouth, and was much annoyed by the electri- ci y, until she learned first to touch the tube with her finger. In passing from one parlour to the other, if she chance to step upon the brass plate which serves as a slide to the folding-doors, she receives an unpleasant shock in the foot.” Let the reader who has any doubt about the possibility of the last- mentioned fact, get an electrical machine, and endeavour to electrify any given brass plate let into any given floor—except a glass or resinous one. The result of his experiment will be precisely equivalent to that of whistling jigs to a milestone, or of remonstrating with Government on the inequality of the Income-tax. The funniness of Proressor Loomis’s facts is nearly equalled by the drollery of his theory to account for them :— “ After acareful examination of several cases of this kind, I have come to the con- clusion that the electricity is created by the friction of the shoes of the inmates on the carpets of the house.” Punch need hardly observe that so extraordinary a consequence oj walking must be all Watker. In order to the generation of a quantity of electricity swflicient to produce the alleged effects, by the means specified—“sitch a gittin’ up stairs” as mortal “never did see” would be indispensable. Prorgessor Loomis and his scientific associates might test the practicability of the thing by an hour’s exercise on a gigantic treadmill, carpeted with wool or velvet—which, he states, are the materials of the carpets of his electrical houses. And if he can electrify any house but an insulated one, Mr. Punch will eat him, boots and all, or, what will perhaps be more pleasant to the Professor, his boots without himself, and will invite-Proressor Loomis to Greenwich to dine at the same time off electrical eels. PoacuEr’s Funp.—The Derby Mercury states that the Mansfield poachers “have actually established a protective fund.” Puxch is autho- rised to declare that Lorp B—u—w has not been elected the treasurer. bit of untranslated French, and not of fashionable orthography, |

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WwW it! ec he rt, lic ve old The ats, tri- one ‘ide st- ify or ant ith the PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 161 AND CHANCERY LANE. HANCERY LANE has, plainly enough, got into the Court of Chancery: it is so narrowed in its cireumstances—so rotten in its con- ) dition—so dangerous to all who deal with it—so unprofitable to all and everything that pass through it. Chancery Lane must be widened, is the deafening cry of its tenants and its daily’ passengers. The Court of Chancery must be widened too —widened, yes, thrown open to the light— exclaims the Chancery Reform Association, gathered together for the cause of the cheated, the bemocked, and the oppressed. “The suitors and the public” (cries the Association) “(For all are concerned) are earnestly invited to send in their names and subscriptions te enable the Council to gather strength effectually to reform the monstrous abuses of the ‘ British Inquisition,’ called Chancery, by which hundreds of thousands will be saved to the suitors in their costs, and years of misery to them and their families be prevented.” At this moment (our authority is a paragraph in the Morning Chronicle) the Chancery suit of the ATTORNEY-GENERAL v. TREVELYAN is now one hundred and sixty-four years old. Why, it is plain that that mysterious individual, the oldest inhabitant, is invariably a suitor in Chancery. One hundred and sixty-four years old! In which time how such | misery, how many anxieties, how many wearying, hopeless hours, how | many heart-aches, to the TRevELyaNs? Can Justice, with her ever true arithmetic, count them? No: she won’t try, and for very shame. Again—hear the Council of the Chancery Reform Association :— “The Council also desire to effect the liberation of a large number of their fellow- creatures, many of whom have been in various prisons for periods of from 20 to 40 years. The homes of merry England! The gaols, the Chancery gaols of this law-cursed land! po dreadful, when the Bastille was tumbled to the earth, how dreadful the revealed pictures of wrong and captivity! | Old men, blinded by the sudden light—white-bearded captives, shrinking and tottering from the air of heaven. The prisoners of the Chancery Bastille —the captives “for periods varying from 20 to 40 years ”—are to the full as ghastly ; ye | whit as terrible presences, a crying wrong to heaven, against the folly and tyranny of fellow-man. Truly it is well that Chancery Lane should be widened—but it is better that we should so widen Chancery Court, that if a coach-and-six are to be driven through it, at least the vehicle shall have Justice, alias Equity, as the inside passenger. As to the narrow condition of Chancery Lane, many, and touching, and significant, are the daily occurrences in that small vein of the Me- tropolis ; a vein that certain folks would have changed into an artery— we presume that it might then lead to the heart of Justice; a heart that at present has no connexion with it. * A tenant of mine,” writes one J. L., “told me “ That a short time back, a waggon met a funeral in this narrow strait, and a most unseemly obstruction of some duration occurred.” Was the deceased, obstructed on the road to the grave, a late suitor in Chancery? If so, the hindrance was in the finest harmony. Be it so or not, it is surely enough that Chancery has relentless hold of the living; it should sheathe its talons at the dead. Or must Chancery, unlike the lion, prey on carcases ? Chancery-Lane is like a bottle, the neck end towards Holborn. There is room enough to admit a coach or cab, but none to turn. A rat-trap might be constructed on this principle, and called the “Chan- cery Rat-trap; or, Every Housekeeper his own Expon.” Mr. Jonn Ropert Taytor, of 54, Chancery-Lane, ~— the most significant, the most ominous incident, bearing upon the danger- ous character of his whereabout :— thumbs in their mouths; and with a wondering stare shake their heads. They “have no funds at their command for purposes of metropolitan improvement ;” no, only of sylvan and rustic depredation. However, let Mr. Taytor persevere ; and next session the Woods and Forests may obtain a parliamentary grant, by way of loan, for widening | Chancery Lane only : when they have obtained the money, let them be vigilantly watched, lest they devote the funds to the enclosing of | Primrose Hill, as amushroom ground for the kitchens of Her MasEsty jand Prince ALBERT. In the meantime, should the cast horse-shoe ‘still remain in the possession of Mr. Tayior, let him ‘convoke a meeting of Chancery Lane inhabitants who, in solemn procession, shall carry the shoe to the official abode of Lorp Seymour; and there and then, for good luck, nail the aforesaid horse-shoe over the door of the | Office of Woods and Forests. Our venerable ancestors had great faith in a horse-shoe so affixed; it scared away evil spirits. And that these are apt to haunt the councils of Woods and Forests is borne in testimony jagainst them by Sr. James, despoiled and wailing in his Park. | THE CONSCIENCE MONEY MANTA. | THE public conscience continues to be visited by these intermittent ,or remittent qualms, which manifest themselves in the shape of Bank note halves, and are felt in that most tender of ‘all places the pocket. The CHANCELLOR OF THE ExcHEQUER furnishes his occasional advertisements a sort of conscience-ometer, from which we may ascer- | tain the force and value of the scruples affecting the minds of the tax- | paying, or rather the tax-eluding portion of the community. ‘his attempt on the part of individuals to restore themselves to moral ‘health by voluntarily resorting to a little pecuniary bleeding when the conscience is overcharged—and the pocket has been undercharged in the way of taxes—may be regarded as a very satisfactory omen. It is, however, to be regretted that this sensitiveness of the conscience should be limited to those who have, in some way or other, defrauded the public resources, and does not affect those who have victimised private individuals. We should like to see returns of conscience money i the shape of overcharges made by tradesmen to their customers. Imagine a visitation of conscience among the Railway speculators or ogy meg and conceive—if possible—the business that would have to be done on the settling day, when the account between persons and their consciences came to be settled. We hope this partial visitation of conscience may only be a precursor to a general attack, which will end im the grocer sending back con- science money for the sand sold as sugar, or the birch paid for as tea; in the milkman returning the difference between the value of chalk- mixture and genuine milk; in the doctor disgorging the price of the useless medicine which the patient unhappily never can again disgorge ; and, in fact, in a general restoration of An cash improperly received by all classes of society. But perhaps, considering the generality, if not the universality, of the victimising process practised by one upon another, the shortest plan would be to grant a general amnesty to every body’s conscience for the past, and let every one undertake to keep his conscience in a wholesome state for the future. Register! Register! Register! Jupetne from the number of registered paletots, stockings, boots, hats, stoves, baby-jumpers,—in fact, registered everything, from a shirt to a steam-engine,—we think we can parody the warning which Sir Rosert Peer stole from Blackwooa’s Magazine, and exclaim, “The Battle of Puffery must be fought in the Registration-Courts ! ” “Tue Deciine or Enetann.”—We only know one instance, and that is, England’s declining to buy Monsteur Leprvu RoLiin’s book. ENGLAND'S GREEN WOODS AND FORESTS. A Lirttz Boox has been published under the title of “ How to Lay Out a Small Garden.’ We beg to recommend to the notice of the “During the racing which generally ensues after the omnibuses have been fairly unlocked at the Holborn end of Chancery-lane, about 2 o'clock this afternoon, one of | the horses in an omnibus actually cast his shoe through one of my plate-glass office | windows, which might have killed more than one person who happened to be standing | near the window at the time. This shoe may be seen by any person calling here, who will scarcely credit such an extraordinary instance of the strength of the horse.” | i An omnibus horse loses his shoe on his way through Chancery Lane. What is this, but another proof that not hing can approach the Court of | Chancery without a sacrifice of metal? From bran-new gold to old! iron, Chancery will have its penn’orth. Has Mr. 'l'aytor yet sent the| shoe to the Chancellor? He ought; for we understand that one of the immortal Six Clerks has a tame ostrich that, from its Chancery habits, can digest even bars of iron—always excepting prison bars: they remain entire: dedicated to the Chancery captives of “from 20 to 40 years.” | Mr. Taytor has written urgent letters to the Babes of the Woods| and Forests. The innocents! They can do nothing. They put their | Woods and Forests a similar little book, which we are thinking of pub- lishing, called “ How to Lay Out £12,000 in Spoiling a Public Garden.” It will be accompanied with a large cut, riz., a diagram of the large wed of ground which they have had the impudence to cut off St. James’s ark. ; EMOVAL.— The Statue of Vicrorta, which we pulverised in Punch about / a twelvemonth ago, has been removed from Victoria Square, Pimlico, and has gone, no one can tell where. It is supposed that the large Globe on which the ugly effigy of Her Mavesty stood, has been sold to a neighbouring skittle-ground, where it is said to be doing a world of mischief among the nine-pins. The Statue itself is greatly missed by the swallows and all the little birds of Pimlico, who used to make it their resting-place during the fashionable season, whenever there was a review in Hyde Park. The inhabitants of Victoria Square illuminate their parlours every evening in honour of the removal of the unsightly lump of granite. It is rumoured that the vacancy will not be filled up, which will be a saving, not only to the inhabi- tants, who could not look out of window formerly without having a continual eyesore, but to the public in general.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. THE GENUINE PRIZE SONG FOR JENNY LIND. (At the service of Mn. Barxvm.) I am glad I have come from my own northern home, Far away o’er the wide rolling sea, For I feel that I stand on the glorious land Where alone dwells a people that’s free! Never here for vile gold human beings are sold, Who the tint of our brotherhood wear ; back has got quite stale, and one fatal result in some fifty repetitions, offers too small a probability of accident for an enlightened public to part with their shillings and sixpences. The only thing to be done to keep the excite- ment alive—whether the aeronaut will be kept alive is another question— will be to make an arrangement for a balloon ascent, by some of the GREENS or the GRAHAMS, on the back of the Hippopotamus. If that token they lack—if the creatures are black— La, la, la! : Yes—of course that’s another affair ! Every man of each sect holds his head up, erect As the eagle that faces the sun; Ah! you do not see here class o’er class domineer, Here oppressed or oppressors are none. In this nation sublime, wretches branded with crime Rue alone in base thraldom their sin ; And the guilt of all dies in American eyes Far the deepest, is darkness of skin ! a, la! Yes—the worst guilt is darkness of skin! Here a fond wedded pair independently share All the joys of the conjugal life, There is no lew to part heart united to heart, — Wife from husband, and husband from wife. Such barbarity fell, as the offspring to sell From the parent, is wholly unknown ; But their lips if too full, and their hair curly wool, Some have no child nor wife of their own! a, la, la! No, they have no child nor wife of their own! At the tyrant’s proud hand there ’s no scourge to command On this side the Atlantic’s broad wave, No American can by his own fellow man Be disgraced with the stripes of the slave. Man is sacred from blows—by the right of his nose, If it be not too broad and too flat ; He’s only a Nigger, and born to the cat! _ La, la, la! Yes, a Nigger, and born to the cat! THE NEXT BALLOON ASCENT. Pustic Amusements may be said to have been lately “looking up” in one sense, for the eyes of Europe have been turned towards the numerous balloons which have been in the ascendant during the season now at its close. Announcements, almost as inflated as the balloons themselves, have promised all sorts of achieve- ments by all sorts of aeronauts, who, goaded on by the greed; appetite of the unthinking public for dangerous displays, have been outbidding each other for popularity, by a fearful competition in the race of folly and audacity. Horseback, ponyback, and donkeyback, have all been resorted to, in turn, for the gratification of the sightseers, who found the ordinary perils of ballooning stale and flat without a little extra excitement; and, considering the torture inflicted on the quadrupeds, as well as the folly practised | by the bipeds, it did not require a very great elevation from the | earth to render it difficult to dis‘inguish the man from the brute, | or the donkey from the aeronaut. One fatal result is a providentially small per-centage on the vast amount of folly—to give it the mildest name—that has been practised during the last few months for the satisfaction of that depraved and demoralising taste which finds amusement in witnessing the risk of human life, and which is most fully indulged when the chances of safety to a fellow-creature are reduced to the utmost minimum. Surely it is time for authority to put a stop to these brutalising scenes, since it is not many years ago that one poor wretch committed suicide by hanging himself in a public thoroughfare, for the diversion of a grinning crowd; it is still more recently that ‘“ Professor” Somebody broke a child’s neck in the presence of an ignorantly applauding audience ; and it is but the other day that another unfortunate victim to the public “taste” was dashed to pieces, out of sight of his patrons, who were thus baulked of witnessing the great point of attraction, on the chance of which they had paid their money. If this sort of thing is to go on next season, some new excite- ment must be found, for an aeronaut on horseback or donkey- Oh, why then that ’s another affair ! Then you’ re licensed to thrash—then fall on with the lash— The following letter has been received by us from our esteemed friend the Porcupine at the Zoological Gardens :— “Dear Puncu,—Being elected scribe to the tenants of the Zoological Gardens, and seeing that ‘M. Porreviy, the well-known eronaut, ascends on a live ostrich, I am requested, on the part of the boa-constrictor, to state, that he, the boa, is ready to go up with any gentleman prepared. for the journey; and further, that, as the said boa-constrictor has not had so much as a rabbit or a pigeon for more than a month, he is in the liveliest condition to take a change of air. He is ready to ascend, describing about the person of the xronaut a 6 or an 8, as may be decided upon; that is, according to the figure. “T am, yours, a brother of the quill, alias, “THE PORCUPINE.” “P.S.—We have a few lively rattle-snakes that, tied in a bundle, might form avery novel seat for one ascending. I would, however, suggest that the rattle-snakes should be kept back as great cards to trump the boa.” Printed by William Bradbury, of Nol3, Upper Wobur® Place, n the Parish of St. Pancras, and Fred+rick Mullett Evans OSice, in Lombar.j Street, in the ?r-ciact of Whitefriars, \o the City of Loudon,asd publisued by » No. 7, C treet ,imtoe Partsh of St, Bride’s, inthe City of London.—Satuap iz, Ocrossr b2th, 1-50. them at No. 3, Fieet Sc iurch Row. St+ke N-wington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at 'h+ v ir

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end ical nds , to for had the ing hat xhi hat PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 163 CONVENT OF THE BELGRAVIANS. VERYBODY who has a proper veneration for the reredos, and who, without holding extreme opinions on the subject of the dalmatic, feels correctly on that of the alb, who has a soul that can appreciate me- dieval art, particularly the beautiful foreshortening of our ancestors, and who would re- vive their ecclesiastical prac- tices and institutions to an extent just tastefully Ro- manesque, will be “ ryghte gladde ” to hear that it is pro- posed to, found a Convent, on Anglican principles, under the above title. The vulgar, who think that a minority is ne- cessarily a sect, will, of course, call it a Puseyite Nunnery: that cannot be helped. | The Convent will be under the superintendence of a Lady Abbess, who will be a real \ Countess, at the least. One principal object of the institu- } tion is to recall the good old \. times when thegentle BLANCHE “\. or the high-born BrunuILpa, , taking the vows and the veil " connected the hallowed ce with the heraldic griffin, the coronet with the cloister. The Nuns will all make an engagement of celibacy ; but, to preclude them from con- ’ pry | any rash obligation, only for so long as they may remain in the Convent, which they shall be at liberty to quit whenever they please, at a month’s notice—or the equivalent alternative. Each Nun will be required to con- tribute to the necessities of the Convent at least £10 a week, that sum being the minimum at which it will be possible to defray the expenses of the establishment, and keep it select. She will be, also, expected to bring two silver forks, and all the usual requisites of the toilet. The vow of poverty, pro tem., is also to be taken by the Nuns, as it safely may, because, from the nature of the establishment, their whole incomes will be expended for conventual purposes. The sisters will all have separate cells, fitted up comfortably, combining the Joudoir and the oratory. Each sister will be attended by a male and female domestic. It was at first intended that the former should be clad in the attire of an antique serving-man, but this apparel being likely to incur puerile derision, it has been deemed expedient, on the whole, that he should wear the Lady Abbess’s livery. The Nuns will have acommon sitting-room, carpeted with an imitation of encaustic pavement, the A MEETING WITHOUT AN ADJOURNMENT. Tue Commissioners of Sewers had a meeting on October 11th, and trans- | acted business for two hours without | an adjournment! Such an accident | was never known before, and the ex- | citement it produced in the purlieus of this quiet little Court may be es- timated from the fact, that when the meeting was over there were not less than three persons present. This is extraordinary for a Court that can rarely enlist the attention of an audience of more than one—and that one, very frequently, the usher ! We are glad to have it in our power to publish a pleasing little fact in connexion with the Court of Sewers. The great difficulty the Commissioners experience in transacting their busi- ness, is to sit quietly on their chairs, sometimes for three hours at a time, and have nothing todo. An old woman, taking their forlorn condition into con- sideration, has started a circulating | library just opposite their windows. The object of this is evidently to relieve the heavy tedium the Commis- sioners who are present have to endure, in waiting for the Commissioners who | are absent, and we must 7 it is very | kind of the old woman. The books are lent at a very moderate rate, and when we mention that the price is only nd ped a-day per volume, our readers at once see what a boon this kind arrangement of the old woman is likely to be to poor, suffering Commissioners, The State of the Serpentine. QuIDNUNCs used to inquire What’s in the Wind? but the question that really waits for solution in these days is, What’s in the Water? The Ser- pentine is a subject that now invites inquiry, but we are not at all disposed to p° deeply into it. Its bed is in such a dirty state, that a clean sheet of water is thrown away upon it, and when the public apply to the Com- roof-timbers to be of dark oak, the walls frescoed, and the chairs and a beautifully and grotesquely | missioners of Woods and Forests, the carved. Their refectory will have a dais, at which will sit the Lady Abbess and the sisters of title, that the seemly distinctions of social may be observed. The usual diet of the Nuns will be optional—that is to say, of course moderate—in point of quantity. All fast days, however, will be strictly kept, by religiously eating red mullet and raspberry jam tart. If no red mullet is to be had, John Dory, po nts or any other fish in season may be substituted. The costume of the sisterhood will consist of a judicious admixture of the conventual style with the fashion of the day. The Nun will not be obliged to sacrifice her hair, but only to wear it plain, a /a Madonna, and it will be permitted to be partially visible. Absolute seclusion will by no means be enforced’; indeed it will be incumbent on the Nuns to appear in society, in order to disp'ay the beauty of sanctity. There will be no objection, therefore, but rather the reverse, to their going to flower-shows and concerts, or even to Her Magzsry’s Theatre, whenever they please. At the same time, they will thoroughly renounce the world, in the Belgravian sense. The time of the Nuns will be devoted to practising the charities of life by making morning calls, and occasionally visiting soup-kitchens and model lodging-houses in a properly a’ —, carriage, or, if they wa'k, attended by afootman. Otherwise, their leisure will be employed in illuminating books of devotion, practising ecclesiastical tones, and working slippers for the younger clergy. A certain number of Bishops shall be elected Visitors to the Convent, and shall be invited to come in that capacity to all soirées, of which not less than three shall be given at the institution every week—the company to be admitted by vouchers, on the principle of ALMAcK’s; so that none but the most eligible parties shall be introduced. No austerities calculated to injure the health or personal squenenes will be permitted at this Convent. The sister who rises early to attend matins in cold weather, must submit to have her bed carefully warmed for her by the time she comes back. The inordinate indulgence in maceration, encouraged by Rome, will be disallowed; and the only means sanctioned for the restraint of the flesh, will be the gentle and moderate compression of stays. That the Anglican Convent, thus constituted, will lead to “perversions” there is no fear. Alas! the hard multitude will rather say that the Puseyite sisters are only playing at Roman Catholics, and the vile punster will remark that their Convent is more a Monkey-ry than a Nunnery. only answer returned is a wet blanket. It has been proposed to draw off public a from the Serpentine by rawing off the water altogether, but there is something at the bottom of all this, which renders it unsafe to try the experiment, Temperance Wine. THERE is a wine advertised, called “Exhibition Wine.” This is an un- happy title, we think, for what man in his senses would drink much of a wine that, with every sip he took, held u before bis eyes the reproving word, “Exhibition?” He would naturally count his glasses, lest, from drinking too much, he should ultimately make an Exhibition of himself. SSS CHARITY BEGINS AFTER DINNER. Tuat peculiar kind of Charity, which excels in eating a dinner and giving a subscription after it, has been ably characterised by a waiter at the London Tavern as “ THE-KNIFE-AND- Fork-out-CHarity.” VOL, XIX. Ss

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON ‘CHARIVARL WHOLESOME PREJUDICE. “ Rartroaps, Srr? I wate Rartroaps, anp I SHALL BE VERY GLAD WHEN THEY ’RE DONE AWAY WITH, AND WE’VE GOT THE COACHES AGAIN.” NOTES OF A TOWN TRAVELLER. I am a town traveller, for no particular house, and in no on line, except the line of threepenny omnibusses, to which I always try to adhere, on account of the cheap fares, because in paying sixpence | do not go so far and fare worse, while, in paying threepence, I go further and fare better. My trade, any, is the fancy-trade, for products of the imagination are may 1 chiefly deal in, and, if I am interested in prices of any kind, it is in the price at which I can get the publishers to negotiate my paper. I contemplate doing a little business, if I can, as a town tentaliet r, and the sample I now offer will show the sort of article I am ready to supply at the usual prices. In the course of my town travelling 1 shall endeavour to select those objects that are either curious and new, or curious and old, or that are, for any other quality, legitimate subje cts of curiosity. The other day I scrambled on to the roof of an Atlas buss, and here, I may observe by the way, that these vehicles are appropriately designated ; for an Atlas c: arries all the world on its roof, as its name- sake of antiquity carried all the world on his shoulders ; and T may remark, however, that SHAKESPEARE was wrong in saying “fixed as reat Atlas self,” for I have seldom seen an Atlas a fixture—or even oitering like some busses in a Liverpool thoroughfare. The Con- ductors, unlike Conductors in general, know how to conduct them- selves, and are conversant with many of the polite arts, which are usually unknown among the thoroughly numbered but wholly un- lettered class of men who so frequently may be said to open the door to abuse, and slam it to, with a terrific bang, against all remonstrance. The course of the vehicle lay over Westminster Bridge—which has been tumbling into bed—the bed of the river—for the last fifty years ; and its dilapidated state can cause no surprise, when we remember that this bridge has always hada Committee of some sort to sit upon it. There is a story told of the triumphs of surgery, which cut off both the arms and both the legs of an individual, who lived notwith- standing the quadruple operation ;—a case not unlike that of West- minster Bridge, which is still a bridge after a series of abridgements that have cut away its arches, its sides, its balustrades, and every thing but the bare road, which still drags out a miserable existence, but is the mere shadow of what it formerly used to be. On the other side of Westminster Bridge old Association asks for the Marsh Gate, when the driver—a member of the new Association—treplies, that the Marsh Gate—a few years ago in full swing—has been completely un- hinged by modern improvement, and has been superseded by the South Western Railway, which crosses the road, ond Keeps a quantity of hissing, smoking, ‘screaming engines always “ on view,” running back- wards and forw ards, or standing upon | the arch to “ fright ” the horses passing beneath “ from their propriety.’ To the left extends the New Cut, which certainly has the cut of novelty about it to the unfamiliar eye, for the whole business of the place seems to be carried on upon the foot dashes There is a long | series of counters ene ‘the entire line of the kerbstone, and across the footway the eye of the traveller is often literally struck by a piece of heavy merchandise dangling on a pole from the first or second floor windows. Here a mountain of line ndrapery presents a sort of miniature Alp, snow-capped, as it were, with a lot of snowy white night-caps—all at 34—and the pass has scarcely been effected before the traveller finds | himself buried hw an avalanche of cheap clothing, that has glided | down from the adjacent heights—the supposed fastness being in fact a =x from which he escapes, only to thread the mazes of huge banks and barriers bristling with cheap ironmongery, or green with cabbage leaves and other low-priced verdure. The occupation of their | homes appears to be the last thing that the inhabitants care about, for | their habitations form the mere back-ground of the scene, the business | of life being confined to the thoroughfare itself, where many a bargain is interrupted by the tradesman, the customer, and the goods, being A ked down in one lot by the passing vehicle. Though the shop- | keepers do not wish their goods to be depreciated, they expose them to | be run down re pe atedly, and a coal w agzon may often be seen we nding j}its way over “ Boots for the Million,” ‘Five thousand Parasols,” * Gents’ Pants,” “The Fashion,” “A Dinner Service of 40 pieces,” now smashed into a hundred and fift y, with a variety of other articles that ** must all be cleared off,” and which are now made to fulfil the decrees of their destiny, by forming the materials of one great “ Alarming Sacrifice.” The residents of the New Cut have evidently taken their houses for the purpose of turning them out of window, a process which is literally carried out—by the carrying out of their goode—every morning, on to the pavement, and the decoration of the frout of their premises with everything belonging to the interior. The broker makes up his half-dozen beds in the middle of the street, as if to invite the way- worn traveller to turn in; while under every lamp-post there is a restaurant, to tempt the appetite with the bearded oyster, the smooth- faced sheep’s- head, the meat pie—containing a piece of something | wrapped in paste, and wrapped also in mystery—the steaming potato, the Dall in which popular superstition traces the presence of brandy, and |the toffy which - put y nearly everybody’s mouth the name of | Everton. The foreigner who had been told that the English pesple i never live out of doors, would be astonished at finding, by a visit to the New Cut, how completely a/ fresco are all the proceedings of the in- habitants. The Frenchman who had heard of the dullness of a London Sunday, would find everything proceeding in the New Cut as if there were no day of rest or recreation, and nothing to remind one of the existence of a Sunday, except a church in the centre of the scene, placed there, probably, by way of contrast. The discriminating eye may detect, here and there, a member of the congregation of this church struggling through to its doors, as well as he can, amidst the piles of merchandise, the din of traffic, the noisy solicitations of the tradesmen, and the vociferous bargaining ‘of the customers. Any one who objects to the sober age ong and calm recreation of an English Sunday, need only repair to the New Cut, where such a thing as a holiday or | holyday seems to be utterly unknown to the inhabitants. Their week-day amusements partake of the same open-airy character, for about half-way down on the right hand side is a species of penny theatre, or, as ‘the French would more appropriately call it, a Salle, for its sale¢é is conspicuous. In obedience to the genius loci, which makes externals everything, the outside of the theatre is plastered all over with the representation of a great deal more than can possibly be seen within, and disappointed will be he, who, having paid his penny at the door, expects to see one half of the ¢ableaus realised. Bve n should his taste be gratified by the exhibition of the two a looking creatures in bed- gowns, labelled, “ All this Talent To-Night should he be edified by “ Zhe Stunning Miss Larrue” having ‘\ (Highland) fling in her Scotch costume, he cannot expect to see all the placards, including “ Here’s a Lark,’ “The Infant Female Stunner,’ ** Young Cour, Juvenile Screecher,? and other miscellaneous promises faithfully performed in one night for one penny. the It would be easy to moralise on the effect of this company of “ stunners” and “ screechers ” on the idle boys and girls who form the chief patrons of these places of entertainment, and some of whom are tempted to become “stunners” and “ screcchers ” in their turn, if nothing worse befals them. If the annals of crime were to be analysed, how much of it might be traced to habitual attendance at a penny theatre, is a question that may be asked, but cannot be answered— except at a guess—by A Tow N TRAVELLER. Government Conscience Money. from the CHANCELLOR an overcharge of last year’s Mr. Puncu has to akan wledge the receipt, OF THE Excnequer, of £5, for A. B., being income-tax. Also of the sums of £18 18s. 53d., and £19 19s. 63d., on account of P.Q. and X. Y. Z., for accumulated overcharges of the same tax. Mr. Punch has paid over the amount to the Indemnifier-General.

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the 2 of oor ure -all nds ded ta uge ‘ith \eir for ess ain ing op- . to ing OW hat ees ing for lly . to ith his ay- 3 a th- ple the in- lon ere the ne, aye rch of en, cts ed eir for ny for ces ith in, Lane. gnomes asserting themselves. THE CHEERFUL FARMER. An After-Diuner Song for Agricultural Clubs. To be sung to a pleasant melancholy Air, with a Pipe Accompaniment. great JOHN National Debt, on him yet. loora loo! loora loo! *Tis true that the Farmer gets less for his wheat, And has a hard job with the world to compete ; Yet what with his science, manceuvres, and drains, A sort of a living he somehow obtains. horus.—Too, ra loora, &c. The Church is in danger, we hear some folks say, Because of a few parsons going astray, But the bells ring on Sundays the same as before, And weddings and christenings go on as of yore. Chorus,—Too, ra loora, &c. The Crown is not shaken, as ’twas to have been, But keeps a tight fit to the head of the QUEEN. The Peerage seems not very fast to decline ; I think it is like to last your time and mine, Chorus.—Too, ra loora, &e. Meanwhile, for the money, we ’ve more bread and meat, And likewise apparel, besides food to eat. Though rg must double, the Farmer to pay, We might be worse off than we are, I dare say. Chorus.—Too, ra loora, &c. The Sun of Old England’s not set, it appears, And won’t, I expect, for a good many years ; So let ’s have a proper adjustment of rent, And then we will try if we can’t be content. Chorus,—Too, ra loora, &c. THE GOLDEN BROUGHAM. CHANCERY LANE WORTHY OF ITS NAME. PUNCH, OR THE oop people, we will not despair of the State ; Although our expenditure’s awfully Butt, notwithstanding the | Ts not quite exhausted—there ’s meat Chorus, Too, ra loora loo, ra loora loo, ra Too, ra loora loo, ra loora loo, | | ra | | LONDON CHARIVARI. AN ERROR OF THE PRESS. Tr seems we have made a mistake, and we humbly beg pardon for it. Two weeks ago we said that the “Drury Lane Theatrical Fund” had subscribed £10 10s. to the proposed monument to the “Good Duxe” oF CAMBRIDGE. Mr. Cotry Mackenzie has written to assure us, that it is not the Drury Lane Theatrical Fund, but the Committee of i i n the faith of that Fund, whohas subscribed the sum in question. U comments we made upon it. | Mr. MackeEnzie’s assurance, we rectify our mistake, and withdraw the Will the Committee of the Drury Lane Theatrical Fund meet us in the same spirit, and rectify the mistake they have made; for is it not a mis’ e, we ask, to bestow money upon a monument, when living objects are in want of it? Now, it is notoriously a fact, that the Drury e Theatrical Fund is a struggling fund. The Theatre is closed. It has not had a complete season for several years, which prevents the fund gaining 4 new subscribers, whilst the claimants upon the charity remain just t chances are, that they increase every year. its continuance can give it. which does not require it, and give it to human an item like the following :— “ The Statue of the Good Duke of Cambridge . expected arrival in Edinburgh, said that— ing, are making satisfactory progress,” Wr congratulate all those who are interested in Folk lore, on a dis- | covery which will prove that not without reason do the that there really are “ more things in heaven and e of in your philosophy.” statement :— Wisoy, of Stockton, yesterday exhibited to us a specimen of gold, hearing the most striking likeness of the caricatures of Lorp BrouGHam. and the resemblance is most perfect.” Here is a fact which will take down that nose which Incredulity has been turning up so long at the Rosicrucian doctrines. Statuettes are not made without hands ; and it is satisfactory to find the sylphs and It is about two inches long, SEVERAL correspondents have been beating the gongs of the press, and making a great noise, about widening the Holborn end of Chancery | sorrow -— We admit the very great improvement that would be caused by | ; one or two houses being removed ; but still we should be sorry to witness | the alteration of a single stone in such a venerable street, which is con- nected with some of our most venerable institutions, as Chancery Lane! Q th ] ; The street, as it stands at present, is a brick-and-mortar illustration of is all this about ? Scotland or China—baillies or mandarins—the Zin | the ways of Chancery. It is broad at one end, and extremely narrow | burgh Advertiser or the Pekin Ko-too ? at the other; very easy to get into, but how difficult to get out of! | It is the perfect history of a Chancery suit. It should be allowed to! possibly be accounted for by the supposition of a tender solicitude on | stand just as it is, with all its difficulties and nuisances untouched, if it | the part of the were only to serve as an emblematic corner-stone of the institution of | Royal Family. which it bears the name ;—to tell stupid people in the most practicable | this would imply excessive philoprogenitiveness _and prodigious vene- menner what they must expect to encounter, if they trust themselves ration, with a development of the organs of the intellect—about which in Chancery, Sovereign’s comfort. £10 10s,” e same; and the us, With a diminishing income, and increasing claims upon it, the Drury Lane Theatrical Fund is in want of every little fraction of support which those interested in The Committee must know this, and we do hope that, upon second thoughts, they will withdraw their subscription from a monument, beings who really are in want of it, Let them forego the little pleasure of seeing their names engraved upon the pedestal of a statue erected to a royal personage and devote their money to a good act of charity, such as the “ Good Duke” himself, if he were alive, could not fail to approve of. If that was all, the Committee might send it in the Duke’s name, His sub- scription, of course, has ceased, but how pleasant it would be to hear Mr. Harvey read out, at the next meeting, amongst the list of donations, | LIGHTS ann SHADES or SCOTTISH JOURNALISM. Tue Edinburgh Advertiser, the other day, in allusion to the QuEEN’s “The arrangements for Her Masesty’s reception at Holyrood, on Thursday even- One would suppose that the arrangements, the progress of which was satisfactory to our Northern contemporary, consisted in the layin of carpets, airing of rooms and beds, and such like provisions But the Caledonian journalist proceeds :— ¢ down for the “ Tn addition to the other preparations, we believe it has heen proposed to light a large bonfire on the summit of Arthur's Seat, which will illumine the surrounding country, and have altogether a very striking effect.” | the delight expressed, or the fact recorded :— met with great success. This in Edinburgh—the capital of Scotland! A subscription in- That there should have been found such | tended to be burnt up in a bonfire has met with great success among an image as that described of the noble and learned lord in elfin gold, Scotchmen, and a Scotch newspaper rejoices at the waste of capital. is peculiarly gratifying to Mr. Punch, as attesting not only the existence Perhaps the subscribers fried their watches in their bonfire. of a fairy world, but also the popularity of this periodical amongst its inhabitants, Furthermore, says the Advertiser of Auld Reekie :— “ It is also proposed, we believe, to illuminate St. Anthony’s Chapel, and other parts of Salisbury Craig, with the ‘Drummond Light;’ and other pyrotechnic displays are | spoken of for the oceasion.” L The circumstance of a fire being lighted in the royal apartment, which y hold the faith | would warm the surrounding atmosphere, and have altogether a very | re eavel arth than are dreamt pleasant effect, must of course be gratifying to the loyal subject to The Alta California has the following singular | reflect upon. But what satisfaction can be derived from a bonfire on | Arthur’s Seat, considered in any conceivable relation to adult and | “Lorp Brovawam 1x Catrrornta.—Our friend and late co-lahonrer, Rosert | reasonable Majesty ? The Edinburgh Advertiser is very easily pleased. In the next statement it is difficult to say which is the more wonderful, “ We are happy to hear that the subscription set on foot to defray the expense has Really this is the Seottish prodigal burning his candle at both ends. So much for the joy of the Hdinburgh Advertiser—now for the | up part of their design with the variegated lamps.” Regret—authorities—their design with the variegated lamps! What | | the less said the better. | | | | | “ We regret, however, to understand that the authorities have been obliged to give | The grief and gladness expressed in the foregoing extracts may | writer for the diversion of the younger branches of the | According to Phrenology—is it not so, Mr. Compe ?—

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A RECENT advertisement in the Times commenced as follows :— “A Lapy of the highest qualifications is de- sirous of a bed-room and dinner.” We presume the “highest qualifica- tions” must be construed as applying | to the “dinner,” and we may infer | therefore that the “lady” is blest with j}an awful appetite. Taking this into | consideration, we suspect that the |advertiser will meet with very few | who would not prefer her room—that is to say, the bed-room she is in want |of—to her company. One might as |well admit a young wolf into one’s |family as a lady “desirous of a | dinner,” and possessing the “highest ) | qualifications ” with regard to it. When poor little Currey, the Chartist | captive, was asked how he liked the | prison fare, he candidly declared his | ability to “dispose of more ;” but the | avowal of the advertising lady is still ) | more to the point, and if we let lodg- |ings, we should differ from O¢hed/o in 'thinking it a hardship to be able to | call such delicate creatures ours, but : | not their appetites.” } | LAYING THE DUST. A REGULAR CRAMMER. | n= —- —— —— ~ » -_ LY) . 4 —4 LE Mjra ‘ Y g 4 UY, 4, my Zit Shall England Swallow the Leek? An attempt is being made to get up a sort of political excitement in Wales in favour of the Welsh language; an Ar Somesopy, whose name begins ‘ with half-a-dozen gutturals, supported Laptgs can, we know, sometimes go to very great lengths in dress ; but the gown has lately got to|in the centre by three or four W’s, such a pitch, and so much latitude is taken in the way of longitude, that there is no knowing where | and ending witha rush of labials, wants it will end. We have found, occasionally, very great inconvenience in our walks, by following, as ex-|to know, in reference to the adoption cursionists, such a train as that which female fashion seems to entail on all its votaries. It says as|of plain English in Wales, “ whether little for the ankles as it does for the understandings of the fair sex of the present day, that they are|the Welsh tongue is to be torn out compelled to hide their bad feet by at least ‘one yard of superfluous drapery. In addition to the | by the roots.” We have no wish for untidy and unsightly character of the proceeding, the dust raised is so great a nuisance, that every lady | such an act of violence; but, all we appearing in the costume of the period ought to be compelled to have a page in attendance, with a/| have to say is, that the Welsh tongue watering-pot, wherever she goes. does not at all suit the English palate. FP, Wa ay La Li i TWO EXHIBITIONS IN ONE AND IN 13851. crowd, and the tug, if not of war, of coat tails, pocket-handkerchiefs, | and purses, will be of daily and hourly occurrence. As to the poor old We find from the papers that the | Parks, they seem to be marked out, not only for the devastating pick- authorities, fearing there will not.be | axe and ruthless spade, but—severest dig of all—for the hoof of the sufficient life and bustle in Hyde | fat-bound, suet-struck cattle. Can we wonder that the lungs of London Park at the Exhibition of 1851, have | should be inflamed at being thus trampled upon? Alas, we must soon made arrangements for permitting | expect to see our Parks deprived of every turf for the innocent lark, or the cattle shows of the Agricultural | playful gambol, and the green sward without a single blade to fight its | Society of England to be held in the | own battles. same place, at the same period. | That the crowds, visiting the ob- | jects of industry on one side of the | The Summit of his Ambition. Park, may not be tempted to get} [ovis Napotzon is busy practising in climbing a Mat de Cocagne. away on the other, the north-western | The hoop on the summit is festooned with legs and shoulders of ham angle is to be devoted to the col-| and large joints of cold veal, and embellished with a beautiful garland lection of mountainous beeves, mon- | of hotties of Champagne. The whole is surmounted with a glittering ster mutton, and pork in the last | prize of the Imperial Diadem. Lovis Napoueon practises severa , ‘ stage of pinguidity. The public po vend a day in climbing this greasy pole, which is stationed for his in fact, be placed in a sort of cul-de-sac by this arrangement, and | especial study in one of the inner Courts of the Elysée, but he begins to the Park, necessarily invaded on one side for the industry of all nations, | find “how hard it is to climb,” and that he makes but little way with will be unnecessarily invaded on the other side for the fat of all England | aj) his violent attempts at progress. He still clings to the slippery to stand simmering in the summer sun, and effect a blockade of the hope, however, of being able, by the time the next Election for President public pleasure-ground on the side of Bayswater. The introduction of a | comes on. to get to the top of the Pole ! cattle show into the already curtailed space of Hyde Park, is what may | err be justly termed “going the entire animal.” It may, perhaps, be | ————SEES thought a piece of fanciful hospitality towards the foreigners who will St but T visit the Exhibition of 1851, to introduce them at once to the fat of the ay, Ss cee, land, though it will be, after all, but a Barmecide feast, for they will} Wes have been told—for really our ignorance of DeBrett’s Peerage only be enabled to carry away as much of it as “they can put in their | almost amounts to an insult to the House of Lords—that the English eye, and see none the worse for.” The site selected for the exhibition | title of the Duxe or ATHout is “Lorp Strance.” This is, to sa of monsters, to be seen, as the showmen say, “ Alive! Alive!” is appro-| the least, very strange ; but, at all events, no one can call the liberal- ~ — enough called the “ Battery,” for assault and battery will, no| minded Duke—considering the habit he has of blocking up public oubt, frequently mark the scene, where crowd will necessarily meet | thoroughfares, and closing everything—“ Lorn Passing StRANGE.”

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PUNCH, Ok. THE 169 | World.” THE BRITISH FOUNTAIN-BUILDER TO THE WOODS AND FORESTS. OME will level you a mountain, Some will drain you dry a sea, ' But 1’ll build you such a fountam, If you’ ll trust the job to me! I'll amaze the little fishes, All of silver and of gold, With a thing that plates and dishes hall appear designed to hold. From its apex, this dumb-waiter Shall a jet of water spurt Of a volume rather greater Than the streamlet from a squirt : as if in piteous trouble, Or. Shed the slow and silent tear ; Or perha; Asag I have only one petition, That my model and design In the monster Exposition May appear next year as mine ; That the trav’ller over mountain, And the pilgrim over sea, May admire the British Fountain, As devised, devised by me. as briskly bubble s of ginger-beer. “VERY SORRY, BUT WE HAVE NO ROOM.” We do not know whether any patents have been taken out in England for balloons, but in France all the savans are busy constructing and improving that fugitive department of science. It strikes us that there must be some higher motive for this industry than merely navigating the air, and we at once jump to the conclusion that this sudden activity amongst our flighty neighbours must be owing to a desire to send over a prize oon to the Great Exhibition of 1851. Depend upon it, this is the intention of Messrs. Araco and Brxio, po the only question is, whether arrangements have been made to do ample justice to their idea. Have any demands been made for sufficient space to accommodate bulky articles of the size of a balloon? and ‘ again, what corner of the Exhibition has been put aside for their reception ? We have our misgivings about the policy of admitting them at all, for supposing a balloon was to break loose from its bearings, only consider the havoe it would produce amongst the glass and crockery before it could be caught agam! It would be infinitely worse than a bull in a china shop. ‘Then there is a great doubt whether the runaway balloon would be caught at all. the exterior was like, and, rising with the thought, poke its head through the glass roof, an i drag its heav from sight alvagel er, Such a freak is not in the least improbable, and we hope the Committee, if they have resolved upon admitting balloons, will not allow themselves to be carried away with the largeness admiring the airy prospect of the Park, | body through the big hole it had made, and disappear | of the notion, but consider a few of the inconveniences such an| awkward admission is likely te bring down upon their, as well as other people’s, heads. We have seen the plan of one of M. Bixio’s new inventions, and it is a large bunch of balloons tied together, like a stick | of cherries. should happen to combine and rise together, the building can never stand against the outbreak, and must infallibly be carried up to the clouds, which would be a pretty break up for the ‘ Congress of the We would recommend, if a balloon knocks at the Exhi- bition for admission, that the door-keeper be instructed to say, as a fashionable hotel-keeper says in the busy season, when he does not like the appearance of his customer, “ Very sorry, Sir, but we are quite full ; we cannot take you in, you had better try somewhere else ! ” At all events, if balloons are indispensably necessary for the advance- We are sure that with one or two little articles like that, | the Exhibition will have room for nothing else, and if all the balloons | the Campanile at Venice ; and the Tuileries will be taking advantage ment of science, let there be a separate building, of cast-iron, for their | reception, and let it have a practicable roof, so that the young charges may be taken out occasionally for an airing, and have a little exereise | in their “native element.” It will be a curious sight to see a covey of balloons all springing into the air at the same time. But if all the balloons now ing i we should recommend the householders of our smoky metropolis to hatching in Paris and London only take wing next year, | look to their roofs. The mortality amongst the chimney-pots will = something dreadful ! : >| noted down. ‘aking 0 age encanta = & ph yong — — eet contemporary, that “the Mansion House transacted business with the £ arg t » il £ € a ld A at | ASSURANCE AGAINST RAILWAY ACCIDENTS. WE believe it is generally known—for the comfortable intelligence is placardedat nearly every terminus and station—that a passenger losing life or limb on a Railway can, if he goes on his journey with the agreeable sen- sation that life and limb are in jeopardy, effect an assurance before starting that will give him pecuniary damages for any personal damage that may be done to him. There is, in fact, a Railway Accident Assurance Company, which publishes, from time to time, a list of its bonuses on broken bones, and tries to tempt the public, by showing how “a gentle- man shaken was awarded six pounds”—no great shakes, by the by—in the way of compensation ; and how another gentleman, who received his mother-in-law unexpectedly and forcibly on the pomt of his nose, was adjudged one pound for the disagreeable proximity. Now, there is scatcely a married man who would consent to receive a mother-in-law so completely chez dw on these moderate terms ; and one pound seems a very poor equivalent for rendering still closer a somewhat disagreeably close relationship. A wife’s mother is not always the most desirable yo to be brought literally face to face with by a railway collision, or there are in most families enough of domestic collisions to render this sort of contact quite superfluous. We rather think that the scale of allowances for railway casualties require regulation, -.7 we admit the difficulty of finding any fixed principle to go upon. e Railway Accident Assurance Company will undertake to pay as much as £2,000 for the loss of a life, and will give a “ ae ae compensation” for any other injury; but we do not see how the price of the life will enable us to get at the value of a leg, an_arm, or any other portion of the body. We cannot manage the matter by a rule of three sum; for if we state the question thus—If a life costs £2,000, what will a leg come to? we find ourselves in the old red-herring and sack of coals fix, which leads us to nothing satisfactory. Besides, legs vary in value according to circumstances ; and oy of a leg to a “fast” man, would perhaps deprive him of something more valuable to him than even his head; wills the loss of a nose to a person always poking into his neighbour’s affairs would deserve much i compensation than the loss of a proboscis confined to its legitimate purposes. There is one thing, however, that it would be utterly impossible to estimate by any rule, mathematical, philosophical, or otherwise—we allude to a woman’s tongue, which, if it should happen to be lost in a railway accident, might bea calamity utterly irreparable to the owner, but a real blessing to all her friends and neighbours. “BIRNAM WOOD REMOVES TO DUNSINANE.” We have seen an article in the Morning Post, headed “ Visit of the Admiralty to the Britannia Bridge.” ‘his, we presume, is only a prelude to a regular exchange of cards and calls between the pablis edifices of this country, and that their movements will be chronicled with the same exactitude that the actions of Royal personages are We expect soon to see announced in the columns of our Colonial Office yesterday,” or that “Stafford House gave a grand entertainment in honour of the first appearance of Bridgewater House,” and thaf Buckingham Palace had “condescended to be a partaker of the festivities, St. Clement Danes, Guy’s Hospital, Temple Bar, Mil- bank Penitentiary, Westminster Abbey, Horse Guards, Reform Club, Waterloo Bridge, the Thames Tunnel, Devonshire House, and the Bank being present to meet the illustrious guest; the Royal Exchange, St. Paul’s, and other noble edifices, having been unable to accept the noble host’s invitations to celebrate the occasion.” Who knows how far these erratic propensities may be carried. Foreign structures, perhaps, will be on the move. The Invalides, for health’s sake, will be paying a visit to the Cathedral at Milan, and of Mr. Crisp and cheap excursion trains to run over to London for a | week; King Leopold’s Palace of Lacken, or, as it should be called, Larkin’, will come to this country, to have a spree with the Duke of York’s Column; and the monument it the Place Vendéme will stay with Apsley House, to have a good view of the Exhibition of 1851. Nay, a paragraph may appear to the following effect :—“The Taj of Agra has arrived at Southampton, on a visit to Windsor Castle, Holyrood, and the principal seats of the Empire. The Taj is accom- panied by the Mosque of Omar and other distinguished foreigners, and is attended by the Leaning Tower of Pisa, in the capacity of interpreter.” Let us hope that humbler buildings will have the same privilege; and that it may be a common thing, too usual to be publicly noticed, that the gaols of England will give place for schools, and its work- houses make intimate acquaintance with bakers’ shops. | “Pray, AFTER You,” as the Glass of Water said to the Pill.

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| surplice, nobody forces them. They must go and learn elsewhere than at lf PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. That sauce, which by cooks is considered suitable to the gander, is likewise deemed applicable to the female bird ;—don’t let us cry out against Po igh bigotry, when we have among ourselves such a comfortable Established intolerance. Talk about toleration! How can honest people be tolerant ? How can Doctor Purtrorts be tolerant of GorHaM? or FATHER Ignatius of Doctor Puitrotts? Each holds opinions which, according to his view, must send the other to the deuce: each teacher must bring up his young men in his own manner. Why, | there are hundreds of honest English clergymen now, who will not |accept a penny from the Government for their schools, because | Government desires to educate Catholics, Protestants, Dissenters, Wi / Y Typ “WH Ga / ‘ /// /yy / 7 WY, AINKCGG wees Wee Vf 4, “yy, | forsooth, to ery out against the latter only ? YY | ought to be under the control of the priests. | Therefore, as they are always comminating each other (from the purest motives of course), and GorHam differs dreadfully from |Purtports: and Puitrorts differs fatally from FatHer BaRre- |LEGS: and the RevEREND OxpapiaH differs from all three: and 4 oe ee y) LILI / /, Vi0 | there should be a university for each sect. { | will but be obedient, and let the clergy have their way! How a my |we will hate each other! How we will avoid each other! How, 3 ‘taal | leach side putting implicit trust in its black-coated general, we melt! | | will fight, and abuse, and oppress each other ! ; - ___| And what will become of poor Punch then? They will take Old Lady. “ Now, ARrTHur, WEIS WES Vee are" Some OF THIS NICE! down his booth, and gag him, and shut the poor old miscreant up Puppine, on somE Jam Tart? in his box. But the world has not come to that yet, though their Juvenile. “No Pastry, THANK-YE, Aunt. Ir spoits one’s Wine so. I) Reverences are trying their best. DON’T MIND A DeEvILLED Biscuit, THO’, BY AND BY, WITH MY CLARET.” | (Old Lady turns all manner of colours.) —— 7 ———— | How to Rise in France. 7 | ! . . . . ‘o | THE way to rise in France is to take your stand, early in life, MELANCHOLY MUSINGS. ‘on an inkstand. The shortest cut to the Chamber is through an editor’s room. To become a leader, you must have been in the (Being Mr. Punch’s Subscription to the proposed new Irish Colleges.) habit of tossing off one every day, in some newspaper or other. The best plan of gaining a portfolio is to prove you are possessed Ir Education were beef, and Paddy were invited to partake of a bellyful| of a pen; and, the portfolio once pn it depends upon the alongside of Jacx, his neighbour, would he not be very thankful to| power of your pen how long you can keep it. Every Frenchman, Fatner M‘Hate who should come and say to nim, “Get out of that, |as soon as he has learnt to write, carries a portfolio in his head. Paddy, my son; that beef is cursed Protestant beef, and will be the death of you if you touch it. Give me half-a-crown, and try this good wholesome tato ?” OFFICIAL LOVE OF MISCHIEF. The Thurles prelates are warning Paddy off from the Government pro-| We al] know that the Ornamental Water in St. James’s Park is. visions in this way, and inviting him to pay for, and feed upon, Some | not useful for much, but if the Woods and Forests are allowed to potatoes which are not only not grown yet, but for which FatHer Mac has play all sorts of tricks with it, the water in question will soon be neither bought the seed nor got the land. ; aeliher eastel nev qamamenial. Having cursed the Irish Catholic gentry and middle classes out of the ‘ Colleges, their Right Reverences should curse the poor children out of the National Schools and send them back to the old seminaries under the hedges. Fit President for such a Society. The best place for the new Irish University would be the centre of Connemara, where nobody lives, and, by consequence, no Protestants are to be ee a, . The Irish University is called Catholic, because Catholic means universal, = the universal university is to be founded on strictly exclusive prin- ciples.4 _“ fact, if it were Oxford and Cambridge itself, it could not be more intolerant : and if the Bishops of Thurles were so many orthodox British Peay could not act more logically, nor would they, very likely, speak oe sueeeemee The outcry about the Godless Colleges is only an imitation of the cry} A Count is generally a cul-de-sac. This is why we call Chancery raised against the London University College (when founded by the late Mr.}a Court; because when a person once gets into the Court of Brovcuam and others), which was accused of teaching atheistical surgery, | Chancery, he never can find his way out of it. heretical chemistry, latitudinarian Latin and Greek, and was gracefully deno- minated Stinkomalee. i vr The a — have as good a right Some Bee Sutetosniies, Loud Cries of “‘ Name.” as we have to make our young men swear to the Thirty-nine Articles. 4) Tue French Government seems to be sadly bothered since the Unitarian refuses to recite the Athanasian creed, or a Quaker to wear ®| denine of articles has been made a sine qud non with the writers Tue Mansfield Poachers have been subjected to so many fines, that they have instituted a Protection Society amongst themselves. | We recommend that stanch Protectionist and Poacher, who has |lately distinguished himself by fishing in troubled waters in the |river Eamont, to be their Standing Counsel and Chairman. For | further information, we refer them to Lorp Brovucuam. : : : or the French newspapers. Some journalists try to evade the Cambridge and Oxford. If a Catholic cannot take a degree at either of | esponsibility, by putting asterisks, or drawing a line between the those schools, why should he not have a University for himself? ahs me : - ‘ “ . separate paragraphs of an article; but the law advisers of the That wicked Zimes newspaper proposes that the Irish Catholics should | Siceesinnind. Gieie enmnched tn ten ths chien’. enn ent ble t have “ Halls” adjacent to the present existing Colleges, and march to lecture son Whee tie Wee po. oi: tr ee ject, are quite unable to under command of a spiritual sergeant, as soldiers march to church. But |**” 8 : what, on the other hand, would they say at Eton at the idea of a Roman Catholic boarding-house ? Would not her hundreds of little Protestants be hurried away? I should like to know if the Dean of Christchurch or the | Master of ‘Trinity would receive a squad of Roman Catholic gentlemen, or| A MAN ought to be a good actor to govern the French; and a body of Unitarians or Baptists into their tutors’ lecture-rooms ?—and 'some say that Louis Napotzon plays his part, as President of would welcome FatHerR Newman or Mr. Patey walking in at the head |that melodramatic people, pretty well. But, in his acting towards of their young men ? |the Press, he is a vast deal too liberal with his “ gag.” THE LEADING FRENCH ACTOR, jalike. These reverend gentlemen are not a whit more or less ; | honest or intolerant than the pontiffs at Thurles; and are we, | It isamaxim (we have their own word for it) that all education | |as each has the clear right of educating his people, it is clear that | } So what a nice country ours will be to live in, if the people -

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life, | the her. ssed the nan,. rk is d to n be | poesy will become full blown by the invigorating wind, which does | more for a poet. than the utmost possible amount of artificial puffing. | pound over to k | turned to account by the fishmonger-poet, who lately sang as follows :— | the Madeleine, when she felt a heavy blow on the back of her head, by going in a second in preference to a third-class on a railway. | which completely took away her senses, and sent her bonnet flying| There used to be a sort of advantage in the semi-civility of the tone in ' under the wheels of a passing citadine. The blow was so strong, that! which the collector asked for the tickets of the second-class; but since | full ten minutes. When she was sufficiently recovered to look PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 171 = the following day—when the intrepid aeronaut and his daring yird had to pass a most uncomfortable might in prison, some fifteen lieus from Paris. The criminals were locked up in separate cells, so 4 y WAS | that they might not be able to communicate together. used to_hang on harp and his live| “They have since been examined, and the origin of the accident has sole at Lombard Street, has removed to| heen fully explained. At the time that the lady received the blow on Brighton, for the purpose, probably, of | the back of her head, M. Porrevin was passing over that very portion getting his fish more direct from the sea, | of the Boulevards. He looked down, and noticed a large white sub- and his inspiration more immediately from | stance, not unlike an immense ball, falling to the earth. It fell on a Nature. _ He is in more close on act than | lady’s bonnet, but he could notice nothing further, for the balloon shot | before with the Muses, as well as the into the air immediately afterwards with such wonderful rapidity, that mackarel; for the former love the shore, | it required all his attention to attend to it. =. as the latter luxuriate in the deep, on the | This story agrees with the version of the police. They examined margin of which the fishmonger-poet has | ¢he ground, ahd picked up inmamerable little pieces of broken shell, located himself. It is to be regretted) with which the pavement was strewed. These were produced in that the productions of this great Mi be Court, and they left no doubt wpon the judge’s mind that the accident torial, as well as poetical mind, should be! jad been caused by An Osrricu’s Kec! It was a mercy that this confined to MS., and that we have no TAYLORIAN Collection, par-| modern instance of ostracism had not Pesulted i death ! ticularly now that the crowded haunt of Lombard Street has been yy Porrevin was condemned in a Hew net, cachemire, and exchanged for the breezy coast of Brighton, where the buds of arasol, of an equal value to those so pitiably destroyed, and in 10,000 rancs for damages done to the lady’s nerves. His ostrich was likewise eep the peace for two yeats. This will put a stop for the present to any more Campagnes @ Autruche. THE FISHMONGER-POET. ATELY, the fishmonger-poet, Taytor, who | The little mcident of Lory BroveHam and the fish-pond has been | deteiues Cn ete Bae Lrdehig walked be wight, PUNCH’S RAILWAY TRAVELLER. Waiting the treacherous hook to throw, At which the fish should bite. We have feceived the following from our Railway Traveller, for whom we were about to issue an advertisement offering several But sure his Lordship might have found thousand pounds—the amount we happened to have loose in our till— Some better fish to fry : for his discovery. At Taytor’s, Brighton, they abound, | “Mr. Puncu, Come—all the world—and buy ! | Sir,—You will have been surprised at not hearing from me, | but the fact is, I have been occupied ever since I last wrote in trying to discover the difference between the second and third-class carriages —the great discrepancy in the fares raising the presumption that the The salmon, leaping up with glee, Caught in its joyous bound, At TayLor’s, now, may purchased be, former are some eighty to a hundred per cent superior to the latter. For fourteen-peneo pound. * The uninitiated might imagine that the superiority belongs to the The solemn turbot, on its way, class for which the highest price is paid, but Iam bound to say that By cunning net-work caught, facts lead one to a contrary conclusion. I finid, Sir, that ini each class At Taytor’s fish-shop, Brighton, may of carriages there is a hard plank to sit upon; but in the second thé Be reasonably bought. passengers sit so completely face to face, and have so little space for their legs, that, unable to stretch ouf their contracted knees, they suffer ee what may be termed the énee plus ultra of uneasiness. We hear a great poe — yg | Le ee but the piece g ere ye mer ai ought to be first carried out, is an extension of the space allot o thé ALARMING BALLOON ACCIDENT. | legs of the second-class passengers. | _ “As far as ventilation is concerned, the third-class is much better off | than the second, for the very small compartment in which the Aabitués Ir will be recollected by our readers, that a fortnight ago M. | of the latter are boxed up, subjects them to suffocation if the windows Porrevin made a balloon ascent in Paris on a live ostrich, We should! are closed, and to the operation of having their throats eut by the not repeat this stupid incident, only it was connected with an alarming | sharpness of the wind if the windows are open, In the third-class the accident, which proves more than anything else the danger and folly of pe is at least sufficient to admit of something like an adaptation of ballooning. | the admission of air to the convenience of the travellers. Five minutes after the ascent, a Mapame Erinarp, the wife! ‘It being quite clear that in point of comfort. and convenience fhe of one of the principal bankers of Paris, was seen coming out of the| third-class is superior to the second, there remains the question why Prince de Népaule, one of the first establishments for bonnets and| any one is found to pay just double for a decidedly interior article. cachemires. She had on her head and shoulders, at that very moment, | Perhaps, Sir, it may be that the company is more select; but now that a handsome new bonnet, and a magnificent new cachemire, which she | the Railways have taken to the practice of shuffling their passengers had been purchasing for 50,000 francs, the fruits of a happy speculation | all together like a pack of cards, by stuffing third-class passengers into made by her husband on the Bourse, and presented by him to his dear | first-class carriages, the distinction may be considered to be at an end; wife as a birth-day offering. | and there is positively nothing to be gained, even in the ‘look of the She had not proceeded five steps towards the milk-white columns of thing,’ for which some persons are fools enough to pay exorbitantly, (From our own Paris Correspondent.) the lady had only cient time to run into a pastrycook’s, and sit| the railway officials have been curtailed in number, and cut down in down in a chair, before she fainted. In that helpless state she remained | salary, they have sunk into a state of sullen barbarism towards all at herself | classes, which vents itself in one gruff monosyllabic growl of ‘Tickets,’ in the glass, she was so disfigured that she could not have been recog- addressed indiscriminately to all the passengers. i | nised by her bitterest enemy. Her new shawl was completely spoiled ; | “My advice, Sir, is, that, until the directors make a decided differ- her dress was Puined beyond the friendly redemption of either cleaner | ence in the quality of the accommodation, the _— refuse to pay the or dyer; her parasol was a melancholy ruin, whilst it was found neces-| double price, but make a practice of avoiding the inferior second-class sary to sacrifice her gloves, for which at least thirty-two sous must have | and going by the superior third-class carriages. I have no fear that been given, as it was utterly impossible to bathe her hands as long as | the directors will use my hint in order to make the third worse than she had se - — ee = oe for, = the em | the second, for that is happily impossible. lady removed at last, after several hours of hysterical fits, pronounced | 6 Vines . ‘ ” etfectly genuine by all who witnessed them, to her splendid hotel in| Your Ratiway TRAVELLER. wcll comnlor fo ot: » lows Go onniestene the ceigin of thir tanitt ublic surmise is at a loss to conjecture the origin of this terrible accident. It was supposed, at first, that some malicious hand had been Court Cards. at work—but, no such thing! It was the result of the most capricious Iv is sometimes questioned whether the Ministers know sufficiently chance. The police immediately proceeded to the spot, and soon! well how to play their cards. The “improvements” in the Parks collected evidence which justified them in instantly apprehending| however, must convince any unprejudiced mind that the Woods and | Monstevur Poirevin and his ostrich. This difficult feat was accom-| Forests, at any rate, are uncommonly good hands at Cribbage. |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARIL, ruts Oid Gent. “ Conrounp THE Boys anp THEIR Tops! WHERE ARE THE Pouce ?” THE COUNTRY IN ALARM. As every newspaper teems with letters and advertisements calling the public attention to the unprotected state of houses in the country ; to the audacity of burglars ; and the means of protection against them ; such as gongs, bells, locks, patent albata plate, fire-arms, and other signals and weapons; we have ventured to print the copy of a letter which has been despatched to his amiable lady by a most respectable country gentleman now in town; and which contains an account of precautions, which, if followed at the present alarming crisis, will keep any family in the country secure from depredators and burglars :— “My Dear Bessy,—A parcel will be sent per railway, and left at the Funkington Station, for which you will please to send, not any of our own people (for I do not wish anybody to leave our premises un- necessarily), but either one of Buxt’s the farmer’s men or CLINKER’s the smith’s, with our cart and horse, as the parcel is heavy. “Do not let candles come unnecessarily near it, as the package con- tains combustible materials which might blow the cart up. You had best open the parcel in a dry cool Eee, alone; and put the packages marked fireworks into one of the bins in the granary, keeping the key and the secret, and serving out the articles when necessary. If Tom gets hold of them, his infantine spirits might lead him into mischief, and we should have him setting fire to his sister’s frock and blowing his own head off. ; “The parcel marked A. is the Patent Exploding Detector, and Bow Street Fulminator, one of which you will please to hang upon every window of the house. The pyrotechnist informs me that it makes a noise equal to a twenty-four pounder, that each fulminator goes off six times, and discharges death- which will dangerously wound the robbers if they are hit. “ B. contains the Domestic Rocket and Country Beacon. When the fires are carefully raked up of a night, you will put one of these up each chimney, and from our bed to the fire-place communicating with the beacon, you will put one of the C. slow matches, so that at an alarm by putting your hand out of bed, you may light the match, which will light the rocket, which will send up blue lights and fire-balls, to point out the way the rascals take if they attack us, and to be seen all over the country. ; “'D. are canisters of gunpowder, which also, = dear, you will of course prevent Tommy from getting at. E. are bullets. “The revolver, with two cutlasses, in the parcel F., you will hang up | in our bed. I think, my love, that you might as well take a few lessons in the first principles of the sword exercise from Serceant HotstTer. | A little dirk and pistol, for mere show, are for Tom’s room. Of course it will not be loaded, as the little rascal might make mischief. * You will put the blunderbuss with the spring bayonet in RoGers’s | bed-room, and let the maids have a couple of stout cutlasses and a | pistol between them. There is no need of fire-arms anywhere except in the bed-rooms: having them in the lower rooms is just a premium to | S, the thieves, who would be nearer to them than we. And it will be as well, during the day, that the men and the maid servants should wear a serviceable dagger, and that you have one yourself at your side. “T have written to Cuippines to take down the stair-case, and to construct a moveable ladder, easily turned with a winch, and drawn up or let down at will. When the family have retired, this will be drawn upeverynight. _ ; “Always have lights burning in the hall and the pantry window. They are barred, and the fulminators will preserve them. “As it is dangerous to have plate, I shall send all ours to the banker’s, and have bought everything in German silver. Money beyond a purse to satisfy victorious rapacity, I need not say you will never have in the house. “Tn box G., you will find three Chinese gongs and beaters, one for the | maids’ room, one for ours (it may hang in the bed between the cutlasses), |and one for Tom’s, who will like to play on it. The advertisement says that these can be heard for five miles round, and whenever you wake, I would recommend my dearest Bessy just to give a blow or two, to show any scoundrels who may happen to be in the neighbourhood that we are on the alert. “The other parcel contains locks, bolts, and chains, the arrangement of which CLINKER will look to. 1 intend to replace the Haha by a wall and spikes ; and you will tell Rocexs that I expect the ditch to be complete by next week. “T have purchased two bull-dogs at Bayswater, very savage, and either of which is big enough to pin a man; and I have engaged a stout fellow to take care of the dogs, which nobody can a proach, but him ; and to sit up armed, with beer, and make his rounds all night. He and his interesting charges will sleep during the days. Do not let dearest Tom get near the dogs. Kiss him for his fond father, and believe me ever, my dearest Bessy, ASectionste Hashend * Old Hummums, Tuesday. “H. Murr.” THE BROUGHAM ARMS. Amone the various uses of heraldic honours is one that rather concerns the public than the possessor. The ’scutcheon of many a nobleman is the sign of a tavern. We hope, therefore, that a noble and learned Teed will not be affronted if we propose “The BroucHam Arms” as the \ style, title, and visible indication of a \ place of entertainment for man and horse. \ As the artist who shall have to execute the required painting may want some directions for his purpose, we subjoin them. The reader will perhaps be inclined | to believe that the estimation in which | heralds were formerly held, was owing to their possession of a prophetic faculty. Thus, according to Lyson’s “ Magna Britannia,” runs the description of the arms and crest of the BroucHam family:— “ Anms—Gules, a chevron argent, between three fishes (luces) hauriant, proper. “Crest—A sinister arm embowed, in armour, issuing out of a wreath, holding a fish.” Tuomas Mouue’s “ Heraldry of Fish” contains a cut of the Brovucuam Arms representing them, together with the crest, enclosed in the mystical |vesica piscis; thus it is evident that the BroveHam shield is icthy- ologous within and without—fish all over. It is needless to dilate on the relation between these armorial bearings and a recent transaction in the river Eamont. We cannot, however, refrain from noticing the particularly curious coincidence that the arm represented as grasping the fish is the sinister one. Could any | thing be more appropriate to the irregular sportsman—the Watton of | the wire ? | We must also call attention to the singular circumstance that the fishes of the Arms of Brovenam are /uces. A luce is a full-grown pike ; a pike is the well-known emblem of a pettifogging lawyer, a creature among whose tribe, we are bound to say, our great law reformer has been at least as destructive as he has to trout. Yes ; there must needs be established an hostelry to be called “The BroucHaM Arms.” It must be situated not far from a pleasant meadow intersected with babbling rills, well stocked, and having plenty of weeds in them: and it shall for ever be noted as “The House of Call for Poachers.”’ CONUNDRUM FOR FARMERS, Wnuicn of the taxes is a perfect robbery? __ The hop-duty ; because it is a downright picking of pockets. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No.7, Chureh Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd'esex, Printers, at thetr Office, ia Lombard Street, in the Precinot of Whitefriars, in the City of Loudon, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride’s, ia the City of London.—Satuapar, Octosas 1th, 1380.

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their 0. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. BROUGHAM H > aes! ZB The Sea Serpent Crossing the Atlantic, as Lorp Brovenam, as everybody knows from his lordship’s own an- nouncement of the fact, is about to proceed next April to America. The illustrious peer is no doubt actuated in some degree by a feeling of consideration towards the Great Exhibition of 1851, and withdraws a > competition, saying to himself, “There will not be room for th of us.” Perhaps he contemplates appearing in a new character, and goes to America with the intention of reconciling all the political self-variations which he has exhibited through life, and becoming a really United Statesman at last. It is quite impossible that such a phenomenon can cross the Atlantic without causing an unusual commotion, and exciting quite as much attention as the sea-serpent, whom, by the way, his lordship goes very opportunely to succeed. We may expect to receive accounts of the appearance of a most extraordinary animal at sea, in the course of next year; and though we should be sorry, by anticipating the penny-a-liner to take the bread out = = A \ bf \ — \ | } | 4 4 IMSELF AGAIN. seen from the Yacht “ Toby.”—Capt. Punch. of his mouth, or the paragraph out of his inkstand, we may expect something like the following to be going the round of the papers in the course of next summer. “THE SEA-SERPENT ONCE AGAIN. “One of the oddest fish that ever was encountered, has lately made its appearance in the Atlantic; and though in some respects resembiing an inhabitant of the land, the odd fish in question, shows such a won- drous power of self-adaptation to all circumstances, that it would be impossible for it to seem anywhere out of its element. An inspection of its coat proved it to combine all the various colours of the dolphin, and though it showed a decided affinity to the Great Seal, still on closer examination, the observer could not help exclaimi ‘Very like a whale,’ when the idea of the Great Seal suggested itself.” Such is the kind of article that may be looked for under the head of Naval Intelligence when Lorp Brovenam is fairly off for America. MR. PUNCH TO PIO NONO. May IT PLEASE youR Ho.rygss, I am sure I have always behaved as a friend in my humble way to your Hoxivess, and also to your Ho.tness’s flock in this country, although your Hotress has never sent me any sugar-plums. am still willing to do both yourself and them any reasonable service in my power, and that is why I take the present liberty of addressing your HotrvEss. Will your Hotress please to tell me what I am to say next session to Sm Rosnne Ineuis, and Mr. Piumprre, and Mr. Spooner, now that you have created an ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER, particularly . ou sanction the decree of the Thurles Synod against the QUEEN’s olleges f Of course, Spooner, and Piumprre, and [nets will e that if ou erect Archbishoprics in the QueEEN’s dominions there is no nowing to what extent you may choose to carry your interference in Her Maze STY’s affairs; and that perhaps we shall have you absolving her subjects from their oath of allegiance next. And I really don’t see how I am to answer them, unless your Hottvgss will inform me. You see, the behaviour of your Piedmont prelates in setting themselves above the laws, gives a very unfortunate plausibility to the arguments of those gentlemen. Enactments, I believe, still exist in the statute-book rendering some of your clergy ex officio liable to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Abortive attempts have been made, from time to time, for their repeal ; but, through the pious care of [nexis and others, those curiosities of legislation have been preserved. When Cuisnoim Anstey asks for their abolition, next year, he will be told, that it is necessary that such laws should be retained i ¢errorem. I used to pooh pooh this ratioci- nation ; but now, unless your Hotness will instruct me to refute it, I shall be as completel posed as CuisHorm will. Both our mouths will be stopped with the Archbishopric of Westminster. and Piumprre? By what logic shall I attempt to persuade the House of Commons that it is reasonable and right to vote the nation’s mone for the purpose of training up priests to defeat the ends of goo government ? And with what possible face can I continue to advocate the admission of Roman Catholics to take degrees at Oxford or Cambridge ? Here—though, of course, your Hontvess understands your own business best—I venture to ask whether it will be quite politic of you to condemn the QuEEN’s Colleges, which are merely neutral insti- tutions, whereas, you have all along allowed Roman Catholic youth to go to the positively Protestant University of Dublin? I always thought that Roman Catholicity never contradicted itself. Will your Hotmess give a handle to the heretics ? Whether Fathers ever differed from Fathers, and Councils from Councils, is a moot point of history. But there can be no mistake about contemporary inconsistency ; and, if this can be detected in your Ho.rNEss’s system, it will be all up with it, your HoLingss, as sure as my name is Punch and yours is Mastal FERRETTI. Your Hoxtness, I imagine I know what sort of influence your Thurles Bishops desire to exert on education. They want to make things pleasant to orthodox taste—to cook the accounts of science and philosophy, an’t please your Hoxiness. The sun comes out of this culinary—or CULLENARY—process about two yards in diameter, I think. If this is so, and Truth is the food of the mind, what reply shall I make to those who, applying to stewed principles and hashed facts, a well-known pee remark, that Heaven sends good meat, but a personage from the antipodes to Heaven—saving your HoLinEss’s reverence—sends cooks? Pray, your Hotness, advise your HoLinEss’s sincere well-wisher, PUNCH. MISTAKEN IDENTITY. UEEN’S Colleges, Then, if you confirm the condemnation of the ESSRS. SPOONER | how am I to defend the Maynooth Grant against _ A-most extraordinary instance of mistaken identity recently occurred in Scotland. A Cambridge student, travelling Eeonsh ilen Tilt, accosted the Duke of That Ilk as a gentleman. , VOL, XIX, 2

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A RETIRED NEIGHBOURHOOD. Mrs. Brown writing to Miss Situ. “Tae drawing-room from which I write to you has the most charming views over the most delicious country, seen through the most delightful French windows, which open on the most lovely lawn, where Torry and Lorry play all day. Cran es has gone out shooting, or he would send you his love. As I write to you, I—” Enter Tramp. “IT beg your pardon, my good Marm. Could you be so obleegin’ as to tell me what o’clock it is by your watch ?” “GOOD” ROYAL DOMESTICS. We learn that Her Masesry, in consideration of the wants of the domesties of the late QuEEN DowacGeEr has, “out of her own purse caused yearly bounties, varying from £30 to £50, to beawarded to those persons whose claims are most prominent.” We are sorry for it; and are prone to attribute the advice given to Her Masesty to some spite in the ewe of the ministerial councillor against Mr. Bensamin Bonp CaBBeLt. We are not sure if that ill-used gentleman has not a clear case of damages, a case to be argued before the advertising philanthropists of England against Lorp Joun Russevt, who would not move an appeal to Parliament on his own responsibility, and who, by his ill-timed counsel, has deprived Mr. B. B. C., M.P., of a very touching opportunity of coming forward in advocacy of the claims of the virtuous and the pampered. Had Her Masesty’s purse- strings remained undrawn, our eyes night have been rejoiced with an advertise- ment for another Testimonial. Such document was already agreed upon— drawn up—and would have appeared in the morning papers. However, as we have been favoured with a copy, it shall not be lost, and here it is :— THE “GOOD” DOMESTICS OF QUEEN ADELAIDE. At a meeting held yesterday at the Goose and Gridiron, Brensamin Bonp Caspett, Esg., M.P., in the Chair; it was resolved by a body of erage too numerous to be nominally particularised, to appeal to the reasts and Pockets of Englishmen, in behalf of the “Good” Domestics of Her Majesty the late QurEx Dowacer. When it*was considered that all these “Good” Servants had devoted their lives to the promotion of the | best interests of themselves—when it was universally allowed that these admirable domestics had shown a rare example of sagacity, by dwelling in a palace when they might have pigged in an alley—that many of them, with the most extraordinary hercism towards the flashy and beautiful, had worn scarlet and gold, when they might otherwise have gone in fustian or velveteen —when many of them, for the gratification of the public, had ridden on birth-days and drawing-rooms, behind a carriage, when they might have drawn a truck; when all these, and more than these claims of singular disinterestedness and self-denial are con- jsidered, then may these servants be emphatically denominated the “Good” Domestics of the late QuEEN DowaGEr. a that the | Further, the Committee are touched with the liveliest h |feeling themselves enabled to assure a British Public, I valuable and affecting epithet “‘ Goon,” is not the exclusive pro- } | tics, but all of them,—it would seem by virtue of large wages, high living, snug lodging, and handsome clothing,—all of them, | virtue of such advantages,—being equally virtuous; that, in fact, | one Domestic is quite as “Goop” as another. However, a few —not invidiously, but only as a sample of the ethers—are below described. No. 1. Taz “GOOD” Coacnuman.—A man who has devoted all his life to the promotion of humanity; a man who, in the most ticklish turnings, always “cried gee, and spared the lash: ” —a man who, though filling a high position, handled the reins of power with the lightest grasp;—a man who has condescended— Srom his very box, and that on a state-day—to grin at a chimney- sweeper, and chuckle at Punch-and-Judy;—a man who, in the Royal Kitchen, never touched neck mutton, when venison smoked upon the board ;—a man who, without hesitation, would refrain from beer, resolutely reserving himself for port,—in fact, the “GOOD” Coacuman ! No. 2. Toe “GOOD” Foorman.—A most valuable member of the Human Family, standing six-feet-two; and yet with no more pride in him than Tom Tums, with his two-feet-six. A man who had devoted all his life to the attainment and after nourishment of his own calves. His linen was spotless ; and the maiden’s cheek might have envied the blush on his silk stockings, upon levees and drawing-rooms. A Footman who, though pre- senting the rare example of being born to stand behind a royal coach, nevertheless knew “what was taxes ;”? for—and that for his own widowed mother—he once paid the water-rate! Many words might be built—like cheeses, one upon another—to paint him; but one word, in its full-bodied fullness, is sufficient : he is the “GOOD” Foorman ! No. 3. Toe “GOOD” Hatt-Door Porrer—From his earliest days, from the time he first stood upon a stool to open the wicket of the royal back door of a royal garden, No. 3, the Porter, has devoted all his life to bolting and unbolting. And yet, though born to be a porter, there is, throughout his whole existence, abundant proof that he never slammed the door even in the face of his poorest fellow-creature, no fragment of a nose —not even of the humblest classes—ever having been found between the royal door and the royal door-post. He was kind to all, saying nothing but yes and no; and if he growled a little, never attempting to snap. Whilst, in his unceasing love of art and letters, he never, though often known to be aroused from | his slumbers, by the importunities of artists and authors, he never —though (as it could be proved) frequently advised so to do—he never kept a dog suspected of madness to turn loose upon and bite them! The Committee feel that if, in search of a word to declare the merits of No. 3, they were to open the Dictionary of the immortal Doctor Jonnsoy, as often as No. 3 unclosed the portals of the royal mansion, they could find for him no epithet so abundantly expressive of his virtues as THe “GOOD” | Hatt-PortEr! | | No. 4. Tae “GOOD” Ticer.—Born as he was in the highest room of a royal house, and weaned upon ass’s-milk, the property of royalty, No. 4 presents the singular spectacle of a Tiger devoting his whole life to the human species. A Tiger, nevertheless, of the most condescending and affable deportment, having been known |to go heads-and-tails for bull’s-eyes with ever so many charity- | boys of ever so many schools—in which the metropolis abounds— land who, though a regal Tiger, has been seen more than once, yes, more than a good many times, eating kidney-puddings with the most unpretending of his species. Let other Tigers desiderate the epithet Royal; the Committee call, and that emphatically, No. 4, Tue “GOOD” TicEr! No. 5. Tue “GOOD” Datry-Matp.—The Committee desire to recommend the virtues of No. 5; who, though born to a Royal Dairy, never watered the milk, never chalked it, and never was known, to the poorest of her species, to give a short ha’porth. It may be.said of No. 5, in the words of one who knew the {human heart, that butter would not melt in her mouth; unless, |perty of any two, or three, or half-dozen of the aforesaid Domes- | by |

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hen han on- ted ass, | the | r0- 1es- | igh by | few low ted the 3 of Ta 1ey- the son ld act, \ber fter the igs, pre- for any aint e is his pen the hole ven n0se und ttle, art rom ever —he and vord nary »sed - no ‘iD 2 sire rth. the less, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 175 indeed, melted by blushing at her own merits. The Committee may further say of ¢heir Dairy-Maid what Str T. Oversury says of his Maid—she dare go alone, and Sore a desirable wife for any single grazier| and fears no manner of ill, because she means none. In a word—the best word—the Committee the pockets of a —cnies and liberal public. unfolds sheep ? the night [and there- confidently proclaim No. 5 to be—Tue “ GOOD” Dartry Main! ‘The Committee might proceed with numerals up to 30; but conclude with 5, thinking they have said enough to stir the hearts, and unbutton In the event (which by the way is not to be imagined) of there not being a sufficiency of funds subscribed to erect thirty statues in Tra- falgar Square to the honour of the 30 “Good” Domestics, ther— ‘The Committee would recommend the establishment of a triple in- stitution for the benefit of the aforesaid Domesties—an institution of a character as unive as philanthropy itself. With this view the Committee confidently suggest as an asylum for the 30 an Hotel—a Cook-Shop—and an Alamode Beef-House. A. Brrrroot, Hon. See. THE MILL OF ATHOLL’S GLEN. AFTER OSSIAN. (Vide Times of the 14th aud 17th instant.) Why is the a, peuper of ATHOLL closed ? nerefore is the eye of yo oon eam with a ring of purple It is the print of the South- ron knuckle,—the fist-mark of wherefore didst thou darken bungedst thou up the peeper of ATHOLL? The Autumn winds were singing the coronach of the summer in Glen Tilt. A moan- swept through the hollow glen. There, with the red and brown leaves falling around him, stood the Cuier or Cran ATHOLL, with a party of ladies and gen- tlemen. Shrouded in the mist of the distance cometh Sanpy Mac- LARRAN. With him beheld two stranger forms approaching. Onward they come, with the are the cudgels which they grasp in their nervous fists. Ho, there, ye that range un- bidden the Glen of Tilt! Halt, ye wanderers from the land of Cockney! Stand, ye jumpers of the counter! We are no jumpers of the counter ; no wanderers are we from the land of Cockney. We come from the meadows that are | watered by the Cam,—from the abodes where Learning dwelleth in | her Colleges and Halls. Thither journey we on this beaten track. And who the deuce art thou that hinderest us ? Ken ye not the Curer or Cuan Atnott,—the tourist-baffling Duke, of the impassable glen ? For the Chief of Arnoti’s Clan we care not a dump ; the Duke of the impassable glen we value not at a farthing. We have passed the Asses Bridge, wherefore should we not cross thy glen? CuHter or Cian ATHOLL, get out of the way! Duke of the impassable glen, stand out of the sunshine! Fire flashed from the eye of ATHOLL; wrath blazed from the counte- | nance of Strance. By the collar he seized the foremost youth. Back! Return by the way thou camest. Back! or, by the beard of my ten thousand ancestors, ye shall rue the day! Back, I say, on your lives, ye sons of Granta! Unhand me, Cuter or Cran ATHOLL, or whoever thou art! Unhand the Cambridge Undergraduate, | heavy-handed bruiser. Cambridge Undergraduate, | less than 25,000 soldiers upon the field, but nevertheless our Em- bruiser of the heavy hand, | i the eye of Strance? Why| ing, as of no end of ghosts, | the sourness of the wine, but such libels only increase our admiration \for the object of them, and makes France love its future Emperor sturdy — of youth; stout | 3 Furious was the Chief, and wild, and aroused was the Under-Graduate’s monkey. Blow was exchanged for blow; lunge for lunge; slash for | slash; heavy was the countering, and the knocks resounded. Loud shouted the gentlemen: shrill were the screams of the ladies. The Chief was overcome with fury, and hit all abroad. Wary was the Cantabrigian youth, well trained on the pleasant banks of the Cam to encounter in stand-up mill the brawny bargee. Sharp fell the stinger on the proboscis of StRanGE; fast flowed the elaret from the conk of ATHOLL. One, two, were planted on the optics of the Chief— darkness swam before him: then fell a stunmer on his ducal frontis- piece, and he was doubled up by a finisher im the breadbasket. He staggered—he fell into the arms of his faithful henchman—even the arms of Sanpy MacLaRRAN. To the rescue! Donaxp of the tufted chin. Ropenick of the red moustaches, to the help of your Chief! Hamisu of the Pipes— Doveat the breekless—claymore for Clan ATHOLL! a hands of the four bold grooms are at once on the collar of the Sassenach. As many more grasped the coat-tails of his compamion— the Heelandmen were braw. From before the bruised face of their chieftain they drag away the sons of Mourn ; for is enewcles the of Strance: lament; for the visual organ of AtHoLt is darkened. ise the sound of wail upon a thousand baapipse! Closed is the eye of him who would elose Glen Tilt to the traveller. Contusion sits ompthe brow of the Chieftain : the countenance of the Duke beareth marks of punishment! THE CAMPAIGNS OF LOUIS-NAPOLEON. (Written by some Coming Tarers) “Tre future Emperor displayed all his usual courage in the me- morable review that took place on the celebrated plain of Cramboli, in the pretty little village of Fiddeldeedee. There could not have been peror advanced boldly in the midst of them, and, seizing the glass of a Chasseur that was already primed, he put it deliberately to his lips, and drank it right off in the presence of his brave troops. This daring act of courage cannot be sufficiently appreciated, unless we state that the wine in question was a glass of Macon, commonly known as the vin de trois sous. The Emperor-that-is-to-be had no sooner drained the glass than he turned away his head, and tears were observed to come into his eyes. This uncontrollable act of emotion has been attributed to the more. | “Towards two o’clock, when the heat from the enemy’s (kitchen) | fire was the hottest, and the batterie de cuisine, that was stationed on | the brow of the opposite hill, was keeping up an incessant discharge of | | saucissons and roasted chesnuts, the proud youth who has the honour | of being the nephew of the “ Son of Destiny,” rode forward on his Arabian charger, and, dismounting, with the greatest coolness, picked lup from the ground a marron de Lyon before it had time to explode, jand, biting it with his teeth as if were a cartouche, eat it, amidst the ° | cheers of his enraptured army. “Our Emperor-President surpassed himself that day in acts of | gallantry. The English Ambassador was endeavouring in vain to open a bottle of Stout, of the far-famed Monsteur Gutnngss, for the restoration of a party of ladies, who had followed the fortunes of the 'French army all the way from the Rue Lepelletier, when he was rudely | pushed aside, and the neck of the recreant bottle was severed at one | coup de sabre, that caused the precious liquid to pour forth in a flowing ‘stream of the creamiest abundance. Need we state that the blow was levelled by the unerring hand of Louis-NaroLeon, who immediately rushed from the spot to avoid the compliments that were awaiting him on all sides. “Whilst the slaughter amongst the chickens and cold ham was at its fiercest height, the noble form of a National Guard was seen gallopping across the plain, surrounded by a dense body of dust. As the form ap- proached, it was discovered to be the uniform of a captain of that distin- guished regiment, and loud eries of “ Vive ? Empereur” rent the air, when the captain was discovered to be no other than Louts-Naroteon. Being in want of alight for his cigar, he had preferred riding a distance of two miles right into the midst of the enemy’s fire, sooner than take it from the hands of one of his own suite. Such acts of fearless heroism carry their own eulogy with them. “The campaign commenced as early as one o’clock in the afternoon, and did not terminate until three. For two hours our Emperor-Elect never stirred from his saddle but once, and yet he did not Took in the | least fatigued. | Two thousand bottles of champagne were left upon the field, and it | is calculated that at least six hundred chickens must have perished on me, I say, or I will punch thine head. Thou wilt not? No? Here|that fatal day. The ae oc that-is-to-be, some day, on riding across goeth, then; take that for thyself ! Together they rushed; the son of Granta and Cuter or Cian ATHOLL. | affecting spectacle of t served to drop a tear as he looked upon the | the plain, was pe er 7 o } neir mangled remains.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

2 a Z Vie ‘< mae il FET “a Dealer. “Tuerr. He atn’t A ’ORSE MADE UP FOR Sale. HELL YOU KEEP HIM—HE WILL.” A THOUSAND JOKES IN A THOUSAND HOURS. Tuts arduous task, undertaken by a veteran punster attached to the Pun-ch establishment, was completed at 7 o’clock on Saturday night last. At an early hour Fleet Street was crowded by persons of all grades, who were anxious to see and hear the veteran punster make his thousandth pun. The concourse was so great, that there was some difficulty in clearing a sufficient — outside the Punch Office, to enable the veteran to proceed with the completion of his thousandth pun, which it was understood beforehand would be one of a practical + character. Some anxiety was manifested as to whether the veteran would be able to finish his arduous task, and bets were made, a quarter before seven, that he would not get through the entire pun within twenty minutes. At a little before the hour, an apple-stall was placed at the corner of Bride Court, and it soon began to be rumoured that the thousandth pun would be in some way connected with the stal!; an impression which gained strength when it was observed that the stall was un attended by any one in the character of proprietor. A few minutes before the clock was expected to strike, the punster emerged from the office door, amid the cheers of the bystanders, who were worked up to the highest pitch of excitement at the near approach of the moment for the completion or failure of the gigantic task that had been undertaken. Presently the police force, under the command of InspEcToR Wace tes, cleared a way to the stall, when the veteran punster, throw- ing himself across the top of it, amid several lots of apples, exclaimed, “Here I am, in-stall-ed at last ‘as the Prince of Punsters!” The cheering was deafening, and, it still wanting a few seconds to seven, the veteran ran through a course of puns upon apples—including every appellation of which they are susceptible—with apparent ease, amid the tremendous enthusiasm of the multitude. The last pun was completed in ten seconds,—a fact, we believe, that has been unprecedented; and the veteran must, accordingly, be a as the swiftest punster of this or any former period. In order to show that his punning strength was not exhausted, he conti- nued to make a pun every hour up to Monday night; and in the course of the day made four puns backwards, each of which he completed in less than fifteen minutes. He afterwards proceeded to be weighed, when he was found to have lost, during the days employed in the feat, seven pounds, supposed to be missing from the roof, or upper story.

ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT. The Church on the Continent. THe Queen has appointed Dr. Smit to be Archbishop Of Rome and

{ | Primate of Italy. This appointment, which has resulted from R Ma- | sEstTy’s benevolence, will be hailed with great delight in the Roman States ; and the Government will pre- are a magnificent welcome for the Most Reverend Prelate. _ Mas. Smit and her numerous and interesting family will accompany his Grace, for whom the Palace of the Vatican, or, as some say, the Castle of Saint Angelo, is to be got ready. The REvEREND THomas Brown has been appointed Dean of Saint Peter’s, \Rome. The Dean’s residence will be in the Palace of the Inquisition. The Reverenp Joun Jones will be the new Archdeacon of Babylon. Doctor Hit1s, and DoctorScaRLetTT, are mentioned as likely to have prefer- ment, | I | Wilh Ml al | i “3m

The Last Protectionist Dodge. WE understand that there has been some difficulty at the Custom House about the reception of some cattle from the Continent, in consequence of the possibility of some of them having arrived from Italy, and their admission would be a contravention of the act | of QuEEN ELizaBeTH against bringi in Bulls from Rome. It is intimate | that a shrewd protectionist has sug- |gested this difficulty to the Custom Go on Improvrin’ EVERY pay| House authorities, as a sort of last

| kick against free trade principles. | but whether his hearers could have endured him is another question, The only difference in him was a little excitability, and irritability of | temper at the last, showing that his head was beginning to be affected, and that his senses were “on the go; ” but as his nonsense has always | been considered the “ go,” this did not much signify.

THE GRAND PACIFIC JUNCTION CANAL. | From the melancholy alterations taking place, under the name of improvements, in the Parks, it is a relief to turn to the operations now just ready to begin, for connecting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans by ithe formation of the Nicaraguan route to California, under the joint | auspices of America and Great Britain. To most of us, timid harmless | Englishmen, who had rather not go to war any more if we can help it, | because it is expensive as well as murderous, the following announce- ment in the Zimes City-article in reference to this undertaking, will give additional satisfaction :— “The two Governments of Great Britain and the United States have bound them- selves to the enterprise by a treaty of protection. All the other powers will accord to it the same advantage. The territory around it will consist of the first neutral ground whence, by the pledged faith of all civilised natious, strife must be for ever banished.” This will be trying the Utopian experiment—as your hard-headed, strong-minded men of the world call it—of a treaty of universal peace on the small scale. To be sure this may not answer just yet, and the advocates of peace must be content in the mean time to be ridiculed by | the strong-minded, who must have some good cause or useful invention, struggling upwards, to laugh at for the time being—vaccination, copper- caps, gas, steam—no matter what. However, international arbitration, like other wonders, may astonish their strong minds one of these days ; for all their present exultation at beholding the Danes and Schleswig Holsteiners cutting each other’s throats for nonsense, Strong minds will be strong minds; they will chuckle at the early discouragement of a good cause ; just as they will make sport of the disasters of an inven- tion in its infancy. This remark is not, though it may seem, a digression from our point; which is the fact—however our statement of it may be hooted and groaned at—that the conjunction of the Atlantic with the Pacific must necessarily have a peaceful tendency.

A SEASONABLE SENTIMENT.

| His health and spirits have been good ; and he is said to have expressed | his conviction that he could have endured his task for a week ke onger ; Tr is sweet to hear the first notes of suburban cuckoo; but sweeter and considerably sweeter the first tinkling of the muffin-bell !

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ee ¥ i cA omy ad " -g #, | Y We i yi f i | ‘a | | | VV / r? i" W Pr. . ( | .| ‘a cal : eh ; ‘li 4 | ‘ | ill A a ENGLAND IN 1850!—BURGLARS CAROUSING. Pottceman Y to booze is gone, Both man and wife are fast asleep, No scream of “ Murder!” a we now, No watch patrols the lea, And one o’clock ’s the hour ; When we break in a doo The house that yonder stands alone We ope the pane, and in we creep: Nor watch-dog, trained with loud bow-wow Invites to burg’ Their lives are in our power. | The footpad prowls on heath and fen, The county grudges, as you ken, There’s no Police to mark our den, No crusher stops his way : Constabulary pay: And baulk us of our prey : Uprouse ye, then, my me pow men, Uprouse ye, then, my merr ad men, Veseoe. ye, Nene my merry merry men, or now ’s your time of Ter vd ’s your time of _ under as ye may. .—Uprouse ye, Ke. Chorus.—Uprouse ye, "ke. .—Uprouse ye, &. To guard a rich man’s store.

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po onan

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 179 THE EMPEROR IN A BOTTLE. FROM AN EX-LUNATIC to tue DUKE OF ATHOLL. Great events have been shadowed forth in a strange manner. Hens Mr Se... of tender interest I address you. Pardon me, have laid eggs, with a change of dynasty written in legible characters, upon the shells; and little boys have been exhibited with 2 phetic words—apparent in the iris of the eye. Some years ago, achild| myself seated beside you on your native heather—the unprofane appeared at the "Egyptian Hall, with NAPOLEON in both eyes; a| heather of Glen Tilt, sacred to Dukes and deer. At this moment, your wonder that, now interpreted, prophesied the advent of the French | Grace, I am taking the most affectionate survey of your countenance— President. A newer and later wonder has come to light; for a bottle| .. watching your eyes—and have the most sensitive two fingers upon of champagne opened at the review at Versailles, was found to contain _ “s ned. 4 7 irace’s ; ill y to look a complete effigy, in little, of Lovis-Narotzoy, drest as the Emperor. | he ena tee _ Grace condescend to allow me to loo Of course, we could not expect anything to make a large figure in so" And now, my Lord Duke, whilst there is yet time, let me address to small a thing as a bottle—even in a bottle tended to contain imperial | ,.)> understanding a brief narration of my own é sience, It is At I ——, e figure was, we repeat, extremely small, but who can| 4, so, Knowing what has befallen me—a person, 1 confess, very con- mistake the design ! temptible in the eyes of gods and men in comparison with your gracious self—you _" in your own majestic mind consider whether or not the same sort of brain-work, fed by the same blood, touched by the same nerves, is alike common to Dukes and to men who are not Dukes. There may, there is—I allow it—the like difference between the noble —the hereditary brain—and the brain vulgar, as between the web of the finest cambric and the coarsest towelling; nevertheless, both have the like cross-work constituting web, however different the texture. This, up to the present hour, even your Grace may be my ey to allow; let me then, whilst there may yet be time, warn your Grace by a short narration of my own story. For these last fifteen months—(I became unmanageable last dog- days twelvemonth, when the moon shone on nights as mellow, almost as ruddy as any one of your Grace’s red gold ps ota have been an inmate of Doctor Srrarr’s Asylum, Clapton, At first, 1 was con- sidered all but incurable; but phlebotomy, blistering, with cool, thin, depleting diet, has brought me back my brain, I am confident, better than new. I only remain under the roof of Doctor Strait until my hair is quite grown, not wishing to appear among my friends with an; visible mark of my past lunacy, and having, I hope, a wholesome an manly objection to the hypocrisy of a wig. And now, your Grace, listen to the warning contained in my story. _ Tama man of large landed property. The whole of Glen Battersea is a part of my present estate; to say nothing of every inch of the Isle of Homo parted with—I may almost say, given away to the crown— for a consideration. Well, my Lord, being a man of landed property, I considered it mine—mine to the very antipodes—all mine, under my feet ; and, as I grew to believe, all mine over my head. The moon that shone on Glen Battersea was my own moon; to be produced or put by like a cheese in a oy as | willed, to treat myself and friends : the stars burning blue above Glen Battersea were my own lucifer matches, burning to light my own cigars. I had, as I believed, a very extensive freehold in heaven—although I had scarcely time to think of the tenantry. All this grew in me every day: and after a while I became, NO MORE BABIES AT THE THEATRE. as I thought, so large—so vast—that 1 was too immense for the globe. “Dear Sm, I had at times a weeping a of the bsewiny oa bs nertotall agen ded, |Bephew, sole heir to my property—became alarmed at my growin L pe ‘ my exertions have not been totally unrewarded. | sense of magnitude. However, they took no steps to confine me until t I have lived to witness the oo day when they were first excluded fn sana Foner ahs ened ctl rcs [glee lowing in| rey day wuld a rund They could come in in any numbers they pleased, occupy the best pm, unlike the key in the left hand of the naked man, your Grace’s crest— make as much noise as they liked, and never pay anything for the| ..4 : : F f rer: >. ; = , pausing at every hundred yards, with this key Iwould take a —. ~— = ome wet ey _y ; Bantes MUST 55 Nie resolute turn in the empty air, believing that I had thus double-locked iin th ee ee adding? tothe Bank without havine one®| Clea Battersea (like a butler’s pantry) against all men, women, and om, © pee F => = without having Ones! children; and resolving to treat all intruders, after such rigorous shirt-collar and whisker nearly pulled out together by the roots, or the 2 sey ‘ . . double-locking, as trespassers and burglars. Ha! your Grace smiles a symmetry, A pry toll ta entirely disturbed by having the back part pitying smile at my j= Lam glad to see it. Let all your friends ore aby 4 I would recommend the application of the same law to| "© thankful for the growing consciousness of that smile. : : The fact is, your Grace, I had in Glen Battersea, as I believed, a So yey Ys z ngaed wd ——~«. nl bag ge ge ~ magnificent variety of rabbits ; single, double, and butterfly-smuts, od : ‘ the flop-eared and every other sort, dear to the fancier ; whereupon, I ab 7 But if L bab the my op i ed d = as anybody else pol am that my rabbits should be held sacred from human pare ae oa ~and, for my part, I would have them charged double—you would not Tjnon this point, I was inflexible ; and when the barge of the Spectacle- have so many mothers indulging in this unmotherly practice. They akers’ Company, during a heavy stress of wanton put in at Bat- would leave their babies at home, which is certainly, in my opinion, the | tersea Reach, | ordered the Warden and all the Compa y to be taken Nest Wingo Ser them at all times, but more particularly at that time of into custody by my gardener, cook, and henssnell. car could I be a be. — Sir, that over eau gallery a door in pacified until assured by those faithful domestics that they had marched > 6 written UP, as im every omnibus, We xearlul warning, |the trespassers beyond the Glen, across the boundary, to await the I cannot do otherwise. I feel myself —- called in to your case, land giving — up to the influence, cannot do otherwise than fanc

| BABIES MUST BE ParD For,’ and you may depend upon it, from that railway at Wandsworth. They tell me, that I had a shght scuffle with as * of the Batak kee con a playhouse as a Quaker, or the|the Master Spectacle-Maker; but of this, of course, 1 remember “From the tenor of my observations, Sir, you will at once be able to see that I am nothing. a : Well, your Grace, not to be tedious—although your sense of atten- Nor tae Farner or a Famity.” | tion gives me increased hopes—next morning I was coaxed into a glass-

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180 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. coach and soon found myself here, with Doctor Strait, at Clapton. | efficacy of this treatment. Should any friend of yours in your parts be After a time, I ceased to be violent; when—so wise, so humane, so afflicted with anything like my late delusion, do try upon him the hill- beneficent is the system perfected by the noble Doctor Conotty—I | side, the porridge, and the brewage of thistles. I say emphatically, was permitted, for amusement, to have the use of scissors and any | “any friend of yours,” for zow I have great pleasure in acknowledging amount of foolscap paper. Thus set up, I did nothing for months, but |in your Grace’s looks, speech, and demeanour, the sanest and most cut out pee plans of Glen Battersea; with thousands of every variety of rabbit; together with a beautiful moon, a nicely vandyked sun, and stars to match—all, all in paper. And then, I cut myself out a coronet of the same material, (and once docked my trowsers to the knee, and opened the inner seams to flap as a sort of kilt)—and then, with an imaginary key in my hand, coll walk round and round my chamber, continually locking up the empty air, and believing that so locking, I locked up Glen Battersea and all my rabbits, _ My return to reason was gradual; but—they tell me—it is complete. A part of the discipline was curious, but very effectual. When my lunacy was at the worst, I was taken to the side of a hill, and— wearing the pro r waistcoat—was laid upon the s and left out all night: my head shaved anew, and nobody with me but a solitary keeper, charged at certain periods, to wet my lips with the thinnest oatmeal porridge, and now and then permitting me to take a hearty draught of decoction of thistles. Your Grace can hardly believe in the mn N QN SS a ‘ x SSR MM A Mh Yh, ULUb Mp Mh ld yy, \S ( Mn ; | ( sali See AN 8) — : wut bien WHA A Ot yA TU kA Qiu Wu wi : A " 1 “e A SCOTCH DOG IN THE MANGER. | tolerant Duke of all the realm of dukedom. However, as the mad young woman says in Hamlet—“ We know what we are, but we now not what we may be.” ‘Therefore, in case of any relapse, remem- | ber—the hill-side and the thistles. I have the honour to remain, Your Grace’s lucid Servant, An Ex-Luwatic. P.S. Ido not give my name, because as I am about to stand for my | Parliament, the electors might have a prejudice against a late | madman. | P.S. No. 2. What is the meaning of your motto, Furth, and fill the fetters? Had it, think you, any prophetic reference to the mental conditions of any future AtHoLtL? The key of the crest is, of course, not to be mistaken—that is the key to lock up against all ee the air “encasing” Glen Tilt. x-L, Ltt Mbdl yi lil : SS CAUTION. As there is a person very generally going about, assuming the name of one George Hupson, who pretends to be a_ perfectly spotless character, and a poor injured being, who, has received nothin: but abuse and ill-will from all the companies he has benefitted, and ingratitude from the innumerable railway shareholders whom he has enriched with moneys taken out of his own pocket: THIs Is TO GIVE Noricg, that I am not that Mr. Groxce Hupsoy, and that there is nothing in common between him and me; and I do hereby trust, hope, and request, not merely as a favour, but as an act of common justice, which those who know me will readily grant, that my friends, the nobility, and the public in general, will take care not to confound me with such an arrant impostor as the aforesaid George Hupson, but that, out of respect to me and my reputation, they will treat his fabri- cations with the contempt they deserve. (Signed) Georce Hvupson, (Ex-Railway King). MR. PUNCH’S REGISTERED DESIGNS. Tue Copyright Amendment Act, passed last Session, allows designs to be provisionally registered for a year, which will secure the benefit of the design to the proprietor. Mr, Punch has registered a design to | procure an equitable adjustment of the income-tax, and a repeal of the | Window-tax, a design to confer the elective franchise on every honest | man who is intelligent enough to exercise it, and several other designs |of great value and importance. Mr. Punch, however, has no idea of |securing the benefit of one of these magnificent designs solely for himself, but intends, with his accustomed liberality, that the public shall | enjoy all the advantages that can be derived from them. LATEST LAW AGAINST THE PRESS. Tue children of all editors and writers for the French Press, must henceforth be signed with the names of the authors of their existence. —Extrait du Moniteur.

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dS EX it e st of ir t PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 181 THE GRAND NATIONAL CONCERTS. (By our Impartial Critic.) URED by an advertisement much exceeding in grandiloquence the last puff of Moses, I went to hear the grand National Concerts at Her Majesty’s Theatre, on the second night of [ey py I paid my half-crown for a stall like a man—I mean, like a fool. I took it for granted that the pro- menade would be crammed; but I learned—at the cost of 1s., which was the difference between the promenade and stall prices— that I must not take things for granted. My eye, instead of alighting on a sea of heads, fell on comparative vacancy, relieved by two policemen in glazed hats, ae Page a sort of isolated stile that stood between the orchestra and the side- boxes. The ‘decorations of the house delighted me with their extreme simplicity. The absence of the bush, I thought, betokened that the wine would be good. Seeing no oo I expected to hear music. The entertainment mainly consisted of BEETHOVEN’s Sinfonia Heroica, divided into two parts ween which intervened a succession of frivolities, all ins erably tedious to me, and unredeemed by anything of the slightest interest, except Robert, toi on j aime—very beautifully played, in the course of a fantasia, by Mr. Prarrt. . ion’t tell me to consult a medical man, or to take a blue-pill. Iam not bilious; nor was I then. It is nonsense to talk about a jaundiced ear, of course; but I had nothing of the sort. The orchestra which performed all that rubbish was a magnificent one, and played the fine symphony of BeETHovEN, as far as I could judge, gloriously. But what is the sense or wisdom of setting a first-rate band to accompany wretched s, and to execute the most unmeaning pieces of commonplace dance-music, which a harp, a drum, and_a fiddle would do abundant justice to? You might as well have Mr. Macreapy, Mr. Puetrs, and Mr. Vanpennorr, and such-like artists, to read vaude- villes from the French—I had almost said, to play the Merry-Andrew in the ring at Mr. Barry’s, ; Then, dividing the heroic symphony is doing things by halves; and op Ls the interval with ball-tunes and sing-song, is just equivalent to playing Macbeth in two portions, and introducing between them a bonte a farce or two, and a monopolylogue, or the acrobats. _ ; Mr. Batre and his splendid orchestra may command success, if their directors will_play their cards as well as they themselves will play their violins, &c. e are not a Minas of a public, and if our young sparks are to be captivated by the Polka’s ponderous levities, the Polka, with its accessories—illuminations, statues, gongs, blue-fire, gilding, refresh- ment-salon, coffee, and ponche a la Romaine—must be the stunning, screaming, flare-up tout-ensemble of the unapproachable Juturzn. The attempt to rival that man of genius must be a failure; but if Messrs. Batre and Co. will turn their attention to other great masters, whose style is more in their way, I have no doubt they will soon obtain better audiences than that of which your humble servant formed part the other evening, at the irreparable sacrifice of half-a-crown. THE FIRE ANNIHILATOR. Mr. Puries threatens to pe out all the Fire Assurance Offices. There are men, whom we could name—men both East and West of the Bar—who, in our patriotic moments, have caused us much uneasiness, when we reflected upon what they could, if they so minded, do with the Thames. Well, we have read the account of Mr. Purixips’s fire- ihilating power, and we snap our fingers in security. Even Sir — LAURIE is harmless, and the Thames is safe. Here is a barge azing : “A number of materials were placed in the hold, as turpentine, saltpetre, wooed, shavings, straw, and such like combustibles, and set fire to. The chemical vapour was introduced after the fire had been allowed to burn four minutes and a half, and in three minutes and a half the whole was extinguished.” So far so good; but a great triumph remains to be achieved by Mr. Puriires. Let him without delay remove his Fire-Annihilator into the Diocese of the BisHor oF Exeter: a diocese full of com- bustible matter, continually igniting. At the late consecration of the church of St. Peter, at Plymouth, the power of the Fire-Annihilator might have been instantly tested. However, there is little doubt that another opportunit will soon arise, when if the Fire-Annihilator put out a PuiLports, the glory of the invention is complete ; all other tests being needless. “His Frrst CoampaGne.”—Lovis-NapoLEon’s review at Versailles. LORD STANLEY AND THE BOSWORTH FIELD OF PROTECTION. Tae Doce or R—cum—nD.. Richard the Third. Tue MArQuis OF GRANBY. o-° Norfolk. Mr. CHOWLER ‘ «to ow Mr. Youre ° Messenger. Duke, O Cuow Er, I have read a fearful speech ! What thinkest thou, will all our chiefs prove true? Chowl, Hope so, your Grace. Duke. CuowteR, I fear, I fear,— Chowl. Naw, good my lord, don’t be afeard o’ language. Duke. By an apostate Lord language I’ve read That strikes more terror to the soul of Lennox, Than can the clamour of a thousand — Armed in proof, address’d to “shallow Ricumonp.” *Tis not yet Sessicn time. Come, go with me; Under our camp I’! play the eaves-dropper, To hear if more intend to rat from me. * » ” * * What did Disra£tt say as touching CoppEN ? Chowl. That he has never whistled at the plough. Duke, He said the truth. And what said SmsrHorr then ? Chowl. He winked, and said, the better for our ee. Duke. He was’ the right ; and that, indeed, ’safact. [Rings bell. Send for the Zimes there. Bring me a newspaper. Who ~ 4 the Post to day ? ; Not I, pe Grace. Duke, They say our prints don’t shine; for by their book We ought to have been ruined on bg A fool’s-cap there will be for somebody. CHOWLER,— Chowl, Your Graee ? ; Duke. Our prints are very sad to-day ; And Punch doth rhyme and jest upon our army. Would all our bread were grown on British ground! Our prints so sad! Well; what is that to me, More than to Coppen ?—for the self-same papers That sadden me, prate dismally to him. Enter GRANBY. Gran, Arm, arm, your Grace; the foe vaunts in the field. Duke. Come, business, business! Register my vates. Stir up that Sran ey with the hope of power : I will bring up my tenants to the scrat a thus ane eonet — be ym 7 y arguments s e drawn out in le Consisting equally of sense and truth ; Our speakers shall be cheered in the midst. ee Gnansy’s Marquis, and bold CoLowzt Stptnorr,' Shall have the leading of the county ‘squires. This, and Six Joun to boot! What think ’st thou, Grawsy ? Gran. A wise arrangement, sapient nobleman. This had I, sent by post this morning. ives a paper. Duke (Reads). cae or GRANBY. be not 80) For Lzwnox, thy leader, is done and.so A joke devised by the enemy. * * * a a What shall I say more than you”ve:often heard ? Remember :whom you have to stxive withal,-- A sort of weavers, tailors, and shoemakers, A scum of Cockneys, and base cotton-spinners, &c. &c. &e. +. ” ” * * | Spout, land-owners of England, spout fiercely, landlords ! Draw Ferranps, draw your arrows to the head! Press your statistics hard, and plunge in mud, Amaze the public that shall hear you rave ! ' Enter a Messenger. What says Lorp Stantey? Will he lend his power ? Mess. Your Grace, he doubteth if he’ll come. Duke. Bother his own and his son’s head! Gran. Your Grace, the Parliament will meet in March ; After it opens, serve Lorp STanzzy out. Duke. Ten thousand pounds are nothing to my pocket. Read up your Standard, pitch into our foes ; Our country friend, good TyRRELL, stout Sm Jonny, Abuse them, with the rage of fiery dragons ! Upon them! ’Squirearchy sits on our helms. [Fxreunt. LAST BALLOON NEWS FROM PARIS, YesTeRDAY M. Porrevry made an ascent on the back of a drome- dary. The dromedary went up with an ass.

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| A REFLECTION. “Mow cuer Puncy, . “T am one Frenchman—I beg you no laugh, if I send to you | my littel count of my infortunes. I am in one great rage—so big I cannot hold myself—and am reduced to the bottom of despair. “T arrive a Londres by the chemin de fer. I take one which you call cab. I put on myself my spectacels. I place out my head of the window—et voild que one littel gamin throws at my nose one large paquet of papiers. I almost lose my head with the blow—and which is | above that, Sheet lose also my spectacels which is in gold. But what | is twice worse still is to come. I put my head out of the other window. | I desire to see le célébre pont de Londres—but Sir, you believe me, or no believe me, one d blacky guardé comes up and he smiles to me, an I say ‘ Bonjour Mister,’ and then, without say one word, he plants me in the figure one tremendous bundel of papers, which is one treat- ment I never do receive before out of the hands of personne. Oh, Sir, I did smell myself—je me sentais—tout blue with colére. I did tear the air with my cries—I swear comme un enragé. But still worse is behind. I again put out my head of the window, and from this side and that side, and all sides, I did get papers and bills, and pouffs, and paquets, hundreds thrown all together at me in my face, and I do fall back smothered on my back without knowledge for ten minutes. Oh! Sir, I was completely out of myself with the indiguité, and not that only, but I was nearly out of the cab also! “Tt is too bad, Sir! Is it so am I treated because I am the stranger ? Dans ce cas, cest pitoyable, c'est honteux, c’est humiliant, c'est méme écrasant ! England, I c shame on him ! Whatfore, I can no come to your Geile cité without I am wanting to lose my hat, my s ls, my sérénité dame, and I shall tell to tous mes citoyens when I return myself into France, that you do pelt each Frenchman worse than the most mad dog that bites. It is a conduite without paralléle. I shall write my complaints to your Lorp Pummistons, and ask for my passport without delay of one minute.

“And these papers, what they be, do you know, Sir! What are your paguets that they should be thrown at the heads of each Stranger. will tell you! They was about the ‘ Fashions.’ Ventre-bleu,—what you call him, Sir, Blue Stomach—has it then been coming to this? Doesa Frenchman come to London to follow the ‘ Fashions ?’—the Frenchman him what does supply /e monde entier with them en gros et en détail ! And then, because S will not run after your ‘Fashions,’ you run after him, comme des sauvages, and pelt him all the way with them. [ cry aloud to Scandal, and I only hope she will hear me. You throw your ‘Temple of Fashion’ at me; you throw your ‘Moses,’ and a quantity of other saletés in my face. Well, Sir, I throw back in your face the inhuman insult, and do tell you that I will not have your ‘Temple’ to disfiger my forehead—that I will not have your ‘Moses’ forced down my throat, not at no price. Ce sera méme trop cher a rien, “Once in my hotel in Leicester Square, I shall certainly write a votre fameux Lornp PuMMIsToNE, and demand him to refuse at his peril, my passport ! : “Sir, I am in a great tremble of passion, “Hector Grocnarp, Négociant en Cuirs.”

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PONTIFICAL NEWS. His Eminence Carprnat Pantateone, Legate of His Holiness, has arrived at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross: and is bearer of a message to the Chief of the British Government, demanding the usual acknow- ledgment on the part of the Sovereign of Great Britain, which has been always and from all time a fief of the Holy See. ; J In case of obstinate recusancy (which is not apprehended) his Emi- nence is commissioned to proclaim the Prince or Lucca as sovereign of these Islands, the prince being direct and undoubted descendant of those legitimate monarchs of England, who were driven by rebellion, the 4 ad. acath, and the other to exile, from their neighbouring palace of tehall. The Holy Father has appointed Monstenor Snooxs, Lord Chancellor of England, vice Lonp Truro, who has not resigned. But the Office of Lord Chancellor was always held by ecclesiastics in England in the good times of the Church, and Monsicnor Snooxs will take his seat in the Chancellor’s Court at the commencement of —_ a riblet. His Holiness has conferred upon Monstenor Snuccut, the new Lord Chancellor of England, the title of Marquis Saint Bartholomew’s of Smithfield. Diaro di Roma. Lodgings have been taken in the New Cut, Lambeth, for his Grace the Lorp ARCHBISHOP OF VAUXHALL, until the (titular) ARCHBISHOP or CanTERBURY has vacated the palace which belongs of right to the primates of England. Mr. Sumnen has been offered the place of Parish beadle, which it is believed he will accept. The Ricut Reverenp Dominic Baxreroor, Bishop of Paddington, looked over the outside of London House in St. James’s Square dines day, and thence proceeded by the Omnibus to Fulham, his lordship’s residence near London. Until the palace at Fulham is ready for his lordship’s accommodation, the revered prelate has engaged a temporary residence, No. 42, River | Lane, Putney, over the muflinman’s, where the faithful who wish to attend his levees will please to ring the two-pair bell. Very few alterations will be requisite in the churches of the arch- deaconry of Pimlico, which will be given over to the orthodox clergy at the new year. It has been judged, however, that the ornaments of the church of Saint Barnabas are of so exceedingly antiquated and cum- brous a nature, that the ecclesiastical architects of H. H. are engaged in whitewashing the interior of the building, and simplifying the arrangements, so as to suit the present time. On Wednesday morning last, the statue of Saint Mary Axe, opposite the Post Office, began winking its left eye in so convincing a manner, that thirty-three letter-carriers, and two commercial gentlemen, staying at the Bull and Mouth, were instantly converted. Mr. Muwvz and Coronet Sistnorr have signified their intention to become Capuchin friars; and it is confidently reported that the anes for Aldbury and Oldham are in retreat previous to receiving the tonsure. The cathedral church of Saint Peter, in Westminster, will, of course, be restored and resumed by its rightful proprietors; but it is not intended to make any ecclesiastical use of the arge Heathen building, erected on the site of the ancient Basilica of Saint Paul, on Ludgate Hill, opposite to Daxkin’s tea warehouse. We understand Mapame TussauD is in treaty for it, and will exhibit her ingenious wax-works there, at a price little differing from the present charges. & <jiiz:;

The residence of the Primate of England will be opposite the New |Cathedral Church of St. George’s-in-the-Fields; and the Palace of BeEDLAM will be prepared for him.

The Very Worst that was ever Made. |_ Wuy is Exeter Hall, or the Gornam controversy, or the National | Debt during a Whig Administration, or the king in a five-act tragedy, or a supper of cold Irish stew, like a person getting inside an omnibus | that is going to Kew ? | (An interval of ten minutes is allowed to enable the reader to take breath. Because it’s an incubus (Jv-Kew-Buss). Snor !—It may be a prejudice, but we must say we do not like seeing a tea-dealer taking the chair at a teetotal meeting!

Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish o” St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans. of No. 7, Church Row. Stoke Office, in Lombard Street, in the Preciact of Whitefriars, is the City of London, and published by them at Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their eet inthe Parish of St, Bride’s,inthe City of London.—Satuspar, Ocrosss 25th, 1550. No. 25, Fieet Sc

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= 4 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 183 ROBBERIES WHICH THERE IS NO NOISE ABOUT. UST now much excitement is prevalent on account of the numerous burglaries which have been committed of late ; but the robberies which have provoked a universal outcry are nothing to those which are submitted to in silence. Be- tween the Government, the Prerogative Office, the Proctor, and_the officials legatees are robbed in the Ecclesiastica Court to the amount of three or four per cent. An inventor, before he can secure the benefit of his own device, is plundered to the tune of some £400 in the Patent Office. The householder’s pocket is picked present levied; and the tradesman, artist, or author, with a large family, living from hand to mouth—if the rogues who commit these depreda- tions can only find out that he gets £150 a-year—is subjected to spolia- tion in the shape of an unequal income-tax. A PRIVATE PROTECTIONIST DINNER. A sma but select party of Protectionists dined together yesterday at Lorp Stipe anp Scate’s. Among the guests were the Hart or MovntsusHEL, the Marquess or Granary, Viscount WHEATFIELD, Sir Srwon Ears; and Cornetius Bares and — Oates, Esqrs.—with their respective ladies. The cloth having been removed, after the usual common-place observations, j Sir Simon Ears, without rising, proposed a toast. If their noble host had no objection, and the ladies would not think it too horrid a breach of bienséance, he would ask them to drink “Confusion to Free Trade Mr. Punsonsy was sure that the proceeding suggested by Sir Stuon could in no sense be regarded as an offence against Manners. (Oh, oh! and mild laughter.) , ViscounTEss WHEATFIELD declared it was quite dreadful. She did not mean the toast, but Free Trade, and that sort of thing. } The noble host said it was exactly so; and in point of fact it was that sort of thing” which was the most objectionable part of the affair. “That sort of thing” was the social change that would follow—egad ! was following—in the wake of Free Trade. Mr. Tuomas CaRLyiz was very severe upon Flunkeydom; but give him Flunkeydom rather than Yankeedom, into which he feared English society was fast degenerating. a The Marquis or GRANARY was exactly of the noble Earl’s opinion. The immediate effects of Free Trade were of little consequence, com- paratively. Competition would keep up rent. Yes; but jm me would bring a totally new set of farmers into the occupation of land—a arcel of independent. fellows who would treat the relation between fandlord and tenant simply as a commercial one, and would see you at the deuce before they would vote your way if they didn’t think fit. What would be the consequence ? CorneEtius Bar Er, Esq., said, the consequence would be that the law of primogeniture—for one thing—would be abolished; for the new by means of the Assessed Taxes, as at | A COSMOPOLITE MOTTO FOR THE EXHIBITION or 1851. Mr. Paxton, in his speech at Derby, which had sound, strong sense running like gold thread through every word of it, let fall a sentence, that, in letters of coloured glass, should appear over the doors of the great crystal palace. He said—“ He believed it was a good thing to have the conceit taken out of us. He had often had it taken out of him, but, the next morning, he started with new vigour, and a greater determination to reach success.” A capital truth, with hope still brightening it. More; Punch suggests Mx. Paxton’s own words as a motto for his own structure. Here they are; in good, plain, unmis- takeable English ; for the eyes and heart of Joun But. “IT IS A GOOD THING TO HAVE THE CONCEIT TAKEN OUT OF US.” Now, when Joun beholds any manufacture soever, in which he, Joun, has heretofore considered himself as eminent over all, and in which, to his astonishment, he confesses himself outdone ; let him confess to the wholesome medicine recommended in the Paxton pre- scription; and on the morrow morning, let him follow out the Paxton regimen, “starting with new vigour, and a greater determination to reach success.” Punch thought the axiom of Mr. Paxton so admirable, so fitting to the occasion, that he immediately forwarded a copy of the words to each of the Foreign Ambassadors at our Court, requesting of their several Excellencies, a good translation of the English; that the Ambassador’s countrymen might, in their own language, enjoy and lay to heart the wisdom of the apothegm. In almost every instance Punch met with the most frank and cordial treatment at the hands an pens of their Excellencies, whose various translations are subjoined. IL EST BON QUE LA PRESOMPTION NOUS SOIT EXTIRPEE. . The Frenchman, wandering along the Crystal Palace—or threading its six mile gallery—may, haply, acknowledge the beauty of this when he finds that he does not as yet make quite as good knives and forks as Joun at Sheffield. : HET IS EENE GOEDE ZAAK ALS ONZE INBEELDING WAT GEFNUIKT WORD. And the Dutchman reads and ponders this, and allows that butter- churns may be made in England, that would not be despicable at Amsterdam. STA BENE CHE CI SIA TOLTA LA SOBERCCHIA OPINIONE, CHE ABBIAMO DI NOI STESSI. This Italian has been forwarded to Punch by Carpinat WysEMan, and has at the present time a touching significance. Pore Pio Nono’s workmen visiting the Exhibition will, we trust, lay it reverently to their hearts; and so, let a little of the conceit be taken out of them. preg ianeeaageaUN HE HUMA BOA COISA O TIRAR-SE-NOS APRESUMPCAO. And we have little doubt that every Portuguese, with the humility that is his great nationai characteristic, will touch his beaver, and own the touching truthfulness of the adage. G8 ist schon Die Citclkeit aus uns getricben su haben. The German, with his eye bote butt of Barctay and Perkiss—a sample quadruple XXX X—will think of his own white beer, and confess race of farmers would be a part of the shopkeeping interest, and your shopkeepers would want to get at the land of the country, in order to | be paid i confounded debts. And then what would the nobility and | ent oO; ‘ Viscount WHEATFIELD should send all his boys into the army. Lorp SiipE anpD ScALe said, that by Jove there would be no army to send children into by-and-by, with those peace-notions continually gaining ground. He hoped he should not live to see it, but if things went on as they were going on now, their grandchildren would have to be apprenticed to linendrapers and tailors, as sure as fate. The Howovnasez Miss FappEtt would not think of such a thing— the idea was so shocking! Mr. Oates saw clearly that, if Free Trade should lead to doing away with entails, there would soon be an end of the old families of England. A gentleman named Hiaees, who happened to be of the party, sug- gested that it was possible that an old family might perpetuate itself by proper conduct, as well as an old firm. Lop SLIDE AND ScaLe, though he did not quite like the comparison, certainly thought there was something in that. The conversation then turned on the last large cut in Punch, and that the product of the British vat may take the conceit even out of a | hero from Vienna. | ESTA BIEN QUE SE NOS QUITE FEL ALTO CONCEPTO QUE TENEMOS DE NOSOTROS MISMOs. And the Spanien, with the words in his memory, returns to his | hotel, and, calling for a glass of his native sherry, may haply declare, | with a sigh, that the English wine-mercharé has taken all the conceit | out of it. | ' FODUL CHURMEZDAN ICHLAS OLA BILIRSEK NETIGCHAIR. And Errenpt, the Turk, strokes his beard, and, looking at English | beauty, thinks of the flowers of Stamboul, and erying “ Allah Bismallah,” | confesses that the lovely infidels do, somehow, take all the conccit out of them. languages, and emblazoned throughout the glass edifice, will do a world of service, proving to all nations of the world, that “17 Is A Goop the distinguished company separated at a fashionable hour. | Can there be any doubt, that the Paxton axiom, translated into y THING TO HAVE THE CONCEIT TAKEN OUT OF Us ?” VOL, XIX.

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RAPID VIEW OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. (From the Observer.) Tux Daily News complains that in all the French pieces that have lately been translated, and are now performing on the London stage, no allusion is in the least made to the original authors, whilst the names of the translators are paraded at full-length in the bills. Now this is being, we think, a little too fastidious. Perhaps the Daily News would wish the French authors to receive half the proceeds paid for the trans- lation, and to bow from a private box, or to walk across the stage, and to receive the applause and bouquets usually showered upon the happy translator in consequence of the success? Perhaps, also, the Daily News would like to see the names of the French authors on the title- pages of the printed books of the play, and to claim half the proceeds, when there were any, of the sale? This would be rather too pre- osterous, and we are sure that our English translators would be the ast persons in the world to wish such a state of things enforced in this country. The. English Drama is flourishing remarkably well as it is, so pray leave it alone, and do not — to ruin it by introducing stupid foreign fandango notions into it. . We have a right to steal the French dramas as much as we like, but only let the French authors, or actors, attempt to come over, or to interfere in any way with our stage, and we tell them that they will be hooted off the boards in.the same igno- | minious manner as the company of the Theatre Historique was hooted | and gloriously expelled, two years ago, at Drury Lane. We only want | the French Dramas, that is As for their actors, we have far better | than any they can send us; and as for their authors, we do not want | them at all, so long as we have such an experienced body of translators, who produce pieces even better than the originals. Away, then, with the canting cry that the English Stage is in a state of decline—we are positively sick of it! A DREAM OF WHITEFRIARS. Do not know how it happened the other day, that after reading Dr. ULtatHornv’s letter in the Zimes, in my back shop, over a glass of brandy-and-water, and thinking what a mild, moderate, artless let- ter the Bishop’s was, I fell into a doze, from which I was awakened by the appearance of a Friar, with a map of London in his hand, who had fost his way to Smithfield, whither he said he was bound, having been just appointed Master of the Charter House and Arch- deacon of London. “Ts Dr. Raty then dead,” said I, in the Italian language, = ot which I don’t understand a word. “Yes,” said he. “Have you not heard? All the Archdeacons, Deans, and Bishops, and the two Archbishops are dead; and we have come over to take possession. Your religion is dead: it died the night before last. Iam to bury it; and I am walking about this con- founded town since morning. Pray, show me the way to the Char- treux.” My daughter Faxny Punch, who has just come home from a finishing school in Belgravia, fell down on her knees at the sight of this ragged old hermit and begged his blessing. Whereas my son Jack, who is a student at Saint Bartholomew’s, looked as savage as might be at the interesting foreigner; and muttered something in his teeth about “confound the old Guy Fawkes, I’ll Haynav him:” and he was for sending the Friar to Pimlico (to Jericho he might go if he liked, Jack said) had I not reproved him for his discourtesy to a stranger. Miss Fanny went up the chimney to get a bottle of Eau de Cologne to wash the dear Father’s feet, and to work him a pair of slippers, she said: and Jack was, in the meanwhile, so struck by the spirited nature of my rebuke, that he begged pardon of the “ old Buck,” as he called him, and offered his Reverence my glass of brandy-and-water, and a penny Pickwick, which the old man, putting on his mitre, began to smoke. It was a very handsome mitre, made out of a copy of the Daily News, containing the Pope’s letter: and, having a bottle of red ink before me, I painted a few devils on it, with my finger, so that it became the Friar very well. And Zody, smelling his wallet, began nuzzling his nose into it, where he found a rack, a thumbscrew, and a stake ready PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL The Friar turned rather red when Jody pulled them out, and hid them away up his sleeve as a dentist hides his pincers. I was of course too well-bred to make any remark, though I saw that my name was on the stake with a Latin inscription ; but went on painting up the mitre until it was complete, when I presented it to him, and he fell to drinking my nnleent-weiee till his eyes began to wink as if he was for all the world a miraculous picture. Whilst partaking of the brandy (which is More1’s, and the very best in London), he sang, to a melody of Mozart, that beautiful canticle of an early English divine, GuaLTERUS DE Mapes, beginning “ Mihi est propositum in tabern& mori, vinum sit appositum morientis ori,” &c. ; and as I looked at him, I remembered that I had seen him twenty years ago, when I was making a tour with my friends the IvyLEars. I remembered him perfectly well. He was the first friar I ever saw— a regular Rabelaisian Friar, a dirty, lazy, red-bearded, thick-lipped, leering vagabond, crawling along a wall in the sunshine—looking, if ever man did, stupid, brutal, and idle. What was the impression on my mind on looking at that fellow? If Thad been a sovereign prince, and administrator of the law, I should have liked to begin by kicking him soundly, and then would have said, “Take a pickaxe and dig, you lazy swindler—take a musket and march, you big beggar—take an oar and pull, a hod and get to work—do something to earn your life, stupid! You shall fill your paunch at other men’s charges no more.” Our friend Mrs. IvyLEar was one of that company, and saw like me a Friar for the first time—and what was the impression upon that good woman, that kind Puseyite soul? Mrs. Ivyiear confessed that she should have liked to kneel down and get a blessing from that venerable man, So different, in our minds, were the impressions of each, at the view of our bare-footed friend. One wanted to kick him: one to kneel down at those red shanks, and beg a blessing from that beggar. The fellow represented quite different emotions to each of us. To the one, Friend Barefoot was the symbol of piety, austerity, celibate purity, charity, and self-denial. Touching pictures of convent gates crowde by poor, and venerable Fathers feeding them ; sweet images of pale-faced nuns, in moon-lit cloisters, marching to church, singing ravishing hymns ; magnificent minsters, filled with kneeling faithful, and echomg with pealing organs ; altars crowned with roses, and served by dear old bald- me | venerable, priests in gilt vestments, and little darlings of white- robed incense-boys ; confessionals, and O such dear, melancholy, wasted, | consumptive clergymen, with such high foreheads, and such fine eyes, waiting within!—Mrs. Ivytear knelt to all these, no doubt, in her adoration of her First Friar. Whereas, what was the feeling of Mr. Punch? Think of hard pinched peasants, and simple women and children, depriving themselves of their meal to feed that oe. besotted, ignorant boor; that pampered Flemish Obi-man, thought I! Think of ¢hat fellow’s blessing carrying a super- natural grace with it !—of yonder vagabond assuming to be one of the celestial chamberlains, without whose introduction one can’t get admis- sion to the Courts of Heaven! Camérier of His Hottess, he carries his key, along with begged sausages and onions, in his wallet. That man means ignorance: that man means superstition: that man means priest-worship : that man means assumption of divine powers by one man over another; powers to curse and bless; to deny hope and Heaven; powers to separate wife and man, child and father; powers of occult domination, or open tyranny, or ruthless and bloody persecution, as it may be.—Powers divinely transmitted, says FatHeR BaReroor, sealed with the seal of the Fisherman, and handed down these eighteen hundred years—Powers Infernal, I say, to be fought with all weapons, with hate, with scorn, with ridicule, with reason. * Hatred—scorn—my son!” says FatHer Bareroot. “For shame! You have good feelings--why do you malign us so unjustly ? ” * Look at this image,” says he, taking one out of his bag, “this little figure of a Sister of Charity. Can anything be more beautiful than she? Think of her denying the world and its vanities ; gathering together the little children of the poor, and teaching them ; watching the pallets of the sick ; hanging over the lips of the fevered patient, whispering con- solation, and catching infection and death for her reward. Here isa ionary in China or England. Death is the end of his career—he rs, and braves it; and Tuy goes to the sword, or CamprAn to the gallows, martyrs to the Truth which they serve. Or look at this venerable figure, this white-haired priest with the infant in his arms, the Almoner of Providence, the Father of the poor. Can all History show a character more beautiful—can any heretic, however hardened, refuse his love and reverence to St. VINCENT DE PavL?” “Yes, reverend Sir, Saints and Martyrs you can show in abundance; faith and charity among your people, goodness and virtue, who denies them? I suppose the most sceptic among us would take off his hat to FENELON, or ask a blessing of Pascat. But these, O pious Father, are not the only figures in your wallet. Show us Atva; show us TILLy; show us the block and the fagot all over Europe, and by the side of every victim a priest applauding and abetting. Show us Borera burn- ing SavoNAROLA; show us GREGORY THE Goop singing 7e Deum for the glorious day of BartHoLoMEW, and all the Friars of Paris, with gun for roasting. and dagger, achieving the victory. You say that Henry and ErizaBeta

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eS SY evr SS «6 ee vr vw” ' and that it is we who are persecutors now—not you.—My dear Sir, | erisy, the lover of freedom and justice. It was the gracious Prince | TUFFE began in this way. The worthy man, kicked out by a neigh- bour with whom he had been playing the same game, first entered | to which he had been subject, and the unkind things said of him in He slowly went on |= persecuted as well as Mary and Puitie? Yes, and by the same/give us your hand, as the practice of Englishmen is, before they I Grant to you or them the ordering of | set to.” | belief and the possession of the truth infallible; and_persecution right, and by the same logic. becomes a necessary and laudable means of strengthening doctrine. | by taking me out of my shop in Fleet Street, and carrying me to Smith-| ' field, and there roasting me, you can stop my wicked tongue, put an end to my pestilent publication, and frighten my family and their chil-| dren after them into orthodox faith and certain salvation; it is much | better that, I should be roasted. I daresay FatuerR Newman would | think it a duty to look on. Ask him whether his Church has been aj been in a dream, for when he went out I thought my Monk had turned | persecuting Church or not? Ask him whether persecution is lawful or not? Ask him, who loves the flogging of the discipline, whether its | application to heretic shoulders would not be useful? I declare solemnly, and vow, O Bareroor, that if I held your belief, and if I had | the power, I would begin persecuting to-morrow: and I would give a, dangerous philosopher who doubted about the age of mankind, a touch | of the rack, just to admonish him, as GALILEO was laudably admonished by the Holy Office. “Your Reverence says, Psha! old-world bigotry, wieied persecution, look at the Synod of Thurles. It was bigotry on our parts twenty years ago to doubt that the spirit of the Roman Cathplie:clergy was not one of meekness and brotherhood. What did they ‘want but that our children and theirs should be educated together? What other desire had they but that little heretics and little Papists should learn A, B, C, on the same benches, and the rule-of-three off the same slate ? 0 could @ more quiet, genteel, loyal, and retiring than a poor persecuted Roman Ecclesiastic before the Catholic Repeal Act, desiring nothing so much as fraternity ; nothing but equal rights ; having no wish to ask anything from Government beyond that fair share which should belong to every citizen? Now there is a Blessed spelling-book and a Cursed spelling-book : now there is a Godly rule-of-three and a Godless rule- of-three : now division is requisite: hatred must be organised. How are the Godly and Godless to live together ? “Do you suppose the story is a new one? The Reverenp Mr. Tar- into OrGon’s house by sufferance ; hung about as a humble retainer ; made himself useful by a thousand means ; was so good, so gentle, so correct in his morals and edifying in his speech; ate so little, and was really so agreeable and clever, that everybody was glad to give him house-room, and pitied the poor fellow for the monstrous persecutions former place. We know what came next. winning favour, the dear man; and setting the family by the ears. He put the father against the son, and the wife against the husband. He worked on the terrors of some; the follies of all: until, one fine day, when he announced that the house was his own, and that he was no longer dependent, but master. “And what happened? The good-natured dramatist (that kindest and gentlest of mortal men), who had the power over his little creation, brings condign punishment on Mons. Tarturre ; and the curtain falls as he is marched off to prison, to the applause of all the spectators ; and with a compliment to the author’s gracious Prince, the hater of hypo- who revoked the Edict of Nantes; who (with the applause of the reverend the clergy) carried fire and sword amongst hundreds and thou- sands of honest citizens, his best subjects; and who died a driveling old dotard, wife-and-priest-ridden, his pride trampled down by Protestant victories, and defeated by Anglican Schismatiecs. “That is what His Horiess calls us Christians in his kind letter, which creates our country into a province again, and provides us with | a dozen Bishops and a Primate. Jeleome, gentlemen! Welcome, my Lords and your Eminence! Come with cross and banner, shaved heads | and disciplines. Come with a winking picture, if you like, and let it! wink on Ludgate Hill. Come with your centle nuns and ardent mis-| sionaries: come with roses, and wax candles, and pretty hymns, and | brilliant processions—and with hatred and curses, and tyranny and ex-| communication, such as you know how to use in due season, when you| dare. What? Is Poze alive again, and Bonner only dead? Is! Sr. Vincent DE Pavt resuscitated, and holy Dominic shut up ? Has Ienativs left off swindling; andshirking disguised amongst families, and is his fraternity only going to teach in schools, and missionarize the Indies? Not so. Other institutions change, but theirs is one, | and always remains the same. You brag of it. His Howress says the Church is always the Church. And so it is: with the same art; the same arrogance ; the same remorseless logic ; marching pitiless to the| same end. “And so, Fatuer Barrroot, your Reverence, with the beard | and sandals, is welcome, as the Oratorian young gentlemen with the black cloaks and broad brims, who parade our city. Why not these as| well as a Quaker’s beaver, or a Bishop’s shovel-hat? You can’t give us, | Englishmen, a Church in Rome; because you are avowedly tyrants, and | intolerant of any creed but your own. i | But that is no reason why | we should refuse you. Walk in, gentlemen, and you, old Barerroort, | Rome may have given him. Tf} versation must end. PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.— 189 “This con- I want to get to the Charter-House, I tell you before the Angelus; and see the place where our Monks were murdered by your Protestants.” “My good Sir, you are growing angry,” the Monk said. murdered by your Monks.” And he got up in a huff to go away. But I suppose I must have into Dr. Pusry. PREROGATIVE WRONG. Tue ArcHBIsHop OF CANTERBURY cannot but pray that the heart of Parliament will be turned towards a due consideration of the mani- fold iniquities, the growth of time—the fuagus of antiquity—that make the Prerogative Court, his Lordship’s own Court, little better than a den of thieves and a board of cannibals. In the Prerogative Court, the fatherless and orphans are served up as the standing-dish—the nominal daily bread—to clerks, registrars, and surrogates. Then there is the seal of the Court, with its most expensive impress, with warrant * You go through Smithfield,” I said, “ where our Protestants were | | and stamp, stamp and bond, that, according to a correspondent in the | Times, show that “a charge of £4 7s. per cent. of the net property must be paid into this Court before the deceased’s children can receive their lawful portion of the hard earnings of a provident parent.” Now the ArcuBisHop OF CANTERBURY, grieved and oppressed by the con- tinual consciousness of this robbery of the helpless, for the fattening of sinecurists, will be compelled to bring the matter into the House of Lords, unless reform originate with the Government. The prelate, as the highest ornament of a Church, whose Vorce said—“ Suffer little children to come unto me,” cannot endure the reflection that they come into his Court only to be plundered. He must put down the crag The spirit of Sawnry Bean, the child-eater, must not continue to hold the scales of Justice (late the property of Shylock) in the Court of Prerogative. The Victory of Trafalgar. Tue Naval Club celebrated the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar at the Thatched House Tavern. The Chairman, in an eloquent speech gave—“ The immortal memory of Netson.” Drunk with silence. And then Mr. Punch—who had received the honour of an invitation—begged to be aliowed_to give, in his own way,— The Oblivion of Netson’s Daughter.” Drunk, with blushes. THE GREATEST BULL EVER KNOWN. Tue Bull by which the Porr has appointed Dr. Wiseman Cardinal | Archbishop of Westminster. Perhaps the individual thus singled out for Papal favour will furnish an example of the greatest. Misnomer ever known, if he should proceed to act upon the instructions the See of

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVA RI. Officer (laguitur). “ Wit! My ring Fetiow, so You’vE BEEN AGRicuLtuRAL Society; so I tuo’r as ’ow I miGHT WEAR UN!” GAME DUKES. Apam was made before red-deer, grouse, and partridge. Neverthe- less, in the high, serene opinion of certain Dukes—of him of Atholl, and of him of Rutland—red-deer, grouse and partridge, are things of higher account than biped humanity. The Duxe or Ruttanp makes the druidical remains near Stanedge Pole, Yorkshire, sacred to birds. All pean, naturalists, and artists that were wont to visit the Druid relics, are warned off by the Duke’s keepers. Two-legged man frightens the birds. Back, ye antiquaries—give place, ye naturalists— shut up your portfolios, and tramp, ye anton artists, for the great Duke or Ruttanp, the gusty Duke, has willed that his grouse (grouse for the huckster poulterer, the Duke being a coronetted dealer in game)—should have the Druid ruins to themselves: birds can better understand, enjoy, and fatten on them, than antiquarian man. Che Duke or Atuoxt has found an admirer and apologist in one Sanpy Macxuickspitrie, who yelps for the Glasgow Constitutional. Sanpy, with a fine touch of wu¢—dry wut—says :— “It is certainly to be regretted that two Cambridge boys were not allowed to stand a of the deer, with their knapsacks on their backs, and Murray in their Moreover, MACKLICKSPITTLE— —e like to have seen the puppies taking down the Duke’s name in their note- MACKLICKsPITTLE would like to see a puppy; a fawning, crouching puppy. Oh, Sanpy, is there not in the office of the Glasgow Constitu- tional—is there not such a thing as a looking-glass ? A Relief for our Panes. AxpaLLan-Srp1-Hamet-Bex-Hassan Paxton’s improvement upon the finest polses described in the Arabian Nights—his grand ps cathedral o industry—is an illustration of the saying that Tike begets like. This splendid idea will be the parent of many fine ideas; and here is one of the family. Build your house entirely of glass, and ‘then how will the tax-gatherer be able to charge you for windows ? IN THE Recurar Army ?—In THE Wars, 100, ] sEE—Eu?” uJ an on . _ cRUP : : 4 5 Stout Yeoman, “Noa, Coronet, I NeveER wasn’t IN NO Wars; BUT My Oxp Sow GAINED A SitveR Mepat ast County REFORM YOUR LAWYERS’ BILLS. NotwitTHsTaNDING the movement in favour of cheap law, and the conversion of the Palace Court into a Police station—in which form it discharges the expiatory function of helping to check roguery, instead of to encourage it—notwithstanding the appearance of the Turk’s head of enlightenment among the webs and po an of Chancery, there are still many dark recesses of legal chicanery—the word chancery is evidently a corruption of chic-anery—into which Reform has yet to penetrate. The administration of the effects of deceased persons is one of those barbarisms that are still permitted to exist under the name of law, whose sanction enables certain persons called Registrars and Surrogates to take very large slices off very small properties. The very name of Surrogate seems to imply supererogation, and the items of the charges connected with him are quite characteristic ; for he is, according to a bill recently published in the Zimes, paid twice over for the same thing; inasmuch as “attending before the surrogate” and the “surro- gate’s fee” are two distinct and separate charges. We wonder how long it would be tolerated in other professions and trades, if the system of law costs were to be adopted. Suppose a dentist were to send you in a bill for “drawing your tooth;°® “attending drawing;”’ “Filing decayed part of tooth; ” “ attending filing ;” “ Drawing your attention;” “engrossing same ;” “ making extract ;” “attending extracting ;” with a variety of other particulars that could easily be set forth, if any other bill were to be made out, on the principle of a lawyer’s. An omnibus cad might as well charge 6s. 8d. for “a summons to stay,” if you hailed him to stop; and, if you got into a cab, the driver might as well insist on 10s. 6d. as “ fee to horse for drawing same,” in addition to the fare properly payable. We trust the time is coming to an end for the existence of these legal extortions, which are facts quite as oppressive as any of the legal fictions that have been ex- terminated within the last few years by an improved spirit of law-making. DREADFUL PANIC IN THE BRITISH DRAMATIC MARKET. Ovr letters from Paris inform us that Monsteur Scrise is studying } English, with the object of translating for the future his own pieces.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 189 THE LORD OF THE GLEN. A Rough Companion to the “ Lady of the Lake.” Two enterprising Cambridge men Were traversing Tilt’s famous glen: Passing the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs they boldly stray ; Till, at a rock’s huge point they stop, And out they see a Chieftain pop. Up, up he springs, with stick in hand : “Your name and purpose, Saxons! stand!” Thus they reply : “Laird of the kilt, There ’s right of way across Glen Tilt.” “You think so, eh?” He whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill. Wild as the yell of the yahoo, From crag to crag the signal flew. That whistle garrisoned the glen, With two great raw-boned serving-men. Waiting their laird’s imperial will, They stood awhile stupid and still ; With sturdy bludgeon forward flung, Upon their master’s nod they hung. He scowled, and cried—with sable brow— “ Tntruders, say, what think ye now ? These are Glen Tiltian gillies true, And, Saxons, I’m the Keg’lar Doo.” THE MONASTERY OF PIMLICO. A Monastery of Pimlico is to be founded, to match the Convent of the Belgravians, as the gander, though in a state of celibacy, matches its female. This institution will be dedicated to Sr. Histrio of the Homs, and St. Smaus, ABBot oF Jocko. : The Superior of the Monastery will be an eminent clergyman, recom- mended for the situation by his ingenuity in interpreting the Articles of the Church of England in a non-nat sense. The Monks are to be young Anglican ecclesiastics of a class now not uncommon, whose state of mind needs a temporary seclusion ; and who, if they had not an Abbey to go to, would require to be sent to some other asylum. ‘ The establishment will derive its support from the resources of the inmates, until Covent-garden and other alienated Abbey-lands can be resumed by the Legislature, and re-applied to their original purposes. In winter the Friars will be clad in a black serge gown with a cowl, over the ordinary clerical attire. They will also wear a partial hair} shirt—not next the skin, however, but only under the waistcoat. The | gown will sometimes be worn open, so as to exhibit this penitential | ickey. ‘The trousers must either be short, or tucked up, because they would not accord with the chaussure, which is, of course, to consist of sandals. Stockings, together with the latter, would be a violation of costume ; therefore, to save sepemanenn, and avoid chilblains too, their | place will be supplied with tight silk fleshings, which will have all the effect of bare .egs, as displayed by the gentleman who enacts the Fran- ciscan in Romeo and Tubiet The tonsure, too, which the Monk may | wish to relinquish on re-entering public life, or forsaking celibacy, will be | | managed on the same principle, namely, by recourse to a scalp, such as | Mr. CULLENFORD assumes, to give a physical verisimilitude to his | personation of age, at the Theatre Royal, Adelphi. The employments of the Monks of Pimlico will be, for the most part, | such as are diametrically opposed to the utilitarian spirit of the day. | Copying Bibles and Testaments—that have been unhappily vulgarised | by printing—into manuscript be one of their principal occupa- tions. Rubbing monumental brasses will be another; and every Monk | will be recommended to rub his brass up well every day, before he | ventures to show his face in the streets. There will be a soup-kitchen attached to the Monastery, for the distri- | bution of soup, in subservience to the dissemination of Puseyism. The soup will be mock-turtle, a viand, as the public already knows, corre- sponding to the system in question, which is a mild imitation, concocted to suit the taste of those who affect, but cannot quite swallow, the | original. In order to represent this analogy to the eye, the symbol of | the Monastery will be a calf’s head, which will figure conspicuously | among the corbels of the edifice, together with the emblematic ; and mystical jackanapes—the cyphers of 8. 8. Hisrrio and IMIUS. The plate of the Monastery will consist of Britannia or Anglican metal, to typify, further, the imitative character of the institution. Among the recreations of the Pimlico Monks will be, the scenic pre- sentation of some of the more producible of the “Mysteries” and “ Moralities” of the precious middle ages, by which padvenenens they will amuse themselves, whilst they edify the public. ae will occasionally ride in the Park, with a view to court, rather than shun observation. The Father Superior will use a mule; as many donkeys will be kept in the Monastery as there are Friars in it. . GOING RATHER TOO FAR. “ IR, “T ave not the honour of knowing the Recorder of Birming- ham, Mr. M.D. Hitz. Professional people I only know professionally, and, I must say, my dealings with lawyers have not given me any desire of a more intimate acquaintance. But whoever or whatever this Mr. M. D. Hitt may be, he is clearly an impertinent and short-sighted person. His proposal to the grand jury at Birmingham is, that the police shall have authority to arrest such persons as may lie under their suspicions, and to require them, on pain of imprisonment, to give evidence that they possess means of support, ‘either from their property, their labour, or the assistance of friends.’ “ Good gracious, Sir, do we live in a free country or not? Why, Sir I should be liable to arrest under such a tyrannous and inquisitorial law, although I write ‘ Honourable’ before my name, and belong to the best set in London. I have no property (except a few personals of no consequence, such as dressing, gun, and pistol cases—my wardrobe, and soon). I have not yet, Tam thankful to say, been reduced to the humiliating necessity of labour, and my friends (confound them!) have long ceased to give me any assistance whatever. Mr. M. D. Hitt would surely never be so preposterous as to contend that J should be arrested—a member of the Travellers’ and the Coventry, with a stall at the French Plays, a prospect (entre nous) of getting mto the House, when our people (the Protectionists) come in, the entrée of some of the best boxes at the Operas (both of them), and the run of some of the most exclusive houses in town. “The fact is, Mr. M.D. Hitt has omitted altogether the most r4pandue and distingué means of support—I mean crEDIT—that which is —- am happy to say, open to the man of good family and address, and the facilities for which are so much greater in this country than under the wretched democracy across the Channel. “T suppose that under this precious scheme I am to be liable to be hauled up by the police, at the request of any impertinent tradesman, and treated as a swindler, because I don’t happen to be able to pay ready-money to my tailor, my hatter, my haberdasher, my wine-merchant, my tobacconist, and my livery-stable-keeper! “ All T can say is, that if such a law ever come to be passed, England will be no place for gentlemen. In the mere broaching of such a pro- — I see a working of the same levelling spirit, which has done its est to do away with that great safeguard of our institutions—the pri- vilege of freedom from arrest of Members of Parliament. “Of course, the idea will never be seriously entertained in influential quarters, but I felt it a duty to society not to let it be even mooted without recording my indignant protest. “Tam, Mr. Punch, your constant reader, “A Maw apout Town.” Beef from the Vatican. Amonc the recent importations of foreign cattle, the most remarkable is that of the extraordinary b rom Rome, though the from Nineveh will probably be the more useful of the two. On arriving in this country, the Roman bull gave such indications of being “y= ! to ies mischievous, that it has been found necessary to take him boldly vy the horns. No intention, however, exists of placing him under an forcible restraint ; and he will be suffered to range at large, nietel. It is hoped, that, after all, he will turn out perfectly harmless. Should he begin to be troublesome, the clergyman mentioned in the papers, the other day, as having mesmerised a bull, or some other clergyman eq clever, must set to work and quiet him. WHAT A LUCKY ESCAPE! Ir is very lucky that Momus’s proposed plan, that everybody should have a window in his breast, so that the world might be able to see what was passing inside, was never carried out, or else there would not be anative of this country—man, woman, or child—but who, at the present day, would have to pay for the Window-Tax ! Starvation of Mind and Body in Ireland. Tue Roman Catholic clergy of Ireland, we are told, are going to establish a University of their own. If they can command funds sufficient for the purpose, where was their money during the Irish famine? If they cannot, it is highly improbable that their flocks will be much better taught than fed. —=

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190 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. FOREIGNERS MAKING FREE WITH ENGLAND. Pro Nono having divided this country into Catholic bishoprics, it becomes absolutely necessary that, if Britannia is really to continue to rule the waves, she must rule the Sees also. We shall have to say No-no very peremptorily to Pio, with reference to the arrangement _he has made for planting the crosier, or crook—which he will be allowed to do with a hook—in the soil of England. If the sort of thing contem- plated by the Pore or Rome is to be tolerated here, we must expect other alien potentates to amuse themselves by cutting up the United Kingdom into little bits, after their own hearts, and sending the dig- nitaries of all sorts of creeds to supersede the ministers of our own religion. Unless a quietus is rapidly put to the arrogant pretensions of me, and unless we rap the Pore’s knuckles, as the only alternative left to prevent our being obliged to kiss his toe, we may expect a few such paragraphs as the following to figure very speedily in our foreign intelligence :— ; The Hindoo Government has sent over Hox1 Pox, to commence his functions as Brahmin of Battersea. Messrs. Launrte, of Oxford Street, have received directions to build without delay a car, with CoLLINGE’s patent axles, for the accommodation of Juggernaut. The Mirzam or Mootrau has sent over Bow Wow to commence his sittings at Marylebone as Mufti of Middlesex, and Rust1 Kuan goes to Westminster Hall, to take his place in the Court of Chancery as Cadi of Chelsea. We had forgotten to state that the Bow-string is to be in- troduced at Bow Street, and Kootry Footey will preside at the burn- ing of a widow, on a pile of weeds collected from all the widows in the Metropolis. Aut the thing’s a farce, And all the time and labour merely wasted. It has its entries and its indexes, And one man with his time plays but the fool In poring o’er the pages. First the Volume, Bulky and oy we | in the porter’s arms, And then the heavy binding, with its edges And greasy leather backs, letting it slide Gradually to the ground. And then the titles, Mixed up like hodge-podge—here a book of ballads Publish’d by Beate or sEY. Then a quarto, Full of strange types, and letter’d all in black, Printed on vellum—ancient in type and paper, Cramming the author’s reputation Hi ATM -_ th The Emperor or Curna has written to the officer in charge of the Junk at the Temple Stairs, desiring him to take possession of the Temple, and devote it to Bupp; but we are happy to say that the scheme as been frustrated by the firmness of the Toth intho-weher, who de- clared emphatically that Bupp should go and be blowed before he—the Jack—would allow any trespassers on the ground committed to his charge. There have been further directions forwarded to the Junk, desirmg that Poo Loo should cement the power of China in this country by assuming the title and powers of Mandarin of Mile End, with the ‘amg of issuing chops to any extent, and Stater, the eminent butcher, is to be called upon to provide, gratis, the whole of the materials. Such are a few of the arrangements that may be looked for, as the | suite of the recent measures taken by the Porr or Rome for establish- {ing his authority in England—provided always that the measures in question are found to be effectual for the purposes desired. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE. THERE is this difference between the two countries—and it requires along experience to decide which is the worse of the two to live in— that whereas the people in France are always breaking out, the people in England seem to be always breaking in. | Caution !—Two cart-loads of puns, on the names of “ Newman” and trators of the same, and that, if the offence be persisted in, he will publish \a selection, with the names of the offending parties. CATALOGUE OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Right down the student’s mouth. And then the law-book, Tn pale brown calfskin, with gross humbug lined, With rules severe, and forms of rigid cut, Full of strange laws and musty precedents : And so this forms a part. The volume shifts Like change to clown or slipper’d pantaloon, To subjects no one knows—froin side to side The eye may roll—the topics are too wide To be embraced—and the loud public voice, Turning again to childish treble, pipes And whistles for its wants. Last scene of all, That ends this strange mysterious catalogue, Is perfect uselessness and mere oblivion, FAT ll CATA LOGY tren AY ! Sans head—sans tail—in fact, sans everything. A GENTLEMAN, WISHING TO REFER TO THE CATALOGUE OF THE BRITISH Museum, IS SHOWN A VERY SMALL PORTION OF THAT WORK. Wiseman,” having been shot on Afr. Punch’s premises, Mr. Punch | | hereby gives notice that he has taken measures to ascertain the perpe- |

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le | id | ch sh | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 191 THE MEETING OF THE MAYORS AT YORK. (From our own Correspondent.) Frivay, the 25th of October, 1850, will be a great day in the civic annals of England, for it was devoted to the return visit of the Lord Mayor of London to the Lord Mayor of York—that illustrious couple having within the present year exchanged calls at each other’s Mayor’s nests. Before speaking of the banquet, we may say a few words of the city itself, which was formerly governed by a Mayor and three bailifis—the bailiffs being no doubt descendants of Isaac, the Jew of York—but in 1397, two sheriffs were, by royal authority, substituted for the three bailiffs ; and by this Shrieval arrangement, the city was shrieved of its impurity. (ork has been long celebrated for three things—York hams, York- shire pudding, and York biscuits—all of which were to be had in pro- fusion at the late banquet. The bill of fare was of course magnificent, for— “ When Mayor meets Mayor, then comes the tug of turtle ;” “ and ¢rente-deux potages opened the campaign, including huite a la\ ¥ 1 tortue transparente, or, in other words, eight of transparent turtle—or turtle een could be seen through, or, to come to the point, mock of the clearest character. There were also four soups, 4 Ja Prince or WaALEs, which, we pre- sume, is an elegant little idea of SoyER’s, who has given to hare soup the title of what he, in his foreign accent, might call the hare apparent. Among the reléves we find six chapons @ la Netson, by which we understand half-a-dozen capons sent up without their tails, for to render them a Ja Netson, they must not have shown the white feather. Sir saddleback de mouton would, of course, give sufficient sadlery to enable every guest to have a bit in his mouth, and a stirrup-cup to have washed it down would have been very acceptable. The entrées contained, among other delicacies, Auit cotelettes de moudon a la vicomtesse—eight mutton chops a /a viscountess; but as we never took a chop with a viscountess, we can give no explanation of this dish, and cannot say if the bone is to be admitted to the mouth as a-sort of bonne bouche a la Bourgeoise. Among the sweet stuffs, we find dix | | company, which told extremely well; and after a few more toasts, the company separated at a late hour. While we give this meeting of the Mayors the benefit of our own peculiar version, we by no means under-rate the value and importance of these social meetings among the municipal bodies of our large cities ; and they are of still more value as the means of bringing royalty into communication with, and enabling it to show its sympathy of idea and feeling with, all classes of the people. THE EXHIBITION PLAGUE. go fp oop Mr. Puncu,—I am a wife, and the A# mother of, at present, five healthy ( \ children; and write without my hus- band’s knowledge, who—except that he will have his own way, which was never meant for men, whatever they may say to the contrary—is as good a creature (for a man) as’ ever broke br write, I say, about this show that they ’re going to put under a glass case in Park. I am told—and I believe it— that the Exhibition, as they call it, will bring another Great | ome of London. I hear that in the Union Jack, evening newspaper, we’re promised the cart and the. bell again; and all along of the millions of foreigners that, like herrings in a barrel, will begin to wedge up London in the spring; getting closer and closer through June and July. It’s reckoned, Ji. Punch, in that paper, that every family’s circle will be widened twice its size, just as if you stretched a tea-cup into a slop- basin; and that hardly a cupboard will exist that hasn’t a lodger. - the seramble that’s te come, it will be a mercy if—for a day together— people find their own. relations. But, Sir, it’s the Plague—or rather the many Plagues—that’s to be brought among us by the swarming millions : the Plague on one ‘hand, says the Union Jack, and the famine —for how are these millions to be boarded—on the other? I’m told we may expect, among many other contributions to the Exhibition paniers de fruits glacés a la Lady Mayoress—ten baskets of fruit glazed of 1851 a@ la Lady Mayoress; who might be thought to be very cold and stiff, from this comparison of her ladyship to glazed fruits; but the fact is, there is no foundation for this culinary libel. The guests were mary of them of the highest distinction, but we miss a few names that we think should have been included. For ex- ample, we find “the High Constable of Margate and friend,” and “The Chief Constable of Ramsgate ;” but we look in vain for the “one policeman of Herne Bay,” who, as part of the Kentish force, should have been, we think, invited with his brother constables. The “Lord Mayor of London’s Common Crier” was in attendance, but found nothing to cry about, and judiciously kept his tears bottled up for some more appropriate occasion. The first toast was given by the Lord Mayor of York, who proposed the QuEEN—a toast which was received with the enthusiastic loyalty that 1s always excited by the mention of the name of Her Magsesty. His lordship very properly remarked, that though the days of chivalry were gone, when a thousand swords would have leaped from their scabbards in her defence, the QUEEN was still surrounded by thousands and tens of thousands of honest blades, and by millions of hands, which had substituted, for the warrior’s steel, the loom, the shuttle, and the spade; while, better far, every spade was a trump, and every shuttle would help to shut up every battle-door. . The health of Prince AtBert having been drunk, His Royal High- ness returned thanks in an excellent speech, which we ro will be read by every one, and which we will not attempt to mutilate by curtailment in these columns. The compliment paid to the late Sim Rosert Peer is far too good in its idea, and in its expression, to be spoilt by any sportive abridgment, and we leave it, therefore—with the whole speech —to produce its legitimate impression on all who read it im extenso in the reports of the newspapers. Other healths followed, and the Army was acknowledged by CoLonEL CAMPBELL, who in the Queen’s Bays won his own laurels. The Lord Mayor of London was proposed in the honourable, but rather sombre, character of the “setting sun,” which caused hi to “rise” suddenly to return thanks, and the setting sun ultimately resumed his seat, amidst a series of “hoo-rays” of the most brilliant and exhilarating deseri tion. The healths of the Ministers were then proposed and Lorp Joun RvssELL was compared to the captain of a ship, in allusion, perhaps, to his Lordship’s alleged readiness to take command of a fleet, should his services be required. The Premier, looking at the wine before hi expressed, sotto voce, his wish that, if ever he undertook the office of a sea-captain, he should be always in sight of port, particularly such port as that he now looked upon. S him | mony, the heathen might almost t “Tur BLack JAUNDICE, PROM AMEBICA; Patsy, From Russia; ConvuLsion Firs, From FRAncE; Tne Mumps, rrom GREECE; Tue Kive’s Evin, From NAPLES; Ricketts, From SPAIN; Sr. AntHoyy’s Fine, FROM PORTUGAL; Dnropsy, From HOLLAND; AND Tue Scariet Fever, rrzom Rome. “Now, Mr. Punch, it rests with you to prevent all this. It’s clear enough, according to the Union Jack, that there’s no houses for the millions ; and if they’re only attempted to be taken in and boarded, what’s above must follow. In this pickle, the country looks to you. Couldn’t the foreigners be pitched in tents on Blackheath and in Bat. tersea Fields, and their pulses felt, and their tongues looked to by the Board of Health, every day before they came to London ? “T put this as a simple question, and awaiting your reply, I am, Mr. Punch, 7 “Yours, “An Anxious WIFE anD MorHer.” Consecration of St. Mary's Church. Mr. Gopwin’s new and beautiful church of St. Mary’s, Brompton, was consecrated last week by the Bisuop or Lonpon. e structure had been most liberally contributed to: the pile is, indeed, a monument of charity and piety. Mn. Gunter gave the ground; and even on the day of consecration, the collection, we are told, was most liberal, And this brings us to the rite of consecration. Were the fees remitted ? The report of the ceremony, otherwise so full, is silent on this head : we are sorry for it. We should be happy to learn that the ground was consecrated gratis ; for, judging from the vsual costliness of the cere- . that_money, and not devotion, was the episcopal element of consecration—Cash, not prayer. BRITISH AND AMERICAN ELECTRIC FLUID. Compxarnts are being made of the tardiness of the Electric Tdeoregs as if its flash of electricity were sometimes a flash in the pan, The superiority of the American mode of transmitting messages by this wonderful invention is notorious; and if we did not know that it was owing to their Companies being more active, as well as liberal, than our own, we should ascribe it to the electric fluid which they employ, He then made a very fair average Ministerial speech to the general being “greased lightning.”

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192 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,

PREVENTION BETTER THAN THE BEST CURE. NotHine can exceed the activity of the Police after a great crime or robbery has been committed. They will run their legs off in pursuit of the stolen horse, as soon as they have been informed it has been stolen; but to keep a watch upon the stable- door, or to try whether it is properly locked, is a thing that never enters the area of their imaginations. The recent burglary in the Strand

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THE CARDINAL’S HAT. Att the world—or, in other words, all the readers of Punach—may not know that the hat, the scarlet hat, the Cardinal’s hat of CanprnaL Wotsey, yet remains among us. It was poked out of a lot of bye-gone rubbish lymg in the Great Wardrobe by BisHor Burnet, when Clerk of the Closet. From Burnet’s son, the judge, it passed to the Countess DowaGER OF ALBEMARLE, who gave it to Horack Wat- POLE, who treasured the relic among kindred rarities, in the Holbein Chamber at Strawberry Hill; until the glories of Gingerbread Castle were knocked down and dispersed by the Hammer-Bearer—the om 7 Tuor—Georce Rosrys, under the Piazzas in Covent arden. _The Hat, when sold from Strawberry Hill, was in a miserable con- dition; stained, faded, moth-eaten; hardly thread hung to thread. Divested of its historical associations, it was doubtful whether a chimney-sweeper, intent upon his May wardrobe, would have accepted the hat from any large-hearted housemaid. Equally doubtful is it, whether any boy of decent spirit, with a proper pride in the appearance of his Guy Fawkes, would have clapt the hat upon the effigy of that ificent ruffian ; a sad fellow who, nevertheless, has met with scant justice from posterity. For there are extenuating circumstances—shown inarecent biography—that ought to tell kindly upon the memory of Fawkes; since it is now proved that, by his own confession, his rincipal object in blowing up Parliament “was to blow the Scotch k to their own country.” An endeavour that, we think, ought to

THE POPE “TRYING IT ON” MR. JOHN BULL. furnishes us with another proof of this tremendous activity that always comes too late. The accounts e unani- mously in saying that “The Police are in active pursuit of the delin- ye Now it strikes us strongly, that_if the Police were only to bestow one half the zeal in preventing a rob- bery, which they generally display in | finding it out, many thousand pounds, and | ws a few lives, would be |saved in the course of every year; | and that, also, there would not be so Wi|| | many inquiries and cries of wonder- i || | ment heard, after reading every fresh mmi\, | case of burglary, as to “ Where could

MENERRE! the Police have been?” i | THE STEP NOT TAKEN. | i AN | Tue Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s SY s | have very recently shown a most praise- se | worthy deference to the wishes of the hs eople, and to justice in the abstraet. ‘he Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s | have taken decided steps in the right direction: namely, *,. The Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s have adopted two steps at the north entrance of the Cathedral. The Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s have further vouchsafed to the public two steps to the south of the Cathe- dral. But towards the abolition of the two- | pence to the interior of the Cathe- | dral, the Dean and Chapter have takew | no step whatever.

be charitably considered by an unprejudiced generation. But to return to CarpinaL Wotsey’s hat. : The hat, within this week or so, has marvellously recovered itself. Nay, a miracle has been worked in the hat. The thing so old and | faded has become bright and better than new. The scarlet has returned, land is as vivid in colour as the blood—that thaws every year, to be | continued in the next—in the phial of St. Janvartus. And more than | this ; the hat that was shapeless, and lopped like a sick ass’s ears, has |gathered itself up, as though instinct with the knowledge that it is | about to be called upon to appear again in public, after the neglect and long ey of centuries. Haply the hat remembers the glories of its Cardinal Master. _ 7 , } The hat—for miracles must work in the web—may thrill with the | recollection of the time, when CarnpINAL WoLsEY— “ Came out of his privy chamber about eight of the clock, apparelled all in red; that is to say, his upper garment was either of fine scarlet, or taffety, but most commonly |of fine satin engrained; his pillion of fine scarlet, with a neck set in the inner side with black velvet, and a tippet of sables about his neck; holding in his hand an orange, whereof the meat or substance within was taken out, and filled up again with the part of | a spunge, wherein were vinegar and other confections, against the pestilent aires. * * And before him was borne first the broad seal of England, and his Carprna’s Hat by a Lord or some gentleman of worship, right solemnly.” And so the Cardinal would go to Westminster Hall door; and there he “judged every estate.’ And the Hat, the Wotsey Hat, that has survived to the nineteenth century, like Lanpor’s shell, “remembers its august abodes,” and by the renewed blood-red freshness of its colour, and the sudden arrogance of its cock, evidently hopes to become a WyseEMaN in the present generation.

Printed oy Fae Bradbary, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Chureh Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Midd'esex, Printers, at their Office, in Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in tne City of London, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street, 1u the Parish of St. Bride’s, in the City of Londoa.—Saruapar, Novamszs 3nd, 1850.

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———— ss 6 =~ Fea~ wa’ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 193 EXPECTATIONS FROM ROME. HE GentTLEMAN whose pro- ity and magnanimity, no less than his sturdiness of frame and amplitude of person, whose solid under- standing, equally with his capacious habiliments, are well known to the readers of these pages—the gentle- man in whose welfare we are all deeply interested— would be glad to know what*are the limits, if any, of the authority which the Pors or Rome claims to exercise in Great Britain and Ireland, and where the interference of his Ho.rygss in the concerns of these dominions may be expected to stop. R. JoHN BULL, in , ah will thank any learned Doctor of the Roman Church, or other competent persons who will satisfy his anxious mind on these particulars. Mr. But has been told that the supremacy pretended to by the Roman Powrtrr in this realm is confined to spiritual matters. If by matters spiritual are simply meant moral and theological doctrines, and rites of worship, Mr. But says, well and good. Let the Porr lay down the law on these subjects, and welcome. Mr. Butt will be happy to return the favour. ut if, in the pontifical view, spiritual matters are all matters that may possibly have a spiritual bearing — institutions founded by the Legislature for the diffusion of common information, for example, like the Queen’s Colleges—and the Pore holds himself entitled to dictate respecting them,—fair and softly, says Mr. Jonn Buti; for Mr. Butt would like exceedingly to be informed, whether there is any one of our political or social arrangements of which his Hoiness does zot think he ought to have the control. All of them are capable of bein considered under the head of good or bad ; all, therefore, have a moral, therefore a spiritual bearing; and therefore are all subject to the juris- diction of the Pore or Rome, for aught Mr. But at present sees to contrary. : a ' Will his Hoxiness—possibly, one of these days—take it into his head to condemn Mr. Buut’s railways, as being too convenient and comfortable, and opposed to the spirit of mortification and asceticism, and tending, by the promotion of intercommunication, to propagate a dangerous _ an tn of opinion, and an increase of knowledge indepen- dently of faith ? ; ; ; ; ul he be pleased to fulminate an edict against sanitary regulations, and precautions against plague and pestilence, on the ground that they are based on a heterodox belief in the natural laws, and that we ought wholly to trust to litanies and supplications instead? Especially as the axiom of the heresiarch WesLEY, that cleanliness is next to godliness, is an error, being refuted by the practice of divers remarkable saints. Is it not considerably probable that he will take upon himself to anathematise Mr. BuL1’s whole system of legal provision for the poor, because it discourages mendicity, and therefore charity, or indiscrimi- nate almsgiving, as the profession exists, and the virtue is practised, in orthodox cities on the continent, to the great temporal advantage, as well as spiritual benefit of their inhabitants ? ; Has not Mr. Buut fair reason to apprehend that the Pore will, as soon as may be expedient, declare his clergy to be irresponsible to the law of the land, and amenable only to ecclesiastical tribunals ? May not his Hotrness be expected to decide, in due time, that a! Sovereign and a Parliament of his own communion are vastly preferable to a Protestant QuEEN and Legislature, and to invoke all his subjects, on their allegiance, to aid and abet in carrying his decision out ? : Lastly, will the Pore or Rome ever be satisfied with the authority ossessed by him in this country, ’till Joun Butt becomes a Papa ULL entirely, and he has that stout and worthy gentleman—beaver, broadcloth, boots, breeches, crabstick, watch, chain, seals, and all—at his foot, kissing his shoe ? An Attorney-General for Everybody. Ir has often been said, that, to secure the ends of justice, we want a Public Prosecutor in this country. The truth of that assertion was never so manifest as it is now, when everybody feels how much such an officer is wanted, in order to prosecute the Public’s right of way through Glen Tilt. THE MANCHESTER BOYS’ AND GIRLS’ SCHOOL. A CARD. Mr. R. Cospen, M.P., and friends, invite the attention of Parents, Guardians, and Ministers of all denominations, including those of the Downing Street persuasion, to the advantages offered by their compre- hensive educational establishment, hitherto known as the MANCHESTER ScuooL, which now presents itself to public notice in a character which must secure for it the patronage of all rational persons, whatever may be their opinions respecting the corn-trade and import-duties on foreign commodities. This celebrated Commercial Academy has hitherto almost wholly confined itself to rearing the politico-economical thought, and teaching the young financial idea how to shoot: a delightful task, cer- tainly, but limited in the sphere of its usefulness. The enlightenment of the sort of darkness that prevails among clowns and ’squires was an object of great importance; but Mr. CospEn and his coadjutors feel, that the time has arrived when the popular teacher must do something more than instruct rural simplicity to distinguish between the right hand and the left, and to discriminate the caseous product of Cheshire from the material which constitutes the Hampshire Downs. To the general inculcation of the fact that two and two make four, they intend to add instruction in all the rules of arithmetic, and in mathematics, as also in the English and other languages, living and dead, together with history, geography—including, of course, the use of the globes—geology, chemistry, natural philosophy, and the elements of anatomy, physiology, medicine, and jurisprudence. For further oe relative to their contemplated undertaking, see the proceedings of the “Conference ” of its friends and supporters, who met on the 30th ultimo, at the Mechanics’ Institution, Manchester, and resolved themselves into a Society, entitled the “ National Public School Association.” The “‘ National Public School” will be a juvenile extension of the original Manchester educational establishment. It will be a real seminary for young ladies and gentlemen composing the mass of the community, intended to imbue them with common sense and common information, notwithstanding that their frocks may be made of calico, and their trousers of corduroy. The clergy of different persua- sions are particularly invited to patronise this Academy, as the reverend gentlemen may each rest assured that no doctrines contrary to his own will be inculcated there. In other words, the instruction given in the National School will be simply secular. Matters of faith and opinion would by means be taught in the School, as well as matters of fact and science, were it not that equity would demand that every variety of clergyman should be allowed to preach to the pupils in turn; an expedient which would be attended with much inconvenience, and some confusion, and after all, most probably, would not answer the end proposed. For the funds necessary to the success of their grand undertaking, its promoters look to the Government ; on which they intend to call for the institution of “a general — of secular instruction, maintained by local rates, and managed by local authorities.” The prime object of their Association at present 1s to arouse public opinion to the urgency and importance of their demand, which is opposed only by stinginess and bigotry. But the stinginess which grudges a school-rate is punished with prison- expenses, and the bigotry which denies information has had already some return in kind; and, in case of continued obstinacy, may reap its final reward in a papal interdict. Mr. C. and his colleagues hope that these considerations will have due weight, and trust to be enabled by the good sense of Parliament to meet their young friends shortly after the vacation. A NEW COLOUR FOR A CARDINAL. Tue odd conduct of the Pore or Rome towards the QuEEN and Legislature of England, in creating an ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER, has made a deal of noise, wherein the groans preponderate largely over the plaudits. Now if his Hoxiness wishes to constitute an extraordi- nary Archbishop, with the approbation of the whole civilised world Mr. Punch will put him in the way of doing so. What the pontifica || arrangements are, in the Southern States of America, Mr. Punch does - _ ; but he conceives they do not include what he proposes they should. What does his Hotness say to a negro metropolitan—say a black Archbishop of Charlestown, with jurisdiction over South Carolina par- ticularly, and in general over the whole of the Southern States of America? Make the black man a Cardinal as well; give him a scarlet hat, pee | engaging him, of course, not to go toa hop in it. Here would be a fine m Sapeery/ of reading the Yankees a lesson of humility, —of proclaiming the great Catholic dogma of the essential equality of the human race,—and, withal, of dealing a heavy blow at slavery. Will the only answer to this suggestion be, that the idea of making a nigger a Prince of the Church, 1s too ridiculous ? VOL. XIX. Xx

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. MORE ABOUT HATS. By our own Commissioner in search of one. ur blow at the British hat has been severely felt ; K)) — and the British public is at length wide awake to 7 \\ > the importance of a sweeping hat reform. But we wi not leave our work half accomplished. It is not enough to tear the crown from the reigning hat; we are bound, also, to find a suc- British humanity. The subject is acquiring an increased interest from recent events in Kome. What has the Pore given Dr. Wiseman? A hat? And see what a storm-cloud is gathering out of it,—black and threatening, like the Djin out of the bottle, in the Arabian Nights Entertainment. Having, by order of Mr. Punch, completed a Hataphobie tour on the Continent, with a mis- sion “to observe the cities and hats of many men,” I now proceed to record my experience, under its several ethnical heads—I should say hats. I did not include France in my journey, for several reasons. In the first place, the French are a light-headed people, and light heads are satisfied with lighter hats than would suit the solidity of the English nature. Again, people’s heads im France having been a good deal turned by recent political events, there has been, in consequence, such a turning.of hats (and coats), that the observation of to-day may turn out quite valueless for to-morrow. The donnet rouge quite put the hat to the blush, for a few months after February, 48. Yet to-day we find every Frenchman eager to put his mob-cap into his pocket, and mount some kind of a hat. There is, for example, the chapeau a@ tricorne—the little, old, three-cornered hat, which the President, and the Society of the Dix Décembre have been making a desperate attempt to bring up, and clap at the head of everything in France; but it has gone by with the Emperor — France refuses to be three-corner-hatted, just as she refused to be bonneted after February. Then there is the wonderful Socialist Hat, which Louis Buanc, Caper and CompacGnie declare will fit everybody. This must bea descendant of Fortunatus’s wishing cap, for they assure us that those who wear it will have everything they want. But the world has never yet seen a specimen of it tried on. From a momentary glimpse I have seen of one (brought over to London by one of the exiles of June) it strikes me as very like the old cap of liberty turned inside out, with a new trimming. Somebody in France must boo the famous wind-cap of Kine Otaus of Norway, of which we are told, that when he put it on, all winds blew as he listed, and the most dreadful tempests and storms prevailed. or so. But, we repeat it, these are not the sort of articles for English wearing. Again, France has helped very much to perpetuate the reign of the chimney-pot. Had we been left to the English beaver, not all the industry of the whole beaver community could have kept its hat above water. It was positively too hot and heavy, and dear, to be tolerated clever at giving a new — to an old fond, and invented the French velvet hat, a lighter, cheaper, and altogether more wearable shape of the old nuisance, and we continued to wear the chimney-pot m its French fashion. It is to France also that we owe the Gidus or spring-hat. Here was irreconcileable—to make a hat, which, while a chimney-pot on the head, | should become a soup-plate in the hand, aud which thus ventured where the British beaver never could have thrust itself, into routs and balls, and under chairs of public dinners, and in the pits of theatres. These two inventions, we say, have been most injurious to society. They were palliatives of an evil, which but for them must have been swept away long ago. They were the Reform which has staved off for a time an inevitable and wholesome Revolution. : For these reasons I determined to avoid France, and took the steamer to Ostend, with the intention of proceeding by Germany to Italy. In Belgium I found evidences that even here the days of the chimney- ¢ were numbered. Even imitative Belgium has pronounced for felt. No great amount of taste is displayed in the insurrectionary head-pieces as yet. The sugar-loaf form is extensively prevalent; but the brims loudly demand extension. There is, however, a disposition to reeur to It. is the effete monarehby of the chimney-pot attempting insidiously to re-establish itself under the shelter of the social wide-awake. But there are not wanting those who are sternly bent on shaking off every vestige of the doomed cylinder—that Bourbon of hats, which never seems to learn anything or to forget anything. I noticed with pleasure, in the train between Bruges and Ghent, a growing breadth in the brim and lowering of the crown, whieh spoke the old spirit of those free burgher eessor more worthy of a place at the head of 1 The gentleman who has this headdress in his pos-| session has certainly been too fond of trying it on for the last two years | . . s even by conservative Englishmen. But in stept the Frenchman, so | another ingenious attempt of our inventive neighbours to reconcile the | the old form in the new material, which we must describe as re-actionary. | communities, who gave the Counts of Flanders such a lesson under the Arteveldes. But hats will never develope themselves thoroughly in Belgium. There are too many soldiers—an army of 50,000, to a popu- lation of between four and five millions, besides 590,000 National Guards! | The bravery of the Belgian is proverbial, but the schako has crushed the hat. In every railway carriage, you may calculate on three so!diers to every four civilians, and though their bodies are puny their head- pieces are preposterous. Roman helmets of black leather, with spikes a-top, crested Greek helmets, with great brass cones; hour-glass Lancer schakos, Infantry cylinders, with shaving-brushes a-top, bear-skin muffs, Ral-aak every other variety in which the genius of the small German or Belgian potentate runs riot, are seen in plaee of well-devised civil coverings of the head. Moreover, of the above four civilians, two are certain to be priests, and the priest’s hat is an object of our uncompromising opposition. Its original is the noble somdrero, but superstition has crushed the crown, while narrow-mindedness has clipped three cantles out of the brim, and formalism has turned up the edges, till if now resembles nothing but a triangle of spouting set round a blaek jelly-mould—taking up a great deal of room, but casting no breadth of shade—wide as the pretensions of the Church of Rome, but shallow as her foundations in this Island. Such a hat can never take root im England, any more than the broad-brimmed, stiff-crowned abomimations of Patuzen New- MAN’s Oratorians. On the whole, I saw little in Belgium to recommend for direct imita- tion in the new hat era which I trust is dawning for Great Britain. There was an evident disposition in hats, as in books, towards the contrefagon Belge, and the servile reproduction of French originals had moor ha: * cramped all free development of the hat of the Netherlands. Still, the Belgian hat, though not yet wide awake, is struggling to throw off its nap, and I see that here also new ideas in head-coverings are striving to express themselves. My German observations I reserve for a future communication. THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW. “Mr. Pouycn, “Tux new Lord Mayor has reformed his show, bringing it up to the intelligence of the times. He has a camel, an elephant, stz (not railway), and so forth. Why he has omitted the hippopotamus, perhaps caz answer to his midmght pillow. But why ias left me out from the procession, it is impossible for human ingenuity to invent an excuse. Therefore, let him answer to the Corporation of London why, in the reformed procession, he has omitted the presence of, “Yours, Mr. Punch, “ A LIveLy (But INDIGNANT) TURTLE. ** P.S.—Indeed, half-a-dozen of us, harnessed to a shell chariot, (Mn. | Wepster, of the Haymarket, would, with his customary benignity, | have lent the article,) must have had a very pretty effect, drawing | the slowest Alderman of the Corporation. ‘There would also have been a significance in the crawling pace of the turtle, illustrative of the pro- | gress of Smithfield reform in the City. “P.S. No. 2.—Though we, turtle, are left out of the procession, I suppose we shalk be found in the tureens.” TALENT WILL MAKE A NAME. Ir is a somewhat remarkable fact, that whenever native talent tries to make a name, it begins by making a foreign one. Through even the humblest walks of the drama, we find JEFFERIES expanding into JzFFERINI, the Srtver family Romanising themselves into the S1Lvant, and one RepisH—a suburban mimic, or “ country clown ”—flourishing away in the tea-gardens and tavern bills as Mons. Repisoa. We almost wonder that the infection has not spread from the musical part of the profession, in which it pervades the very highest ranks, to the corresponding point of the dramatic world; in which case we should find Mr. Macreapy advertised as Signor Far Pronto, and Mr. Waricut announced as Signor Diaitto, in the Haymarket and Adelphi play-bills. t was with some surprise we learned the other day that the Distmo family, who have become distin-guished for their trumpet performances, and who announce themselves as Frenchmen, by the aid of a Monsieur prefixed to each of their names, are in fact, all Englishmen ; and indeed, that though wishing to be mistaken for foreigners when playing on their Saxhorns, they have, all of them, the real Sax-horn blood in their veins. ECCLESIASTICAL INTELLIGENCE. | It is reported that Bisnor ULLaTHoRNe, who has lately been dis- tinguishing himself by his correspondence with the 7imes Newspaper, | will henceforth assume the title of “ H1s Oruiness.”

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jis- er, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL THE DESTRUCTION OF WESTMINSTER HALL. (Being a Legal Lament for “ Cras Animarum,”) ounTy-Courts Britt came down like a wolf on the fold, And the agency houses were savage and sold; And in the Exchequer, the Pleas, and Q. B., Was one declaration where ten used to be. Like prize cauliflowers, in the garden so ercen, “ > The wigs of the leaders last “cras: an,’ were seen, hath come down, Those wigs, on this “ cras: an.,” look rusty and brown. For Mr. Firzroy’s County Courts Bill hath past, Despite of Joun Jenvis,and lawyers aghast; -practice attorneys waxed c And the hearts of € i C As their clients fell off, and their practice stood still. There sits the Q.C. at his table so wide, _ But on it no briefs with red tape neatly tied, — And his parchment-hued cheek turneth white as his shirt, As he thinks what he’ll come to, now law’s cheap as dirt. And there frets the Clerk, discontented and pale, With no half-a-crown now oe down on the nail. The Courts are all silent, the judges all yawn, O’er demurrers unargued and pleadings undrawn. And the Westminster ushers are loud in their wail, There’s no motion of course in the sad Court of Bail; And the cause of dear law, by attorneys adored, Thank the new County Courts Bill, hath gone by the board ! TAKING THE NONSENSUS OF THE COUNTRY. To the Government falls the duty of taking the census of the country, but it is the peculiar province of Puch to take the nonsensus of England. As we look around us, we cannot help fearing that when the returns come to be published, the latter will far poor. | in amount the former. First of all, there are the Houses of Parliament, both old and new. In the old House of Commons sit some 658 members, who represent the collective wisdom of the country. We can scarcely tell whether this term, “Collective Wisdom,” applies to the members themselves, or to the persons who sent them there. If the former, it says but litle for the amount of wisdom in the country ; and if the latter, it says still less ; for what must those persons be themselves when they select such poor specimens to represent them. But, in either case, the old House of Commons is fairly entitled to figure at the head of the Nonseusus of England. The new House of Commons promises to claim the same proud dis- tinction, for what can we say of a House that is wanted to hold upwards of 500 members, and will only accommodate half that number, unless we murmur an expression of wonder how, in the name of Nonsense, such a House came to be erected at all?—an expression which at once would introduce the new Houses of Parliament within the limits of the Non- sensus of the country. Smithfield Market will also figure in the returns ; for a market to be placed in the centre of a large capital, where it can only be productive of obstructions, nuisances, accidents, and deaths, is such an arrant piece of nonsense, as could ry find a place anywhere else but in the Non- sensus of England. From Smithfield Market to the City Corporation is a natural jump, | for it is the sticks of the one who uphold the sticks of the other, and really it would puzzle a greater judge than we profess to be, to decide which was the greater piece of nonsense of the two? But for ages past, aldermen and common-councilmen have been known for their extreme love of talking nonsense, and, e, it would be an act of great in- justice to omit their names on the present occasion. The claims of Sm Peter Laurie will be particularly attended to, in a document that addresses itself exclusively to nonsense. It is not necessary to particularise any more names just at present. We are busy collecting evidenee in every institution, in every court, in every office, in every vestry, in every tap-room, in every nonsensical little corner in the dom, and we are sure that when the astounding result is laid before our readers, that they will scarcely believe their eyes when they see what a tremendous amount of nonsense there exists in England! We can safely declare that the Nonsensus of 1851 will be in every way worthy of the country. Like the same cauliflowers, when a blight | JENKINS FOR ATHOLL! Mr. Jenkins is a gentleman who follows his leader. That is to say, the Morning Post’s \eading article of any given day, is generally an attack—very dull and tiresome—on one wan ap in the Zimes the day before. Last Friday, however, Mr. Jenks thought fit to honour Mr. Punch as well as the Zimes, with his abusive observations. Both of us have had the misfortune to offend Mr. Jenxrns by the line we have taken in reference to the closure of Glen Tilt by the Duxg or ATHOLL, in whose service we presume he is. And yet by Mr Jenkins’s own showing, our offence should be a light one inst his master—if the Duxe or ATHOLL is his master, and the subjoined piece of writing is not from the pen of the Duke himself :— | Grace’s property in his own drawing-room—iu the coat which he wears on his back— | or the kilt on which the Times and Punch concentrate their facetiousness.’’ be extreme, to judge from the indignation he expresses at the Ducal kilt having been held up to ridicule. But then, to be sure, the Duke was in it. Great stress is laid by Mr. Jenxuns on the alleged fact that the mestion of the public’s right of way through Glen Tilt is yet undecided. We don’t care a button a button with the ATHOLL crest upon it—for that. Jenxtns himself, says—shuddering, of course, at making the hypothetical admission— “The Duke or ATHOLL may have acted selfishly, or unwisely, or unadvisedly, but "— &e. &c. &e. May, JENKINS? nay, he has—we know not, May. And the appro- priate emblem of selfishness is a small creature of the canine species, and there is no harm in drawing it; no, nor in adding to the sketch a Flunkey, set to wash the little animal; which would do for the figure of Servility, Mr. JENKINS. But although we concentrated our facetiousness on the DuKE oF ATHOLL’s kilt, a cry had been raised against lim, and, says JENKINS, “The cry was taken up by the scurrilous prints which disgrace our press; the subject of the libel started in the Zimes was abused, caricatured, and vilified with every species of malice.” Further, complains Jenks, although it has not been settled that the Duke has the legal right to shut up Glen Tilt— “ Foul abuse and vile caricature continue uncorrected aud unchecked.” Jenkins, if Mr. Punch were the owner of Glen Tilt, and were to close it against the traveller, whether legally or illegally, Mr. Punch would be a curmudgeon, and would deserve to be drawn and described in his true character. You are not much to be congratulated, Jenkins, on having exchanged the plush for the plaid. Best keep to cleaning the Duke or ATHOLL’s ts; and leave his fame alone. BACON’S NEW BRAZEN HEAD. In the sincerest spirit of penitence, we beg pardon of the publishing world of America, whom we have from time to time eriticised in what | we now feel to be a harsh and uneharitable spirit, for their wholesale conveyance of English books to their own profit and advantage. The | Rev. Dr. Bacon, an American, at the Educational Conference, held at Manchester, has put the matter in a true and startling light. American booksellers, by printing English books, only show their intense admira- tion of the commodity. ‘lhe boa-constrictor, that gorges his half-dozen rabbits, merely manifests a complimentary taste for rabbits. But hear | Parson Bacon, of the Brazen Head— “The credit of having their books printed on the other side the Atlantic helps the sale of a book at home. There is another of your writers, Macautay. I believe he has more admirers, that there are more who have read his writings with rapture in America, though it is understood he is no great admirer of the American people, than here. How many copies of his last work have been printed in the United States? Tens of thousands? No. You may count them by hundreds of thousands ! (Hear, hear.) We repeat it; we are more than satisfied ; we are confounded by the arguments of the modern RoGrer. How large, too, is their application ! A pickpocket twitches your Bandana from your poke. Qught you to |ery “Stop Thief,” if the knave be detectea; or, * se know your loss, when the thief—that is, the abstractor—has made clear off with your goods, ought you to visit that man with anathema, with unebaritable | thoughts? Certainly not; for know, that Ma. James Twircuer, the possessor of your Bandana, has a great admiration for the style of | the article; its elegant pattern and vivid colour have, moreover, found many admirers in the Minories or in Field Lane. Your stolen hand- | kerchief is highly praised, and you ought to be correspondingly | delighted. Again, should you lay down your gold spectacles on a coffee- room table, and should they, perchance, be carried off; consider the loss as the highest personal attention. The gentleman who takes your spectacles feels it impossible to do otherwise—the gold is so pure; so touchingly seductive. You are robbed, but how you are complimented in that very act of thieving! | | | “ The ownership of this land is maintained by the Duke to be ag exclusive as his | Mr. Jenxrns’s veneration for his master’s wardrobe would seem to |

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ROBINSON, IN THE SOLITUDE OF HIS CHAMBER, ON HETIRING FOR THE NIGHT, WATCHES WITH ANXIETY THE GROWTH OF HIS BEARD Jones “IS NOT GOING TO BE BOTHERED WITH A QUANTITY OF LUGGAGE, BUT WILL TAKE ONE SMALL BAG, AND THAT'S ALL.” SS a BROWN IS WORSE. JONES AND ROBINSON “NEVER FRLT BETTER.” oe } THEY ARE ON THE POINT OF STARTING. THE PLEASURE TRIPS OF BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON (UP THE RHINE). BROWN “WILL BE READY IN HALF A MINUTE; HE HAS ONLY TO BUNDLE ONE OR TWO THINGS INTO A BAG.” TWO HOURS LATER. BROWN WISHES HE WERE DEAD. DON’T FEEL 80 WELL AS THEY DID. FROM THE FIRST MOMENT OF GOING ON BOARD THE OSTEND BOAT, BROWN SEEMED DETERMINED TO BE UNWELL. im Hi Rom UFR | JONES AND BOBINSON

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THE GUY FAWKES OF 1850 PREPARING TO BLOW UP ALL ENGLAND!

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. PUSEYITE COSMETICS. To Pussyire CLercymen.— Under the patronage of the Lapy Assess and Sisters of the Convent of the Belgravians, and of the FatueR Surerion of the Monastery of Pimlico, with the BRETHREN of. that Establishment.—Mr. Punch begs to offer his Patent Eccur- SIASTICAL ACHRBOMATICON, or PALLEFACIENT Fxu1D, for blanching the ComPLExion, and imparting to the Face that delicate Panton which is the recognised indication of severe Thought and Study. Also his Macerative Exrxrr, or Ascetic Soiution, for the ATTENUATION of the Fram, warranted to reduce the stoutest proportions to the most interesting slenderness, and produce, in the space of a few days, a personal appearance not to be distinguished from the results of years of Abstinence. A few doses will occasion such a wasting of the cheeks as to render the exertion of sucking them in quite superfluous. Mr. Punch can also confidently recommend his IntuMrnative Drops for communicating that peculiar GLow to the Eyx which is the natural result of enthusiasm meee by frequent vigils, meditations, &c. These infallible specifics will eonfer on an Oxford graduate all the external characteristics of a young priest from Maynooth, and enable him, how- ever oo and_rosy before using them, to pass easily, in a short time, for a ous Roman ecclesiastic. Persons desirous of obtaining a sanctified appearance, as soon and with as little trouble as moe * should have instant recourse to these pr tions, which are to be ha genuine only of Punch and Son, 85, Fleet Street, and at the Depositories attached to the Anglican monastic establishments in Pimlico and Bel- gravia; where may be likewise PUNCH’S CLERICAL DEPILATORY SHAVING soOAP, which will materially facilitate the proceeding of taking the tonsure by sacrificing the whiskers, a step—contrary to what was of late the fashion—so necessary in order to become a popular Clergyman among the Ladies of Belgravia. N.B. The AcuRomaticon will effectually eradicate the stains of port, or any other wine, from the face and nose. WHAT’S TO BECOME OF WESTMINSTER HALL? Ir will soon be a very serious question, what is to become of West- minster Hall? It would be little better than letting it stand empty, to devote it exclusively to the Courts of Law and Equity, for such is the decrease of business, that there will soon be no occasion for any sittings whatever, as the whole work of the day may be got through standing, without its being worth the while of their lordships to take a seat at all. Mr. Brrertess, who adheres stoutly to the old institutions of the country, has commenced, in default of regular instructions, the desperate practice of instructing himself, and is continually sending in imaginary | — papers to the usher, in which Doz is computed to owe so many pounds to Koz. Once or twice, Mz. Brizrizss has burst out somewhat eloquently in the respectable but rather superfluous character of amicus curiae, by suggesting the pulling up or letting down of a blind; and the other day, in defiance of professional usage, he rushed into one of the uity Courts, and joined in helping Counsel to take a decree in some suit in which he was not at all concerned. pe Poor Dunur goes the Bloomsbury and Brompton circuits, where he hopes to lead at the County Court bars of those salubrious and slightly litigious suburbs ; but hitherto he is understood not to have cleared cabs. It is yey that a large emigration will take place from West- minster Hall to the precincts, and that the travelling barristers, or blue- bagmen, will grow into a class as numerous as the commercial bagmen themselves. , Should this event occur, Westminster Hall will be almost emptied, and as it will only be required for the administration of the law during a few minutes each day in term time, it will become a question to what use such a magnificent building can be conveniently turned. JULLIEN, it is said, has had his eye upon it for his Promenade Concerts; or perhaps a Panorama of a Chancery Suit, which would rivai all other panoramas in length, would be an exhibition most appropriate to the place, and would also serve as a record of that ate promises very soon to hecome a “ thing of the past.” Hale, Archdeacon—Well Met. ARcHDEAcoN Hatz has addressed a spirited letter to the clergy of the Archdeaconry of London, in reference to the papal aggression. THE “GOOD” BUTLER. Mr. Intons, mre to the Forlorn Hope Monument to the good Duke or CaMBRIDGE (through the columns of Punch) presents his wishes to Mr. Pavt, butler to Mr. Hotrorp, of the Kegent’s Park. Mr. Inions, as Secretary to the above Monument, has read with some alarm, the report of an intention to present Mr. Paut with a testimonial, commemorative of his valour in the defence of his em- | ployer’s house; and further, and patiently, of his aiming and firing at | the head of the burglar in the bush. | Mr. Dytons has, he hopes, a proper respect for the good behaviour |of Mz. Pauz; but Mr. I. puts it to Mr. P. whether any attempt at the | present time, to reward him with a testimonial, may not divert the |stream of charity now it is hoped beginning to set in towards the Cambridge Testimonial ; or, in plainer words, whether the national gratitude about to be paid to the memory of the late inhabitant of a palace, may not in the most untoward manner dwindled into an instalment for the immediate benefit of the present holder of a butler’s Mz. Intows feels a lively conviction that the habits of Mr. Pavt are habits of inborn respect towards his betters, late Princes of the Blood, and — Cousin at £12,000 per annum included. The Odserver, in a very ery: manner, remarks of Mr. P., “it is not because he is a servant that he, too, should not have a testimonial to his deserts; in his case, at least, it has been proved that a livery may cover a hero in humble life, who only laeks opportunity to be really a great man.” It is proved in tens 0 Gomeni of cases that a livery—red turned up with blue or yellow as the regiment may may cover heroes in humble life ; such heroes, for instance, whe won Waterloo at a shilling per day, making three shillings for the entire fight,—but Mr. I. agrees with the Editor of the O. that that is no reason for slighting the claims of plush. No; Mr. I. hopes that, holding up his head and laying his hand upon his heart, he eam ask for Mz. P.—“ Is he not a butler and a brother?” Nevertheless, Mr. I. has his duties to fulfil; and he must —even to Mr. P. himself—protest against any Pantry Testimonial, until the Palace Testimonial shall be put upon as sure a ground as an archi- tect and brick r can fix it. When the Cambridge Monument is up—a monument, large enough to charaeterise the universal eg of a man, who gave eve minute of his life to the consideration of his species—for it is too we nown to be here insisted upon that the royal Howarp never slept but with one eye at a time, that the claims of his fellow-creatures might be always visible to him—when the monument is up, in its unive philanthropy, such monument will inevitably require a butler. Indeed, | cooks, butlers, and waiters, are inextricably woven in with the memory of the Good Duke or CaMBRIDGE; therefore, it will afford Mr. Intons very great delight to forward the claims of Mr. Paut, as Perpetual Butler to the Cambridge Forlorn Hope; Mr. P. being permitted, in memory of his heroism—in like manner as the Peninsular Hero wears a medal—to be decorated at the button-hole with a silver corkscrew. As Mr. Paut will no doubt see the propriety of waiving any claims he may possess to a Testimonial in deference to the prior claims of a Duke of the Royal Blood, Mx. Lytons will thank Mx. Pau1 to forward to him (Mx. L), and that without delay, any money or moneys that un- thinking persons may, in the ignorance of their liberality, forward to Mr. Pavt, wherewith to purchase any trifle for himself, 2, Charlotte Row, Mansion House. CHEAP GAS, AND WHY NOT CHEAP WATER? Now that. we stand a tolerable chance of getting cheap gas, we think a stir ought to be made to get us cheap water also. The new City Gas Company, by putting its pipes into ground, has put out the pipes of the old monopolists, and we do not see why the water com- panies should not be subjected to the same sort of competition. Light and cleanliness being both necessary for the preservation of health, we would ask why economy should not visit our cisterns as well as our gas- meters? If we were consulted as to what would be a fair price for the water at present laid on, we should say that it ought, at all events, to be “as cheap as dirt,” which is the article it bears the closest re- semblance to. The only advantage to be gained by the present water supply is the chance of a fish oecasionally being included in our bargai with the Company ; but as the fish cannot notify his arrival, he often dies in the cistern before his visit is known, and we see nothing of him till his bones, forcing their way through the tap, come up to us um expectedly in the toast-and-water, or the tea-urn. SOME WAYS ARE IMPROVED NOWAYS. We regret to learn from it that the reverend gentleman has been bouring under indisposition; but we hope that he is now not only! Hate but hearty, like the tone of his epistle.—the pluck of which is| singular, whatever may be the preferment of the writer. | Eaton Squans has been paved recently. A gentleman who has had the misfortune to reside there for the last three years; was asked what he thought of the improvement. He replied, looking on the nearly level highway, “ Je, but nothing more.”

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. OXFORD COSTUME. Snip. “ Very Goon, Str, (to the Clerk) 84 anp a aRF!” Small Oxford Man. “Now Snip, REMEMBER, NOT SO TIGHT IN THE ARM!” WESTMINSTER HALL IN MOURNING. Tue Extension of the County Courts jurisdiction has produced a perfect panic among the barristers, who are undergoing a thorough famine of fees. The unfor- tunate dogs of juniors a up imploringly in the hope of having a bone of contention thrown among them ; but there is really nothing forthcoming to satisfy their forensic cravings. The other day we entered West- minster Hall, and found there had been nothing dis- tributed among the hungry bar, but a few wretched rules abso:ute, one of which was in the mouth of one who had been accustomed to more sumptuous fare; and in the Exchequer we perceived a silk gownsman lazily ‘mumbling the bones” of a motion of course. | The utters talk of utter starvation as inevitable; and there has been something said about dividing equally the | little that is left, as would be the case in shipwreck with |a scarcity of provisions; and it is urged that the legal | craft may be looked upon as reduced to that sad con- dition. A desperate proposal has been made, that the | laws of motion should be removable by certtorari into ithe Queen’s Bench, for the purpose of being there | administered ; for otherwise, it 1s to be feared, that there will be neither law nor motion to be met with in that | august tribunal. It is expected that many of the bar | will emigrate into the County Court districts, and that 'the congestion which has so long existed in West- ; minster Hall will be cured, by a more equal distribution | of the forensic circulation, which has hitherto been so ;much confined to one spot, where there has been a | deficiency of action. | | A Solecism to Slaveholders. | Our American friends in the Southern States will stare | to read in the 7imes the announcement following :— “ LIVERPOOL, Wednesday.—The American Mail Steamship Aélantic, CaprTain West, sailed about 3 o’clock this afternoon with the usual mails, Her saloons are now entirely manned by coloured servants.” Gentlemen who sell negroes like cattle, and lash them |like hounds, will naturally ask whether we man car- |rlages with horses, or ploughs with oxen ? THE POPE’S CONTRIBUTION TO THE EXHIBITION or 1851. | A SHOW UP FOR THE AMERICAN SHOWMAN. Even the American press, ashamed at last at the figure cut by the A susszcT that is now exciting very general attention is, the contri- | Model Republic, in its recent sacrifice of good sense at the shrine of bution evidently designed by P10 Nono for the Exhibition of the Industry | Baznum—who seems to be the impersonation of Gammon and Mammon of All Nations in 1851; and as all nations are included, the Pope | combined—has lately taken to showing up the showman, but not until imagines that the produce of a decided halluci-nation will not be objected | his object has been pretty well attained. In order to put the Americans to. The specimen of Roman manufacture will consist of a Cardinal, | on their guard against being betrayed into another disgraceful exhi- carried to such an extraordinary length as to amount to a cloak, and far | bition of the same folly which they have lately been guilty of, in allowing to exceed the bounds of a mere visite, to which Papal manufactures have been understood to be hitherto limited. The attempt to introduce the Cardinal into this country is a bold experiment ; and it is probable that certain duties, proving the Cardinal to be an offence against the Customs of this country, will cause the authorities to regard it in the light of a prohibited article. The Cardinal, which is, no doubt, a very ingenious contrivance, is the result of a web that has been for some time weaving, and the manufacture in Rome has been greatly encouraged by the knowledge that a vast quantity of yarn of the same sort has been spun, and very warmly pene in England, where it has become “the fashion,” particularly among some of the weak-minded females in the neighbourhood of Belgravia. The Cardinal is intended eventually to supersede altogether Bishop’s sleeves, which have not for some time been so popular as they would assuredly become if the material were of a closer texture, and were not so liable to split as it has been known to do in some recent cases, for it is impossible that the very richest and finest material will maintain its repute if it will not hold together. The manufacture Oe eae in making the Cardinal is, on the contrary, all of a piece, and if there are any differences, they are fine-drawn so cleverly, that no division is perceptible; whereas the Bishop’s sleeves present ~~ Sengpeemante painful to the eye, and offensive to the taste and judgment. _ We should be sorry to see the Popish manufacture brought regularly into this country ; but if such a calamity should occur, it would be easy to point to the shoulders the Cardinal ought to be put upon. EPiItaPH FOR THE DuKE oF ATHOLL.—Stop, Traveller! |the flame of their enthusiasm to be raise Barnum’s puff, we beg leave to intimate to them that a monster piece of humbug is in preparation to succeed poor Jenny Linp, when the Showman has got all he possibly can, by converting her, as he has done, into an “alarming sacrifice.” We have heard on somewhat good authority that Barnum has given orders in this country for the manufacture of a Sea-Serpent, complete with scales, on a scale of magnitude never surpassed, and several hundred feather dressers are already employed upon a marvellous head- dress, intended to be worn as a crest by the monster when completed. and the fins have been placed in the hands of one of the cleverest horse haiz workers in England, with instructions to spare no expense in | the production of an article, which for size and fineness of texture, shall | surpass any natural curiosity ever yet exhibited. | he ivory trade has received an impetus, in consequence of an order for a set of teeth, ex suite, with the other parts of the Sea Serpent ; and a celebrated artist has, it is said, received a liberal commission to design—regardless of outlay—an appropriate tail. The Sea Serpent, given out, of its having been caught on the voyage. | too long clouded and enveloped in the smoke of her patriots, MR. | Rees has succeeded in extracting gaslight from her bogs. The body, it is said, has been entrusted to a large gutta percha house, | to the highest pitch by | when complete, will be several acres in length ; it is understood that it | will be removed from this country by the process of towing, and its | arrival in New York will add probability to the story, intended to be | Licut rrom IneLanp.—There are hopes for Erin. Having been | Gil? at tetons te en tee )6=— 0) ie on Pe lo ees ee et

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| thirteen cities and towns of the United Empire. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. LORD HOWDEN anv THE MADRID BULL-FIGHTS. Tue celebrated Montes, bull-fighter at Madrid, having at the request of our Ambassador, furnished him with the complete set of ng of RD Hownen addressed to Senor Montes a letter, of which we exelu- a matador and others, with the bull-slayers’ costumes to boot, sively subjoin a faithful copy :— “Tutustrious Sznor,—With the profoundest sense of obligation, I have to acknowledge at your hands, a complete set of weapons, with i employed and worn in Spain at the Festa ie term ‘ Bull-fight,’ as I am proud the due variety of costume de Toros, the Feast of the B to understand, being denominated vulgar ** Most Lllustrious Sefior,—Your gifts could not have been bestowed at a happier moment. I shall! immediately dispatch them by a ship of war, that they nay be laid at the feet of Her Magsesry, the ¢ England and Defender of the Faith, who, in full council will, 1 doubt not, entrust the weapons to those hands the best knit, and the best skilled to use them. .. “Most Illustrious Sefior,—It may have met your distinguished ear, that a Bull—perhaps the most tremendous bull yet made—has very recently appeared in England: a Bull of a glaring, yet sinister gaze ; of horns of portentous size and curve; with a roar that has made itself heard throughout Great Britain; and, finally, a Bull of a magnitude of body, that threatens—with the blight of its shadow—to cover at least This Bull is not from the valleys of the Jarana, but from the Chamber of the Vatican; not fed on green pastures, but with old, rotten, jaundiced parchment. Now this huge, blatant is doomed. The people of England shout for their Fiesta de Toros—they will have an end put to the Roman Bull; die he must; and there can be no doubt that the honour of sacrificing the beast will be awarded to Cantos Jaco BLoomrie.pos, of Fulhamos; a matador of distinguished subtlety; of wonderful cunning at fence, and (when he likes) strength of resolution; a brother matador— Illustrious Sefior—who will strike the bull in the very spinal nick, albeit, to judge ordinarily of the man, you would scarcely think him capable of the soneaier of a guinea-pig. ‘And, therefore, Illustrious Sefior, in the name of my imperial mistress, I again thank you for your timely presents. The Bull-fight will, I have no doubt, take place in Smithfield; and great will be the rapture of the people when they behold Cartos Jaco, in his light dress of lawn, mounted on the high horse, in his right hand firmly holding—as though it grew out of his fist—his long Toledan blade; and in the left waving the muleta, or red flag, to distract and madden the Bull, and so to spit him at the lucky minute. “You shall have the earliest, and I trust best account, of the Fiesta, with the precisest relation of the feats of the matador of Fulhamos, Cantos Jaco Bioomrienpos. In the meantime, illustrious Seiior, vouchsafe to accept the assurance of my consideration. “To the SeNoR Montss, Matador, Madrid. PUNCH’S RAILWAY TRAVELLER. To Mr. Punch, “ Srr,—I have not lately troubled you with a line, as I have not been troubled with a line myself until a day or two ago,:when I took an afternoon’s trip on the North Western. The fact is, I got so cramped on my last journey that I have had a complaint in my legs, which prevented me from having a fresh complaint on my hands to send to you until the recent trip I have already spoken of. There being no third-class me i to the train, I was compelled to ut up with the second-class, and suffered the inconvenience of the inferiority of the latter to the former; for, as the Directors are com- led to put lights in the third-class carriages, and not in the second, the leave the oy travelling by the second-class, completely in the ion: which I am determined they shall be no longer, if you will enlighten them through your columns. ¢ saw at all after I once entered the carriage with them, for we were in fellow-travellers again, unless I thought there might be some chance A lady in the same carriage, who had also been quite in the dark during “Now, Sir, I would beg leave to suggest that if the Directors will “My excursion was taken in the company of some odd looking persons with mustachios, whom I never saw before, and, in fact, never total darkness all the while; and I should certainly never wish to see m of, their returning me my pocket-handkerchief at our next interview. the journey, was unpleasantly enlightened, under the gas lamp on the platform, by the discovery that her purse was missing. not of their own accord, and cannot be Sagan to put lights in their second-class carriages, they might at least allow lanthorns to be sold at HownveEn.” the stations, or fix sconces inside the vehicles, so that the traveller might set up a candle, or even a rushlight, of his own, according to the extent of his means, should he prefer that course to the uncomfortable and frequently expensive obscurity which he is doomed to by the present arrangement. ueen of MR. PUNCH’S TRIBUTE TO SOYER. Atgxis Soyer! How I admire you!—You appear to me to be the only man of our time who has adequately comprehended the mission of the cook. In your hands the casserole becomes eloquent, and the marmiton utters its moral. SHAKSPEARE tells us of the —‘ tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones ”— and shall the dinner-table be mute ?—shall there be no voice in a piéce de resistance, no revelation in a relevé substantielle? You have seized this want, and in your hands every plat has its point, every entremet its epigram. was an honoured guest at Mr. Lumiry’s féle, last season. You presided over the culinary part of the entertainment; you pleased the — and you appeased the appetites of 800 guests. You had only four ays’ notice. In your own simple, but sublime words, “C’etait impossible, mais c’est fait !” I remember that luncheon with gratitude. With your own hands you pointed out to me a table, and attended to my wants. What charming invention was there exhibited by you that day! The fée was in honour of Messrs. Scripe and Hatkvy. Do you remember—or do these inventions pass from your mind like the inspirations of a SHAKSPEARE—given to the world carelessly, as treasures prodigally given from a mind of exhaustless invention ? . But if you have forgotten, I cannot forget. Indeed I write with the carte before me. That Rownd of Beef a la Macna Carta! What a thought inthat! It is the very philosophy of English ~ one | put into the compass of a dish. Plain, solid, somewhat heavy, cut-and- come-again, satisfactory. Such was that round of happily illustrating the legislative bulwark of British liberties. With what grace you passed from history to art. Your entremets were criticisms, only more palatable. There were your “ Aigutlettes de petit poussins a la Scrrsx.” Is it possible to characterise better the pointed turns and epigrammatic sallies of the accomplished dramatist, than by “ Aiguileties,” “little needles?” Then your “ Zsca de petites solles & la SontaG,” crisp, delicate, yet little, exactly ke the vocalisation of that charming artist. Then your centre piece—at once a compliment—a satire—and a criticism— * The Croustade SHAKSPERIENNE @ la Hattvy-Scripe Zempesta!” The shattered ship in a pain d’ Espagne, with the characters of the Tempest in sugar, gaudily coloured, tossed by a sea of trifle, and stranded on a reef of bon-bons—illustrating, how happily, the treatment that the illustrious W1LtaM had received at the hands of Messrs Scere and Hatévy—the guests of the day. ' The Nepaulese princes were there. You felt their nationality, and symbolised it, at once, how gracefully! in a “ Turban & Escaloppes Aspie de Chevreuil & la Nepaul.” The pe Gon ond _ — The “ mee of ( _— . tae “ aspie” o ern treachery—the “ chrevreuil,” symbolising the - ness and agility, the deer-like step of the illustrious stranger. This tribute comes late; but 7 admiration has been revived by the bill of fare for the York Meeting of the Mayors, over which I have just been shedding tears of mingled admiration and appetite. Here, again, I find combined the graceful courtier, the profound satirist, and the accomplished wahecnas. To say nothing of the colossal conception of a dinner, with its ¢rente-deux Potages, trente-deuxr Poissons, trente-deux Flanes, and quarante-huit Entrees in one course— mark the appropriate invention that can create, 4 l’improvise, a “* Blane de volaille a la York Minster.” The bold and biting sarcasm that, at a dinner of Mayors, does not shrink from uttering itself in an “Firtravagance culinaire ala Alderman.” The knowledge of antiquity that reproduces in the nineteenth century, a * Paon & Vancienne Rome garni @ ortolans,”’ The courtier-like adulation that breathes from the sweetness of a “ Oréme de la Grande Bretagne a la PRINcE ALBERT.” And the painter-like fancy that closes all with a “ Désert floréal & la Watteau,” And so crowns the meal, as we crown thee, O Soren, with flowers ! 2 It is feared that Lorp Grosvenor and the Lorp Mayor, despite the exertions of Leeks, the Hon. Sec., to extract subscriptions from the pockets of the unwary, for the “Goop” Campripeg Testimonial, will nevertheless be compelled to consume their own protestations ; or, in other phrase, like Parolles, they will have to “ eat their LeEks.” * Your Ramway TRAVELLER.” Tue Snortest Cut To Rome.—New Cut, Lambeth.

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| | | PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. “Dear Mr. Ponca, I am a bachelor, and my friends, I believe, allow that, in the main, I am a/;),,1. couches, and their easy chairs, &c.—of course not I was invited a few days ago to|_but that is no reason why we single men should be ow—but just look here! am; but I must confess that I was a) treated like so many Shetland ponies. There is no tolerabl -natured fe spend ly good at a country house, and here I little put out when taken to the very top of it, and told that this was my bedroom. | rooms there are; for see—this i Ss — — >= (IMT JUSTICE FOR BACHELORS. ** Snugton, Great = Bedstead, Hanis. Oci Now—confound it!—I say the comfort is monstrously and unfairly disproportioned. The ladies—bless them! —ought, of course, to be made as cosy as possible ; no man could object to their having their nice little bit of fire, and their dear little slippers placed before it, with fireplace in my room, and the only ventilation is through a broken window. As far as the shooting, the riding, |the eating and drinking go, I have nothing whatever |to complain of. But I want to know why—why @his mature female always answers my bell, and that great | brute SNAWKINS (whose mind, by-the-by, is not half so well regulated as mine)—merely because he is a | married man—has his hot water brought by ¢is little | I have since been led to suppose that unmarried men must expect to sleep in the worst | maid? I don’t understand it. You may print this, if s the bedroom of a married couple, friends of mine. Ni FT v/ MMe 7 YY Y Uy, you like; only send me a few copies of Punch, when it appears, that’s a good fellow, and I will carelessly leave | them about, in the hope that Mrs. Haycock may see them—and by Jove! if the hint is not taken, and my bedroom changed—or, at least, made more comfortable —1’ll—yes—(there’s an uncommonly nice girl stopping here)—1’ll be hanged if I don’t think very seriously of getting married myself. “Believe me, my dear Punch, “Yours faithfully, * CHarLes SINGLEBOY.” Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of Office, in Lombard Street, in i St. Pancras, and Frederick the Preciact of Whitefriars, ia the City af Londen. and published by them at Mullett Evaus, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middiesex, Printers, at their No. 8, Fleet Street ,in the Parish of St. Bride’s, inthe City of London.—Satuapar, Novemass 9b, 1390. — ee ee ok a —F oA het ee ee OP oe a2 See Oo

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| even a policeman lost his temper; but a playful liberal ' men’of the new Lorp Mayor, for the looks and liveries of the former PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW. WE rose early on the 9th of November, having been awoke before dawn by the ringing of the old Lorp Mayor out, and the new Lorp Mayor in; and when we heard the ringing in our ears, we wished we had the wringing of the ears of those who disturbed our slumbers. Having made for the city, we repaired to the comfortable quarters of Mr. QuARTERMAN, at the Royal York Hotel, in New Bridge Street ; and our host being accustomed to entertain the Ministers with white bait, at his other hostelry, the Crown and Sceptre, at Greenwich, had abated none of his usual courtesy in giving a reception to curselves, who are the recognised Ministers to the public entertainment, improve- ment, and enlightenment. The procession having been advertised to start punctually at eleven, we took our places on the elegant dais prepared for us at the window ; and we remained for some time on the tiptoe of our highlows and of| — our expectations. The assurance offices opposite were filled with some very pleasing specimens of modest assurance, in the crowds of ladies in the balconies, who were looking at us with evident admiration, from over the way. We were much gratified, also, by the sort of preliminary procession that preceded the real one. In the continuous stream we noticed several individuals smoking short pipes,—intended, no doubt, to represent the Calumet of Peace, ior Peace was to be one of the Great Guns of the Show; and among these were scattered several persons with tressels and planks, inviting people to pay for the privilege of standing upon forms, from which those who stood on neither forms nor ceremonies occasionally pushed them off again. s came next with smal! ladders, and a variety of specu- lators with boards of deal, but these got so shuffled about the pack in all directions, that many a deal was lost in the confusion. Not the least ene art of the show was the immense mass of pane and good-humoured faces, which not only thronged the thorough- ares, but replaced in the shop windows the “ sacrifices,” the “look here’s,”’ the “ all at one-and-nine’s,” the “town-made kids,” the “ double- | sewn gentlemanly superior dog,” and other labelled articles of London merchandise. Every one seemed to be cheerfully disposed ; and not oke in the ribs with his truncheon was all that was needed when a polite request to “keep back” failed of its usual efficiency. At length it became evident that the real procession was approaching, for a body of police being drawn up in Bridge Street, backed with beautiful prolusion on to all the toes that happened to be too promi- nent, while a few officers on horseback assisted to clear the way by the playful switching of the tails of the animals into the faces of the too eager among the multitude. n a few minutes we caught sight of the Beadle of the Tallow Chandlers, followed by the banners of the company, with or without its appropriate motto of “‘ Wix ea nostra voco.”” After the officers of two or three more companies, including the Clothmakers, who seemed some- what in want of a little “extra drill,” the civic dignitaries made their appearance, and among them the Remembrancer was the only one who seemed intent on keeping up the allegory of his position, for he was continually talking cut of window to his coachman, as if the Remem- brancer desired to refresh his servant’s memory, and remind him where to set down. With the exception of the equipages of the Sheriffs, which were on a scale of splendour equal to even this unprecedentedly grand occa- ' sion, there was a particularly fly-like look about some of the carriages ; | and we fancied we counted four or five functionaries in one vehicle, | which gave an uncomfortably plethoric look to some of the turns out. Next came “The Aldermen who have passed the Chair,” and after | them, “The Aldermen who have not passed the Chair; ” but among the former there were some who appeared to be in that comfortable state of obesity, that the process of passing the Chair must have been one of considerable difficulty, unless the space allowed was exceedingly It was easy to distinguish the footmen of the late from the foot- were alike faded, while there was a freshness and spirit in the lace and the faces of the servants of the new potentate. Up to this point the Lorp Mayor’s show had been “much as usual,” but now the new features made their appearance, the man in brass having given way to metal more attractive. on a white charger, who seemed determined to let his fair rider have no peace at all, for he kept bobbing his head up and down, an twit her with her display of the white feather. Not anticipating that Peace would have wd seated on a war charger, our artist, whose Imagination is obliged to be always “a week in advance,” had placed her on a “ lively turtle,’ and we have no doubt the civic authorities | will adopt the graceful idea next year; so that the illustration must | be accepted as something a twelvemonth in advance, as showing how PEaceE ought to have been mounted. » We trust also, that by the 9th of November, 1851, Peace will have found a new pair of wings, for they were of an exceedingly woolly First came PEAcE | a description, and seemed to have been plucked from a far from “ downy” feather-bed. In the train of Peace came the four Quarters of the World, riding side by side; followed by the Horse of we looking rather restive—perhaps at the idea of the Bull of Rome; the Camel of Asia, in compliment to whom “The Cam’els are coming” was struck up by the band; the Elephant of Africa, who seemed to be suffering slightly from an attack of his old enemy Elephantiasis; and two Deer of America, who looked as if they had been Deer picked up cheap at Epping. Next followed a horse with the attributes of Industry, represented by a beehive and a wisp of straw; then the attributes of Art, em- ened by a portrait like those labelled “in this style 10s. 6d.” at any cheap portrait painter’s; then the attributes of Commerce, consisting of a couple of small tea chests; and, ultimately, the attributes of Manufac- tures, exhibited in a small loom, and something between a pump and a steam engine. Industry, Arts, Commerce, and Manufactures, would seem to be in a bad way, if the above were appropriate specimens, but the getters up of the spectacle were not to blame, for the truth is, there had been a lamentable “falling off” in every department, the “attributes” having been falling off the horses’ backs all the way from Guildhall to Bridge Street. & F The grand point’of the procession was a car containing four sailors seated opposite Britannia, behind whom was a globe, with Happiness erched at the top of it. We observed with much Ro pin that Tascam having a severe cold in her head, was continually sneezing on to BriranniA at her feet, who seemed by no means to relish the sort of thing that Happiness showered down upon her. Inaddition to the other inconveniences to which Happiness was exposed, the con- triver of the car had forgotten to put springs to the hinder part, and poor Happrygss had to try her utmost, while “holding on,” to keep from looking the picture of misery. Fortunately the weather was fine, November having suspended her fogs, in compliment to the liberal exertions of the civic authorities to give novelty to the Lorp Mayor’s Show, and we are therefore spared the pain of describing Harriness under an um- brella in a shower of rain, or with a comforter round her throat to keep out the damp, which, had Lorp Mayor’s Day looked as black as it usually does, would have been an inevitable consequence. As it is, we are very much afraid that Peace, Harrryess, and BritaNnytA must all have gone to bed with very bad colds, and we can fancy the trio with their feet in warm water, and basins o vefore them, while the banquet at Guildhall was proceeding. We must add, that the Show was a vast improvement on former years; and as Lorp Mayors’ Shows are now regarded as a part of our institutions, it is praiseworthy A. : o - ) a it in style, introduce new effects, aud endeavour to give striking Peace with his milky plume, as if to throw it in her face, and | 2 Oe Cem ap & se, Beem patho or : rm them an allegorical—in the absence of any other— meaning. Rather Over-Zealous. little beyond discretion. It appears that a gentleman who feels an honest indignation at the recent conduct of the Romish hierarch, has refused to deal any longer with his butcher, for sending him a leg of mutton with the Pope’s eye in it. WE have recently heard of a piece of Protestant zeal, which, not- | withstanding all our heartiness in the cause, goes, in our opinion, a | VOL, XTX.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE HIPPOPOTAMUS PORTENTOUS. Tue attention of the publie has been called to almost every peculiarity relative to the Hippopotamus, but there is one important point in reference to him which has been overlooked—rather unaccountably, | considering the time of year, when, owing to the dearth of more im- portant news, there is a demand for extraordinary cabbages, and the quotations of monstrous turnips are frequent in the papers. We allude | to a “Curious Coincidence,” which might have furnished a subject for several lines, at—at least—a penny each. It is strange that no ingenious journalist should have discovered any connexion between the arrival of the Hippopotamus in this country, and the introduction of the Papal Bull. In former times, the present from the Nile would certainly have been deemed ominous of the trifle from the Tiber, and uaint old AuBREY would no doubt have classed among his “Fatalities” the fact that the importation of one monstrosity preceded by so little that of the other. STATISTICS OF GUY FAUX DAY. Tue returns of specie taken by the juvenile population on last Guy Faux day are the largest ever known. The demand for old somarens for cocked hats exceeded all precedent, and it is calculated that fift thousand old journals were consumed in eommemoration of o'd times. The metropolis has always been divided into Guy Favx districts on the 5th of November, and a good Guy walk, whieh im other years has a an average of half-a-crown in copper, was, on the last 5th of ovember, known to produce as much as four shillings in ce, and as much again in silver money, showing that the wealthier classes were eager to support Protestantism, even in the guise of Guys; men of straw were never known to be at so @ premium ; and old rags, which had been previously dull at twopence a pound, went up to two- pence-halfpenny on the morning of the 5th, and in the evening they went up so high that they never came down again. PUNCH’S PENANCE. HOUGH our ordinary mood is a jovial one, we are not with- out our moments of melan- choly—all the more intense from the height of cheerful- ness from which we tumble. Sometimes we impose this wholesome sadness on our- selves, but more often we do penance involuntarily— finding ourselves in the white sheet when we least expected it, and renouncing the pomps, vanities, and follies of the world, when we had flattered ourselves we were about to enjoy them with peculiar gusto. We did such a penance on Thursday night, last week— in Drury Lane Theatre—at JuLiien’s Bal Masqué. It is impossible for any monk of La Trappe to have passed a more melancholy night in his celi, than Punch did in his box, at that joyous festivity. And he found to his surprise, most of the company doing penance like himself, and assisting at the doleful ceremonial in the gravest and most solemn manner. Yes—we never remember to have witnessed a more mournful spec- tacle than those ranges of boxes and gallery, filled to overflowing with a set of respectable family parties, who looked on, for five mortal hours, without a laugh, without a movement, without a sound, at the equally | staid and solemn scene below them. In the area of the theatre moved some five or six hundred persons of both sexes, many of them in fan- | tastic dresses, with sad faces (such of them as one could see), or sadder | masks, sometimes to brisker, sometimes to slower music. But whether | the orchestra indulged in the wildest polka, or the gentlest quadrille, there was no change in the spirit of determined dreariness, with which the dancers went about their work. It is true there was here and there an indiscreet foreigner, who, mis- taking the character of the proceedings, occasionally indulged in an out- burst of irreverent vivacity and unbecoming animal spirits, but these misplaced demonstrations were quickly put down. more exist in that atmosphere than a mouse under an exhausted aiety could no| receiver. There was one young man, ge one of these misguided foreigners, in the dress of a French Harlequin, who made many laborious attempts at liveliness, Indian, and whooping. But his attempts were discountenanced, and though we admired his perseverance, we could not but smile at his mistaken estimate of our countrymen. : Altogether, we had a most salutary night of sad and solemn reflection, and we were glad to see so many of our friends evidently availing them- selves of the opportunity for the same purpose. : Talk of a Quakers’ meeting-house, or the Model Prison !—for making poor reflect seriously, commend Punch to a November Bal Masqué in ondon. Herz 1s our PORTRAIT AS WE APPEARED IN THE PROMENADE. THE POST UPON DOGS OF WAR. Tue Post is wont, in its own profound way, to sum up the events of the past week. Every Monday a frivolous world is called upon to pause, and to reflect upon the historical materials of the past seven days. A very laudable custom this, and very eloquently vindicated by our golden-mouthed contemporary. Here is a beautiful passage from “The Week ” of the Post :— “Now, in the 19th century, with half Europe tossed, rudderless, on the stormy waves of revolutions, the slenderest threads only holding her struggling dogs of war.’ NEPTUNE on the waves, reining his horses, is a familiar picture; but that half Europe should be rudderless on the billows, and_ with slender threads holding struggling dogs, is a grand novelty. However, the figure satisfactorily settles the breed of the dogs of war: they are neither mastiffs, nor bloodhounds, nor French poodles, but, being reined with thread to rudderless Europe, tossed on the waves, can be no other than water-dogs. The Ministerial Complete Letter-Writer. Lorp Jonun Russett has always been considered as having some pretensions to be considered a man of letters; but all his letters are now thrown into the shade by the one which he has written to the BisHor oF DurHamM. Porr’s “Essay on Man.”—This last edition of Popr’s Essay has been got up by CarprvaL WIseMAN, and may be had, in a few days, at but with the most flat and uniform failure.| Westminster. It is bound in scarlet, and is on a much bolder scale When we left the melancholy scene, he was still at it, embracing a red | than any previous essay we recollect of the same author. Ok

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A SHORT WAY WITH THE POPE’S PUPPETS. To the Rigut Hon. Lory Jonn Rvssext, M.P. RD, Tue Pops, in his scarlet audacity, cuts up merry England like a cake into thirteen slices,—a Twelfth e with all i giving a slice to one Cardinal and twelve Bishops. The Pore has stretched out his crozier, and pulled the stray English sheep into his fold. And the sheep shall be better fed with the old Vatican wafers ; and shall bear on its scarlet wool the seal of the Fisherman’s Ring. Without knowing it, we are all of us the Pore’s spiritual subjects ; we have gone over to him in our sleep: in our beds have been carried to me, and are only now eodhenll to the change. Such are the glad ¥ tidings cried by Doctor Newman; such the stirring trumpet-note of | the Cardinal of Westminster ! ‘~ And now there are meetings of Protestant divines ; there are ad- dresses to the BisHor or Lonpon ; and the Bishop’s denunciations of Papal supremacy come thawed to us in a reply, like the melted tones long frozen in Muncuavsen’s trumpet. Protests have been issued ; the Pore pelted with all sorts of names; and every man and woman exhorted to declare their unrelenting opposition to Rome—their indig- nation at its insolence and its ingratitude. : My Lord, this is all very well; but we do not have meetings to rotest against the crimes of pickpockets. We do not gather together o declare our bg ge hostility to burglars; we do not avow our hatred and loathing of—and determination never, if we know it, to take—a bad’ crown piece. No, my Lord. We pay for a police to seize the pickpocket if possible, in the fact; we shoot a burglar, though he may escape into a bush, and scream for mercy; and for the tendered copper or pewter crown, we may either cut it in twain, and give over the pieces to the utterer, or nail the pocket-piece inexorably to the counter. Now, my Lord, in something after this fashion would I deal with all Cardinals and Bishops appomted with hat, pallium, and ring, to English counties. In some oak wr would I deal with the iniquity of a Church that would pick the conscience of this Protestant country—that would break into the house, and domineer at the fireside of every Englishman—that would substitute for the Crown of England, the rule and potency of the triple crown of triple brass of the withering, man-destroying power of Rome. The way is brief and easy. _Let your Lordship draw up a small bill. A plain, unmistakeable bill; with every line and clause as clear and defined as the bars of a Smithfield gridiron. And let the bill run as follows, with as little flourish as you may. “AND BE IT ENACTED, That any person accepting of the Pore oF Rome, or of any Pope, Cardinal, or Catholic Roman Bishop soever, any Titular Jurisdiction as Cardinal, or Catholic Bishop, of any County, City, or Township, of Protestant England, shall be adjudged guilty of High Treason ; and shall suffer the Penalty of High Treason as may be adjudged in all Cases. aie “AND FURTHER BE IT ENACTED, That the signing of any Address, Mandate, Letter, Order, or Exhortation soever, signed by a Catholic, as the Supreme Catholic Cardinal, or Bishop, of any County, the images— | THE MUSEUM FLEA. Mr. T. Hupson Turner, in his Blue-Book evidence, on the condition of the Reading-Room of the British Museum, says : “There is a flea generated in that room that is larger than any to be found else- | where, except in the receiving-rooms of the workhouses.” ___We think the Reading-room flea demands instant and most earnest jattention. We propose that the Antiquarian Society immediately sit jupon this flea. We moreover suggest to that learned body the pro- |priety of grappling with three questions bearing, as we conceive, very |closely upon the flea) Namely— | - May not the flea be generated in certain books, even as mites are generated in cheese ? | Il. May not the flea be the eaten of some rich publisher, as |Curt or Townson ; doomed for awhile to jump the earth as a flea; and ‘further doomed to the Reading-room of the Museum, that the trans- migrated bookseller may feed upon his old and customary human diet ? II. Ought not a well-authenticated Museum flea-bite to be sub- mitted to the microscopic examination of Erasmus Wi1son, in order that that distinguished dealer in skins might report upon the bite, |whether or not presenting proofs of being inflicted by the ordinary weapons of a bookseller P ASTRONOMICAL EXAMINATION PAPER FOR THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY. BY PRIMATE CULLEN, Tw Sun is two yards in diameter; It moves round the Earth ; It is made of bees’ wax ; Its shape is triangular ; ; It rises in the west, and sets in the east; It is called the Sun, because it first made its appearance on a Suaday. The Moon is half a yard in diameter ; It is cousin-german to the Sun; It is made of green cheese ; Its shape is that of a square ; ‘here is a man living in it whose name is Mooney. It was called the Moon from the circumstance of its being first seen on that day which is now known as Monday, but which is, properly speaking, Joonday. An old Saw newly Set. WE learn from a curious article on Water, in the Quarterly Review, | that the Bagshot sands catch (besides rain) 500 tons per acre per }annum of dew; which is one source of the exquisitely pure water pro- for the future supply of London. The | posed by the Board of Health City, or Township, shall of itself be adjudged as Proof of the Crime ot! Dirt party in the City, however, are up in arms against the Board; High Treason against the Crown and Dignity of the Sovereign of these | loudly denouncing their project as chimerical, and their pure water as a Realms ; and the doer thereof shall suffer the Penalty of High Treason, | vapid and unsavoury beverage. As it would be literally pure waste to as adjudged.” | lavish clean water on palates solamentably perverted, we would suggest Here, my Lord, are two little clauses ; a Bill in the rough. Let it |the propriety of retaming in the City a few tanks of sewage-mixed be, on the meeting of Parliament, forthwith cut into an Act, and set—| Thames water, for the especial drinking of the “Defenders of the | | : ’ { | Filth ;” with whom we are certainly not bound to share our sun-dis- | And in making the crime above recited the crime of high treason, [| tilled supplies—unless, indeed, on the principle of giving a certain old | the brightest jewel—in the Protestant crown of Protestant England. have no wish to bring back the days of the hurdle, the halter, the axe, | gentleman his dew. and the quartering-knife. But I have this desire ; a most lively wish, that I would carry out by penal enactment. When a Roman Catholic Pope-appointed Cardinal put on his scarlet hat, and called upon the | city of Westminster to do him, in the name of Rome, all spiritual sedieney, woud immetintely Seize suc Cardinal, ty hin fo igh abe, to bing it within the reach ofthe, pores onl one The convicted Roman Catholic Bishop of Plymouth should know the | ollar a number, ‘The Californian gold seems nothing to the Californian change of air breathed at the still-vexed Bermudas ; and the Bishop of | P4P®- Liverpool quaff the bitter waters of Norfolk Island. | The time has passed when we should protest im the old way against | the soul-enslaving powers of the Porz. Our new mode of protest | should be delivered by twelve men in a box; our appeal—not to the oumemence of the Court of Rome, but to the Jury of the Court of the y: THE CURRENCY IN CALIFORNIA, ' Ca irorniA, according to the Liverpool Times, now boasts a news- paper, called the Californian Illustrated News. The price, says the yu Double-Sighted Sites. An advertisement announces that building-ground, for public or other large buildings requiring two frontages, can be had in the neigh- bourhood of the Houses of Parliament. We suppose, from the facility : of getting two frontages in the vicinity of the Legislature, that there I remain, my Lord, is something about the locality which renders it decidedly double-faced. Your obedient servant and humble adviser, et PUNCH. A GAME AT HOP-SCOTCH, THE announcement of JuLtten’s Bal Masqué contained the extra- ordinary notification that no Pantaloons would be admitted. The im- Aw enthusiastic Alderman declared the other day, at the Lorp| pression naturally produced on our minds was that the costume was Mayor’s dinner, that he wished the world contained but one turtle, | intended to be all Caledonian, and that decorum would be not only that he might eat it all. | Seotch’d, but kilt. A CIVIC CALIGULA.

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“Tue pot o’ beer you ordered ’s here,” the nimble potboy said, “Tt comes from round the corner; they’ve drawed it with an ’ead ; And here’s a pipe, if you would like to moisten of your clay, But they said, without the money I mustn’t come avay.” He lingered on the threshold, but the warrior heeded not, Upon the board beside him untasted stood the pot ; The pipe lay there unlighted, unopened lay the screw, And the Man in Brass, in his cuirass, sat looking black and blue. There gleams not now upon his brow the casque with nodding plume ; Instead of that, the humble hat o’ershades his gaze of gloom ; Against the board his warrior sword is sadly laid apart, _ And his breast-plate falls and rises with the heaving of his heart. He hath roused him up to answer the clamorous boy’s demand— “ Into my pocket, armed at point, I cannot put my hand; Wait there without—I ’ll pay the stout afore I leave the room.” The boy is gone—and all pot he speaks out in his gloom ! * Tis the ninth morn of November—the Lorp Mayor’s Day is here— Instead of sitting by my stout, would I lay in my bier! Up through the street yclept of Fleet e’en at this hour they pass— But in the throng that ride along there is no Man in Brass! In days gone by how proud was I, in my brass that brightly shone, When to saddle-tree they lifted me, with many a heave and groan— How,.’midst the jokes of City folks, all solemnly I rode, Nor heeded laugh, nor small begs’ chaff, as on my good steed trode. My gallant steed, where art thou? In Barry’s stables drear Art thou neighing for the rider who is sadly sitting here ? Or is thy proud heart chafing, as they yoke thee to the car Of Britann1a, or some such stuff—the humbugs that they are ? There is a work—it ’s by one Burke, I think I’ve heard folks say— Which proves the days of chivalry for ever past away ; But times of old had still a hold while in the Lorp Mayor’s Show My brazen face retained a place—and now I’m forced to go. The Common Councilmen, I feel, will rue it bye and bye, When they find that Barry’s charges is so uncommon high; For he’s safe to send them in a bill that will their hearts appal, For Britannja, and the camels, and the elephants, and all. And whats the British public, that they expect ’twill hail A female in a petticoat, ins of males in mail ? For Britannias, unless it be on coppers, no one cares— What’s elephants to Aldermen, or camels to Lord Mayors ? PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. My curse upon the City and Corporation too It’s little that I ever thought to them to bid adoo ! less things clings ? can I do but die ? and put by ? But by the light of prophecy, in my last hour | snow That now the Man in Brass is gone, there ’s more a going to go. Smithfield won’t long survive me—I see within Guildhall The mighty Goce and Masog a tottering to their | up cap-a-pie, _ | To make a hash of calipash and a mock of calipee!”’ “Mr. Puncu, | | : | A VOICE FROM THE BOTTLE. Ministers are again meeting in Council; and learning that the number of Puuch is always laid ration—I address you that my long-standing | complaint may reach the ears and touch the hearts of Her Masesty’s Councillors. “Sir,—it is very true that we are threatened by the Pore ; that Joun Butt has been disturbed in his pleasant pastures by the portentous scarlet hat. “Tt is very true that we are again threatened with the renewal of the income-tax. “ But these matters are trifles in comparison with an injustice that has, for years, gone on | increasing ; and, unless stopt by statute, threatens | to carry disgust and confusion into every cellar. | Need | say, that I allude to the diminishing size lof what is jocosely called a quart wine bottle? (1 am called a quart ; and yet blow me, asa bottle, lif I hold more than an imperial pint. Now, why |should not a law determine the size of bottles jas it has already done that of pewter pots? I jask this of Ministers, and am—for measures | not men— : ; “ Yours faithfully, “A Wine Borttte (CALLED A Quart). “PS. Couldn’t you get George CRUIKSHANK | | to speak for us?” | | “Chip, Chow, Cherry, Chow.” Tue inhabitants of Regent Street are very anxious to get rid of their wooden pavement, and to walk in the ways of their fathers, if those ways could only be restored: The broken blocks |in the carriage way are so many stumbling-blocks |in their path ; and though there is a very natural |respect entertained for those who take after their arents, the passengers are excessively disgusted y continually tumbling over so many chips of the old blocks. | A PROVERB PROVED. Ir it be true that the New Cut Cardinal prompted the Pore to his late foolish interference with England, we have another illustration of the truth of the old saying, that “it takes a wise-man to make a fool.” Tue Bisnor or Lonpon’s Coarce.—Enquire at the doors of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and you will be told that the Bishop’s Charge is— “ TWOPENCE.” Was I not old and useless—and to old and use- | Ain’t there always in the Council a majority that | [t ain’t no use! They’ve cooked my goose—what | How can I live dishonoured, shunned, shut up, fall ; My vengeful ghost shall rule the roast, and rise | “T am glad to hear that the QuEEN’s upon the table—no doubt for purposes of inspi- |

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ROMAN THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. DARING ATTEMPT TO BREAK INTO A CHURCH. ARCHBISHOPRIC of BA LAZEWESTMINS :

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. KINDRED QUACKS. I OVERHEARD two matrons grave, allied by close affinity, (The name of one was Puysic, and the other’s was Divrniry,) As they put their groans together, both so doleful and lugubrious :— Says Puystic, “To unload the heart of grief, Ma’am, is salubrious : Here am I, at my time of life, in this year of our deliverance ; My age gives me a right to look for some esteem and reverence. But, Ma’am, I feel it is too true what everybody says to me,— Too many of my children are a shame and a disgrace to me.” “ Ah!” says Drvintry, “ my heart can suffer with another, Ma’am ; I’m sure | can well understand your feelings as a mother, Ma’am. I’ve some, as well,—no doubt but what you’re perfectly aware on’t, a’am, Whose doings bring derision and discredit on their parent, Ma’am.” “There are boys of mine,” says Puystc, “Ma’am, such silly fancies nourishing, : mF As curing gout and stomach-ache by pawing and by flourishing.” “Well,” says Drvintry, “I’ve those who teach that Heaven’s eatitudes : : Are to be earned by postures, genuflexions, bows, and attitudes.” “My nh ieasinng sons,” says Puysic, “some have turned hydro- pathists ; . i , Some taken up with mesmerism, or joined the homeopathists.” ** Mine,” says Drvintry, “ pursue a system of gimcrackery, Called Puseyism, a pack of stuff, and quite as arrant quackery.” Says Puystc, “‘ Mine have sleep-walkers, pretending, through the hide of you, To look, although their eyes are shut, and tell you what ’s inside of you.” “ Ah!” says Drvrntry, “so mine, with quibbling and with cavilling, | Would have you, Ma’am, to blind yourself, to see the road to travel in.” “Mine,” Puysic says, “have quite renounced their good old pills and potions, Ma’am ; . : For doses of a billionth of a grain, and such wild notions, Ma’am.” **So,” says Drvrntry, “have mine left wholesome exhortation, Ma’am, For credence-tables, reredoses, rood-lofts, and maceration, Ma’am.” * But pegieh.” says Puysic, “my misguided boys are founding, a’am,” “Well,” says Drvrntry, “of mine, the chapels are abounding, Ma’am.” * Mine - trifling with diseases, Ma’am,” says Puysic, “not attacking them.” “Mine,” says Drvintry, “instead of curing souls are quacking them.” ** Ah, Ma’am,” says Puysic, “I’m to blame, I fear, for these absurdities.” “That ’s my fear too,” Drvintry says, “ Ma’am, upon my word it is.” Says xd “Fees, not science, have been far too much my wishes, “Truth,” says Drvrntry, “I’ve loved much less than loaves and fishes, Ma’am.” Says each to each, “ We’re simpletons or sad deceivers, some of us ; And I am sure, Ma’am, I don’t know whatever will become of us.” All Up with the Pope. Monstevur Porreviy, the French aeronaut, has almost exhausted Burron’s Natural History, in endeavouring to find some new animal on which to make his balloon ascents, He has gone up on horseback, donkey-back, ostrich-back, and nearly every other species of back, until, at last, he has been so hard pushed ‘for something new, that he requested an elephant to give him a back, which the sagacious monster declined. It is now, we believe, in contemplation by Monsreur PorrTEvIN to ascend on the back of the Pope’s Bull, which will expe- rience no difficulty in ascending, for it has attained the greatest height ever known, at least in the way of impudence. The Hive Upset. THE industrious character of the English nation, and particularly thaps the exemplification of it in the undertaking of the Great ubition of 1851, very probably gave rise to an impression at the Vatican that our swarming millions were a nation of bees, By this time, our ecclesiastical invaders are probably convinced of their mistake, having found that their interference with our hive has raised a nest of hornets about their.ears. How tHe Pore’s Butt ts to Be Eaten.—With Dunnam Mustard. MUSIC AND MANNERS IN LONDON. Ir has been customary to unite together Music and Manners, as if the one were connected with the other; but we are sorry to say, that Music and Manners seldom go together in the Metropolis ; for we have frequently requested an organ-grinder to “move on” with his music, when he has not had the manners to at all. The other day we suffered much inconvenience in an over-the-Water-loo omnibus from a cornet-a-piston on the roof, who, with an utter disregard of manners, persisted in forcing his music upon us, deali ww after blow upon our ear, till getting into a crowd collected by a “determined band,” we were blocked up for several minutes listening to a species of “Concert Stuck.” These facts-lead us to the conclusion, that if music does not speedily mend its manners—at least im the public thoroughfares—the term “ Music and Manners” will become perfectly THE BISHOP OF LONDON’S CHARGE. We always knew that the charge of a Bishop was something very considerable—we had heard it estimated at about ten thousand per annum—but the recent charge of the Bisnor or Lonpon is beyond all price. If we were to add up each of its seven columns separately we should be unable to give its sum total; but we regret that some of the most insignificant items take up the most room; a great deal of space being devoted to old scores that we hoped had been rubbed off. Thus we have all the items of the Gornam affair, whieh has been already so costly to the church, set down — in detail; and the judicious Hooker is rather injudiciously hooked in, to swell a charge which had far weightier matters to take into account. We find, subsequently, a very long paragra h occupied with Bevertpes, but on looking into this beverage we 4 it little more than milk and water, which need not have been set down at all, and of which the charge might have been ~— curtailed. Nevertheless we look upon the Bishop’s charge as, on the whole, a reasonable one ; and, if the charges of episcopacy were never more extravagant than the one in question, we do not think the church economists would have very strong reason to complain. TICKLETOBY FOR BULLMONGERS. Amone a heap of old arms and muniments devised in ancient times for the defence of the British Crown and Constitution, the labours of legal archeologists have turned up a curious instrument which seems capable of being again called into requisition. This ancient weapon is in a pretty fair state of preservation—or perhaps it would be more correct to say, of pickle; for, in fact, it is a rod, which was made in the time of Ricnarp Il, for the back of any person or persons who should introduce, or cause to be introduced, into these dominions, any sort of document, from the Court of Rome or elsewhere, infringing on the authority of the Sovereign. This implement of correction is called the statute of Premunire, and, though it may have lost some of its twigs, there is yet birch enough in it to inflict a titillation far from agreeable on any offenders who may subject themselves to its stripes. It is to be hoped that the knowledge of the existence of the Pramunire rod will so operate as to render the application of it unnecessary, and that disloyal ecclesiastics will be ideal by it from invading the Royal oe as effectually as ill-conditioned and vain snobs are prevented, y the fear of a whipping, from insulting the QuEEN. By the way, it is to be hoped that if certain clergymen, commonly called Oxford Divines, who rather approve of the late Papal assault on the Crown, are named in connexion with Oxford any more, it will be only with Oxrorp the Potboy. A Communication from Mr. Dunup. *T sex that Lercu Hunt says, ‘New pleasures have old warrants.’ Now, I am sorry to differ with so great an authority as Mr. Leien Hont, but I never could see the slightest pleasure in a warrant, and I have just been looking over a number of ‘ole warrants,’ of which I have a very large collection, and I must say that the inspection has yielded me anything but ‘ new pleasures.’ ” AN OLD PROVERB WITH A NEW FACE. _“Trere is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous,” said Navorzon. In other words—there is but the difference of a letter be- tween the man of Pomp, and the man who is simply a Pump. Musical Intelligence. Tue Mons. Jurxien has engaged a corps of Parisian drummers, for the revival of the drum polka. e understand that a novel effect will be gained by the use of real drum sticks from the Poultry, in a new composition, called the Turkey Galop.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. AGGRESSION ON THE OMNIBUS ROOFS. Y the Papers, I see, Mr. Punch, that the Commissioners of Police intend to put down the seats on the roofs of the omnibuses. In the first place, Sir, if the roof-seats come down, the fares will go up, to the inconvenience of all, except the ducal, episcopal, baronial, and other extremely superior classes. But there are several descriptions of persons whom the proposed alteration will particularly incommode. Being obliged to go inside omnibuses, which are so nar- row that people can neither get in nor out without tread- mg on their fellow-passen- gers’ toes, will be a great 1ardship to gentlemen afflict- ed with corns. Sir, unfortu- nately, [can sympathise with those gentlemen. Other gen- tlemen there are who are in the habit of dining out. To such it will be peculiarly vexatious to be unable to take a sixpenny ride to the abode of hospitality, except at the peril of a succession of stamps being imprinted by dirty highlows on resplendent boots. With these gentlemen, Sir, I — also a community of feeling and interest. Then, Sir, there are gentlemen, also, who I will not say have an aversion to infants, for that would be barbarous, but who object to too close a proximity to those interesting objects, and would rather be out of the hearing of their cries, or, at least, have those innocent but intolerable sounds mellowed by as great a distance as possible. To be condemned to the interior of an omnibus is to be doomed, in nine cases out of ten, to immediate contiguity to an obstreperous babe in arms: a position most nervous and uncomfortable. ‘It is therefore a severe sentence, and a heavy punishment to the class of gentlemen I have last adverted to, and in whose susceptibilities and sensations I likewise strongly participate. An omnibus full of fine healthy young women—half a dozen of them with a nursling each in her lap— is avery common, and, no doubt, a satisfactory sight ; and they make, I dare say, a very pleasant party among themselves, and are a very fit and proper cargo for the inside of the vehicle. In the meantime, Sir, give me the out; and I hope you will stand up for the roof-seats, and the comfort of A Se a vsls C—O An UNCLE oF A Famity. ON BIRDS, BALLOONS, AND BOLUSES. Tue bird of Ascutarius ought, certainly, to have been a goose; for “Quack, quack, quack,” should be the great motto of medicine. One professor invents an ointment for other people’s bad legs, which keeps him comfortably on his own, while another makes a harvest of everybody’s corn, and a third publishes a ill to smooth the pillow of every invalid, or a bolus to render his bolster bearable. | = another phase of quackery, we find specifics for the hair recommended to those who are ready to take any nonsense into their heads, and will boldly stand “the hazard of the dye,” inthe vain hope that the grey, indicating the twilight or winter | time of life, may be exchanged for the dark, brown tints of summer or autumn) at the latest; and we are constantly being invited to “remove our baldness” in advertisements, which we know to be the very essence of balderdash. Quackery, however, seems to be successful in some cases, for the public will swallow anything from a puff to a pill, from music to medicine, from a play to a plaister, and there is no doubt that (to paraphrase MacBetu, when speaking of the possibility that Birnam Wood being come to Dunsinane) :— “If Barnum would but come to Drury Lane,” he would, by his force of quackery, make that pay him which has paid no one else during the last quarter of a century. Such is the spirit of the age, that, reading the accounts from America relative to our own protegée, JENNY Linp, we are disposed to think that the nightingale is being made a goose of in the United States—so vast is the amount of quackery with which her name is just now) identified. women suspended in the air are, now necessary to tempt the curiosity of the Parisian public when a balloon ascends from the Hippodrome. We expect to hear next that PoirEvIN intends going up attached to the balloon by the hair of his head, for he seems quite silly enough to become the victim of such a very foolish attachment. WANTED—WAREHOUSE-ROOM FOR ART. By Mr. Joun Bett. Way leave me a parcel of pictures, And why give me statues—’od rot ’em!— To draw on me foreigners’ strictures ? They ’re no use to me when I’ve got ’em. They ’re very fine and splendid, I dare say, And so they ’d look, no doubt, if I could show ’em ; But I’m obliged to put ’em all away— I haven’t one fit quae wherein to stow ’em. Keep your Witson, your GAIXsBoROUGH, your LELY, Your Hocartu, your REYNoLps, your KNELLER— If you give them to me, I say freely, I shall go put ’em all in a cellar. My gallery won’t hold one Master more ; Micuatt ANGELO could find there no locality, And if Rarwaet himself came to the door. With Fercuson he’d taste like hospitality. Mr. Layarp here just has been sending From Nineveh various antiquities, Its manners to illustrate tending, And customs, and sins, and iniquitics. But then there’s my Museum stuffed so full, If Nutrop’s self applied there ’d not be room for him ; As for that what d’ ye call it—wingéd bull— I’ve no accommodation but a tomb for him. I don’t under-value the present— A painting I love beyond measure ; To look at fine sculpture is pleasant : But where to dispose of the treasure ? Your pictures and your marbles I’Il receive, Without the slightest murmur or objection ; If you be also kind enough to leave A proper place for holding the collection. “JUSTICE TO BACHELORS.” Mr. Puncy, | injustice complained of by “T nave read the complaints of Cuartes Srncte- BOY, in your last, with sympathy; and have, with great feeling, considered the cuts of the artist, illustrative of the j C. S., and my remedy is—this. “Let the ladies (and J say bless ’em!) have the best rooms, and the men the worst; but don’t let the married men lie in clover by virtue of their wives; whilst the bachelors are hoisted into the garrets. “My remedy—I repeat it—is ¢his. “ Let the women, married and single, share the best beds together among ’em; and let the men, married and achelors, individually rough it in the attics. * Yours, “ A Sryere Victim.” AN APPETITE FOR NOVELTY. Art one of the numerous exhibitions daily advertising their attractions to the world, we find among the programme the announcement of some “ exquisite pearl-eaters.” of the entertainment must be rather costly for the proprietor, if the pearl-eaters happen to have good appetites, and are dhol their pearls as the French are their bread, a dis- crétion. Surely there must be some mistake in the adver- tisement, and pearl-drinkers must be intended instead of pearl-eaters, for early pearl—or purl, as it is usually spelt, we believe—is a common and inexpensive beverage. There This part | As there is good to be got from every evil, we are justified in expecting that the | ought to be literally, as well as musically, a pluie des Perles | puff and quack malady will cure itself, and if things are likely to mend when they|to supply the expensive tastes of these individuals, who, get to the worst, we may congratulate ourselves upon humbug having reached | by having their appetites thus luxuriously pees. may, almost the antipodes of sense and propriety. The Xl mania has already nearly|in time, require some garnets by way of garniture, or exhausted the utmost resources of absurdity ; for M. Porrevin on a donkey—/|should they turn topers, insist on drinking nothing less how very like putting butter upon bacon !—has failed to attract, and three or four | choice than dissolved topazes.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 211

——_—$—_—_— THE CONCERTS AT THE OPERA HOUSE REVISITED. (By our own Impartial Critic.) measure title. They include, at least, one piece of music 2 Ww in the course of the VP <7 WY XY evening, which is really grand; and let us hope Mr. MACFARREN, / Mr. Lover, and Mr. ‘ Gtover, will render them both grand and national. Persons who have the control of musical arrangements in this country, too often bear a resemblance to a very unphil directors of these concerts, however, I am happy to report, show that they can take a hint.

| instead of murdering them by cutting them in two. When I heard BreEernoven’s noble | Hroica for the second time, it was like beholding a mighty Colossus in its totality—instead | of seeing a giant, heels first and head afterwards. ; | Last night I heard the symphony in C minor by the same great man; and I would advise everybody to hear it too, that would like the emotions of joy, and exultation, and triumph to be excited in his soul —if he has a soul—for the small sum of eighteenpence, if he can command that amount of capital. For my part, I paid three shillings for the entertainment, being driven into the upper boxes by the crowd, which is now deservedly considerable at this place of recreation, so much so, as to incommode a short fat man like me. The gallery stalls would have answered my purpose at a less expense, but that the neighbouring chandelier keeps hissing with its gas in a very disagreeable and unwarranted manner. Upon my word I don’t regret my three shillings. Weser’s Overture to Oberon for it—full of fairy grace and chivalry—into the bargain. I also heard the gentlemen of the choir of the Berlin Ehapel Royal sing a fugue of Jometi1’s, and wished them no further than St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey. Miss Ancri sang Di ¢anti palpiti, in a very saccharine manner; and the jubilant Wedding March of MENDELSSOHN was played with such spirit that—if the thought of such a thing were not ridiculous on the part of a little corpulent man —it might have persuaded me to go and seek to get married. ; f ; My , st shillings’ worth might have comprised a good deal more, inclusive of a selection from one of DonizETtt’s operas, and a fantasia on another; also a polka a galop— which I dare say afforded safficient diversion to those who were inclined to stop and hear them. But the fashionable music of love and of the dance, does not affect my sympathies, and if it did, would excite feelings incongruous with my personal appearance. There is an individual performer at these concerts whom I cannot forbear singling out for favourable mention. I allude to the gentleman who beats the kettle-drums. He drums very zealously—yet without too much zeal ; he is a drummer who would have just suited Tatiey- RAND. His delicate, distinct touches tell exquisitely in the symphonies and overtures; and he is particularly great in the grand thump in the overture to Oleron. I should really like to hear this artist perform a fantasia on his special instrument. Fantasias in general are, to me, mere musical exercises, and simply wearisome. But a fantasia on the drum would, at any rate, be a novelty. I say thus much for an instrument and a performer alike too commonly neglected; and would not wish to insinuate that the orchestra, generally, is not quite worthy of the kettle drum.

OMISSIONS FROM THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW. Messrs. Goce and Macoe, in the purest spirit of civicism, beg (through Punch) to ask, wherefore the Lorp Mayor’s procession—having once taken to beasts, to the injustice of the Proprietors and Fellows of the Zoological Gardens—failed to number among the stags, elephant, and camel, the subjoined distinguished members of the animal world? The 9th of November, 1850, is over and gone; but the labours of Messrs. G. and M. may not be thrown away = the Lord Mayors as yet in the bosom of pm An Ostricu—with a horse-shoe in his mouth, and the freedom of the City hung about his neck. The iron to signify that, as a citizen of London, he is ready to swallow and digest any and all of the arguments of the Court of Aldermen. JAcKDaAw—as a bird associated with church towers and steeples; to be carried hawk- wise, on the fist of the Lorp Mayor’s Chaplain i Twopence—Twopence,’ in honour of the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s Cathedral. A TortotsesHeLL CatT—in commemoration of the mayoralty of Ricoarp WHITTINGTON ; and further illustrative of the necessity of every Corporation Cat catching his mouse. A Jackat—in compliment to the vested interest of Smithfield Market, and representative of the civic class, delighting in garbage.

A Reatty “Snocxme Bap Hart.”—The Cardinal’s Hat bestowed on Dr. WisEMAN by the Pors.

ATELY I repeated my visit to the Grand Na-| concernin’ of regilashons of ’busses, I make onic animal, both in respect of ears and obstinacy. The} dukt Mr. Batre and his band now play symphonies fairly out, executing them by regular process, | A Zepra—as the representative and type of worldly luck ; showing how a species of donkey | a | pass through the world in the finest of coats. are wishing “Confusion to the Porr,” it is de- |S

THE PATENT PASSENGER REGISTER. To Mr. Punch, “Srr,—’Avin ’ad okashun to rite you afore bold EY“. tional Concerts once at present wich now or never must be the wurd Oe BE \ \ or twice, and find that | with us condukters and drivers. ’Ard used we » they are now in some | allus wos and will be, wich not to speke of the a _ Vindicating | way condukters is poked at out o’ winder with their claim to their! stiks and rumbrellers, and the trubble guy us b ladies, perticly since the $9 ares an change constancly required, wich 1 reckens to carry about thirty-six pound wate in coppur about me from our fust jurny till our last; ’owever these ere inconwenlences ain’t nothink that the serenatas of| to speke of wile a man’s carakter is wot it ort to be, but now I ’ere tell of this ’ere ‘ Patent passenger redchester,’ wich, as explaned by a ent as rode with us last Satterday nex the ore, it is some kind a? machine under the step as tells any time a passenger gets in and hout wich it is ment for a check upon hus con- ers. | “Now, Sir, look ’ere ’owit will work. I wurks on a Waterloo. Ere’s a lady ales us in Chan- cery Lane—well, in she gets, and wen she’s settled ’erself off the passengers nees and tows, she sez, says she, ‘You go to the Bank?’ sez she, which, in course, we don’t go no veres near the Bank, and she mite a knowd it if she’d axed afore gittin in (but they seems to think all busses goes to the Bank). ‘No, marm,’? sez I. ‘Let me out this moment,’ sez she, ‘I want to go to the Bank,’ sez she ; and out she gets afore she’s rode twenty yards, praps, wich, in coarse, we don’t charge a fare for, nor don’t ort too, but the hindex (as they calls it) marks a pas- senger, and a passenger the pore condukter will ’ave for to pay for, not to speke of gents as gets hup on the step and sees twelve hinside, and sez, “Oh, no room,’ wich it arnt no use a tellin’ them there zs room, and down they gets agin, and there ’s another passenger to pay for along of this ’ere hindex, and wot 7s a condukter to do? which my place is bad enuff now, but will be ruinashun, Tealdeo many uther cases too noo- merous to menshun, and wimmen continooally leving things in the bus, and jumpin’ hup on the step to git ’em wen they’ve pade their munney. which there’s another passenger marked an no munney took, but the condukter will ’ave to pay it all the same. “They tells me this ’ere hindex is marked up to five thousand, for fere of us conduktors a workin’ on it round to deseve the een, wich I knows men as will be a match for any hindex, if you was to mark it up to a milliun, and will keep a boy to jump hon and hoff the step all the jurney, and quere the hindex till they wurks it to any pint as sutes, which it will be the ruin of the condukter as is ’onest, and it won’t be no good wen a condukter’s a roge. “So no more at present from, Mr. Punch, Your own *?*Bus ConpuctEr.”

Hammersmith and Rome. At the present time, when so many persons rable that the Porr or BisHop or Rome should d and to cry, at short intervals, “ Zwopence— | not be confounded with the Pore who is the car- rier between Hammersmith and the metropolis, |or rather that Mr. Porg should not be con- | founded with Pio Nono. There is this impor- jtant difference between the two individuals,— | that the Pore or HAMMERSMITH confines himself | to carrying some things behind him within his }regular district, whereas the Pore or Rome wants to carry every thing before him in ter- |ritories quite beyond his province.

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IT 18 COLD ON DECK, AND THEY THINK IT WOULD BE BETTER TO LIE DOWN BELOW. ROGINSON AND JONES ARE HERE REPRESENTED AT THE MOMENT OF ENTERING THE CABIN. IT IS INCONVENIENTLY FULL ALREADY, AND 80 ETURNS y . PAIR EVERYBODY 18 SNORING. ROBINSON RETURNS TO THE DECK, AND, IN DES: ’ SEATS HIMSELF UPON WHAT HE CONSIDERS A PILE OF CABLE, COATS, CANVAS, LUGGAGE, &C. HOW J9 HE TO KNOW THAT IT IS A LADY AND GENTLEMAN, ARRIVAL AT OSTEND. THE TIDE BEING LOW, IT IS NECESSARY TO LAND IN SMALL BOATS. THE HOUR IS SIX IN THE MORNING. SUNRISE IS TAKING PLACE, AND .IT,IS VERY COLD. INTERESTING EMOTIONS OF MESSRS BROWN, JONES AND ROBINSON ON COMING IN SIGHT OF “ FOREJGN PARTS” FOR THE FIRST TIME. MOMENT OF INTENSE ANWETY EXAMINATION OF PASSPORTS BY THE AUTHORITIES ROBINSON BEFORE AND AFTER A SEA VOYAGE. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Newin Somer ‘ . » 4 No.7, f° gton, both in the County of Middlesex, Pricters, at tb Ofiee, Ya Lombard Street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and published by them at No. 35, Fleet Street, in the Pa ish of St. Bride’s, in the City of Londoa.—Saruagpar, Novemane iéth, 1850

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i & ) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL REVIVALS. EEPLY sensible I am, and ought to be, of the great privilege which I enjoyed a few days ago, of travelling from the Paddington Station to Didcot, in compan with the Rev. Incutpuus Crapse. The Rev. Incupnus and I were a | fellows, and though our lots in life have been very different—he being now senior tutor of St. Simeon’s, as well as amateur father confessor to the Anglo- Catholic sisterkood of St. Bennett, and the editor (some think author) of those very successful Puseyite novels, Zhe Prie-Dieu, Secrets of the Oratory, and The Stake in the Country, or the Martyrs of Mount Street-—while I—but no matter for that—notwithstanding, I say, the difference in our positions, he is always very affable when we meet, and does not even scruple to converse with me on the present state of the nation, of which his views are, upon the whole, gloomy. But I never remember to have heard him so very dismal as during,our journey on this occasion. He kept drawing the most awful pictures of Infidelity stalking through the length and breadth of our island, tearing down the reredosses, putting out the candles, refusing to join in the antiphonies, building churches without apses and piscine—of a latitudinarian clergy, with shirt- collars and whiskers—of the dreadful abandonment by the laity of the whole- some discipline of fasts and floggings—and the general indisposition to auri- cular confession—until I thought an old lady in the carriage would have gone into hysterics. “Where is the holy and child-like faith of our ancestors ?” he asked. ‘‘ Who now endows a monastery, or settles his property in perpetuity on a chapter ? No, Sir, now-a-days we establish model lodging-houses, and believe in the unintermitting water-supply and _pipe-drainage. What has become of the blessed practice of pilgrimages? Instead of them we have excursion-trains. In place of praying at the shrine of our Lapye or WALSINGHAM, or walking on bare knees round the tomb of the blessed St. Tomas of Canterbury, our artisans are picture-seeing in the galleries of Hampton Court, or going to Southampton and back for three-and-sixpence.” This was the strain in which the Rev. Incutruvs indulged till we shook hands at Didcot; where he left us, and was received by two young acolytes, in pale faces, stiff cravats without ties, and long coats, one of whom meekly shouldered his carpet-bag, the work probably of one of the holy sisterhood of St. Bennett aforesaid (for 1 observed embroidered on it, in the early English style of crochet, a saint, with pointed feet and perpendicular hands, and an inscription in the orthodox and illegible character, familiar to the ecclesiologist on monumental brasses); while the other reverently charged himself with the breviary (bound in purple-velvet, with Moyen-age clasps, and across patinée on the cover) with which the Rev. Incutemus had been beguiling so much of his journey as had not been bestowed on the edifying discourse I have described. ¢ After his departure I don’t know whether I fell asleep or not, a MN but I certainly had what CrristorHer Sty calls “an exposi- tion” of veneration, which I have no doubt did me much good, and which I will try to describe for the benefit of some of the latitudinarian readers of this publication. My mind took a retrograde flight, in obedience to the impulse it had received from the Rev. Incutenvus. I felt myself back- sliding, if I may say so, from present faiths and feelings, into past beliefs, past royalties, past pietisms. My frst sense was of the iniquity of adherence to the House of Hanover, and a lively impression of the awful sin of the Act of Succession, and the wilful wickedness of the Bill of Rights. I returned to my allegiance and was at the feet of the Pretender, renouncing “the glorious, pious, and immortal memory,” with great unction. Of course my religious creed changed with my political. I made a tremendous effort to stick fast at the High Tory, Tantivy, Church and King Protestantism of Juxon and Lavup—but in vain—I was swept back—back into QuEEN Mary’s blessed reign, and found myself shaking hands with Bisnor BonNER, as we assisted at the roasting of a batch of heretics, somewhere near the present site of the Victoria Park, and congratulated each other on the prospects of the true faith. in thought I was secure. But the impetus backwards was too strong, and (before I had time to take good note of the changes), I had already done duty to Wopgn, and cooked some scores of British captives @ /a panier, in honour of that fine old Anglo-Saxon divinity. But I couldn’t stop there either; and the last thing I was conscious of, was making a desperate effort to stick a mistletoe bough into my cap, as I hurrahed a march of original Druids, (the leader singularly resembling LABLACHE in Oroveso) round about the gigantic eas of Stonehenge, on our way to a human sacrifice. Such was the effect on your humble servant of the Reverenp IneuLpnus’s Theory of Developments—in the wrong direction. ” / Shs \ it] aM Mi! Me Ni! Atty Si i WARS, AND RUMOURS OF WARS. CoNSIDERABLE consternation was excited among the Berlin chorus | Theatre, exhibited a good deal of Prussian blue in their countenances on at the National Concerts, by the intelligence that all the subjects of | the evening of the rumour in question getting into circulation. We under- Prussia serving abroad were to return immediately to their allegiance. | stand that a memorial has been addressed to the Kine or Prussia, The Berlin chorus not being at all pugilistically disposed, would not be | stating that the Berlin choristers are not conspiring in this country, desirous of putting on the Berlin gloves to fight, or taking up the Berlin | although they act in concert, but that they are engaged in the promotion gauntlet. It was observed that the choir, while singing at Her Majesty’s ! of harmony rather than in disturbing it. VOL, XIX, Z

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214 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ae -—- ew’ the E ingtish troops ee full oo from pe TW T T T \ T AN astie. ot a shot was firec jut nothing could restrain the INVASION AND SUBJECTION OF ENGLAND. indomitable ardour of the Brass Band of the 150th from bursting into UR own particular reasons for Partant pour la Syrie (epigrammatically meaning London). believing that the days of| We formed, and marched to the Railway, when Bompaprer MILtE- England—as England, were | LAURIERS rushed forward, and with his drawn sabre, cut the electric numbered—that the Royal |Wires—as he would have cut so many fiddlestrings—thereby destroying Standard at Windsor or Buck- | all communication between Dover and the Metropolis. ingham Palace would be in-}__ The troops took a parliamentary train; and the whole route through evitably exiled to the tricolor | Kent—(C.zsar’s Kent)—was one long ovation. Wherever our engines —and that the imperial crown |stopt to take water, the inhabitants poured out with wine, and ale, (now shown at one_ shilling | cal a liquor of the country, called gin. It may serve to show the per head in the Tower)— | state of moral discipline arrived at by our troops, merely to observe would be taken to bits, and|that not a drop of liquor was accepted. Men who thirst for glory the prime jewels distributed | des md all meaner drink. ae by the French President! How much have we misunderstood these people! A train in advance among his Generals for sword | had spread the report of our coming. The populace was dressed in ommels and shirt-studs—/|their holiday cottons. At the station, all the marriageable maidens, ranging heavy as millstones | with flowers upon their heads (a clergyman in attendance), and their at our heart, we resolved|parents and guardians with their dowries in bags, supplicated an to enquire further into the | alliance with our brave army. But, with the voice of ‘glory i in his ears, matter ; ; to which end we the soldier of the Republic is deaf to love. sought the assistance of a| The army arrived in excellent spirits at Blackheath, where the camp cunning man, whose private | was pitched,—a part of my staff quartering at Greenw ich Hospital. In and personal acquaintance with |order to prevent a surprise by the Pensioners, I gave orders that the destinies, had made for|everyman should, by sunrise, under pain of martial law, give in his him a startling reputation as | wooden leg! ‘ the discoverer of hidden} The eastern approach to London in our possession, I marched natins money, stolen spoons, strayed asses, and bewitched cattle. Retired |day-break upon the metropolis. With CunnincHam’s Handbook CoLouR-SERJEANT BEEBONNET, of the Royal Rainbows, has long London, and two cabmen brought in by our Lancers, we had no diff been the acknowledged prophet of the town of Rawhead-cum-Gory- | culty in deploying upon Regent Street ; and here—as before concerted— bones ; and to SeRJEANT BEEBONNET, with a solemnity of countenance | our movements were crowned with success. not to be mistaken by the sagacity of such a seer, we last week took| [or at_day-break our gallant troops lying i in secret in the Crystal our way. Ata glance, the Serjeant Prophet divined the cause of| Palace of Hyde-Park, whither, nes a to previous strategy, they had our mission. “It’s all up,” said he; “ Britannia may toast|been conveyed, packed up among the contributions of French com- crumpets with her trident; the House of Guelph may pack to the | merce, to the Exhibition of of all Nz at day-break our gallant troops Union, and Lords and Commons may squat at the Antipodes.” And | burst, with fixed bay anes, like idteiee, forth ! then the old gentleman, quivering from head to feet with the indigna- The 42nd Light \V oltizeurs—for three weeks with sony | rations— tion of a patriot, took a few violent turns about his cottage, kicked | shut up in Paris pianos, of an entirely new movement (see Catalogue), over a stool, cursing the bit of wood, for a scoundrelly Frenchman, although a little Jonbhes d and cramped at first, soon, with the returning and then dropt savagely with all his weight in his easy chair, and | ene rgy of the soldier, stood at ease with beautiful determination. setting the hresite that stirred in his heart to music, he burst forth A company of pioneers, bursting from bales of French silk, and a singing— And Britons ever, ever, ever, ever will be slaves !” regiment of Sapewrs—too long ignobly shut up in French clock-cases— Having waited until SeRJEANT BeEBonNeET had ventilated the poured like a torrent through the Park. In short, in less than an hour, furnace of his soul, we at length opened our business. Would he—for|all our troops, conveyed in French manufactures into the Crystal the good of his country and the increasing glory of Puach—would he | Palace, to act in concert with the invading army, had formed. A mine condescend to prophesy all the details of the approaching invasion, and | had been sj prung by the brave fellows, to wile away the dreariness of final subjection of England, by the French? It would be a great con- confinement, and precisely at 6 A. M., the mine was fired and the glass solation to many families of the nobility, gentry, clergy, and even of the| palace blown to atoms. Paxton, the architect, rushing from his lodg- public at large, at once to know the worst! Would the Prophet vouch- ings, hard by, in his morning-gown, to the scene of devastation, was safe to appear in robes of black-and-white : or, to speak on phrase, | capt ured, but ‘spi ured. I have ordered him a set of chains of 200 cewt., would he, with pen and ink and foolscap, make manifest the horrors | in tri-col lored erystal; and shall gsr him, when so manacled, to the that awaited a do omed, but singularly unreflecting country ? nation. As one of our brave fellows blithely obse rved, when the Crystal “It’s no use, Sir; not a bit,” cried SERJEANT BEEBONNET, and| Palace, with the world’s Industrial Show, was blown to bits—“C’etait again he jumpe d to his feet, and’ struck his head. and knocked down joliment nettoyée !” another three-le -gged stool, erying “ Cossaque,” at the prostrate topsy-| At 7 a. m. London was ours with an amount of bloodshed quite turvy moveable. “* It’s no use, Sir; Downing Street has no more ears | ridiculous ; but then our gallant army was w onderfully seconded by the than an oyster. When the be wyonet is in its bowels, and red-boxes fly | efforts of thousands of our gallant countrymen, women, and children, all about like blacks at a fire, then—then, perhi ups, Downing Street may |lodgers at the hearth-stones of perfidious Albion. I have issued an think of Corour-SERJEANT BEEBONNET ! order that every householder shall immediately surrender up his house We waited our time; for at length the patriot prophet—with a soft-|and moveables, to be held and enjoyed by those French subjects at the ness worthy of Cor1oLaNvs in his most remorseful moment, consented | time of the invasion lodging with him. to project his soul into the middle of June, 1851, and upon a fair sheet | It will be seen that, with the tens of thousands of our gallant country- of foolscap to write down in order all the events of the invasion, and|men domiciled with the unsus specting Englishman, the downfall of subjugation of England exactly as they will be written by the French} London must inevitably be wa fait accompli. All "honour to those generalissimo commanding. We are pre pared for the sarcasms and| Frenchmen who, whilst enjoying a treacherous hospitality, were not unbelief of the he adstrong and frivolous. They have no eyes for such | forgetful of the wrongs of France. a prophecy ; they see no more of it than if the fatal words were written} At an early part of the day, we found the animals of the Po ge in ass’s milk upon pot-post. Insensate generation! When the fire of | Gardens of ‘considerable benefit to our movements, as eating a an invading army shall have warmed that colourless fluid into the nigri-| diversion. All the carnivora and the monkeys were set at Liberty. The tude of fact, then—but not till then—with blinded eyes, and enashing | leopards—it would seem with an instinctive recollection of the wrongs teeth, will you confess that the man who knew what was really what, | they had suffered when gibbe ‘ted in the flag of England—turned with was SERJEANT BEEBONNET. | great alacrity upon their tyrants. Dittothe tigers. The ge amus, lenervated by English milk and British pumpkins, refuse budge ; BULLETIN. jand 1 leering, as it was thought, contemptuously upon a Chief of ee | al he s O > other hi ” : Lonvon, Bucxrnewam Patacr, June, 1851 Division, was sabred on the spot. On the other hand, the monkeys ev ince al creat intelligence in following all our movements; and it is yet |to be seen whether they might not be enrolled as a Light Singerie, with considerable effect. MonstEvuR LE PREsIDENT,—The tricolor waves over the Palace of the Guetrus. I dictate this in the pink-and-silver breakfast-room of | her deposed Masesty QuEEN VICTORIA. The subjugation of England is complete. Of course there yet remain Yesterday our troops landed in the most perfect manner on Dover |a few insensate examples of defiance and contempt. QuzEEN ‘Victoria, beach. Not a drummer was missing. The weather, propitious to the|the Prrxce, and Children, have taken shelter in W oolwich Doc kyard, civilising arms of France, was hazy at day-break, and thick cened into an | the only plac e where they cast brass guns. I learn that the Dockyard impervious fog towards noon. In the bosom of that fog we landed ;| will be guarded by circumvallations of Congreve rockets ; by which it when the sun of Austerlitz (the favourite sun of your immortal uncle) | would seem the dethroned dynasty contemplate, at the worst, a ~ ~

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or rr. ©) rot} ; . . a = Pe om bednng “wr with per 9 eer sag 80 | fiable to apply to Mepimva Revivats, or the reproduction of Mys- marked at the infamous Waterloo, yet holds out in Apsley House. TERIES, which, until recently, have never been acted in any AUTHORISED is occasionally to be seen on the roof, in his great-coat and cocked hat, | os ade ae = “ continually saying to himself, “ Up, Guards, and at ’em.” I have | ESTABLISHMENT in this country since the Reformation. To-morrow, and w ordered a bag of gunpowder to be hung at the street-door (we have | during the week, the Performances will commence with the Farce of forced the gates), and at ten precisely shall effect an entrance. I have

telegraphed to Portsmouth for the instant outfit of the Bellerophon, | MOCK-MATINS; or, MONKS IN MASQUERADE. and in that ship—¢ha¢ ship—shall instantly transport the Duke to| _ ; rei ; St. Helena. In which the Rev. Mr. Benepict Bam will introduce his celebrated From all quarters the people come in. Almacks, however, continues Italian Imitations. to hold out; though th yhite pocket-handkerchiefs, with worked : ' corenets, hom _ sek, ae hens of truce. ‘The omen desire to walk | To be followed bya Grand Romanesque Melodramatic Spectacle, entitled out with their diamonds, their daughters, and all their other honours of - THE SERVICE IN DISGUISE; war. This must not be permitted. The diamonds nust be surrendered ; On, THE MYSTERIOUS MOUNTEBANKS.

and the daughters, with the largest dowries,:one and all, inexorably put to the wedding-ring. had almost forgotten to state, that I have found it necessary to} —qj#h new and startling Effects of Scenery, Dresses, and Decorations hang all the editors of the atrocious newspapers. To-night, 1 go with ‘ . . my staff to the theatre, and have'ordered, under pain of martial law, The whole of the Music by Prorrssors GREGORY AND AMBROSE. that the pieces acted should be returned to the language from which Cay wee arene ‘ This extraordinary Piece, on the getting up of which no exertion has Monsieur le President, been spared, will include an imposing display of Thave the honour to remain, : SERIOUS PANTOMIME ; CHANGARNIER. ; ; } , as certain portions of the Performance will be gone through in Dump Snow, realising to the imagination of the Audience THE REAL CLERK OF THE WEATHER. The Magnificence of the Roman Ritual ! _ It_used_ to be supposed that the Clerk of the Weather was an|and it is confidently asserted that the Detvston will be Comp.ere. imaginary individual, but a gentleman who is always writing to the|The Rev. Mr. Bam will perform the celebrated feat of reading various Times from Bermondsey Square, has evidently inducted himself into the | Passaces a office alluded to. He appears to sit with one eye on the barometer, . WITH HIS BACK TO THE AUDIENCE; and the other on the thermometer, all day and all night long, for the : , purpose of noting the results, and contributing an occasional quarter of and by way of improvement upon ordinary summersets, the Rev. Mr. a column to the leading journal. We have lately made some calcula-| Hoaxes will cut a series of right angles in the air. The novel trick of tions, upon less elaborate data than the Bermondsey savant, and by noting the tip of our nose, we found it stood at 40 in the shade on Guy Faux Day, and on the 9th, during the Lord Mayor’s Show, the same | will be introduced by that celebrated illusionist, the Rev. Mr. Cozens, feature got up to 60 in the sunshine. Our highlows gave us a! who also, together with the Rev. Messrs. HumMmatyt, Currks, and quarter of an inch as the depth of mud, but this does not show the | Greener will exhibit a variety of mean quantity of rain, as watering the roads would account for the ——- ‘ - phenomenon. The pressure upon our chilblains was much below the Ecclesiastical Poses Plastiques!! average of former years, and the freezing point, which we usually have! Fully equal in point of attraction to the most remarkable spectacle of at our fingers’ ends, was, up to the middle of November, quite im-| the kind ever witnessed in the genuine perceptible. —— HALL OF ROME!! Wanted as Tutor—an Accomplished Thief. The Text, instead of being spoken, will be delivered in recitative, varied by the introduction of solos and choruses, for which latter, an eflicient_ corps of choristers has been engaged; and Mr. Benepict

SHIFTING THE LECTERN,

Aw honest employment could be found now for the genteel high- waymen and pickpockets of the last century. Some thieves of Z say oe 4 ae : Somer courteous manners and light fingers are sadly wanted to rob the tra- a Bre be ree bt b Doe rg sotto voce style. velling public, according to law, at the London Custom-house. The | *2© *#¢¢tS t 8 Times Says, that it is the practice there to do business so very coarsely | TERRIFIC APPEARANCE IN THE WHITE SURPLICE, as to wrench open your plate-chest with a crow-bar in spite of your | - : ; : ae offering a key. Jack Sueprarp would have appreciated such polite | By a Reverend Gentleman, who will deliver an impressive recitation ; attention, and reciprocated it. Cannot some expert housebreaker be and the piece will terminate with a found to teach these persons to do their spiriting rather more gently, | GRAND CHORAL FINALE. instead of smashing and destroying as much again as they seize, like a ; ae . set of brutal, clumsy, half educated burglars ? Great attention has been paid to the Lighting of this Theatre, and public notice is respectfully called to the arrangement of Large Wax : ae | Candles at the back of the Stage to burn by day, as well as night, SLANG OF THE SERVANTS HALL. | according to the Roman system of illumination. THE old Post, the other day, recorded a wedding between abaronet’s| *,* The eminent illusionist, the Rev. Mr. Iexatius Cozens, the son and a lord’s daughter under the heading of “Marriage in High | Oxford Wizard, will shortly deliver a lecture at the above Histrionic Life.” High life! Whose life is high, in these times, unless it is| Temple, in which he will perform the AstounpInc Marvet of Swat- either led honourably or in a garret! The phrase is a mere flunkeyism.| towne (in a non-natural sense) We now only he: “High Life” sta ouly hear of “ High Life” below stairs. ANY GIVEN NUMBER OF NO LESS THAN THIRTY-NINE ARTICLES!!! Doors open at seven (in the morning) ; performance to commence at

DUBIOUS LOYALTY. half-past. Ir is contended by some that the acceptance of a Papal bishoprick in Vivat Pontifex Romanus ! No money returned ! England is not incompatible with loyalty. We are afraid the only | —— : es pena ait hats loyalty it is consistent with is that of an lenatrus Loyo.isr, * See the Bisnop or Lonpon’s Charge.

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| difficult to deal with it.

WA, by “i! SitiN een = S WEN Wi vu a ‘ He ~ f ——/ -9QNXS \ Nut iy - eet Hy %

i ( js =< TMAE: veut PAY \ atta ep Py TRIUMPHANT SUCCESS OF MR. BRIGGS. SoMEHOW OR OTHER (ASSISTED BY HIS LitTLE Boy WatTER), FLIES AT HIM, AND BRIEFLESS ON PUSEYITE BELL RINGING. A casE for the opinion of Mr. Brrertess was left the other day with that gentleman’s laundress, who laid it before Counsel—with her own little bill—in the usual form, on the following morning. The case ran thus, “ Your opinion is required whether the early bell-1 ringing at St. Barnabas, Pimlico, by which the inhabitants are disturbed at HE CATCHES A JACK, To usE Mr. B.’s Own WORDS, BaRKS LIKE A Doe! WHICH, and Mr. Dunvur having reciprocated the obligation, by placing Mr. BRIEFLESS in the same "dlabolie relation to himself—see Inrey—these learned gentlemen invariably obtain each other’s assistance in all their cases. This will account for there being appended to the above document, the words, *T am of the same opinion, “S. Dunup.” uncouth hours, and rendered contemporaries with the sweeps and other matutinal nuisances, can be prevented or legally punished.” Mr. Brrertess has forwarded to his Belgravian clients the fol- lowing OPINION :— “ Temple, November 16th, 1850. “I am clearly of opinion that the bell-ringing is a nuisance, and I am less clearly—that is to say, rather dimly—of opinion that it will be If the bell were an external door- bell, and not a bell rung by an internal rope, we should have a handle to take hold of, under the police act, which makes it an offence punishable with a fine of forty shillings to ring a bell to the annoyance of the inhabi- tants. On the other hand, I am afraid the law cannot grasp the rope of the Puseyites; and, perhaps, this may be a wise provision —or omission—for, if they are left plenty of rope, they will eventually hang themse Ives. If ‘proceedings were taken, and there should be a conviction against the bell, a-peal would lie, as it did in CLapPEn’s case, though the bell might be hung; but still, if it were shown to be for the waking up of the priests, there might ‘be a plea of benefit of clergy. On the whole case, therefore, I am of 0 inion that it may be worth while to take out a summons against the bell-ringer, calling on him to show cause why he should not be fined forty shillings for ringing a bell in a thoroughfare, to the annoyance of the inhabitants. * J. BRIEFLESS.” Mr. Brier.ess having, in the kindest and most considerate manner, retained his friend Mr. Dunvr in the professional capacity of “ Devil,” “Just like His Impudence.” For weeks and weeks—for Y verish days and sleepless nights—have | we been puzzled to understand what could have been the object of the Pore in so daringly nominating CarpinaL Wiseman, Archbishop of Westminster. At last we have arrived at something like a satisfactory conclusion ; for our belief is, that the Porr’s object in ithe nomination was none other than to “‘ take the incensus of England ;” and, from the very loud indignation that aoe been expressed against it in every part of the kingdom, we think that His Knowing Holiness has every chance of succeeding in his object. A PUNCH ON THE HEAD, In his new book on the defenceless state of England, Srr Francis Heap says that France might invade London with the greatest ease in the world. Sim Francis Heap ought to be ashamed to put such things into France’s head. EXTRA-MURAL INTERMENT. by the SINCE, new law, all cemeteries are to be carried out of town, we hope that some -* will speedily be taken for the removal | of Leicester Square; as, for the last three years, it has been nothing | | better than a public cemetery for all the dogs, cats, and kittens of | the neighbouring parishes, to be buried there.

Qe

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CANDLE. [AN \ D RO N = =n) ~ MO K THE PUSEYIT

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_ — PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 219 LABOUR AND THE RICH. By our own Special Metropolitan Correspondent. JULLIEN’S MASQUERADE. uR Correspondent, in pursuance with the instruc- O tions he received ee us, proceeded to the above haunt of labour, in which the industrious rich most abound, and the following is the result of the information he collected on the spot. Our Correspondent begs us to state that he experienced the greatest difficulty in collecting any evidence at all, for all the poor unfortunate sufferers whom he questioned seemed to be so ashamed of their vocation, that it was only with the most untiring patience and good-hu- mour he succeeded in eliciting a single word from any one of them. In genial harmony with the influence of the place, it was as much as he could do to get any one to speak; and he assures us that the task he has just completed was such an unpleasant one, was so beset with ar and perils, and insults in every possible shape, that he would not undertake it again for any consideration. How he escaped being knocked down, he cannot imagine, for he says—‘‘It is one of the great peculiarities of the class of people who labour at an English masquerade to think it an insult if they are spoken to; and not unfrequently they resent it as such, by levelling the impertinent offender who accosts them at full-length upon the floor.” It is not necessary to describe the locality in which Our Correspondent ursued his investigations. Every one is acquainted with JuLLIEN’s asquerade and its dazzling glories of gas, jot its garlands of coloured calico, and its clusters of gilt Curis that are suspended from the ceiling by the waist, and, by the heat of the chandelier, keep turning round like larks at a fire. Every one knows JuLLIEN, too, and his memorable smile and white waistcoat, the one, like the other, as unfaded as the first day he put it on, and every one knows and admires the ood nature with which he mimics a musical fanaticism. Every one as laughed at the good-humoured languor with which the majestic Mons. drops exhausted into his regal arm-chair, after having enacted the most terrific quadrille-storm that ever distracted the Jdfon of a conductor, and smiles privately to himself. In fact, JuLL1EN always seems to us to be smiling under his white waistcoat at the fools he is making of his audience, and we look upon this fine kerseymere smile of JuLirEen’s as the greatest proof of his genius. We are confident no one enjoys the fun so much as he does. All these things are familiar to everybody, and we think Our Corre- spondent was perfectly right in not wasting our valuable space in the tnousand told enumeration of them. _ The following is the substance of Our Correspondent’s painful investigations :— Tue Ricgut Honovraste Sypney Surrqrnes.—“ Is a clerk in the Treasury. Came to the Masquerade because he hadn’t anything better todo. Wishes he had gone to bed. Bought a nose at the door, and thought it original, but it was pulled off before he had been two minutes in the room. Has been walking about three hours; is very tired and sleepy. Wishes smoking was allowed. Thinks dancing at a masquerade a r. Shouldn’t mind a Polka in a lobby, if no one was worked so hard in all my life. Will you believe it ?—the only fun I’ve had was bonneting a Charles the Second—here’s his feather—because, you will scarcely credit it—the impudent vagabond dared to speak to me without an introduction. Shall stop till there ’s a row—there must be one shortly—and then won’t he go into it!” The evidence of this misguided _youth—he was not more than five and twenty—was largely interlarded with oaths totally unfit for publication. French Hartequin.—“ Refuses giving his name or his card either ; but is a member of the superior classes. Was told it was ‘the ticket | to go in costume, because it was so expressed in the one he bought; | but shall know better another time. Wishes he was at the Club | playing lansquenet ; he’s tired of this fun—if it is fun—for, for the life 'of him, he can’t see it; and he’s been looking for it everywhere ever | since ten o’clock. Why doesn’t he go home? Because he has lost the |key of his chambers, and he must stop out till the laundress comes in the morning to do his room. Why doesn’t he do something to promote the merriment of the evening? That’s all very well; but why don’t you? why don’t the others? He doesn’t see anybody else doing it; |and he doesn’t like doing anything that’s singular. y, he would be laughed at! ‘Well, supposing it is a masquerade, still, a gentleman naturally doesn’t like doing anything that causes him to be laughed at. Why doesn’t he try to be witty? Because he does’nt choose. Is that, his own costume? Why, of course it is. Do you think he stole it ? What, he might have hired it? Oh! you think so, do you? Well then, here goes!” and, so saying, he raised his Harlequin’s arm, and dealt a heavy blow, which Our Correspondent luckily avoiding, fell upon the unprotected breast of a German student ; and soon there was a general row, which quite deadened the noise of JuLtren’s band, and for the next ten minutes nothing was heard save the voice of Carrain DE SILLIMAN, shouting above the tumult, ‘I’m your man.’ ” The remaining evidence is much of the same care-worn texture. Pierrots, Débardeurs, Barristers, Cooks, Postillions,—persons in the most nondescript costumes, and others in no costume at all,—gentlemen sober and otherwise,—blackeuards affecting the gentleman, and gentle- men doing (only with a better success) the blackguard,—were all severally examined; but no fresh fact was sifted out of the mighty heap of nonsense. It is unnecessary to state, that the toil was voluntary. It is so far lucky; for we doubt if any money could have compensated for the amount of fatigue and suffering which that night must have been under- gone. It only proves how much an Englishman will endure ! THE CABMAN. Ty loneliness upon his box the moody Cabman sat, Close buttoned was his overcoat, sullenly slouch’d his hat ; The pipe of shortness from his mouth he fiercely snatched away, Muttering—‘* We’re very much alike, thou humble piece of clay. “The bitter world despises us, but calls us at its need, Uses us up, casts us away when done with—like a weed. Though right and left with eagerness my starting eyeballs glare, Though erying ‘ Cab, Sir!’ all day long, I cannot find a fare. ‘“* When from the stand I deviate, along the street to ply, The stern policemar: fixes me, with all observant eye. Down goes my number in a book, and lo! within a week, I stand a guilty trembler before the avenging beak; “Men step from out their stations, by many a wilful prank, It is the cabman only, that’s fettered by his rank ; From it he dare not move away, his daily bread to gain; to see him. Shall walk about for two hours longer, and then go home.” This evidence was interrupted by several hems, and hahs, and | awns, and elongated by the most distressing symptoms of fashionable | stlessness. Tuomas Toapy, Esq.—This poor creature was found fast asleep | about two o’clock in the morning, in a private box. It was with the | greatest difficulty Our Correspondent could wake him.—‘‘ Wishes the | orchestra wouldn't make such a row. It prevents him sleeping. Why | does he sleep? How can he help it ?—the thing’s so precious stupid. Hates all masquerades. Why did he come then? Because it was Sir ALFRED’s box—and a person must go somewhere. Why doesn’t he go down stairs? Because a wild Indian said something funny to him, | and he hates funny things, so he got out of the way as quick as he could. Must have knocked the man down if he had stopped. Shall stop till five o’clock, when Str ALFRED stands supper at the Bedford. Hates being bored. Wants to go to sleep again”—and before Our Correspondent had left the box, he says, the unfortunate wretch buried his fatigues under a heap of great-coats, and in less than a minute was competing with the ophicleide as to which of the two should make the greater noise. Cartan De Smaiman.—‘Is in the Army. Has £5000 a-year, and expects as much more when the old governor cuts up. Intends to| mene every penny of it, like a brick. It’s hard work,' though, this Masquerade. Here I have been these four hours, and, egad! I never He must, till some one calls him off, true to his rank remain. “* An iron badge he’s doomed to wear on his external vest, They will not have it anywhere, save on his heaving breast, >T would seem that persecution were of their plan a part, Else why dash down the metal plate upon his very heart ? “Tis cruelty’s refinement, the bosom thus to brand With weight of senseless iron, cold as a tyrant’s hand ; And if in passion’s anguish he hurries it from sight, A summons may be found at home to welcome him at night. “The law won’t let him leave his box an instant, e’en to quaff The early purl of day-break, or the morning’s half-and-half. Untasted too must be the grog—nor e’er must reach his lip, While with his cab—the delicate and egg-begotten flip. “He mustn’t say an angry word, though abuse on him may shower, Retaliation’s luxury is never in his power; And if to cheat him of his fare a passenger essay, He can but ask the knave’s address and let him walk away. * Alas! for our fraternity there ’s nothing like repose, Though sa sound the cabman’s ‘Gees,’ sad are the cabman’s ‘Woes.’ Thus let me write my epitaph,—my awful fate beware ; EX Vrobe the world until, at last, it Drobe me ta Vespair.”

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OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AVERAGE WEIGHT OF THE FOOT GUARDS. Heavy Swell. “ Wwat’s THE AVERAGE WEIGHT OF THE REGIMENT, CHARLEY ?” Swell in the Guards, “ Don’? Know, I’M suRE—AW—BUT TEN GO TO THE Ton.” A FEW WORDS ON OFFICIAL COSTUME. In these days when puffery with its thousand tongues is calling upon us to reform our tailor’s bills; when the ten-guinea great coat of other days is exchanged for the five-and twenty-shilling wrap-rascal, or the pound paletot of the present, we may be excused for saying a few ued. on behalf of economy in official costume. We are cutting down salaries to the minimum ; we are calling upon public servants to do a double day’s work for halt-a-day’s pay ; and yet official costume remains unreformed, continuing as costly as ever. If aman is made a serjeant-at-law, though the business is not what it used to be, the full-bottomed wig is as indispensable as_ ever, and costs exactly the same; so that the coif is now seldom applied for, in consequence of the smallness of the chance of profit, and the certain expence of “ dressing for the character.” A serjeant’s wig cuts into an awful amount of horse-hair, and one of our “learned brethren” having remonstrated the other day with his wig-maker on the extravagance of his prices, was seriously informed that a single wig uses up the tails of six animals; and our friend was referred to a respectable knacker for a confirmation of the fact. The ordinary bob-wig of the “utter” will take the best part of a pair of ponies, and then it must be a very close shave; while a judge’s every- day head-dress will make a couple of cobs’ tails look very foolish, leaving erhaps just enough to get a coachman’s Caxon out of the remains. t is true that these wigs have come down to us from our forefathers ; but why should we take their folly upon our own shoulders? Are we to curl up the toes of our boots and shoes because our ancestors did so? We ask this question, because it is one that comes directly to the point. Beasnting from the wig to the gown, we find extravagance aud absurdity pervading the toga or togery of the highest judicial functionaries ; and we especially protest against the robe of the Lord MEN | THE DEFENCELESS STATE OF ENGLAND. Tue alarm about the unprotected femaleship of poor 3RITANNIA has at last come to a head, Str Francis having published a book telling us that London is liable to be walked into by 150,000 Frenchmen at any hour of the day. This is a sort of story that is avowedly intended to | stimulate naval preparation, and we therefore recommend the author at once to “tell it to the marines.’ We lare quite sure that if 150,000 Frenchmen were to be seen at the Bricklayers’ Arms, the common cry would be “what are the police about,” and Mr. Inspector Some- | popy would at once proceed to the Elephant and Castle, | for the purpose of sufficiently manning the said “Elephant,” | and preventing the “Castle” from being taken by storm. |Smr Francis proposes the immediate fortification of | London, in the style of Paris, but really the market vardeners in the suburbs wili tell him we want all our trenches for our celery, and as to throwing up mounds, we have quite enough of that in getting ready the beds for | Our asparagus. we Wandsworth sleeps soundly enough without the aid of | bastions. Brixton would rise as one man if it were about to be cut off by a moat from Clapham; and Chelsea, if | threatened with being “loopholed,” would find any loop- hole to get out of the expense. ; Kensington would never quietly consent to be encircled with a rampart, and Hammersmith would fight with its last shilling against being converted into a fort. Fancy !a drawbridge being pulled up and down at Hyde Park Corner for the passage of every vehicle, and only conceive Battersea fitted up with a gun battery to enable it to annihilate Putney, or blow Wandsworth into the water lata given signal. No! No! weare not so silly as to be frightened by the shaking of a nervous head at us. There is nothing in it, our elderly female readers may rest assured. The Authors of our own Pleasures. We have received the following from “An Amateur,” who, we imagine, must have been a contributor to the defunct Annuals, and other sources of unpaid literature. “Authors may, indeed, be called the authors of their own pleasures, for, after all, it must be confessed that there are few pleasures in this world to be compared to the ecstatic pleasure the author feels in reading one of his own articles in print.” According to this, no man can have so many pleasures as the sedulous penny-a-liner, for he sees his articles in print almost every day of his life. IN YOUR Chancellor, which, we understand, costs several hundred pounds. We have heard that its costliness, and the time required to make a new one, will sometimes cause it to be transferred, with the seals, from Chancellor to Chancellor, so that the present keeper of the royal conscience, being much shorter than his predecessor, would have been obliged to get a tuck or two “run in,” to adapt the long robe to the little wearer. Lorp CaMPBELL, on the contrary, had he taken Lorp DenMan’s costume with his office, must have had a flounce added, or a hem let down, or a false hem constructed, to lengthen out the judicial gown. The Chancellor’s state robe is a sort of black dressing-gown, with squares of gold leaf, Dutch metal, or some other glittering material arranged along the front of it, and reminding the spectator of the good old days of the drama, when ‘om THuMB was a standard burlesque. We should be glad to know, why these absurdities of costume are abolished on the Stage, and still remain on the Woolsack and the judicial bench, when, we have no doubt, the learned masqueraders would be glad to be spared the expense of buying, and the trouble of wearing them. ; The Progress of the Times. WE understand that, in order to show their disapproval of the recent nomination of Dr. Wiseman to the office of Cardinal, the Protestant Printers of London have resolved to set their faces, and their types, against titles in Roman characters, which are now quite out of every- body’s good books. THe Devovuninc Etement.—The Police Force. _ Broop Money.—Paying to see the Chamber of Horrors at Mapamr Tussaup’s.

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— vs or = ye we 6&6 OG Ue 8 ee el 1 s,cr™ ore OF Pe OF PS OS ete PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. _ lin his own dominions, Vicegerent of the Prophet, and Defender and Commander of the Faithful; that the name of the Imaum of Mecca should never more be heard in any house or mosque in Cashmere; that any man who denied that he, Sutymaun, was the Chief of the Faith, : : | should have his head cut off, his tongue cut out, his body Tue beautiful kingdom of Cash-)| chopped in quarters, and his goods confiscated. And he mere was, it is very well) seized upon all the mosques, caravanserais, hospitals, houses, known, governed by the! belonging to the old Meccaites (who were grasping and FRAGMENTS FROM THE HISTORY OF CASHMERE. BY THE ARABIAN HISTORIAN KARAGOOZ. Cmap. 222. magnificent Empress Ko- nowned for beauty, virtue, and an heroic disposition, that all the kings of the pire in charge to Viziers of great fame. Russoon JEHAUN, a __ statesman matchless for wisdom, was the President of her Divan, and administered the inte- rior affairs of the Empire ; while the foreign relations of Cashmere were upheld, ~ and her enemies made to tremble by the wisdom and valour of the undaunted Putmerstoon. By the Cashmerian laws, the hus- band of the Empress _is forbidden to take a part in political matters: that Prince, therefore, passed his time in the chase, or in the pursuits of literature, and exercised his genius in beautifying the city of Lundoon. It is to him that the Lundoonees owed the beautiful turban which they wore for many ages ; and it was he who, with the aid of two genii, Packistuan and Foox, raised up'‘in a single night that extraordinary palace of crystal, which brought all the people of the earth to visit Lundoon,—and made it the eighth wonder of the world. The kingdom of Cashmere was peaceful and happy: the ports were full of ships; the bazaars were thronged with merchants and goods; the roads were covered from one end of the empire to the cther, with people travelling in security; the Cadis did their duty;—in a word, Lundoon was the greatest city, Cashmere the noblest empire, and Koutnur the happiest sovereign in the world but for one drawback—the constant rows of the Mollahs, who were perpetually quarrelling among themselves. It is known that for along time the Cashmerians were followers of Omar, the successor of the Prophet; and that the Chief Imaum of Mecca had the appoint- ment of the Chief Mollahs of Cashmere during many ages. The Cashmerian Sovereigns, jealous of their independence, had always done their utmost against that arrangement which made their country a sort of spiritual dependency upon the Holy City of Arabia; and the pretensions and quarrels consequent upon this assumption, kept the Cashmerians in constant trouble and hot water. The country swarmed with Dervishes from Mecca; Arabian zealots came and took possession of the Cashmerian Mosques, and preached to the people in a language they could not understand ; the boldest of them called upon the Sovereigns of Cashmere themselves to pay homage to the Chief Imaum of Mecca for their thrones: for they said that the High Priest of Mecca was the Vicegerent of the Prophet, that the Prophet had given him power over all thrones and kingdoms, and woe betide those monarchs who disobeyed him. When one of their Mollahs, by name THAMAZ UL BUKEET, was murdered by one of the Kings of Cashmere, they made him go on his bare knees to the slaughtered saint’s tomb; they declared that miracles were worked there : that the sick were cured, the wicked made sure of Paradise, that the statues round the tomb wagged their heads and talked, that the pictures winked—who shall say what other wonders were performed ?—I have read them in the Ancient Historians— round the tomb of Tuamaz! Who shall believe the stories? Let him doso who will. After some thousands of years, and when not only the people of Cashmeria, but those of many other countries, began to doubt about the sovereignty which the High Priest of Mecca claimed, and to declare that not only Omar, but that Aut, but that Hassan and Hoossery, but that other good men could interpret the Koran for themselves; and that the claims of the Imaum of Mecca were, ina word, all bosh, and that he was a priest and a man, like another: it chanced that there ruled a king in Cashmere, who was called Kine SuLymaun THe E1icutu. And he wished to put away an old wife of whom he was tired, (her name was ARAGOON), and to marry a beautiful young houri who was called the Pert ANABULANE. The Imaum of Mecca would not dissolve the marriage between Kine SutymMaun THE Eicuru and poor old ARaGoon, and threatened him with curses if he divorced her. But the viziers and nobles of Cashmere, who trembled before King Sutymaux, a magnificent prince, who made nothing of cutting their heads off, said the king might marry his new wife; accordingly he did so, snapping his fingers at the bear of the Imaum of Mecca, who had complimented him upon his religious principles a oot t _ before, and sent him a robe of honour, with the title of Defender of the alt q 1 | greedy, but withal good to the poor), and partitioned them HINUR, @ sovereign so re-| amongst his lords and viziers, who made no bones about | accepting the plunder. As for the Cashmerians, it mattered little to most of them: they were as glad that the King at Lundoon should earth paid court to her,| be styled Vicegerent of the Prophet, as that the Imaum of and her banner was re-| Mecca should hold that title: they did not like that their spected wherever it was|king (for they are the vainest people in the world) should beheld. She gave her em-| he doing homage to any other potentate in Mecca, Medina, Constantinople, Abyssinia, Jericho, or any other country. And they fell into the new order of things without difli- culty, excepting some few rebels and obstinate, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered accordingly. For in these good old times, when Faith was stronger among us than it is now, everybody cut everybody else’s head off: think- ing rightly that it was better to stop an unbeliever’s tongue, than let it wag to the detriment of religion, and the per- version of simple persons from the truth. Before he died, Sutymaun THE EicuTH cut off Ana- BULANE’S head too, and married somebody else. And his son, and then his daughter, reigned after him in Cashmere. The king’s son was but very young, and did not reign very long over Cashmere. And all the time of his reign, his sister Mariam, who was daughter of poor old QuEEN Aracoon, kept her mother’s faith very stoutly, and gave up her whole heart to the Imaum of Mecca. So that when the young Prince, whose subjects loved him very much, died, and the QuEEN Marram succeeded, everybody knew that Mecca was to be in the ascendant once more; and the Meccaite priests, dervishes, mollahs, and imaums came swarming ws into Cashmere again, and the mosques were handed over to them ; and the late king’s mollahs and ulemas began to see that the time for eating dirt had arrived. AN AFFAIR OF FOLLY. Tue Irish correspondent of the Zimes stated, that, on Saturday week last, a hostile meeting took place in Phoenix Park, between the Marquis oF Siico and Mr. G. O Hicerns, M.P.; but terminated without wilful murder— in smoke unattended with fire—through the intervention of the police. , ; It is to be hoped this account will be contradicted before we publish the observation, that the Marquis who could ; make a mark of himself deserves to bea butt; and the Commoner who could expose his silly brains to perforation must be the greatest goose at this time grazing on a common. “The misunderstanding,” says our authority, “we have heard, arose out of a late election of ex officio guardians in the county of Mayo.” No misunderstanding could possibly have taken place between persons who could have had no UNDERSTANDING whatever. The Force of Habit. A LITERARY man, quite a greedy bibliomaniac, who had | devoured bookshelves as a little school-girl devours slice after slice of bread and butter, and whose successes in literature are in equal proportion to his devouring appetite | (we are sorry we are not at liberty to mention his name), | was so overpowered with joy—so topsy-turvied with his | new sensations—upon the birth of his first son, that, | instead of taking the fact to the Registrar, he went, as if | he had been the author of a new book, and had him “Entered at Stationers’ Hall.” | Religious Warmth. An advertisement in the Zimes announces a plan for heat- | ing churches by means of hot water. We wonder if the | patentee has any testimonial to show from Mr. Bennerz, | into the Church more hot water than has been known there _ The king was in such a rage at the Imaum’s curses, that he caused ‘a proclama- tion to be made all through his empire that he, SuLYMAUN THE E1euTH, was supreme or any other of the Puseyite priests who have introduce | for the last hundred years.

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222 PUNCH, OR THE L THE PAPAL USURPATION. (A CHANT.) A Beapte and a Parish-Clerk were heard to interchange remark, and hold discourse and conversation upon the Papal usurpation in a style and tone that savoured of delight and exultation. Says the Clerk, “‘ They ’ve been and done it—well, for my part, I’m glad on it; now their Puseyism is paid for ; all turns out just as I said for: all so much the better, neigkbour; Church and QuEEN I’m not afraid for.” Says the Beadle, “'Them’s my notions. motions and Papistical pretences will bring people to their senses, from Says the Clerk, “ Folks long neglected, now begins to be respected ; now some reverence and attention ’s paid to parties I could mention, who was snubb’d by other parties ’fore this Papal hinterwention.” Says the Beadle, “That aggression—for to use a mild expression— has created a compunction, and restored a proper junction of importance with the notion of a high parochial function.” Says the Clerk, “They looks devout, now, when I the psalms give out; they no longer titter when I pronounce the word ‘ Hay-men,’ and at last things has begun to be as they used to was again.” Says the Beadle, “ At my staff, whereas the boys began to laugh, and each ragged pauper-varlet my uniform would sneer and snarl at; I feels that now admirin’ eyes regards my gold, and blue, and scarlet.” Says both together, “They reveres churchwardens, too, and over- seers, likewise, as well as me and you—honour to whom the same is due, and let each parishioner keep to his own pew; and these is the sentiments, and highly proper, too; wherewith, as Britons, the great Roman Pontiff’s usurpation. Yes, the Porr’s late usurpation!” { - — MORE ZEAL WITHOUT DISCRETION. We have lately heard of a Protestant with rather more sincerity than judgment, who has just discharged an old and faithful servant because the poor fellow happens to have a Roman nose! I believe these here com- | their unparochial courses, showing what their recompense is.” majority of the public view, mixed with a sense of indignation, the | ONDON CHARIVARI. HOW TO AVOID BECOMING A GREAT CRIMINAL. WE recommend Lovis-NapotEon to write over every coor, and on the walls of every room of the Z/ysée, the following words :— “T CONSIDER AS GRE AT CRIMINALS THOSE WHO, BY PERSONAL AMBITION, WOULD COMPROMISE THE SMALL AMOUNT OF STABILITY GUARANTEED US BY THE CON- STITUTION _ They may operate as a moral checkstring, in the event of his attempt- ing to drive the “Char de Etat” too fast, and Lovts-NaPoLEoN cannot possibly object to the term “ Great Criminats,” for they are his own words, taken from his own Message delivered at the opening of the Chamber, only last week. Awful Reduction and Alarming Sacrifice. THE prospects of the Repeal Association are getting weaker and weaker every week ; and, indeed, the funds have reached such a low pitch, that it is a toss-up of a halfpenny whether a penny will be received. At one of the recent meetings, the subscription had become so miserably minimised, that Mr. Jonn O’Connett, when about to announce the collection, found himself quite unable to collect even himself, and finished by declaring that “ on this melancholy occasion his heart was—rent.” THE PAPACY OUT OF ITS ELEMENT. XeERxXEs, it is recorded, pretended to put the sea in fetters, and found out his mistake. Prus tur Nuits, who has made a similar attempt on the liberty of the English Sees, will probably be as com- pletely undeceived. A Short Review of a New Publication. | The Defenceless State of England—We have read this volume of | foolscap, and its positions are, no doubt, very strong, for there is great | difficulty in getting through them. We pronounce the book altogether | one of which neither head nor tale can be made. | Another Criticism —The “ Defenceless State of England” may be compared to some very small beer with a Head to it; and we all know that on such occasions the head is nothing but froth. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Prederick 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 in the Parish of St. Bride’s in the City of London.—Satonpary, Novemsgs 23rd, 1850. —

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___ — — PUNCH, OR THE L ONDON CHARIVARI. 223 — OT ii lt yn IZA ! I Sy p> Sete a? 2) ~dtd a ae ae COARSE, BUT CHARACTERISTIC. Cabman (whose temper has been ruffled by Omnibus man), “You!! Way, YOU HUNGRY LOOKING WAGABUN, YOU LOOK AS IF YOU’D BIN LOCK’D UP FOR A MONTH IN A CoOK’s SHOP WITH A MUZZLE ON.” MR. PUNCH’S APPEAL TO AN EMINENT APPEALER. TxovucH I am by profession a vagrant and jester, cracking my jokes at street corners, setting up my booth at fairs and taverns, and before house-windows, whence children and women are looking out, your Most Reverend Eminence must understand that I am a man and citizen, a tax and rate-payer, and father of a family anxious to lead a decent life, to leave a tolerably honest name to my children, and to keep for them and myself the privileges of free action and opinion, which the English Constitution awards to me and all other people. An Englishman, be he by trade a bishop or a buffoon, has this right of freedom and fair-fellowship. If I were to die, my children would claim and have for my body the privilege of becoming sepulture ; [ should not be thrust into ground unconsecrated, like eet Mo.ikre, for instance, whom your Eminence’s predecessors would have buried like | carrion. I am Punch, but I am Civis Britannicus, and, as such, feel and | think as earnestly upon some subjects as the gravest big-wig among the subjects of our Casar. I think there never was an empire so glorious, and hold to my rights and my title as strenuously as any Peer of Parlia- ment, Lord Mayor, or Magistrate can do. Hence, if there be a national question—if there were a foreign inva- sion, for a, must take my side, and shoulder my musket as well | as another. think yours is a foreign invasion, and must do my best to repel it ; and find myself compelled to adopt a line of conduct rather different to my usual; waggery, in the presence of such an enemy, as reason or pusdios leads me to consider you to be. You come hither, ignoring the religion of my country, as much as if I were a savage or a Hottentot: you arrive, bringing with you the keys of Heaven in your let us say, and believing no more in Catholicism than in Protestantism, two churches, is there nothing in the past history and present preten- sions of the Catholic Church, which would lead possibility of free men and Englishmen hating it? Was there never a murder of the Hugonots, and a Pope to sing Ze Deum for the strages 7 Was there never a stake in Smithfield? Do you not lay your ban upon because we believe you to be tyrants: we scout your pretensions ; as these pretensions go, we hold them to be utterly absurd and untenable. It is by overthrowing these pretensions centuries ago, that we secured for the country free citizenship, free press, freecommerce. You come among us as the officer of a sovereign whose own state is the most ignorant and benighted in Europe,—whose own subjects hate him, so that they would, but for superior force, fling him out of their country; and you set his standard up here, and wonder you are not popular! We denied debasing superstition; because it was defaced by monstrous corrup- tions: nature and reason revolted against it; and we detested and over- threw it. And, as you make your solemn re-entry into England, with no small parade pet ceremony of jubilation, the people welcomes you, and tells you how it regards you. You are here, as elsewhere, as everywhere, to make converts, and to accept martyrdom—and about that dreadful oath that you swore—yes, about that oath. Did you, or did you not, (when invested with the pallium woven by consecrated virgins from the wool of segregated muttons), an on your knees before the Commander of the Faithful, did you, or did you not, pledge yourself to persecute and expugnate, as far as you could, all Heretics? If you had the power, and could silence Mr. Punch, wouldn’t you? Do you allow a free press at Rome? Are fair questions of politics or religion fairly discussed there? Is there a Holy Office existent or not? Is the Diario di Roma as large and well-conducted a journal as the Zimes newspaper? Will all the Catholic newspapers of the Legations and Naples publish the letters of our Archbishops as our Protestant. Journals publish yours ?—Pooh!—Psha!—your Eminence has an eminent sense of humour, and you’ know that the question is absurd—that your people are, and must be, tyrants and persecutors— that you dare not face the light of day—that, having possession of the truth absolute, discussion is out of the question. You ‘may invoke “that love of honest dealing and fair play, which, in joke or in earnest is the gift of an Englishman;” but you don’t give honest dealin and fair play in return. You can’t. You can’t himself. Our right and starting point—our safeguard—the right to which you appeal—the safeguard under which you put yourself—is Free Opinion. Your starting point is Authority. As the august ALDER- MAN LAWRENCE says, in the Common-Council, your church “ has always assumed to itself the same line of conduct, and that is d——nation.” The word is the venerable Alderman’s—and rather a grave one to be introduced into a Journal whereof the tendency is ordinarily jocular. But when your most reverend coadjutor, Joun or Tuam, calls our LawkENCE: when your shepherds, writing Pastorals, adopt such a word as that, and deny to us English and Irish, with love in our hearts, with a desire of fraternity and benefitting our people by the gift of truth and knowledge to all; when your Bishops and Doctors call our scheme Infidel, and deny us Heaven; when r Doctor NEewman, on the appointment of your Eminence and Grace, and their Lordships your twelve suffragans, gets up in chair, and states that the grave is opened, and that its awful tenant has arisen—indicati by that dreadful image that we, the people of England for the last three centuries—that his fathers and mine—that his mother and mine—have been living and dying without Faith and Hope, and are participators in that unspeakable crime and penalty; are we to feel nothing ?—to have no scorn for your seroqenes, no hatred for your intolerance, which bars the progress of Truth, Love, Knowledge, and Equality—to make no protest against the decree by which you absolutely withdraw the protection of Heaven from us, and consign the souls of our race and people, of our dearest and best beloved, to hopeless perdition? You do all this—you have the Truth pocket. I deny your peceenees utterly, and with my whole heart; I scorn your claim to infallibility. I no more care for your Pontifex | Maximus, than for the High Priest of Jupiter, who preceded him; and, | in my quality of Protestant, protest against you, and every bishop, | priest, and deacon under your orders ; declaring my belief that honest | people can get to Heaven without you, and in spite of you, and entirely | repudiating your clerical scheme. Any body who thinks that he cannot | be secure without calling your reverences in, is welcome. There’s no | question of persecution. Our people may burn a ty | or two; and they | had best leave that symbolical a alone ; but you know that | if you were hustled, Policeman X. would stand by you; and you compli- ment the Lord Chief Justice, who would give you a fair trial, Only, if you hear a shout of defiance and anger from one end of the | country to the other, do not, most reverendiand dear Sir, express a) wonder at hearing it. If we cry out, it is because we feel ourselves | injured, depend on that. Suppose you were the Cadi of Constantinople, | absolute, and can’t do otherwise—and then you wonder at the anger of Englishmen, and that what you call a death-whoop is raised about your ears. How can you suppose, official Expugnator and Persecutor of Heretics as you are, that you are to be free to persecute and expugnate, and that we are not to protest, and to defy you? Your Chief sends his pastoral letter, parcelling out our country under the ecclesiastical supervision of you thirteen gentlemen, and taking no more count of the religion already existing here, than if Westminster were Melipotamus, which see to our great regret your Grace has vacated. You have the Truth absolute ; there is but one Church : of course, you can do no otherwise. We propose a scheme of Education; your Bishops interfere with the imperial plan, denounce us as ess and Infidel: of course, you can do no otherwise. You want to win the country back to the old faith by expugnation, by persuasion—by what means you can, in a word: of course: it is your calling: your duty: your business of life. Suppose but having a knowledge of the points at issue, and of the history of the | you to suppose the | your worship, because we believed it led to ignorance, and tyranny, and | allow a man to think for | colleges Godless, he says pretty much the same thing as ALDERMAN | knowledge now wherever you go, or refuse to deliver to the people any | such that does not bear your supervisional stamp? We hate you, | VOL. XIX. A A

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224 PUNCH, OR THE L our country. You must go to work as you do elsewhere: doctor the truth for us : Index Expurgatorius: of course, how could it be otherwise ? And you wonder that we hate you? I do not mean to say that I srsonally, writing in the name and behoof of Mr. Punch, hate you, jicHoLAs WisemaN—a gentleman of the highest character, possessing the most consummate tale nts, learning, ¢ eloc quence, adroitness—but that L hate that cause which you represent, and which is directly hostile to my own. I no more hate you than the gentlemen of the Guard hated the rench Re gime nt at Fonte noy. But Nicnuonas the man and Nicno.as in uniform—Nicnouas in a large red hat and purple stockings Nico as in the consecrated pallium made by the consecrated virgins out of the segregated muttons—NicHoxas who comes into Fleet Stree t, and says, “lam the Ambassador and Plenipotentiary of the infallibl Expositor of the Truth—I have the keys of Heaven and the other place ; e; you must come home with me, my boy, and I will show you a beautiful winking Virgin, that will convert you in the twinkling of an eye—or a holy the eleven thousand virgins of Cologne—or what you will:’—to such a Nicnotas | say “Bosh!” and snap my fingers. Do you imagine | care about your red stockings ? Do you fancy I believe in your winking Virgin? Do you suppose i thmk that you, or your ¢ hief, or all the Parsons in Chris re or all the Kabbis in Jewry, or all the Muftis in partibus infidelium, car order my soul one way or other, or (except by the in fluence, upon me exerted, of good counsel and good example change the intention of the Divine Mercy towards me? No—in the sacred name of Truth; no—l worship no man; I recognise no Divine Parson, be he Roman or Puseyite. Against these my ancestors protested three hundred year ago—to fight against these and their pretensions the sense of outra¢ ed Kurope rose—under their shot and daggers, in their fires and scaffo! the Believers in Freedom of Thought died all over the world. Mind we do not deny you on your side the constancy of your martyrs, and the admirable courage of your opinion—but now, as then, we and you are enemies. ‘The conse juence of our systen 1 is toleration ; it admits you to rights which you can’t give us, and secures to you a ft reedom of which coat—or 11 bones ol we hever would desiee to rob you. You make your claim of infu llibility —we laugh at and scorn it. You rely on your antique pedigree and ceremonies—we call your ceremonies mumme ies— “9 mummeries— why not? What is the cause of this “feeling too sickly and too deadening for indignation?” Of course we thought them mummeries that was why we got ridof them. Whether is it worse, to call your Eminence’s red stockings or the lighted candles of those poor Pimlico folks mummeries, or to tell us who wish to teach the spel ling- book that we are Godless and Infidel ? one or the other of the statements is true, must be true ; and each side has been making it for three hundred years. By the by, who succeeds to the vacant see of Me lipotamus ? if some of our Bishops would go and stay, they might be very welcome. And about Westminster? What was "the difficulty which pre vented your Grace from going amongst the benighted Irish in the slu ancient city? Would they not listen to Melipota more likely to be converted by Westminster? ‘I Almoner of the Almonry, and your teac hing be productive, of much good there, every member of the Establishment must wish, fro the Dean to the Beadle who took your Lordship’s twopence at the icine of good Saint Epwarp. And my obstinate sneering habit is such, — my antispiritualism so | inveterate, that I believe in the Beadle, the Cardmal, and good Saint | Epw ARD pretty much alike; and respect the first-named dignitary’s laced-coat neither more nor less than your Eminence ms of that they mus, and are e hat you may be the pallium. you must shut up our books ; and establish an | ONDON CHARIVARL you had possession of our schecle : ommend over our press : vale over| OUR TRUANT AMBASSADORS. ATELY the severest comment on the folly_of expen- sive Embassies at foreign Courts has been passed by a few of the Ambassadors themselves; who, by their absence from the scenes of recent events of importance abroad, have vir- tually confessed that they are “better away” when anything of unusual interest is happening. We of course would not think of ac- cusing these high and distinguished persons—these “members of the great families” —of voluntarily shirking their duty if they thought that r diplon atic services could be of any service whatever ve { e only conclude they felt that they should “do more harm th or in their diplomatic capac ities—or inca- pein as the case ma) had they remained at their posts during late events of interest. The Eart of WESTMORELAND, we are told by the 7imes, has b n London, as the best means of promoting Brit ish interests at Berlin LorD PonsonBY—says the same authority— our Ambassador of Vienna, has been serving his country by absence fre ym the secne if LS dutie Ss Our Chargé @ Affi t Bad d-en—the idea is a good ’un—has been staying at N s, and there have been other instances of our diplo- matists acting on the straightforward, but startling principle, that, though paid very highly to represent in gland at a Foreign Court, they are much better “omitted in the representation” when anything of particular urgency or of unusually vital interest is happening. If it is found that absence enhances the value of Ambassadors, how much more economical it would be to keep them always away from their posts—an arrangement which uld have the double advantage of bemg much cheaper as well : satisfactory. The hint is one which we have no doubt Mr. Coppen and other financial reformers will be able to improve upon id be a curious calculation could the question be solved pes 1 be p ag boy in the absence of the diplomatists from their posts, what ild have been the conse- quence had they remained at their embass ? Testimonial to the Duke of Atholl. A MEETING has been got up at Dunkeld for the purpose of sympa- thising with the begrimed and bespattered Duxe or ATHOLL, unjustly dirtied with printer’s ink. by presiding operator was one JOHN A SCENE IN WESTMINSTER HALL. One day, during the term that is just over, a jejune junior rushed into the Exchequer with a motionetée, or little motion, and - ppened to enter just as their Lo rdships, in Banco, were looking into a case that had just been cited by a QuEEn’s ( ounsel, who had been in the act of addressing them. ‘The junior, unconscious of the state of the case, fancied he had found just the favourable opportunity to get a hearing, and creeping into a back row, effected a tremendous clearance of his throat, with a view to a sustained effort of eloque nee. He had commenced, and got as far as “If your Lordships please,” when the four Barons looked up with the air of ve ry discontented Barons ; and the junior, having got the eye s | of the Court, believing he had also its ear, proceeded as follows :—| “T rise, my Lords, for the purpose Here he was interrupted by} exclamation of “We can’t hear you, Sir,” from one of the ‘ir Lord- | ships, an intimation that only caused the determined “utter bolder and more distinct in his utterance. He began again, my Lords,” and was once more cut short with ‘ Sir,” from the Bench; which urged him to a stentorian effort of | startling vehemence ; but “We can’t hear you now, Sir,” was all he could elicit from’ the Bench, and he immediately ‘left the court, remarking that “he knew Justice was blind, but that its deafness was something he was not prepared to combat with.” * to grow “| rise, ‘We can’t hear you, place of Butterston. Many speeches were made; and much of the ink attempted to be licked off; but, somehow, ; black as ever—the ink will stick. it was, however, finally resolved to pres¢ nt the Duke with a tangible testimo- nial at once illustrative of the ducal virtues and of their admirers. The necessary sort of testimonial became a matter of intense consi- deration ; when it was finally settled, amid acclamations, to present his Grace (for next autumn wear) with a faithful copy of the Victoria stage costume of the Warlock of the Glen. Natuan, the theatrical tailor, started by a special train to take the Duke’s measure. Leste, Esq., from the ec ongen his Grace is as Reflections in a Crystal. 9% “ Wuart can be the object of that Crystal Curtain?” said one Gent to another, as they were running, squirrel- fas shion, round and round the narrow cage of the Promenade Concerts. “The object of that Crystal | Curtain?” exclaimed his brilliant companion. “ Why, it’s put there to remind us of the ‘end’ of the stage, which you know is ‘to hold | the mirror up to Nature !’ * Att is Vanity,”—as the Swell into the Police Van. Mobsman said when he was handed eo

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MAO RS Ee eS OT SS ts PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. HOW TO MAKE A SERJEANT. THe manufacture of a serjeant is one of those mysteries of the law which are not usually open to the vulgar eye; and the common im- pression has been, that the paying down of some thousand pounds for the coif—in “Cash down, Sir, tho”—as the advertising] crockery- cart used'to say, is all that is required. We have heard various other ceremonies spoken of as necessary to the constitution of a serjeant ; and among others we have been given to understand, that a Judge of the Common Pleas ing up his eye-glass knowingly to his eye, and fixing it on the coiffee in e —exclaims with a jaunty air, “1 spy a brother.” This yndieial game at “ Hye! spy!! 1!!! gives a sort of pleasing jocularity to the process, which contrasts rather powerfully with the serious: business:of pulling out one thousand pounds—tm cash / —as the price: of the dignity. We have ascertained, however, that although money makes the man, it is not. money alone makes the serjeant ; for he is called upon to exhibit his: learning ima style somewhat similar to that of the keen encounter of their wits, between the law student and the butler, when the former—over his. beer—takes the degree of utter barrister. Every one knows that a call to the Bar—at all events at Gray’s Inn —is effected by the candidate for the forensic toga imbibing a small uantity of the very smallest of swipes, and declaring, at the same time, that he “ appears. for the widow, and claims her dower,” while the butler, taking the mug and the pleadings out of the student’s hand announces himself as appearing for the heir, and the two learne litigants at once proceed to the library. , The ceremony of making Mr. Baron Martin a serjeant, upon making him—to the great satisfaction of everybody—a judge, was con- ducted much in the following fashion:—Mr. Baron Martin, reading from an old bit of parchment, insisted rather calmly that Joun Samara claimed the lands, of which Joun Doe stood seised, and that Joun Smitu, being determined not to stand such a scisure, claimed the said lands, or words to that effect. Upon this a shriek was heard from the usher, who, starting up in his box, exclaimed with unusual briskness, “T imparl,”—when some one else in the background growled out an intimation that he “represented the widow;” upon which Mr. Baron MankrTIN, appearing to give up the case as hopeless with such antago- ! nists arrayed against him, retired from the bar, as if in disgust and despair of making any stand in the face of such powerful competition. Happily, his retirement from the ranks of counsel was speedily followed by his appearance as a Judge on the bench, to which the profession and the public have unanimously welcomed him. We all know that the last feather will occasion a smash to the back bone of the camel; and we must, we suppose, imagine that it was something of this sort which forced Mr. Martin to yield under the responsibility of his last brief, (with the usher “imparling” on one side, and a mysterious growler behind the back rows “ representing the widow,”’) rather than “fight it out” under such fearful odds. The learned counsel abandons Joun SmitH,—leaves him at the mercy of Doz,—to brave the terrors of an “imparlance,” and make the best arrangement he canto pacify “the widow.” Happy are we that Mr. ieose Martin has found in the bench a refuge from such endless sources of litigation, the widow alone being quite enough to drive any peaceably disposed counsel to distraction. COURT CIRCULAR. (Such as Puseyism would, perhaps, like to read it.) YESTERDAY morning, the QueEN-and Prince Assert took their accustomed walk on the slopes—with peas in their shoes. His Royvat Hicuness Prince ALBERT, attended by the Reverend Messrs. Hoaxes anp Bam, walked out reading. The volume used by his Royan Hicuness was a highly illuminated legend relative to St. Swrramy. The Prince returned to no lunch at two o’clock, it being Friday. Lorp Joun Russewt left Town for Canterbury by an early train, and, immediately on his arrival, repaired to the restored shrine of Sr. Tuomas A BECKETT, to partake of the discipline of the rod. Having received a sound whipping, his Lordship returned to Town in the evening, and had an interview with his medical man. Mr. Punch did public penance in front of his office, in the presence of a great crowd of spectators. THREE TO ONE. THE “ Ladies’ Companion” has a series of articles called “The Three Ages of Woman.” We cannot help thinking that our graceful, enter- taining contemporary has fallen into a strange ungallant error, for it is too bad to give poor Woman “three ages,’ when it is as much as she ean do to confess to one! THE BULL FIGHT OF LONDON. Tue Guys are going through the streets, the chalk is on the walls ; Besides the usual twopence there ’s a charge in grave St. Paul’s ; And surely any extra charge the fight will well repay, For the London matador ’s to fight the Roman Bull to-day. A lusty blade’s our matador, with a deft and ready hand, Right quick to turn, and face about, and sharp to shift his stand; Two-edged and keen’s the sword he wields, and though to dodge inclined, There ’s none knows better where to stick, when he makes up his mind. The bells ring out, the clerks they shout, as to his:place he goes ; Firm and well-rounded shows his calf under the purple hose : His apron is:tucked up for work, his eye is clear and keen, And his round bald head it shineth like polished marble clean. Bring forth the Bull! The Bulliis brought, within the gazing ranks,— Upon his head the triple crown, the red-hat.on his 8; ‘The leaden seal tied to his tail, wide-spreading are his horns— The obvious joke about his hoofs the courteous minstrel scorns. He bears him bold and burly, but the knowing ones espy A something groggy in his legs, and glassy in his eye; And though he chafes and paws the ground, and bellows loud and long, He ’s not the Bull that once he was, the Roman hills among. He hath flung his broad brows to the ground, the matador to catch On the horns of a dilemma, but I ween he’s met his match : All vain the rush, the sidelong push—for one turn he can take, The nimble son of London two turns, at least, doth make. Panting at length, and shorn of strength, the baffled Bull is standing, And turns-an eye that obviously the reason is demanding, Why this matador of London hath ta’en to welt and whack The bull that a few years since he patted on the back ? To query mute the bothered brute of course gets no reply ; Forth he hath broke, a final stroke determined to let fly ; But on his heel in one short wheel the matador’s at large, And the Bull goes down, upon his ercwn, before the fatal charge ! RAILWAY GREASF. “Mr. Hupsoy, on his last visit to Sunderland, was solicited by no less than twenty-five of its poorest inhabitants to stand godfather to their children. This is a pleasing proof of the very strong hold he possesses upon the affections of his constituents.” —Newcastle Sycophant. *“A penny subscription has been started amongst the stokers and guards on the astern Counties Railway, to erect a statue in honour of a late lamented and much beloved Director. We need not say we allude to the Railway King, Mr. Hupson, whose return to power will be chronicled amongst the proudest events of the forth- coming year.”—7/he York Friend. “We have authority for stating that offers have been made to Mr. Hunpsoy, in the name of the Emperor. or Cura, to proceed instantly to Pekin, with a view of consulting with his Celestial of upon the possibility of laying down a railway ra the Great Wall of China. The expense, it 1s considered, would only consist of the outlay for the iren and the engines, and a sum exceeding one million was offered to Mn. Hupson by a celebrated Manchester , if he would only secure their establishment the Imperial contract. Weare proud and happy to state, however, that Mr. Hupson has refused all these tempting offers, with the generous intention of concentrating his entire attention upon railway matters at home, which we are sorry to see suffering more | and more every week from his prolonged absence, and which must end | in the fearful ruin of all parties, unless DSON is immediately | called in to avert the impending evil.” —Manchester Feeler. “A Director of the Caledonian Railway sent Mr. Hunson, last | week, a brace of grouse; and it was only the week before that he | received, from one of the largest holders of shares in the-same line, a | hamper packed full of game. These [ttle presents are flattering evi- | dence of the high trust which all persons who have invested their fortunes | in railways repose in Mr. Hupson, and show too strongly how pleased the entire body of shareholders of the Caledonian Railway ml be if the ex-Railway King would but consent to undertake the management of their hopeless affairs.”—The Cannie Scotsman. “Mr. Hupson entertained, on Monday last, 300 Railway Directors, at: his princely mansion in Hyde Park. ‘The only topic of conversation was the universal regret that Mr. Hupson had so long absented himself from railway matters, and a lively hope was generally expressed that he would soon return to power, and resume the powerful position he once so proudly occupied, as the Barine of the Stock Exchange, and the Roruscuitp of Capel Court. In such a wish all honourable }ien must sincerely coneur.”—Railicay Weekly Buffer.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. CLIMATES FOR ALL NATIONS. NDOUBTEDLY it is a great pity that the Exhibition of 185] was not thought of earlier! All na- tions will of course throng to the display of their own industry. A most serious question is, how to lodgethem. This might easily have been solved by Mr. Paxton with sufficient time. He can grow the indigenous plants of any country in his glass-houses. is evidently as easy to imitate as for a plant. By a well-con- trived arrangement of large con- servatories, every human being under the sun might have been accommodated with his own cli- mate. The inhabitant of the tropics might have been sur- rounded by tropical fruits and vegetation, and snakes also, if required. The Kast Indian might have had his home near a jungle, with the option of tigers. With the valuable assistance of Dr. Farapay (who can ane water for you in ared-hot crucible), the Norwegians, Laplanders, and Esquimaux might have been domiciled amid icebergs and white bears, in regions, to all intents and purposes, perfectly Arctic. We might lave given the Egyptian his Nile and crocodiles, and the Arabian his Desert, with a mirage for water-supply, and pro- vided with everything but simooms to make him feel quite at home. California is the only land which would defy imitation. The composition of the soil of that Tom-Tidlerian territory would be rather too expensive—unless RotuscuiLp would be liberal enough to supply the needful. At all events, however, physiologists might avail themselves of Mr. Paxton’s contrivances, in order to the determination of the con- troversy as to whether or no climate produces the diversities of the human race. Why—but that the women of England are the loveliest in the world—should we not rear young ladies under glass, and see if we cannot grow Circassian beauties ? POPERY IN PIMLICO. Ir has been rumoured that, in the event of Pius rae Ninn being obliged once more to run away from Rome, he will emigrate to Pimlico, and make Belgravia the future residence of the Popes. Lodgings will be taken in Wilton Place, as a substitute for the Vatican, and the Church of St. Barnabas will require very little alteration in its cere- monies to render it as acceptable to Pro Nono as St. Peter’s itself. The “ histrionics ” will of course be continued as usual, though a few more supernumeraries will be required for the processions, and there will be an augmentation of candles, so that the managers of the mummery may be enabled to avail themselves of the great Vauxhall attraction of so many “additional lights.” Nara, the costumier, has received orders for the preparation of “entirely new dresses,” and the * property man” at Astley’s is understood to be working night and day for the completion of the decorations, which are expected to surpass everything since the celebrated Jewess season at Drury Lane. Rehearsals are taking place every morning, and several of the weaker- minded laity allow themselves to be introduced as lay figures into the spectacles that are being got up, pro bono Pimlico, almost every day. War without a Wherefore. HitHEerto we have been undoubting advocates of international arbitration ; but we really almost question whether it could be resorted to for the settlement of the dispute between Prussia and Austria. What is the war-cry ?—what is the bone of contention?—what great principle is at issue? What controversy is there for any arbitrator to arbitrate upon? It is a pity some pacific salve, some sort of antisan- guinary, antipugnacious antidiabolical emollient cerate could not be invented to allay that itching for mutual murder which afflicts most of the nations of the Continent. THE QUICKEST WAY TO ROME, “ Every road,” says the ancient proverb, “leads to Rome;” but of all roads none will take you there so qui kly as the small Tracts that run through Oxford. t | natural conditions for an animal | ELEVEN WORDS ON TOLERATION. BY DR. NEWMAN. AmonG various reasons which induce the British public to oppose the Pore or Romer’s attempt at domination in this country, is the per- suasion, derived from history, that in ‘times past, the Popre’s Church, when possessed of ascendancy, burnt alive, racked, and tortured, or |caused and procured to be burnt alive, and so forth, a considerable number of human beings, for what it was pleased to call heresy. | To us, this persuasion appears as certain as the assurance that | Wittiam THE Conqueror subdued England, that Ricuarp Turpin | ° . 5 |committed highway robbery, that Srk Humpnry Davy invented the | safety-lamp, or that Mr. Tu1stLEwoop was hanged for high treason. | And is it all the while merely a monstrous fallacy? Is the very type in which we read of atrocities, whose catalogue is too hackneyed for | quotation, unreal. In thinking we see letters and words narrating such lroastings and rackings, perpetrated, by states and sovereigns, at the instigation of the Papal Church, are we, possibly, the victims of some |delusion of the Enemy, imposing upon our own senses with pica which |is not? Or are we simply mad? That the common impression on this subject at any rate is false, is so roundly asserted by nearly all the apologists of his Hoxiess, that Mr. Punch might almost begin to doubt of its correctness, if he could be talked into scepticism as to the existence of a nose in his face. But, with the best spectacles on that nose, Mr. Punch still reads the same horrible story. In reference to those who accuse the Porr’s Church of persecution, the Rev. Dr. Dorr, according to the Zimes of the 18th instant, spoke, on the preceding day, as follows :— “They talk of the edict of QurEN Mary, and lay it at the door of the Catholic clergy. I deny that it is true; and I refer our detractors to that history which they so wilfully pervert..... Now, the true version of QuEEN MAry’s edict, in connection with the ‘atholie clergy, is this: on the very day that that edict was sent forth, that great, and good, and fearless friar, ALPHONZE De CastTRo, when he preached before the Court, in the presence of Hew Masesry, denounced it as most intolerant, unjust, and in every degree opposed to the glorious principles and spirit of the holy religion.” - |. Would it not have been more to Dr. Doyix’s purpose to have said— |if he could have said—that the Popr denounced and condemned QuEEN | Mary and her fagots? ‘That he did not, was an unfortunate omission, | we will say. Well; there is time to repair it. Will the present Popr, |authoritatively, and ea cathedrd@, condemn and anathematise the doctrine |that it is, or ever was, lawful for Christian men to burn, or otherwise kill, or torture anybody for heresy? It is surely worth his while to annihilate a prejudice, entertained by millions of Englishmen, against his Church, at the small expense of a “ bull” so very short that it would rather deserve the epithet of “‘ brief.” In the meantime, what can be said to Dr. Doyte? Eleven words:— “In THE MippLe AGes THE CrurcH puT TO DEATH For Heresy!” These are not the words of Mr. Punch ; they are the words of Jonn Henry Newman, Priest of the Oratory of St. Pamir Nexr. They occur in a lecture delivered by him on the “ Political State of Catholic Countries No Prejudice to the Sanctity of the Church.” Wondon: Burns AND LamBert: page 208 of Lecture VIII., bought by Mr. Punch at | Mr. Rictarpson’s, over the way, up the street, for the sum of one | shilling current and lawful coin of this realm. ‘The reader is besought to refer to the sentence in which the above words occur, to see that Mr. Punch has not suppressed anything which }could soften them or explain them away. Mr. Punch does not quote the words of Dr. Newman against those lof Dr. Dorie to fix persecuting tenets on any individual Catholic. He does not mean to insinuate that CarprnaL WIsEMAN would wish to roast AncuBisHop SumMNER, or that the present Duke or NorFoLK would like to preside over a Smithfield Stake Club. Mr. Punch | merely means to say, that if, as Dr. Newman confesses— “Tw THE MIDDLE AGES THE CHURCH PUT TO DEATH For Heresy ;” and if the Church is infallible, and cannot make a mistake, it may persecute—whether to the death or short of the death—again. There- fore, that it is not to be trusted; and, though tolerated to the fullest extent, must be resolutely denied the sanction of titles of honour derived from any districts within the bounds of Jolly Old England. In the meantime, Mr. Punch begs thinking persons to observe how ? very widely “‘ Doctors ”’—even Roman Doctors—“ differ.’ A NEW TITLE FOR DR. WISEMAN. Ir has been suggested by a wit—the writer of this paragraph—that his Imminence would be a better title than his Eminence, for the New Cut Cardinal; inasmuch as the insult contemplated by the Porr has been hanging over us, and has been, therefore, imminent for a long time. A ConUNDRUM MADE BY A LITTLE Boy onty SEvEN YEARS OLD.— Why is an umbrella like a Seotch shower ?—Because the moment it rains it’s missed.

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INCREASED ATTRACTION—INCREASED PAY. Cheapside, Nov. 10th. merous family of godchildren, It is my custom on the 9th of November to invite all my little charges to the large warehouse [ have in Cheap- side, so that they may see the Lord Mayor’s Show. During the intervals of the proces- sion, we amuse ourselves with romps and games, and buns and cakes, sweetened with the weakest negus. “Well, Sir, this year I thought I would vary the games a little, and that, in- stead of a romp in the ware- house, we would have an instructive stroll through St. Paul’s Cathedral. I longed to point to the admiring gaze of my young troop the great men of their country, and accordingly had been busy M reading up all the morning ) my History of England an Soutuey’s Life of Nelson, in order to be able to dilate with proper enthusiasm upon the noble deeds they had done. Well, Sir—for I am an old man with the gout, and feel I get on but slowly—we started on our merry trip. I put twenty-pence in my pocket, for we were ten in number. It was all in coppers, for I like to give the money-takers the trouble —it’s a little pleasure I have—of counting them. Well, I presented the tventy-pence in coppers; they were indi tly pushed aside. “It’s all right,’ I said, with all the respect I could summon, for some- how it does put me in a rage to be compelled to pay for admission to my own cathedral; ‘ we are ten of us, and ten persons at two-pence a- piece, may I be allowed to remark, makes exactly twenty-pence.” ““*Tté’s no such thing,’ he said, with the customary rudeness of all money-takers. ‘It’s five shillings.’ ‘How’s that?’ I inquired, mastering my indignation. ‘Impossible!’ ‘Impossible or not, you must pay it, or you don’t goin. I tell you it’s five shillings.’ “* Bat how do you make it out, Sir,’ for I was getting quite angry. ” ‘Why, WE ALWAYS CHARGE SIXPENCE A-HEAD ON LoRD Mayor’s y!? “So, Sir, because there was a little additional attraction, the prices were raised. A play-house, I believe, only doubles its price when there is some unheard of performance to justify it; but here was a Cathedral trebling its rate of admission, because the Lord Mayor’s procession happened to pass round it. I asked the impudent official if the charge was made with the sanction of the Dean and Chapter, and he answered me more ingveeey than ever, that ‘it was.’ ; “T refused, with a long protest, to pay the imposition, which caused the door to be slammed in my face, and I was compelled to walk back again to Cheapside with my little troop, who were sucking their thumbs with disappointment. All my morning’s ing went for nothing ! “My only remedy, Sir, is to write to you. I beg of you to use every pen you have in exposing this scandalous state of things till it is fairly carted away, like so much noxious filth, from the City of London. “T remain, Dear Sir, “Yours, with the gout much worse from this excitement, “Toe GopraTHER OF SEVERAL Famities.” “PS. If there is an advance of prices, public information, at all events, should be given of the fact. I should not be surprised—at all events it would be more tradesman-like to do it—to see next year a placard like the following, hung over every door of the cathedral :—

EXTRAORDINARY ADVANCE OF PRICES!!! | The Dean and Chapter beg respectfully to announce that in consequence of THE HIPPOPOTAMUS | } Figuring this year in the Lord Mayor’s procession, the Price of Admission to St. Paul’s Cathedral will be raised (on this occasion only) to | '

ONE SHILLING! NB. Babies must pay full price.

No money returned. Vivat Regina!

Tus Larcest Depots ror Carprnats.— Oxford University and HOUSEHOLD SONGS. No. 1.—The Song of the Poker. I’m a sturdy poker, and all the day, By the side of the fire I take my place, And whenever I stir I throw a ray Of cheerful light on every face. Of the coal’s black looks I make a joke,— A light in its heart I can always raise ; In the ribs of the fire I give a poke And out it bursts in a laughing blaze. °Tis not in the summer, when all around Is wrapp’d in the warmth the sun supplies, That the poker’s real worth is found, As in polish’d state he coldly lies. But oh! when the winter’s frost sets in, And abroad in the fields you no longer roam ; Oh, then is the time when we all begin To find in the poker a friend at home. No. 2.—The Song of the Shovel. TuEyY may talk as they will of the poker and tongs, Their merit to neither stern justice denies ; But surely superior credit belongs To the shovel, which furnishes all the supplies. How useless the poker—with nothing to poke, Its best occupation were utterly gone. On the coals in a scuttle how vain were the stroke, Till I to the fire have shovell’d them on. Still sweeter the office I often fulfil, Preventing the coal from burning in vain, And showing there’s virtue in humbleness still, By throwing up cinders again and again. Thus charity raises from out of the dust The good that may still with its particles blend ; And the shovel, by forming of cinders a crust, Endows them with brilliance and warmth to the end. No, 3.-The Song of the Tongs. Trey may daddy-long-legs dub me, My shape they may deride, But they want me—though they snub me, To grace the fire-side. The shovel unreflecting Throws fuel on by shoals, I’m useful in selecting The choicest of the coals. To every hut and hovel The poker it belongs, And common is the shovel— ' But very rare the tongs. Pride is, I know, delusive, Of worth ’tis ne’er the sign ; Although to be exclusive May be a boast of mine. But hence with idle boasting, Let ’s terminate our songs, By altogether toasting Poker—and shovel—and tongs.

THE NEW “CULLEN’S PRACTICE OF PHYSIC.” Tre President and Fellows of the Royal College of Physicians have sent an address to the Queen praying her to take measures for repelling the Papal aggression. The learned doctors declare their unalterable attachment to oar Constitution in Church and State. The interest, therefore, which they take in the Constitution is more exten- sive than some people might suppose. However, we do not notice their anti-papal address for the mere purpose of making this very obvious remark. Physicians have peculiar cause for being opposed to Popish domination. The medical profession boasts of a Dr. CULLEN, who wrote a renowned Practice of Physic. Should another Dr. CuLLEn’s system get the upper hand, a new CuLiEn’s Practice of Physic might become popular, to the great loss and detriment of the Faculty. There can be no doubt that if the sun is but two yards in diameter, all diseases are curable by saint’s toe-nails, or other relics. The establish- ment of this principle will quite revolutionise the Materia Medica ; calomel, colocynth, and tartrate of antimony, will be entirely super- seded by holy shin and other benes, and fragments of thaumaturgic mummies, miraculous old clothes, and canonised rags. No medicine, indeed, will be taken any more; Apothecaries’ Hall be ruined, and the

the Bisnor or Lonpon’s diocese.

Doctors’ occupation gone !

ee 8 ome

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i ee A TRAIN TAKEN —, T will really be a mere matter of prudence to inquire in future into the ee Ny \. Ss { thy . ~ vail IN EXECUTION. solvency of any railway upon which one is about to travel, for other- wise a passenger may find himself in custody as part of a train by the sheriff’s officers for the debts of the concern. Imagine the horror of an affectionate husband about to fly by express to an expectant wife, and checked in his ardour by a fi. fa. pushed in at the window by a bailiff, who must produce some such impression as a highwa would have done in the old days of post and stage-coach travelling. The brigands of the law may become as annoying, if not as formidable, as the Italian brigands—the brutes of the Abruzzi for instance—and we shall be looking out for a Fra Diavolo at every station with his slip of parchment, instead of his carbine, ready to poke in the awful instrument at every carriage window, and call upon the occupants to surrender. The brigand song in Fra Diavolo will become popularised upon every railway station in the kingdom, and we will be the first to give a version of it, for the use of travellers on those insolvent lines, which are not safe from the intrusion of the law’s merciless myrmidons. Arm.— On yonder rock reclining. On yonder platform sneaking, His searching eye the train surveys; See in his hands he a writ displays ; °Tis one of those vile ji..fa.-s. Without a sentence speaking, He comes and makes a servile bow; Without explaining what ’s the row, He whispers “ You can’t go now.” Diavolo, Diavolo! “Your wife thus baulked of meeting To yourself you keep repeating, * Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavo-lo!’ ” If passengers are really liable to be stopped in ¢ransitu for the debts of a railway company, it will be advisable that some means should be employed by the solvent concerns to satisfy the public, that there need be no apprehension of the train being apprehended | the officers of the law; an it would be a wise precaution on the part of those who can poy, to have copies of their balance-sheet stuck up at al the stations along the line, while those companiés which are insolvent should obtain and exhibit at their booking-offices a letter of license from their creditors. THE BERLIN CHOIR TO THE WARS HAVE GONE. WE have heard of military bands, but a military chorus is something | MOVE ON, THERE! Tre Chancery Bar, and the Chancery suitors, also, are in a state of quite new, and the Berlin choir is the first specimen we recollect of a| some tribulation at the slow progress made in the Lord Chancellor’s body of men, under a concert engagement here, finding themselves | Court, in consequence of the extreme length of the deliberations of the suddenly disconcerted by being called upon to enter into a military | present occupant of the Woolsack. A reference to the reports in the engagement with the enemy. Our own British chorus-singer is such a| newspapers will show that a column or two of argument from the Bar. urely peaceful animal, that though you may encase him in pasteboard | aos hy gird him with a property sword, and put the most martial language into his mouth; though he might be made to scream with the | utmost power of his lungs, “ For liberty or glorious death | We gladly yield our latest breath,” | yet everybody knows that he attends to no other call than the call to | rehearsal, and he draws the sword for no other purpose than to enable him to draw his salary. | It seems, however, to be a much more serious business with the | Berlin chorus singers, who have not only to scream under a banner, but to fight under one also, and they are liable to be forced to practise what | they sing, when called upon to do so by their Government. We pity the poor Berlin choir, who have suddenly been summoned from the heat of Her Majesty’s Theatre to the heat of battle; or, at all events, to the chance of very warm work ; and we cannot help thinking it was adding insult to misfortune, to insert in the programme “Home, sweet Home,” which they were obliged to sing at a time when the prospect, of going home must have been very far from agreeable. Though our native chorus singers run the risk of being cut up by criticism, they are, at all events, safe from the sword; and we congratulate them on their | pound a-week in peace and quietness, which is much better than getting called out to fight by way of an annual benefit. ANIMAL SPIRITS OF THE CHURCH. Tue Bisnor or Oxrorp has written several letters, signed B. Oxon., in answer to addresses from his clergy calling upon him to take the | chair at meetings to be held in opposition to the Papal aggression. These letters breathe a spirit of indignation at the conduct of the See of Rome, and, in fact, from the style of writing Oxon., would seem to be infuriated Oxon. against the Pope’s Bull. Extreme Minpness or tHe Season. — CARDINAL WIsEMaAN’s | Appeal to the People of England, is followed by an announcement from the Chancellor, that he wi “take the papers home,” or “deliver his judgment on a future day ;” but it very rarely happens that an actual decision is chronicled. Sometimes his lordship will “consult the minutes ”—an operation that often involves not merely minutes, but hours—and while the judicial grass is growing—if we may use the allegory—the forensic horse is starving for want of a fresh supply of provender. Caution and deliberation are excellent qualities ina new Chancellor, no doubt; but the barristers complain bitterly of the comparatively small amount of business got through; and some of the aie ones declare they are now reminded of the days of the Expon slow coach, before the introduction of the Fast Broveuam, and the CoTrtenHAM Diligence. WILL YOU BUY? BUY? BUY? Ws select the following bit of military trading from a Brighton Paper. it may be called the latest transaction in the “Marr or GLory.—lIt is confidently reported in military circles that the large sum of £16,000 has been offered by the major of a lancer regiment for the purchase of the lieutenant-colonelcy, and refused, after two days’ deliberation.” So an English gentleman becomes a lieutenant-colonel, not. by merit, but by money—by the force of his pocket, and not the intelligence of | his head. ‘he ladder by which an Ralisionen mounts to military pro- motion is a Ladder of Gold. £16,000 to be a lieutenant-colonel ! Napoleon was quite wrong—we are not a nation of shopkeepers. Mother Church and her Naughty Children. SevERAL children of the Church have proved rebellious and difficult ; to deal with; but of all her children, those naughty little boys of | Oxford, who for years past have been pelting the head of their venerable | arent with nothing but Tracts, have certainly turned out the most | n-Tractable.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. JULLIEN’S NEXT QUADRILLE. We would suggest to the a JuLiien that the feeling of Hero- worship which mspired the British Army Quadrille might find farther expression in a similar work of genius, composed in honour of a kindred service. The Metropolitan Police Force is a valuable body of men, to whom such homage would be highly appropriate, whilst it would be sy gratifying to a Public which is even more loyal and con- stitutional than it is musical. We can almost fancy that we hear the great composition by which M. JuLiren might glorify our gallant con- stabulary. A brisk, lively opening indicates the alacrity of the — men mustering at the Station. measured movement of the kettle- drums represents the tramp of the various divisions along the kerb- stones. The air, “Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England,” is now intro- duced, to signify the descent of the Pe ager from his beat into the area, to meet his cook. This is suddenly interrupted by the Rogue’s March, to which succeeds “’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay,’ indicating the hero’s return to the street under a sense of duty, recollecting the ex- hortation of Netson. “ The Horn of Chase” now betokens the pursuit of a pickpocket, whose flight is expressed by rapid s on the piccolo; all the wind and stringed instruments join in the hue and cry; and the capture of the depredator is denoted by a thump on the big drum. The well-known air of “ We won’t go Home till Morning” now informs us that some tipsy medical students are retiring from the Hole; a sudden crash explains that a lamp has been smashed by the roysterers, and that the police have seized them; a regular row then ensues, created by the whole strength of the orchestra, in which the ophicleides and gongs are tremendously prominent, their effect being heightened by watchmen’s rattles and small pieces of artillery. In con- clusion, the National Anthem declares the triumph of Her Magzsty’s officers. Here are some ideas for a Metropolitan Police Force Quadrille, and if JuLtren will work them up, we will be bound to say he will do something quite A. 1. DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. WE have been told—till we are tired of hearing the information— that “ All the World’s a Stage,” yet, when we look around us, we find no dramas of every-day life written expressly for “all the men and women” who “are only players.” The social members of the sock must find themselves much embarrassed occasionally by the want of a repertoire, and if they really do “play many parts,” their acting must consist of what, in the language of the green-room, is called “ gag ;” inasmuch as there is nothing “set down for them,” and consequently however anxious they might be to adhere to Hamlet's rule, they soni find it impossible to do so. Taking pity upon our fellow actors on the great stage of the world, who are in the dilemma so commonly com- plained of by the professional players, who are always lamenting that } they have no pieces written expressly for them, we have undertaken the task of writing a few dramas of every-day life, for performance by “all the men and women” whom SHAKSPEARE has lumped into one great dramatic company. We have no doubt the actors, like a discontented ungrateful set as they are, will declare that the parts we offer them are not half good enough, but we nevertheless rush into the perils of authorship regardless of the sneers of Snooxs, who thinks he ought to be playing Lorp CHANCELLOR, when fortune, the stage manager, has cast him into the lawyer’s clerk; or of Spoonry, who is measuring out silk from behind a counter, when he believes that his most appropriate character would be that of a measurer of sentences, and dealer out of great political truths from the ministerial benches in Parliament. Without further prologue we proceed to give the first of our dramas of every-day life under the title of the PERRUQUIER PUZZLED. ScenE—A Barber’s Shop. Barber's man engaged in cutting hair, making wigs, and other barbaresque operations. | Enter Jones, meeting Otty the Barber. Jones, 1 wish my hair cut. Oily. Pray, Sir, take a seat. ‘Oty puts chair for Jones, who sits. During the following dialogue, Otty continues cutting JonEs’s hair. Oily. We’ve had much wet, Sir. Jones. Very much indeed. Oily. And yet November’s early days were fine. Jones. They were. Oily. I hoped fair weather might have lasted us Until the end. Jones, At one time—so did I. Oily. But we have had it very wet. Jones. We have. Oily. I know not, Sir, who cut your hair last time ; But this I say, Sir, it was badly cut : No doubt ’twas in the country. Jones, No! in Town! Oily. Indeed! I should have fancied otherwise. Jones. Twas cut in Town—and in this very room. Oily. Amazement !—but I now remember well. We had an awkward new provincial hand, A fellow from the country. Sir, he did More damage to my business in a week, Than all my skill can in a year repair. He must have cut your hair. Jones (looking at him). | No— twas yourself. Oily. Myself! Impossible! You must mistake. rails ll 11) 1\} oa WiLeATAL | Bl! fy i | We if u(t ra ges i | Jones. I don’t mistake—twas you that cut my hair. Oily. Your hair is very dry, Sir. Jones. Oh! indeed. Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it. Jones. 1 like it dry. Oily. But, Sir! the hair when dry Turns quickly grey. Jones. That colour I prefer. Oily. But hair, when grey, will rapidly fall off, And baldness will ensue. Jones. I would be bald. Oily. Perhaps, Sir, you mean to say youd like a wig. We ’ve wigs so natural they can’t be told From real hair. Jones. Deception I detest. [Another pause ensues, during which Oty blows don JonEs’s neck, and relieves him from the linen wrapper in which he has been enveloped during the process of hair-cutting. Oily. We’ve brushes, soaps, and scent of every Jones, I see you have. (Pays 6d.) I think you Oily. If there is nothing I can show you, Sir. Jones. No: nothing. Yet—there may be something, too, That you may show me, Oily. Jones. The door. Oily (to his man). That’s a rum customer, at any rate. Had I cut him as short as he cut me, How little hair upon his head would be; _ But if kind friends will all our pains requite, We’ll hope for better luck another night. cind kind. ll find that right. Name it, Sir. : [Ezit Jones. NEW TITLE. Ir Carprvat Wiseman is allowed to retain his present papal appoint- ment, we recommend that he be always addressed and alluded to as (A pause of some minutes. “The Archbishop of Westminster, by Hook and by Crook.” (4 long pause, interrupted only by the clipping of the scissors. Printed by William Bradbury, of No.'13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Office, in Lombard Street, in the Preciact of Whitefriars, ie the City af Frederick Mullett Evans, of No. 7, Church Row, Stoke Some, both Leadon, and published by them at No. 8, Fiect Street ,in the Parish of St. Bride’s, inthe Ci fm the County of Middiesex, Printers, at teir ity of London.—Satvuann.r, Novemner 30tr, 1959 (Shop-bell rings, and curtain falls. l

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OTS» eck, CN dls. | int- | -as ' | , at their r, 1850, |. insert that defence, and to be corrupted. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 233 A TESTIMONIAL NOT TO GEORGE HUDSON. Majesty, Gzorcxr, of Iron memory—Grorce Hupson. | will the plate go round in honour of that overthrown bit of royalty. some measure, palliate the meanness and folly that clubbed together to glorify the dethroned king—shall commemorate Ais peculiar fame, by good service done to one of his victims. Mr. Doy Lg, one of the pro- prietors of the Weekly Chronicle es bankrupt, under an examina- tion that only serves to test and show his honourable dealings. Well ; Mr. Doyzz states, on oath, that the persecution that drives him into a Court of Bankruptcy originated in the fact, that— “He, as editor, refused to allow the Weekly Chronicle to be corrupted by inserting a defence of Mr. GrorGE Hupson, written by his son-in-law, Mr. Szymour. He firmly believed he should not now be in the Bankruptcy Court if it were not for his refusal to He would not consent to the Weekly Chronicle being made the tool of Mr. Gzoraz Hupson.” An honourable man will not consent that his newspaper ink shall be made to do the part of fuller’s-earth, and take out spots—the late TERE will now, we take it, never be a testimonial erected to his late Never again| arrival of Str Joun Ross’s SIR JOHN ROSS’S PIGEONS. We have awaited until doubt ripened into truth, ere we spoke of the igeons at their native home at Annan Hill, near Kilmarnock, Scotland. These birds were originally the Nevertheless, we have to propose a testimonial that, whilst it shall, in | property of Miss Duntop, and that lady bestowed them on Sir Joun Ross, who bound himself by knightly promise to liberate the birds as soon as he should have been comfortably frozen in his winter quarters. And here are two of the birds—for Sir Jonn Ross took two pair with | him—again in Scotland. They have been examined by Proresson Mac- | TARTANCLAN, the distinguished Glasgow philosopher, and he considers |that they evince unmistakeable symptoms of having been, for some | time, domesticated with the Esquimaux ; the birds picking up bits of ‘chopped tallow candles with hyperborean gusto. He has moreover tried them with a water ice, which they relished most mincingly. No dove of a young lady, after her twentieth quadrille, could have taken it more | prettily. The birds have become national pets, and with very great reason. | Scotland has cause to be proud of them; inasmuch as they have | beautifully demolished a most ungenerous prejudice. And for this, the | | birds are fed upon the sweetest of sweetpeas every day, with a sprinkling Spotted Boy was nothing to look at when compared with the many | of peppercorns on Sundays and holidays. Further, when the pigeons wicked specks that may give blackness to an adult dealer in railways— | die, they will be stuffed and preserved under domes of crystal, and an editor will not suffer black to be called white ; will not praise ebony | treasured in the future Museum of Edinburgh; as real, unmistakeable as ivory; and he is harassed into bankruptcy. He is a truthful guardian of the press, aud he is ruined. Now, what we ask is a testimonial for Mr. Doyte—a testimonial subscribed by the parties who laid down their thousands for Hupson. We ask—say, two and sixpence in the pound. What could be a ee bit of self-imposed penance? A. B.C. have each subscribed or Hupson—say £80 a-piece ; well, let them, to sweeten the unseemly memory of the fact, subscribe £10 each to the account of Mr. Doyte. The ex-king has been gilt inch thick—shall there not be even half- crowns for his ex-Majesty’s victim ? Pope’s Essay on (Wise) Man. Ir is an old saying, that “‘ What’s one man’s meat is another man’s poison ;” and the truth has lately been exemplified by the different reception given in England and France to the news of the Porr having sent to these countries new Cardinals. Lovuis-NapoLeon in his “message,” the length of which is the only republican thing just now in France, calls the grant of three Cardinals by the Pope, “an eminent | proof of gratitude towards the nation ;” whereas we in England regard the gift of one Cardinal in a very different light, and could have dis- pensed so well with the present, that we wish the Porg, while giving the eminent trio to France, had thrown the “little one in,” in the shape of Doctor Wiseman. ‘‘ What is sauce for the Goose” the proverb tells us, “is sauce for the Gander.” But however well the Pope’s sauce may agree with the Gallic cock it does not at all evidence of the patriotic fact, that natives of Scotland, once flitted from return to it. AN EXAMPLE FOR PEERS. vindicate the value of his order. He has taken upon himself the task of teacher: the schoolmaster with the coronet. He is about to deliver two lectures, in the Mechanics’ Institute, at Leeds: one, “On the | Poetry of Pops,” the other on the Stripes and Stars, that is, on his | Lordship’s travels in America. | There is little doubt, that his Lordship’s example will be followed by his brother Peers, Spiritual and Temporal. We prophetically see, in our mind’s eye, the radiant syllabus. ‘Thus: “On the Virtues of Primitive Hospitality, as exercised in Scotch Glens,” by the Duke oF ATHOLL. “On Church Candles ; showing how you may, with the same breath, | Show them out, and blow them in again,” by Cuartes James, Bishop | of London. “On Needleworks of Charity by the English Nuns of 1850,” by | Henry, Bishop of Exeter. | “On the Tailors of London, with a song, humorously setting forth ‘ | the re of the cheapest; written by the Sweet Goose of Hounds- ditch,” by the Marquis oF WESTMINSTER, HUMBLE PIE; OR, THE PREMIER AND THE CARDINAL. A But. Air.—“ My Pretty Page.” Card. and f One of us lads must eat humble pie ; Prem, Which will it be, you or 1? Card. Which of the two ? Prem. You, Sir, you. Card, What, I, Sir? I? Prem. Yes, you, Sir, you. Card, Not I, but you. Prem. Not you, but 1? Card. Yes, you. Prem. Not i! Card. Not you? Prem, No! you. Prem. You. Card. You. Prem, 1! Card. You! Ww ih vee shall se by-and-b ell, we shall see, by-and-by, Both { Which is the boy to eat humble pie. Card, 1? Card.1'! Prem. You! The Suggestions of “ Stop Thief.” Mr. Georce CruiksHANK has written a little pamphlet called “Stop Thief,” containing some suggestions for securing our doors and windows, which are so well adapted to the end in view, that we will not quarrel with Mr. CrutksHaNnxk for omitting to explain how, if our windows are shut against thieves, it is possible that we can be on the look out for them. ApvicE To Puseyite Parsons.—You had better not remain in an establishment which, although it finds you clothes, victuals, and coals, suit the British Lion. can by no means afford you candles. VOL. XIX, BB their home, have been known—and that of their own free will—to Tue excellent Ear or CARLISLE is about, in an especial manner, to |

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| binding of a ledger. | carried out in Japan by means of seventy-fours, soldiers and marines l BUSINESS AND THE BAYONET. T Birmingham the lamb has looked into the cannon’s mouth; the Peace Society has had a meeting. The dove has cooed and cooed, and the proving- house has’ re-echoed with the bang-bang of fire-arms. Men have listened to the old meta- phor that crooks the sword into the sickle, and then went away to forge new swords the next morning. And this proved, ought ‘not the peace orators to be all the prouder of their audience ? Are we to expect the sword-smiths of Birmingham, and all the other artificers who make of iron the instruments of agony and death, to renounce their trade in order to prove their hatred of aggressive war ? Are they to starve, that they may practically protest some a system that, within the last two years, according to Mr. CospEN, has burthened the na- tions of the Continent with debts and losses to the amount of legislators of the civilised world It is to pay their virtue some- what too hard a compliment. Nevertheless, that the question of Peace should be debated in Birmingham, the arsenal—debated to approving thousands—marks the steady advance of the pacific principle. The gunsmiths, though living by the trade of war, did not exclaim “Down with Sruxce and Cospen! Great is the Bexiona of Bir- mingham ! ” Mr. Cospen very happily tore to tatters the miserable sophism, that it was justifiable to make war, in order to increase commerce—to push business at the point of the bayonet. Commerce, it is true, has followed war; nevertheless, we would not have an account opened even with Japan with howitzers. Bayonets work an ugly kind of treble entry; nor won. ld we have that Manchester dream fulfilled, that vision that shows that every Chinaman in a night-cap of cotton is to be realised by the percussion caps ot English infantry. And yet, evidently, there are commercial men who believe that, with the foreigner, the best and sharpest of bargains may be made with the sword, stropped on the Do the two hundred millions ? demand such sacrifices of the workers ? Nevertheless, the writer in Chambers’s Information—the essayist chastised by Conpen—has opened a grand idea that, if not to be may, ina small degree, be familiarised to us in London, or even in 1D dinburgh. What it is lawful for armies to do in order to force trade, | it may, for the benefit of our imports and exports, be allowable to | indiv te : firms and shop-keepers. For mstance, London next summer | will be thronged with foreigners—many of them possibly as wilfully | obtuse to the excellencies of our manufactures, as are the Japanese to | our very thickest Whitney blankets, and our best-finished skates. Why, then, should not the Messrs. Nosss—for the civilising benefits | of trade—be permitted to have a company of their own, in uniforms of their own hi ade and pattern, a corps of the Israelovsky’ s, (old| Suwakrow once formed sucha body), who, without a word, should lay | hold upon any foreigner, and carrying ‘him to their Mart, command him to get rid at once of his cash and his barbarian ignorance? W hy | should they not compel him to be measured, and there pay down the money for the half-dozen suits of clothes, considered barely decent— the savage—for his necessities? What would be right in Japan, would be no less right in the Ghetto of the Minories—what lawful with the edge of the sword, no less lawful at the point of the needle ? Again, with the weaker sex. Let us have corps of light linendrapers, of lancer mercers, of hussar jewellers, skirmishing the streets of London, and—for the civilisation and enlightenment of foreign women—let them compel her to take, and her husband to pay for—or if a spinster, her parent or guardian—any quantity of muslins, silks, velvets, pearls and diamonds. Poor creatures! With no taste, no desire for such raiment and finery—what real benefit will be exercised, by the compulsion that makes them customers ? It appears a Peace Congress will be held in the Crystal Palace. Why not? We take foreign Princes to show them rocket practice in | Woolwich Marshes: peace before them, listen to words that shall preach a world-wide amity. Let them, in that glass hive, consider that they are all of the same human swarm, created mutuz ally to labour, and not to destroy. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. let foreign peoples, with the world’s works of | HOUSEHOLD SONGS.—THE TEA SERVICE. No. 1.—The Song of the Teapot. Tuerr goblets of silver, their vases of gold, Let pleasure and luxury boast : To the teapot alone will phi losophy hold, And bread will be ever its toast. Yes! ’Tis in the teapot life’s ty e may be seen, Reflection should on it be fixe Existence is neither all black nor all green, Our joys and our sorrows are mix’d. From the depths of the teapot there’s plenty to learn, How adversity profit may bring; For at tea-time the kettle will bid us discern How in spite of hot water to sing. No. 2.—The Song of the Sugar Basin. Roam—roam for years from flower to flower, Thou, idly busy bee! Thou canst not match with all thy power The sweets enclosed by me. With prejudice I am not blind; The sugars I contain, If to the tea alone confin’d, Were sweet, alas! in vain. No! With the generous grog I'll blend, As with the sober tea: For sociality, a friend Will ever find in me. No. 3.—-The Song of the Milk Jug I know I am a mockery, [ hate my very name; Into the world of crockery I know not how I came. A milk jug is an article They might as well put down For, ol! there’s not a particle Of genuine milk in town. Far better to have given me A name I could deserve, Than cruelly have driven me From truth’s bright path to swerve ; For when of milk jugs trippingly [ hear them round me talk, There trickle down me drippingly Tears of diluted chalk. Oh, how I hate hypocrisy ! Would I could place myself In that enlarged democracy, The world of common del!. Although to fine gim-crackery ’Tis fated I belong; No matter—“ Down with quackery ” Shall ever be my song. PUNCH SNEERING AT PEACEMAKERS! At the late meeting of the Peace Congress, at Birmingham, as reported in the Zimes, t the Rev, ANGEL JaMEs, Independent preacher, in rising to move the first resolution, said— “ Punch might sneer, and the Times might thunder at them.” The Times might “thunder” at the Peace Congress, if it did not refer quizzing it. Puzch might sneer at the advocates of Peace, were 1e to reverse the course which he has hitherto always adopted, of encouraging them. Either the Rev. Mr. Anert James has never read Punch or the Times, or else he is unable to distinguish between banter and thunder, and between sneering and patronage. The Rev. Ancet James, Independent preacher, ought not to preach | quite so independently of fact. THE RED MAN IN ENGLAND. Tue Pops, it has been said, set in movement the late revolutions on |the Continent. In his lately appointed Cardinal, he has sent us a Red | Man who is wottn to create a sufficient disturbance here.

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as her, not rere , of the der, ach 5 On Red PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL TELEGRAPHIC TARADIDDLES, uncu is far from wishing to under-rate the value of the Telegraph, or to discourage the enterprising spirit of the newspaper pro- prietors, who keep steamers with their steam perpetually up in the Boulogne Harbour; and an express train always jn readiness at Folkstone, to bring to London the latest Continental news; but it will occasionally happen that the jew is not worth the candle, or rather the coals consumed in keeping up the fires of the engines. On rushing eagerly to the heading of “Second” or “Third Edition” in a morning paper, our curiosity and excitement are often doomed to be repaid by such intelligence as the following :— weet J 5 “Tt was raining fast in Paris when our > express left, and t seemed no prospect of the weather clearing up very speedily. The President of the Republic was still at the Elysée, and a proposition was just being made in the National Assembly, to allow leave a deme to Monsieur Berisz, who represents a dis- tant department. Nothing grave was attached to this incident; and though there were a few speculators hanging about the Passage de P Opera, prices were not affected. From Germany, says our Corre- adds, “the fact of several Hessians having been seen to walk in pairs through the streets, may be found interesting by your readers.” “We learn from another source that Austria remains where it did, and Prussia’s position on the map of Europe, has not yet been modified.” Of course our daily contemporaries, when they have hired an express train, chartered a steamer to remain always with her steam up, and prepared to start, whether there is anything worth starting for or not— of course, we say, our contemporaries! must give ae by way of news, under the head of their second or third editions; but we beg leave to suggest in a truly friendly spirit, that we think the greater part of the information contained in these editions, would keep ex- tremely well for a few hours, and the cost of a newspaper fleet with = aa express trains, might in great part at least be dispensed with, SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF AN EX-UNPRO- TECTED FEMALE. Mr. Jongs is home, on a journey. Mrs. Jongs is left in their bor near , with Sarry, the housemaid, and Waxv ex, the cook, without a man in the house, and “ all these awful burglaries going om all over the country.” Time, from 9 p. m. till 6 A. m. Sceng.—TZhe Ex-UNPROTECTED Femate’s Sitting-Room. Satux taking away the tea-things. 8 Lc-Unprotected Female. Any more of those horrid tramps to-day, ALLY ? Sally, Please ’m a nasty Hirishwoman, in a grey cloak. ; Ex- _—— (mysteriously). Dear me! Are you sure it was a woman, SaLiy ? Sally — Well, ’m, I think it was, she used such bad language when she for a drink of water for the ehild, and I told her to go away and not come a-trampin ’ere. Ex-Unprotected. Oh, dear! it’s dreadful to be left alone this way. Sally (affably). They do say Mx. TReAcLE’s shop was ’tempted last enya we oe | ey you know, ’m, where we has our things—on’y he got up and ed like a dog, and they run away. Ez-Unprotected (mentally calculating how far her imitation of @ dog would be likely to prove successful). Good gracious ! Sally. But Mr. Box, the constable, thinks they’re a-lurkin’ in the neighbourhood. Perhaps that Irishwoman was one of ’em. Ez-U; ( ing). Good gracious! Hold your tongue, SALLY, can you talk so?—when you know there’s not a man in the house ! Sally (perseveringly). Ah, that’s it, ’m, now Mr. Jones is away. There’s me and WaRDLE was sayin’, on’y last night, ’m—sez she, “ There ’s missus,” sez she, “she might be robbered and mur——’ Er-Unpr (horror-stricken). Saty ! otect Sally (determined to complete ory: And the bell-ropes eut— and nobody never no wiser for it, till she didn’t call us in the morning, ani —_—_— Ex-Unprotected. Satty—I declare it’s dreadful to hear you, Hold your tongue—do. Sally (with offended dignity). Well, ’m—I’m sure it’s no business of mine—I knows my place, ’m. [Sweeping out with the tea-things. Ex-Unprotected (glad even of the illusory protection of SauLy’s presence), | Well, but Satty—what’s to be done? Sally (resolved not to understand), About the tap of the beer, Mum ? Lz-Unprotected. Good gracious, girl—no—about the burglars. I declare 1 daren’t go to bed—no man in the house, too—— Sally (musingly). There’s Scary Jog, ’m, as drives the fish-cart. I ’ear his bell in the lane just now; p’raps he wouldn’t mind Ex-Unprotected (imploringly). Oh, ask him. Sally (chivalrously). And, for my part, I don’t believe ’arf that goes aginst ’im, for a thief—to be sure, when he’s in liquar—— Ex-Unprotected. Oh, dear! we won’t have a thief and a drunkard in the house, SALLy. Sally (thoughtfully). No, ’m—there’s Durry, from the workus, that cleans fhe knives sometimes, and weeds the garden—he was ’avin’ his supper—lI think he can’t have got out of the yet. (x-Unprotected (grasping at the chance). Oh, eall him back—do. Sally (shaking her head). To be sure he’s only twelve—and not by no means strong—and he’s often took with fits—I don’t think he’d be much good, Ma’am. Ex-Unprotected, Of course not, you oa girl. Sally. Well, ’m, there’s nobody else within ’arf a mile of us—and I’m sure, ’m, I ain’t a-going out for anybody. Ex-Unprotected (in despair). Dear me—it’s very dreadful—Satty (rapidly running over her domestic defences). Do take care that all the oe : the shutters, i them laid all tl spondent, there is absolument rien—positively nothing—“ unless” he | belo ane on Cho sultan, aa Sie Wisse t Hem Ses sevens me passages, and the crackers in the pantry, and the detonating detector on the back door; and, Satiy, I think if you were to put one of Mr. Jonzs’s hats on a pitchfork, and stick it up the wash-house chimney, they might think we had the sweeps. Sally (taking her orders with compressed lips, and other symptoms of great energy). Yes, ’m. Ex-Unprotected (struck by a bright idea). And, Say, bring me the , DINNER-BELL. I’Il take it to bed with me! Sally (jumping at the notion). Oh yes, ’m; and if the burglars gets | in, and we hears the Ex-Unprotected (courageously). You can rush to Sally (rather taken aback). Oh, ’m, then we’d all assistance * murdered. Ex-Unprotected (to whom the vision of @ triple massacre at once oecure). | Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Saxty, you’re a wieked girl, to put such things into one’s head. I never did hear any one talk so. Sally (argumentatively). Well, ’m, it cam’t be no use, me and W aRDLE coming, now can it, ’m? ; Ez-Unprotected. ‘Then, what is the good of my going to bed with the bell, Sanxy? p Sally. Oh, ’m, when we ’ear it well know what’s ’appened, and we can run away, or scream out of the front winders. Ex-Unprotected ! Qh, dear! (Swatches up her bedroom candle, blows out the other lights, and rushes up to her bedroom wn an unutterable agony of terror). [Scune changes to the Bed-room of the Ex-Unrrotecten. Ste has performed her night toilette in an unprecedentedly short time, and ts already shivering with terror under the bedelothes. The dimner- bell reposes om the pillow beside her —* much in the plaee usually — by the night-cap of : oe. A rushlight flickers on the hearth, Ez-Unprotected (soliloquising at intervals). Oh, it’s too bad of Ma. Jonzs to be from home at these dreadful times—I wonder what the Magistrates are about—and the Police—L’m sure we pay taxes enough 1 to think one can’t sleep comfortabl in ——_ rare’ big expecting to get some morning— !—(s, —puts her hanc against the cold She lem] !—what’s that ?—(G/arts half up) ah, Os Geek Genel bal T'S ont the ercdeete-tn dere te the kitchen—to-morrow ’rhaps a dog would be best—if they wouldn’t go mad, and—they ’ ways—gelting—stolen—and rewards are so— ver—y —sno-r-r-h—sno-r-r-h—sno-r-r-r-r-1-2-h——— d with burglars, bells, man- [She dozes off into a dream-land, pe Jonzgs, ScaLy Jox, GREEN- traps, spring-guns, mad dogs, ACRE, aud the GARDENER. Enter a Domestic Mouse, accompanied by his little Family, cautiously trom the skirting-board. Mr. Mouse, senior. Patter—patter—patter—pip—pip—pi—pi: [Trotting to the rushlight. The Masters and Misses Mice (careering about on the boards), Pirri- pirri-pirri-pir [Ex-Unrrorectep starts up at the point in her dream where Mr. Jones is struggling with a mad dog, and the dinner-bell is holding her down in her bed during the operution. Mr. Mouse, senior (scudding to his hole), Patter—patter—pit-a-pat— a-pitter-——

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| 236 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. pirri-p Fx-Unprotected (holding her breath, and lislentag intently to t beating | Pe? ANH ii a it i | 2 VAN HM ab x ¢, Tal |e 1 | rm. ‘i MN ii HT): AUN i i, oe anny/ | of her own heart, and the scrambling of the mice). There’s somebody in the | taken their shoes off! Oh, whatever shall I do! Oh, the bell—the house! Oh, dear! Ob, dear! what shall I do! | bell ! Sh ED ee | 3 gu ‘ail Enter a Rat impudently from a hole under the bed. Rat (pacing leisurely across the floor). Pit-a-pat-a-pit-a-pat-a-pat—— Ex-Unprotected: Oh, dear! They’re walking up-stairs! ey ve Cc Wt Ms il iH } | 4 A. “as wey —- 1, i | i | : | | | [She seizes the dinner-bell, and gives a tremendous peai, springing out | of bed at the same moment. Her foot catches in the wire that | communicates with the bell on the shutters, which rings. The| maids have rushed out of their room at the sound of Beil No. 1, and flying through the passages, set a-ringing all the bells whose wires they stumble over in their terror. The bell-wires com-| municate with the detonating detectors, which explode in all } | ‘hy HN! f iY | directions. The servants scream out of the front windows. The | Ex-Unrrotectep keeps ringing her bell in the midst of the | hubbub, convinced that all is lost, while the Rats and Mice, the | innocent cause of all the disturbance, wonder what the deuce is | the meaning of the row, and cower in their holes, only one degree less frightened than the Ex-UnrroTEcTeD FemMate. Scene | closes.

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oe i} => > j B—p or O D. THE HOT POKER.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. RULES FOR THE PREVENTION OF THE PROMISED PLAGUE NEXT YEAR. Te arguments of the old women, and that of several newspapers advocating the fears of the same class, that the invasion of foreigners next year is sure to be followed by a second Plague of London, are so convincing, that we are glad to hear some measures are at last to be taken for the prevention of the evil. A quarantine will be established, by which every foreigner will be compelled to remain eight-and-forty hours in some place of salubrity before he is allowed to enter the Metropolis. We rejoice to state, that Herne Bay has been one of the places honoured with selection. A supplementary Board of Health is also to be instituted, for the examination of all foreigners. For carry- ing out this sanitary purpose, they are to be invested with the most searching powers. The following are a few of the rules, unanimously agreed upon, for their guidance in this delicate matter :— ° 1. That every Frenchman is to be washed from head to foot before entering London. For this en ge Foreign Baths and Washhouses are to be established in every suburb round the Metropolis. 2. That no German is to be allowed admission into “the first city in the world” (the term generally used at all the London dinners), unless he can prove possession of at least six shirts, as many stockings, and two clean collars. 3. That two pounds of yellow soap will be presented to eve foreigner, without favour or distinction, honouring the metropolis wit his presence next year. For this purpose, a “ Foreigners’ Charitable Soap Fund’? will be instantly instituted, and subscriptions are urgently solicited for the carrying out of this benevolent idea. 4. That every foreigner must bring a certificate of good health from his medical man, signed and witnessed by the clergyman of his parish. 5. That no foreigner will be admitted into London, under any pre- tence whatever, unless he can prove, by authentic marks about his person, that he has been vaccinated. 6. That camphor-bags will be given away twice a-week in Hyde Park, to all suspicious foreigners, and that placards will be printed in every language of the world and largely distributed in the neighbourhood of the Exhibition, warning all easy confiding foreigners, as they value their lives, against the purchase of any Patent Life-Pills. With these stringent precautions it is to be hoped that the evil will have less room and less chance of displaying itself; and that if the Plague should break out, at all events that we shall have every remedy already prepared to enable us to arrest it at once in its fatal progress. With these inspiriting prospects, old women may remain in London during the memorable year of 1851, with (under the alarming circum- stances) the greatest possible amount of safety. ; CHANGE FOR A BULL. “Dear Puncn, “THERE are some people in England who think Mr. WisEMAN NEW STYLE OF REVIEW IN HYDE PARK. tions, in the same locality. These, however, will consist exclusively in the display of the productions of native industry. A strong impression is supposed to have been created in a high quarter, by the following re nae which fell, the other day, from Mr. Brigut :— “Tf the relatives of a Prince—in all the relations of life an amiable and worthy gentleman, and deserving of high respect—visited this country, what amusements were offered? A review in Hyde Park.” The absurdity of treating our illustrious visitors to a game of soldiers, as a matter of course, as if warfare were necessarily the most interesting subject to all princes, it is said, has been recognised. The perception has been arrived at, that to show a King, or other royal person, a sham fight, intended to divert him as such, implies the assumption that com- bativeness and destructiveness must be the biggest bumps on his head ; that he must go about in a state of pugnacious irritability, of sanguinary rurience—itching to instigate charges of bayonets, longing to fling shrapnel-shells and grape-shot, burning to cannonade and bombard, and to lead on mankind to hack, hew, cut, thrust, slash, stab, and assassinate. To pay this species of polite attention, it has been discovered, is equi- valent to intimating that the genius of Royalty is that of the Royal tiger, and that the love of carnage is the nature of the beast. In short, it is acknowledged that to exhibit a Review to a King or a Prince involves precisely the same compliment that you would pay a gentleman by getting up a dog-fight for his amusement. In future, therefore, all the Reviews held in Hyde Park, or elsewhere, for the entertainment of our royal guests will be Reviews of Industry, in expression of the principle that the welfare of nations is the chief consideration of rulers. The illustrious | pee whom the QuEEN shall delight to honour, will be entertained with a grand muster of the trades; a muster to be associated with no roll but the baker’s, with no files but those of artisans. parade our troops and weapons of war, we might just as well show off our Jack Ketcues and gibbets. A PHYSICAL FORCE PAPIST. he seen the error of seditious ways, and the impropriety of explosive bottles? Has he reconciled himself to Her Masesty’s Ministers, and to Government in general, and obtained a ticket of leave, and_how is he, and does he get as much as he can dispose of for dinner? Is he as red as he was, or a little paler—in his views as well as in his features ? The Porr’s mad Bull now running loose, and quite another hubbub than that of Chartism at present raging, it may seem that Curry has nothing to do with any question before the Public, and has been rather crageed up from the Antipodes by Mr. Punch, head and shoulders. ot so. right ; and that we ought not to be in any way angry because the PorE chooses to dip a British subject in Cardinal scarlet, conferring on him a title, without consulting an English Potentate upon that very trifling matter. “Very well. But if these good, easy people be as right as they are | good and easy, let them allow Her EsTY QUEEN VicroriA a little | bit of fair play. And permit me to make this proposition to the QuEEN’s Council Table ; a proposition that, no doubt, will, in the rightful spirit of retaliation, be duly adopted. It is simply this (to be strengthened | by a public petition). “Let the QuEEN be prayed to create Signor Mazzrnt President of Rome ; conferring other corresponding dignities on his adherents and followers. “TI beg further to recommend that Her Masesty be petitioned to use | her kindly offices with the French President, that he may cause to be| withdrawn the French forces from the Roman Capital. _“I am no casuist, Mr, Punch—I am no polemic—I am no Revolu- tionist—but this I an— “A Lover or Farr Pray.” The Wiseman Paradise. N. Wiseman speaks of the “little Paradise” that, under the in- fluence of his Church, might be all around Westminster Abbey? There can remain no doubt of the fact upon every just and reflecting mind that has beheld the perfect Eden that lies all about St. Peter’s at Rome. BISHOPS AND LOBSTERS, THERE is no doubt that some bishops may bear an affinity to lobsters. Take the Bishor or ExeTer as an example. He was so long in hot water, that he began to turn a little scarlet. That the diameter of the globe intervenes between Mr. Curry and his countrymen, is in great measure owing to his indulgence in “open and advised” speaking. Now, here is some speaking —or writing, which amounts to the same thing—not less open, nor less advised, and cer- tainly no better advised, than any piece of incendiary eloquence that the turbulent little tailor ever vented. Thus writes a Mr. AmproseE LIsLE Putts, one of the Porr’s partisans, in a letter lately published, addressed to the Earn or SHREWSBURY :— “My dear lord, you are on your way to the Holy City, to thank our most holy father for his gracious regard for our English Church; pray him to bestow again and again his apostolic blessing upon his children here, who are ready to combat for his sacred rights, and those of the Holy See and the Catholic Church. Ir is understood that the Great Exhibition to be held next year in Hyde Park, will be succeeded by an indefinite series of similar exhibi- | It is now seen that we fight, merely as we ; punish, from stern necessity, not for “glory;” and that, if we are to | Dogs anybody know what has become of poor little Curry? Has | The holy father may | count upon us; we are the children of the Crusaders, and will not falter before the | sons of Cranmer and Joun Knox.” This is simply an offer to fight for the Pore, if required, against the Queen. Curry never uttered anything half so treasonable, and it is unfair, and a great shame, to keep him in exile, whilst Purrirps is —— to rave much more violently with impunity. 1owever, PuiLiirs has escaped the Attorney-General’s notice merely from being beneath it; and is more lucky than Curry, only because he is more insignificant. Drilling for All Nations. Sarp Mr. Conpey, in his speech at Birmingham the other day :— “ All the Continent is bristling with muskets and bayonets. There are—bear this fact in mind—500,000 more armed men there, living in the daily exercise of drill, than there ever had been in the very height of Napoleon’s wars; and the nations of the Continent of Europe have, since the events of 1847, increased their debts by about £200,000,000 sterling.” All this drilling that is going on among Continental nations will very soon drill tremendous holes in their pockets. Perhaps, |

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' But, opportunely, see a shop at | On such a day, [ bought a pair of kids: PUNCH, TH STARTLING FACT! Oxford Swell. “Do you MAKE MANY OF THESE MONKEY-JACKETS NOW 2” Snip. “On DEAR YES, SIR. THIS TERM THAN EVER, SiR.” DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. senitiiniidiiarietatien THE MERCENARY MERCERS; OR, THE HOUSE OF HOMBURG. Dramatis PERSON’. Horatio GOODCHILD . An English Gentleman, PRowL Shop- Walker to Smasu, Cras, and Co. SMIRKE , sweet 7 * | Shopmen and Assistants to Smasu, CRASH, + nected 7 and Co. SPooney Mooney JuLia GoopcuILp Wife of Horatio. Porters, Shopmen, &c., &c., in the employ of SMasu, Crasu, and Co. Scene, London.—Time, 1850. Scenz.—A Street in London. In the centre is the large Linendrapery Establishment of Smasu, Crasu, and Company. Luter Mr. and Mrs. GoopcH ILD, arm in arm, Mrs. Goodchild. How charming is the day! Tip everything with gold. Mr. Goodchild. Talking of tips— My fingers’ ends are bursting through my gloves ; I really think I want another pair. Mrs. G (looking at his hands), You do, indeed, my dear—alas! alas! I well remember me that summer’s day, When, making purchase of those cheap Berlins, A certain something whisper’d in my ear, “Those gloves are to a brief existence doomed— ay 2 thread of life is short—” r The rays of So My nails have cut it! hand! The window seems to hold a choice of gloves. Let’s forward, and inspect the various sorts. Mrs. G. (reading labels). “ Superior kid at half-a-crown—town made.” Mr. G. 1 like the article, but not the price. You know, my dearest Ju.ia, that next week We may be short of just that little sum, To pay the butcher, baker, and the rest. The tax-collector, too, perchance may call ; And would you have us turn him from the door, Saying “ Kind Sir, last week I purchased gloves. = LARSON - CHARIVARI. THERE ARE MORE MoNnkKEYsS IN OXFORD And so, good gentleman, I cry you mercy. My water-rate is short, by that amount.” Mrs. G. (pressing his arm fondly), My own Horatio, you were ever thus; Self-sacrifice has always been your rule. What think you of those “Cloth, at fifteen pence ? ” Mr. G. 1 like them pretty well; but look at those! (pointing to a label) “ Stout double extra, gentlemanly dog, Tenpence the pair—three pairs for two-and-three.” These are the gloves for me—I love the dog: He is no thin skinned creature like the kid, But tough and honest, stout of heart and hide. Growing enthusiastic as he proceeds. Behold him in the chase—hear him give tongue— See how he darts upon the startled stag— Mrs. G. (interrupting him), My dear, i wish you wouldn’t talk so loud ; Twill get a mob, around us presently. If you want dogskin gloves, come in at once, And purchase them. Mr. G. You’re no enthusiast ; You cannot understand me—never could. The vy by said the friend of man to be, So let the dog be hand in glove with me. [They enter the shop togetie. PANY. Shopmen, Cashiers, §c. Sc. engaged in folding and unfolding goods. Smirxke, Soapey, Sproongy, Mooney, aud other assistants in attendance behind the counters. Prowt, the shop-walker, walking up and down, Prowl, Business is dull, but still we live in hope. Those piles of Paisley all remain on hand ; Those thirty thousand bonnets are unsold ; Those miserable mittens dangle still Over the door—the sport of every breeze, But still no breeze blows any good to us. Oh! little think the unreflecting crowd, Those shelves that seem to groan with merchandise, Bear the light dummy with elastic ease ; That bale, whose coating of external wool, Appears to press with avalanchian weight, Is nothing but a hollow mockery— Such thoughts as these unfit me for my post. Take courage, heart! (he taps gently against his waistcoat). Smasv, Crasu, AND CoMPANY Must never find me falter in their cause. (He turns to the Shopmen, Assistants, &c. &c., and addresses them. My friends, prepare with eagerness for work, Two bendoed bankruptcies look down on us From yonder shelves !—hear you their voice ? [Surveying the street. [He pauses, We do Prowl. Go, Smrrxe and Soarey, quickly to the front ; Hang out your placards at the open door, lnviting all to our “ Great Sacrifice.” [SmirkeE and Soarey place placards at door. You, Mooney Invert that la’ to the window. _ Instantly bel marked with £9 1s., So that it seem to stand for £1 6s. Mooney. Should it be claimed at £1 6s.,—what then ? Prowl. Should it be claimed !—well, whey-face, what of that ? | Should it be claimed !—cream-visage, then, of course, | You ’ve but to say the ticket slipped by chance, Go, milk-cheek! Do my bidding— Mooney. I am gone. [Mooney disappears in the window, SmirkE and Soarey returning Srom the door rapidly. Smirke. A customer. Soapey. A lady and a gent. Prowl. Quick to your places; now let Homburg’s house Show that it justly merits Hompure’s name. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Goopcuiitp. Prowt bows and shows them to the counter, where SOAPEY is serving. Mr. G. I want a pair of dog’s-skin gloves—those marked | At tenpence in the window. Soapey. Thank you, Sir. Prowl (speaking aside to the different characters), Porters bring forth those massive flannel bales, That ponderous carpetting—those heavy Tweeds, And make a circle round the customers. [This is done while Mr. and Mrs. Goopcuttp sare their faces turned towards the counter, You, Spooyey, place the steps across the door, Mount them—and, with a well-feigned energy, Kub the plate-glass. [Spooney does so. On Tuesday ’ twas; they cost me half-a-crown. And now come hither SmrrkeE ; Scene Il.—The Interior of the Establishment of Smasu, Crasu, and Com- |

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You are the great reliance of the firm; That simper, that insinuating smile, You know so well to practise, 1 have seen ' Within a week clear off a bankrupt’s stock. Smirke, You flatter me. Prowl, No, Swrexe, I speak but truth. I’ve faith in thee—if on this very day Three thousand bonnets hung upon thy lip— Thou’dst turn, I’m sure, three thousand female heads Into those bonnets. Smirke (smiling). I should do my best. Prowl. I know thou wouldst—you see that couple"there ? [ Pointing to Mr. and Mrs. GoopcHILp. Soarey is serving them! approach and listen. [They go near the counter, where Mr. and }Mnrs. (Goopcuitp are being served. Ra G. This pair will do (gives a shilling), I’ll thank you for the change. [Soarey takes the shilling, and appears to go jr the change, but joins Prown and Smigke who are not observed by MR. and Mrs. GoopcHILp. Prowl (aside), What have they bought ? Soapey. One pair of dog, at ten. Prowl. One be at ten—caitiff! Smasn, CrasH anp Co. Would to the dogs together promptly go, If all resembled bee. Soapey. What could I do? Prowl, What could’st thou do! Stay, have they got their change? Soapey. Not yet. Prowl. Not yet. Ha, ha! there still is time ; Withhold it till I bid thee render it. Now, Smrrke, for action! Art thou well prepared ? Smirke. Tam. Give me that box of cambric collars ; And now those cuffs; now yonder pelerines. Place on the top that lot of chemisettes ; And when you see me occupied in talk, Send forward ribbons, stockings, satinettes, And anything, in fact, that comes to hand. (Smirk, having his arms piled up with various articles, advances to the counter, where Mr, and Mrs. G. are standing. Mr. G. 1’m waiting for my change. Smirke. They ’re bringing it. In the mean time, there are some bargains here, The lady would, 1’m sure, be tempted with, Mrs. G. Ob, no indeed ; not I. Mr. G. My change—my change. Smirke. These collars are the prettiest—newest things ; I bought a lot—the bankrupt broke his heart. They cost him half-a-guinea. Mrs. G. That is dear. Smirke. And we are selling them at half-a-crown. Mrs. G. They ’re really very cheap. Mr. G. My change—my change. Smirke. And so becoming; let me try one on. Permit me just to place it round your neck. Mrs. G. Oh no, indeed—I’m not in want of it. Smirke. You must allow me (slips it round her neck); very sweet, indeed. Look at the lady, Sir; how it becomes The delicate complexion. Mr. G. Stuff !—my change. Smirke, The only thing it wants is cuffs to match. Here are the cuffs—they ’re French—cost 8s. 6d. Mrs. G. How dear! Smirke, But Europe’s long unsettled state, The fall of monarchy in France—the shock That agitates the Continental thrones Enabies us to sell at one-and-nine. Mrs. <. (¢o Mr. Goopcuitp). They’re very pretty, are they not, my dear ? Mr. G. No; take them off. Must I stand by and see My wife thus cuffed and collared ’gainst my will. I want my change. Mrs. G. My dear, pray keep your temper. Mr. G. The fellow’s quite impertinent. Mrs. G. My dear, There ’s never any harm in trying on. Mr. G. (vehemently). I want my twopence change. Smirke (smiling). This shawl—pray madam, suffer me to place it Upon your shoulders—'tis the only one Remaining of five bundred—bought last week Of a transported pankrupt, who, ’tis said, Robbed creditors of thirty thousand pounds. One moment, Sir. Mr. G. Swindlers—I’ll hear no more! Come, Juris, come! Thus, thus, and thus! (¢ears off collar, cuffs, and shawl) I free thee from the chains That roguery would weave around us both. | [He is about to rush out with his wife, when he sees the bales of goods placed to obstruct him. He upsets them. Thus, thus, and thus, and thus I trample on The emblems of commercial knavery. Down, caitiff, down, that dares to bar my way, And make me captive in a den of thieves ! Come, JuLia, come away ! Mrs. G. Art mad, Horatio? Mr. G. Mad—am. I mad—am—not, but mad art thou. ' ’Gainst dogskin gloves henceforth I make a vow. (He takes her violently by the arm and rushes out with her. Sroonty to the goods scattered about the floor, and Prowt goes to the centre, The iron shutters rattle down through the sudden snapping of the support, and the curtain falls,

WE STAND UPON A VOLCANO, ! LtTHOUGH Ludgate Hill is not exactly

vius in the snow of Snow Hill, Holborn, still we are justified in saying that the metropolis stands upon a volcano, for there 1s constantly an eruption, or break- ing up, of the public thoroughfares. If there were another invasion of the Picts we could not be more completely picke to pieces than we are by those demons of fire and water, the Genii of gas and sewerage. There is certainly something like variety in a walk to the City, for we come every now and then to such ’ a terrific rupture in the ground, as may well be called a break in the journey. If we attempt a ride into the City, the affair has all the danger, without any of the pleasing excitement of a steeple-chase, for the chances of a casual plug-hole of former days are now superseded by the terrors of the open trench, and the perils of the precipice. The wonder is, that London is not some day blown up by a terrific explosion of gas for the inflammable fluid is continually pouring out from the lacerated pipes, and the earth is so full of awful gashes, that the noxious gases are for ever mixing with the air, and making combustion imminent. Every gap in the pavement is a stop-eap bringing every cab to a stand, and as we fear the gas companies will low up London, we anticipate matters by blowing up them, in the hope of checking their eccen- tricities.

THE TURN OF THE TIDE. Tne Chronicle—whose Papal leaders ought to be printed in ink of congenial scarlet—says, rejoicingly, of what it calls the No Popery Crusade of the City of London, “ the tide of opinion is already turned.” \Ts it, indeed? Is it running down from Fulham, and will it soon be |low water at Lambeth? And shall we have what was the boat of the Fisherman, but is now the three-decker of the Pops, high and dry in mud, with her ports open and her guns run out, and bearing upon | Westminster Abbey? Shall the Lamb and Flag wave from the mast- |head, fanning the folks of England with blessings? And—as we ; have seen similar amenities carried out at Cherbourg, between French land English Commanders—will the Fisherman of London take loars from Fulham, and visit the Fisherman of Rome off Lambeth ? ;’ Twill be pretty enough to see them taking a turn upon the deck; the |shovel hat in contrast with that beautiful bit of colour worn by the | Captain Cardinal, the legs of black stepping out and keeping time with the legs of scarlet. But this the Chronicle promises, and this we shall see when—we shall see.

Words and Things. What danger in mere title, without authority?” asks Miss Pussy- KITTEN of Mr. Punch; and Mr. Punch replies, “ All the harm, and all the danger, Madam. Words, especially, words from the Vatican, are the Gentlemen-Ushers to things.”

This stoc’s we sell at price of stolen goods.

Roman Catholicism. | (As he gets to the door, he sees SpOONEY on the steps, whom he overthrows. | like Attna, nor do we literally find Vesu- | Tut Popr’s Butt.—Imagining that England had been converted to °

| | | rises from the ground. SMIRKE buries his face in a box of | lace collars, The Assistants, Shopmen, &c., &c., stand pointing |

“Axp where the harm in the words Carprvat or WESTMINSTER? |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE HISTORICAL HOAXES OF HERETICS.—A Battap on a Butt. Tunr.—" No Science to me is a Mystery.” A BOAR “WRITING TO THE TIMES.” Tue columns of our contemporary the Zimes are “open daily” for the redress of grievances, and everybody who has to complain of any- in power, or out of power, from a prime minister to a policeman, or from a millionaire to a merchant, finds immediate consolation in “writing to the Zimes.” We think, however, it is rather hard upon our contemporary to tax his good nature to the extent to which we saw a specimen the other day, when some individual—a descendant, probably, of the benevolent enthusiast who walked side-by-side with a duck for half a-day in a pelting shower, to give the animal the benefit of half of his umbrella—troubled the Zimes with a letter, complaining of the smallness of the sty allotted to the Boar in the Regent’s Park Zoologi- cal Gardens. If the domestic arrangements of the Boars are to be taken up by those, whose yaueiy with them is accounted for by a similarity of name—errors of spelling always excepted—there will be no end to the correspondence our contemporary vil find inundating his letter-box. Besides, if the Boar is to have a hearing, why should not the Hippopo- tamus be allowed his say, through the medium of an amanuensis, in the columns of the press; and if this once begins, there will be no end to the complaints of bad accommodation, too much confinement, and the numerous other grievances to which the inmates of a zoological estab- lishment are liable. The Monkeys, who are for ever chattering, will be ing upon some one to put their chattering into writing, and send it to the Zimes, complaining, no doubt, of the parasol points perpetually being poked at them, and perhaps of the quality of the biscuits sold at the door for the visitors to pelt them with. Though our contemporary has, very goodnaturedly, allowed insertion to the remonstrances on the part ofthe Boar, complaining of his want of “a wooden railing instead of iron to rub himself against,” still, we advise that the matter should not be suffered to become a precedent for every animal, to whom the rules of the world are not exactly the sort he would have selected for himself, if he had been allowed the choice of them. COCHINEAL AT FULHAM. Our readers may not be aware that the Bishop or Lonpon is as reat in his knowledge of the vegetable world, of the nature of trees, rom the cedar to the hyssop, as of Hebrew roots. For some time past his Lordship has suffered a number of experiments to be made, with a view to the production of the cochineal insect,—the insect that, with a proper solution of tin, supplies the most brilliant scarlet. For some time there was, at least in the gardens of Fulham, every appearance that the insect might be acclimated, and so, scarlet be obtained from home-growth. At the present writing there seems, on the Fa of his Lordship, a desire to give the experiment up. London will no longer stand the hazard of the dye. Again, there are many of the Church— | friends of his Lordship—who have shown a great yearning towards | scarlet stockings—but somehow they cannot bear to think of the colour, if without a soluticn of their church tin. Tue penny may be considered the black current, and the shilling the | white current, whilst the postage stamp—for it is now received univer- | sally as a current coin—may be looked upon as the red current coin of | the realm ! j THE CURRENT COIN OF THE REALM. | | RUE Burtons, I’1I tell you a mystery, Which will cause you to open your eyes, A very large portion of History Is merely a parcel of lies ; Every crime in its pages related, Of the Pore and his Priests, you must view As fictitious—hatch’d up—fabricated : Because not a word of it’s true! Chorus. *Tis a positive fact—though a mystery— That authors, abroad and at home, Have nearly all falsified History To prevent our submitting to Rome. Every Pontiff that ever existed Led a life that was free from all taint ; Though his acts have been shamefully twisted, ALEXANDER THE SIXTH was a Saint: You must: hold him completely exempted From the charges of which we ’ve all learnt ; To poison he never attempted : SAVONAROLA never was burnt. Chorus.—’Tis a positive fact, &c. Persecution—by empty pretences— An objection to Rome has been made; But, in fact, there were no Albigenses, And no Simon DE Montrort’s crusade. Joun Huss, so continually quoted, And JeRoME or PraGugE, are a myth, At the Council of Constance devoted To the faggots, no more than Jog Smit. Chorus.—’Tis a positive fact, &c. In Spain there was no Inquisition, Whatever deceivers may say (Twould have soon met the Pope’s prohibition) ; No such thing as an avto-de-fe. St. BaRTHOLOMEW’s slaughter, notorious As you fancy it, never occurred ; That ’twas praised and approved by the glorious THIRTEENTH GREGORY ’s simply absurd. Chorus.— Tis a positive fact, &c. You have heard of a vague innuendo That in England a statute was passed, Call’d “De heretico comburendo ;” But this fib is as great as the last. Oh! the Church would have never consented To have such a law made in her name, And let her stray sheep be tormented To a death of slow anguish by flame. Chorus.—’Tis a positive fact, &c. Mary never burnt bishops—the arson Is a fudge by the wicked or mad— Why, such conduct, both Porg and Porer’s parson Would have surely condemn’d if she had : °Tis a cram to say CRANMER was martyr’d, Nor did Riptey nor Latimer fall ; Whereas Guy Fawkes was hanged, drawn, and quarter’d Absolutely for nothing at all. Chorus.—’Tis a positive fact, &c. But, bethink you, good Catholic laymen, Whilst historians our eredence obtain, English Protestants cannot say Amen To your Pontirr’s pretensions to reign ; And will ever resist his intrusion, No offence, mind, whatever, to you, Till convinced of the utter delusion Of believing that History’s true: Chorus. Till assured of the fact—though a mystery— That authors, abroad and at home, Have atrociously falsified History, They will ne’er yield submission to Rome. Morto ror Proressor Ho.towar.—De minimis curat Leys. Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, 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. 3%, Fleet Street,in the Parish of St. Bride’s,in the City of Londoa.—Satuapar, DacsmuBss 7th, 1950,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. DOMESTIC SCENES—SERVED WITH A WRIT. f ) i 4 : ar a X ae i || | || | i Hl re : ™ i ii ot a QU an 2 Wig : ¥ Yor mM Mr. Punch’s Irish Maid is heard outside in the passage. O, Lor!—O, | but Mahomet, and that he the Mufti was the Mufti of all England, and Holy Saints! O, Marthyrs, and Stars, and Gyarthers! O, Blessed | his mosque the only place where a man could say his prayers with any of Heaven! and is it your Holinesses Reverences ? advantage, I would let the Mufti speak; making, ion need was, a [She goes down on her knees. strong protest against his bawling, and stating every now and then Mr. Punch. What’s that noise, DoopEna ? with all my heart and conscience, that I didn’t believe a single word Doodent, Av you plaise, Sir, ’tis the Gentlemin wishes tc see your | of it. onour. | But I’ll have no persecution, Toby. I say, keep your teeth out of the Mr. Punch. What are their names, DoopEn ? | Cardinal’s legs. The great object is to show that most of us in this Doodena, Av you plaise, Sir, they say their names is Mr. WisEBoyY | country utterly scout his claim, and laugh at his red hat and red stock- and Mr. Newsoy—and they ’ve brought your Honour @ Little Bull. | ings, his ring and his crozier, and his Pontifical, whether he swears upon it Mr. Puach, A \ittle what ?—let the persons in. | to expugnate us or not. That is the main point, whereof we should con- ” oie : Pane | vince him—and when he talks of governing us—we say Pooh. Come and Wisenoy enters, with Newsoy holding up his tail. | say your prayers, and light your candles and chaunt your services, and Toby. Gr-r-t-r-r-r-row-wow-rrow ! | welcome—but as for governing ws—you petticoated Roman Prince, as Newboy. What, Toby? Pooh, Toby! —To-o-oly! Don’t youremember | you call yourself, you who daren’t so much as publish a newspaper, and me, Toby ? | who haven’t even a railroad—we laugh at you and your a surd old- Wiseboy ( presents a Writ), “Before our Sovereign Lord the Port, | world pretensions—and must every now and then let you know that ou—” &e., &e. | we laugh at you. Mr. Puach. Confound the Pore! Idon’t owe himashilling! Show! But for all that, Zody, we'll leave his Eminence’s legs alone. He 7em out—show ’em out, DoopEena! ‘has as good a right to his crimson as a quaker has to drab, and must Toby. Gr-r-ow-wow-wow ! [Ereunt D., W., N.| have free leave to set up his pulpit, as you and I have to act in our Mr. Punch, Confound their impudence! Lord bless my soul!—It’s | booth. Do him no harm. When those Irishmen battered, and half all from taking that Doopgna into my service; but she’s a poor, | or quite killed the:poor policemen the other day, do you think they ignorant girl, and I’ve taken her for worse or for better. |advanced their religion by the assault? No, nor can we by expugna- (Mr. Puncn lights a cigar and calls back Tosy, and speaks to him | tion or persecution hope to make converts to ours. The railroad, the seriously. newspaper, free thought and free discussion, all of which privileges we Now listen, to me, Zody, my dog. You were just now going to bite the , have won in spite of my Lord Cardinal’s petticoats, we intend to keep ; calves of that gentleman in the red legs, and very good calves they are.— | 224 when he brags about the pe eiThe +! 1s ewan ll say * _" But you must not bite, Zody, though 1 give you hearty leave to growl a | See, Sir, how freedom grows: T at flourishes “1 +.“ or. little. You see he comes here neither with my leave nor by my leave: YOU can do: that will have books for all_ your js ex — announces himself as spiritual pastor and master of my country, and pro-| Why, you, cursed and excommunicated ee Pron ut 2 4 — duces his commission to govern over me, signed by the Pore or Rome, | Shone on it the next day all the same: and 7 oth a aT: F gene i Now, my dear Toby, I just as much care about the Porr or Rome as | | 224 the island grew, and continues to orn, "4 pony , ni om ae do about the Mufti of Ispahan; and my desire for a quiet life is such, | Freedom. Gop save THE Queen.” Toby, do you hear, Sir! that if the latter were to come in this country and build himself a} [Toby puts his head between Mr. Puncn’s kaces. Mr. P. fondles mosque and minaret, and bawl out thence that there was no Prophet | and pats him, VIEW OF THE MODEL PRISON. | THE Model Prison at Pentonville is so comfortable a place that some BRITISH AND AMERICAN REGATTA. Own to the vast improvements which have lately been made in ship-building, it is expected that arrangements will shortly be entered | people may wonder what induced Hackett to run away from it. It into between the leading proprietors of the mercantile marine navy of | has been surmised that he did so because he was disgusted with the this country and the United States, for a race round the world. | humbug. VOL, XTX. cc

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} ; This hat has real vitality. Neither Prussian persecution, nor| It would be so convenient to know PUNCH, OR THE LONDOV CHARIVARI MORE ABOUT HATS. (By our own Commissioner in search of one). HE letter of an esteemed cor- respondent, writing from Man- chester, informs me that when an English traveller of his ac- quaintance presented himself, wearing the hat of his country, to a party of Choctaw Indians (who never seen the ar- ticle before), they invested him “ Father of the Cooking-Pot.” Did the hat serve any such culinary purpose, it might, by being useful, in some measure excuseitsnot beingornamental. But except when an ingenious Ropert Hovpin or Herr DoBLER uses some gentleman’s hat to make a pancake, or toboil some pigeons in, I never re- member to have seen the article used as acooking utensil. This digression over, I resume my travelling observations. On crossing the Belgian Frontier into Prussia, I was sensible of ‘a change for the better. Felt had ousted silk and beaver. The chimney- ot was nowhere to be seen, except upon some obstinate travelling nglishman, and, here and there, onan Anglo-maniac of aGerman. One of my companions, who belonged to the former intractable class, persisted | in wearing his chimney-pot in the railway carriage, to his own infinite discomfort, and the utter crushing, defacing, and unshaping of the thing | itself. The hat at last, feeling itself out of place, took advantage of its wearer’s falling asleep to throw itself out of the window, and I have no doubt was run over by the tram. I found the cap very generally worn in Germany. The cap, I am bound to say, has many advantages. It may be sat upon. It may be put into the pocket. It may be made pretty with embroidery. It can * chosen with an eye to the face, and constructed so as to draw over the ears. In all these respects, its | superiority to the hat is incontestable. But it is an imperfect head- | dress notwithstanding. There is a want of continuity about the peak, that fragment of a brim, and in most cases it labours under a certain meanness and pettiness of character, which must prevent its ever taking much for general wear, though, in a carriage, it is both neat and appro- priate. The proneness of the Germans to mount uniforms, on the slightest possible provocation, has much to do with the prevalence of the cap among them. German railway porters are got up like non-commis- sioned officers, and the commissionaire at your hotel, who blacks your boots and runs—(no, the German never runs)—walks on an errand, has a coat buttoned up to the neck with a stiff collar, red stripes down his | trousers, and not unfrequently an order at his button-hole. I believe it is only his poverty which restrains him from breaking out in epaulettes. Prussia is peculiarly uniform-ridden. I saw as many soldiers as civilians when I was there, and what it must be now the Laxdvehr is called out, and 500,000 men on foot (or horseback), I leave you, Sir, to imagine. Again, the German princes (as witness a certain illustrious prince, not a hundred miles from Windsor) have discovered the deep signifi- cance of hats. Tney have found out the mysterious connection of white felt with red republicanism ; and in many States such felts are forbidden for that reason. These potentates do not like anything or anybody that is wide-awake. But the dangerous contamination does not seem to! extend to black felts, and these may be said to cover all heads in Germany not appropriated to the cap. Such black felts, a la Tyrolienne, with narrow brims and steeple crowns; or with broad brims and low crowns, @ /a Cavalier; or with round crowns and brims turned up all round, a /a fancy flower-pot, might be encountered in every steamboat, Austrian absolutism, has been able to put it down. It has survived an association with a cause anything but creditable, and bids fair, before long, to make its way to the head of united Germany, which Prussia and Austria are just now each insisting ought to be on its own shoulders. In my next article, Sir, 1 propose, with your leave, to combat objec- tions to the discrowning of the reigning dimnspan. drawn from the unpicturesqueness of the rest of our costume, and to point out the | steps to be taken in 185] to set up the rational hat, which is destined to replace the national hat of England. DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. Tue following drama is upon a subject that will come home to the solemnly with the title of| heart and tongue, the lungs and the lips, the epiglottis and the affec- | tions, of every Englishman. There is not a theme in the whole range | of every-day life, that so frequently furnishes the matter of conversa- | tion, and there can be none, consequently, so universal in its interest, jas the one which forms the subject of the drama we are about to present {to our readers. In every circle, at every hour of every day, the first point started by every one meeting with another, and taken up by that other with the keenest relish, is—The Weather. The title may not | appear at first sight a promising one, for the purposes of the dramatist ; but if he can succeed in presenting to his countrymen a type of a drama for every-day life, divested of those common-places which long habit and an apparent exhaustion of the theme may have thrown about it, he will be content to hang up his harp on the first hat-peg of “Tara’s,” or any one else’s “ hall,” and repose, as well as such a substitute for a mattress will allow him, upon his already-acquired laurels. But without further prologue, we will “ring up,” and let the curtain rise for the drama of THE WEATHER. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Mr. MoUFFLE « An old friend of the late husband of Mrs. YAWNLEY. Mrs. Morrie . . Wife of Mr. Murrce. { A casual acquaintance of Mrs. YaAwsury, and knowing, inci- " dentally a little of the MUFFLES. A widow, whose late husband was a friend of Mr. MurFLe. YAWNLEY. Mus. SHIVERS Mrs. YAwWNLEY Servant to Mrs. The ScENE passes in the drawing-room of Mrs. Yawntry. The Stage represents a handsome drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a door at the back opening on toa hall in which is hung a weather glass. Mrs. YAWNLEY (iz a morning dress) discovered seated in conversation with Mrs. Suivers, who wears her shawl and bonnet. Mrs. Y. It is indeed !—the winter, as you say, Has now set in with great severity. |_ Mrs. S. Not that I think we ’ve reason to complain. | This is December we should recollect. Mrs. Y. We should indeed—a very true remark : And one that never struck me till you made it. Enter Servant, announcing Mr. and Mrs. Mvrrte. Mrs. Y. (rising). Dear Mrs. Murrte, this is very kind, | To come to see me on a day like this, | Which I and Mrs. Satvers (whom you know) | Were just remarking was extremely cold. Mr. M. Cold—do you think! Mrs. ¥. Mrs. M. Oh! I’m very warm with walking. Mrs. 8. Probably. But walking somehow never makes me warm. An awkward pause, during which Mr. Murrie puts his fingers ~ between the bars of a parrot’s cage, as if playing with the bird, receives a sav igée snap, but says nothing, as the affair is not remarked by anybody. Yes—pray come near the fire. Thank you—no—I ’d really rather not. (Sits at a distance. and round every billiard-table, from Cologne to Prague, so far as the tobacco-smoke allowed me to discover. And wherever the State did not lay an embargo on the article, the white felt, broad-brivamed, and Cavalieresque—the Heckerisches Hut (as it has been called, after the lamented Baden patriot of that name, who, like our own CuFFEY, has now “left his country for his country’s good”’) came out in all its breadth of shadow and variety of slouch. And a most picturesque and convenient hat it is, Sir. I had two confiscated during my journey, and very nearly owed to my second a visit of some duration to Spandau. But still I persevered, from a real admiration of the form and colour. And on the whole, the hat I have seen which most realises the conditions of the ideal head-cover, is this same revolutionary white, grey, or drab wide-awake—somewhat broader | in the brim, and higher in the crown, than the last-conceived attempts of the same kind exhibited in our own shop-windows. Mrs. Y. What think you, Mister Mure es, will it rain ? You gentlemen can always judge so well. Mr. M. (walking to the window, partly to conceal the pain of his finger). Why that depends a good deal on the wind. Mrs. 8. They say that when the smoke is beaten down, Rain may be looked for. Mrs. M. I have often heard That if the birds fly very near the ground, Wet is in store. Look at that sparrow now, He’s fairly oz the ground, so it must rain. Mrs Y. But now he’s off again, and so it won’t. Those adages, I think, are often wrong. Mr. M. One rule I’ve always found infallible. Mrs. S. Pray tell us what it is. Mrs. Y. Do—TI entreat.

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ge is er “3 > ot { j j | i | } ' | | UNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Some certain rule by which to guide one’s self. My glass deceives me often. Mrs. M. (in @ mental aside). Rather say Your glass tells often some unpleasant truths. Mr. M. My weather-glass, dear Madam, is my corn. Mrs. M. Why, really, Mister M., you ’re quite absurd ; Have we the means of guidance such as that ? You’re positively rude. Mrs. Y. (laughing). — Oh, not at all; He’s trod upon no tender place of mine. Mrs. S. 1’ve heard some story of the tails of cows *Tis said that when to the wind’s quarter turn’d, They augur rain. Now tell me, Mr. Murrte, Do you believe in that ? Mr. M. I’d trust a cow’s, As well as any other idle tail. Mrs. Y. 'Vhat’s saying very little. Tell me, now, (For your opinion, really, I respect,) Are mackerel-looking clouds a sign of wet ? Mr. M. I think it probable that mackerel clouds Betoken wet, just as a mackerel’s self Puts us in mind of water. Mrs. 8. Are you joking, - Or speaking as a scientific man ? Mrs. Y. You’re such a waz, there’s never any knowing When you are serious, or half in jest. Dear Mrs. Murr te, you that know him best, Shall we believe him ? Mrs. M. Oh, I can say nothing. [All laugh for some minutes, on and off, at the possibly intended wit of Mr. Murrusz; and the tittering having died off gradually, there is a pause, Mrs. - (to Mrs. ¥.) Have you been out much lately ? re. I. The dampness in the air prevented me. Mrs. S, ’Tis rather drier now. d I think it is. Mrs. Y. T hope I shall be getting out next week, I can find a clear and frosty day. Mr. M. I think ’tis very probable you will. Mrs. Y. 1’m quite delighted to have heard you say so ; But are you quizzing us? You’re such a quiz! Mr. if (with serious earnestness). Believe me, Mrs. YAWNLEY, when say I’ve far too much regard—too much esteem— For one I’ve known as long as 1’ve known you, To say a word intending to mislead ; In friendship’s solemn earnestness I said, And say again, pledging my honour on it, Tis my belief we may, ere very long, Some clear and frosty days anticipate. Mrs. Y. 1 know your kindness, and I feel it much; You were my poor dear husband’s early friend. No, indeed, (Taking out her handkerchief. Murs. 8. goes towards the window to | avoid being involved in the scene. I feel that though with cheerful badinage You now and then amuse a passing hour, When with a serious appeal addressed, You never make a frivolous reply. Mrs. M. (rising, and kissing Mrs. Y.) You do him justice, but we must be going. ; Mr. M. (giving his hand te Mrs. Y.) Good morning, Mrs. YAWNLEY. Mrs Y. Won’t you wait, And take some luncheon ? 7. M. Thank you ; no, indeed ; We must be getting home, I fear ’twill rain. Mrs. S. I think you go my way—L’m in a fly, And shall be very glad to set you down. Mrs, M. Oh, thank you; that’s delightful. Mrs. S. (to Mrs. Y.) Good bye at once. Mrs. Y, Well, if you will not stay. (Mr. and Mrs. Murrue, and Mrs. Sutvers, exeunt by the door. Mrs. YAwnLeEy goes to the bell. Mr. Murrie ¢aps on the weather-glass ; the bell rings ; and the glass, which is going down, alls considerably at the same moment as the curtain. So, I’ll say Speaking Likeness. WE have seen so many speaking likenesses that were so little like the ; ugly objects they were supposed to represent, that we really believe et { u h speaking ” likenesses had the power of speaking, they would | remark, that he failed entirely owing to political causes—for, being an “ if these experience a very great difliculty in telling the names of the a they resembled. FEARFUL RETRIBUTION. ERTAIN persons— Mr. Rorsuck, too, amongst them—have been find- ing fault with Lorp Joun Russet for the energetic Letter he wrote to the Bisnor or Duruay, calling _ it, ’midst other milk-and-water ob- jections, “intemperate,” “ ill- timed,” “indisc:cet,” &c. But if his Lordship is to blame in the matter, we are sure he has been more than sufficiently punished for his Letter, by having to read all the answers that have been sent to him in reply to it. Mr. Sr. BaRNaBAs Bennett, for instance, sent him the other day a very agreeable communication, only five columns long, which he had the refined cruelty to call his “ Pirs¢ Letter.” This threat is so obvious, that we really think Mr. Bennett et ae \ = a might be taken into custody upon the charge of having written a threatening letter to Lorp Jonn Russet, with a view of working upon his fears, and intimidating him in the execution of his duty. Who would remain Premier of England,- with the dread constantly before him of receiving from Mn. Bennett a letter, only five columns long, once a week? We only know if we were Prime Minister, the prospect of receiving another Letter like it—and there is no knowing how many more—would make us instantly resign. GREEN GROW THE CRITICS, OH! Dramatic criticism is rather at a low ebb, and the critics, in self- defence—plead a sort of “confession and avoidance,” that is to say, they confess that there is very little in their criticisms; but they add, with much truth, that there is very little to criticise. We wish, however, that they would at least endeavour to throw the charm of novelty into their phraseology, which is becoming fearfully stale from frequent repetition. We are sick of hearing that, “ Mr. So-anD-so was respectable in the small part of the Captain ;” or that Miss JoiriLLe “had nothing to do but to lock pretty, in which we need not say she acquitted herself to the satisfaction of the audience.” We should also feel refreshed by something in place of the old intimation that “Mr. B. convulsed the house by his usual quaint manner ;” or that “ Mr. M. threw his usual amount of unction into the part of the General.” We are not swiliciently skilled in theatrical chemistry to be able to analyse the style of Mr. M. or Mr. L., or Mr. Anyzopy, with such nicety as to admit of our extracting the “ unction”—putting it, as it were, on a separate plate—from the rest of the acting, and weighing it in a scale, as a sort of guide from which to form an estimate of the “usual” quantity. We are tired, moreover, of being told that “the part was one which enabled Mr. Cuartes Matruews to display his customary coolness,” especially when the piece is far more saakied to display the extreme “ coolness” with which the playwright has stolen it from the French, and put his own name to it. We admit that there \is little in the present state of the drama to encourage criticism to an honourable exertion of its best powers; for we are quite ready to own that the breaking of butterflies on the wheel is not a more superfluous operation than submitting the Grub—or Grub Street—to the same dis- proportionate punishment. However, feebleness reacts upon itself, and a healthy criticism might do something towards the restoration of a healthy drama; but, as things go at present, the wish-wash of the press makes the wishy-washy stuff of the stage, which it lives upon. THE LAUREA'‘ESHIP. We are glad to find the Laureateship filled up at last, if it is only on account of the numerous expectants who were kept in suspense, in the hope of obtaining the office. A popular comic vocalist sent in a tender, we believe, with specimens of congratulatory odes, and an offer to attend and sing them himself at any or all of the Palace dinners ; and men of some pretensions to the post furnished estimates, but as these were, in most cases, over-estimates of themselves, no attention was paid to them. Considerable disappointment is said to have been caused to one of the candidates, who prides himself on being a great impro- visatore; but he consoled himself partially under his vexation, by the improvisa-T'ore, instead of an improvisa-Whig, he could scarcely have expected an office at the hands of a Whig government.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Ud: 4 ba GROUNDLESS ALARM. Equestrian. “Now, Boy, pox’? YOU BE TAKING OFF YoUR Hat To Make ME A Bow—you’L FRIGHTEN MY Horse.” Boy. “ A—A—A WARN’T A-GOING TO!” THE CAMBRIDGE MONUMENT. Tere has been a great demonstration perpetrated in favour of the Cambridge Testimonial. At least forty enthusiastic individuals met by advertisement, to prove that they were dreadfully in earnest ; and after a splendid display of eloquent fireworks, separated without doing any- thing. And this was very judicious, because it supplies them with a very proper excuse for meeting again. Seven plans were discussed as significantly bearing upon the best means of sending the late DuKE oF CaMBRIDGE down to posterity. Plan 6 was “a bronze equestrian statue!” We are very sorry that this plan should be abandoned. London is very naked of statues, and Cambridge in Trafalgar Square would have very nicely balanced the bronze effigy of the lamented GrorGE THE FourtH, whose virtues as a man cannot be too earnestly studied, and too zealously copied, by the British youth. The statue being out of the question, Plan Number 2—for an asylum for widows of non-commis- sioned officers and privates of the army—promises to become the favourite. One speaker talked very hopefully of the yearly subscriptions to be expected from the non-commissioned officers and privates of the 130 regiments of the line. When we consider the large amount of pay enjoyed by every full private, when we reflect upon the difficulty that continually besets him in the pleasant and rational expenditure of his entire shilling per diem, the Cambridge Monument comes in delightfully to his aid ; nie he will have the proud satisfaction of feeling that he has contributed to the memorial of a man who with a princely income— for ag | many years doubled by viceregal pay—left his son and daughter to be found in board and lodging by an admiring people. That the late Duke or CAMBRIDGE should become a yearly charge to the private soldier, must endear his memory in a manner that it is almost too affecting to contemplate; though in a general sense and as a matter of national delight, we thik the £12,000 per annum enjoyed by the present illustrious Duke is a sufficient and an abiding memento of the name of CAMBRIDGE. The only One Thing that Never Changes. WE see from the foreign correspondence of the newspapers that “ Prmce Taxis has been ordered to make an immediate advance.” It is very curious, but directly there is a war, or even the rumour of a war, it is sure to be [followed—no matter in what kingdom—by an immediate advance of Taxes. The Triumph of Industry. Mr. Brreriess intends sending in to the forthcoming Exhibition an ar- ticle which, he declares, will contain within itself quite an Exhibition of Industry, and must attract all the eyes of Europe to its merits. This is no other than the dummy motion, which has been lying now on Mk. BrIEFLEss’s table for the last ten, or twelve, or fifteen years,—in fact, as long as Mr. BrrIEFLEss can recollect he has been yractising at the Bar. Mr. BRIEFLEsS intends to send it in as the nearest ap- proach that has yet been made to the grand secret of “ Perpetual Motion ;” and he has sanguine hopes of receiving the prize offered by Government for its discovery. A HATTER’S OPINION UPON THE PROMENADE CONCERTS. ** A REMARKABLY good season, Sir, in fact the very best season we have ever had, Sir.—Why let me see, I have sold in all 92 hats,—which are just 33 more than last year—but then, Sir, you must know, God Save the Queen has been played every night this season.” THE IRISH MENAGERIE. WE understand that there is to be 'a much grander collection of beasts than usual at the fat: cattle show this year. Now will be the time, then, for visitors from the Sister Island to see the lions, ONE WAY TO OPPOSE PAPAL AGGRESSION. Tue public will be glad to hear that the Bishops and Clergy have re- solved on adopting a course which is calculated effectually to arrest | the progress of Papal usurpation. It is said that, in recognition of the cordial assistance which in are experiencing at the present crisis at the hands of Dissenters of all denominations, they have determined on seriously revising their articles and formularies, to see if there are not really certain essential points, agreement on which would be sufficient jfor their mutual union. It is, however, reported that they intend dis- | tinetly to renounce all claims and pretensions founded on or derived | from that theory of infallibility against which they now find themselves | obliged to protest. Rumour has likewise circulated the welcome in- telligence that they are about to apply to the Legislature for a strictly equitable adjustment of Church property, with reference solely to its legitimate purposes. The story further goes, that the Dissenters have decided on relin- quishing any whims or crotchets which may hitherto have been, on their side, obstacles to coalition. Lastly, it is declared that all of the parties, being now awake to the consequences of allowing the population to remain in ignorance, will earnestly co-operate in the diffusion of knowledge, with a view to the cultivation of reason and the extension of common sense, which will be as important a step as any that may be taken to resist papal aggression. “Popery in Flower and Popery in the Bud.” Lorp AsHuey, at the Crown and Anchor, spoke of Popery in the above two-fold condition. Punch immediately set to work to obtain specimens ; and subjoins the flower and the bud. The full-blown flower was obtained from the garden of the house attached to St. George’s Chapel the modest opening bud from the gardens of Fulham :— THE FLOWER THE BUD.

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. ail POOR PUS)SE yf ) ML: YY) y ? 4; “/ OR e ? a ih a &) 3h -/) 7 ne ff oh ae — — ete | pe = THE CATS PAW = 4 iN N i ” h = | A cam F we L/ 1S > ~ =

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | culties, in the shape of ch | you may as well stop there,—and grow.” SYMPATHY FOR THE HIGHER ORDERS. Y way of change for “ Shocking Catastrophe,” “Frightful Ca- sualty,”’ or * Melancholy and Fatal Oc- currence,” the Morning Post of Thursday, last week, re- lates an _acci- dent under r. heading equally striking andor1- ginal—thus :— “Vetcar Sporrs.—On Tuesday last, the floor of a room in a beer-house in Manches- ter fell in with an assemblage of 35 or 40 men, who were enjoying the intellectual gra- tification of witnessing a celebrated terrier worry a number of rats, in a given number of minutes. A man named Toots had his spine fractured, and has since died. A second, named Carr, had his right thigh broken, and is in a dangerous state, and several others are much injured.” What would the gentleman who dishes up the Post for fashionable breakfast tables think of such a description as the subjoined, of an accident, attended with loss of life, occurring among sportsmen of the superior classes 7— “ ARISTOCRATIC AMUSEMENTS.— Yesterday, the brow of a gravel-pit gave way with a party of noblemen and gentlemen who were out with the QuEEN’s hounds, enjoying the intellectual gratification of beholding « number of dogs worry a stag. A nobleman, | named MontaGueE, had his skull fractured, and has since died. Another, named | Howakrp, had three of his ribs broken, and lies in a precarious condition, and several gentlemen besides were severely hurt.” Perhaps this would appear to our friend of the Post a somewhat over-light and airy style of reporting death and fractures. Peradven- ture those mischances, with the accessories of stags and hounds, would be looked upon as rather more serious matters than they seem to have been in connexion with rats and terriers, by that gentleman—or gentle- man’s gentleman. GRAND TERPSICHOREAN FEAT. WE are informed that the Baron Natwaw is practising a step, which is to leave all his other steps many thousand steppes behind. This step is no other than dancing a hornpipe amongst the toys and tea-cups in the Lowther Arcade! The time selected for the grand terpsichorean achievement will be five o’clock in the afternoon, and any one who| knows the almost impassable state of the Lowther Arcade at that hour | of the day, will be a to appreciate the many hundred thousand diffi- | i . na drums, and babies’ tea-things, which | the indefatigable Baron will have to meet with in his way. He is very sanguine, however, of success, and has adopted an ingenious mode of training, which we cannot resist the temptation of recording. He gives directions, every morning after breakfast, that his study may be instantly “put to rights.” This study contains some of the finest specimens of art, in the shape of Bohemian mugs, China cows, chalk Apollos, Wedgwood Venuses, Parian milk-maids, and medieval chim- | ney-sweeps—mostly the gifts of grateful noblemen and lovel soige re who have not blushed to receive instructions from the gifted feet of the Baron. When the room is “ put to rights,” and the disorder conse- uently is at the very highest, the bold Baron dashes frantically into the middle of the confusion, and there indulges for hours in the wildest flights of genius amidst the heap of scattered things. As yet the Baron | has not even broken off a branch of the gilt tree which generally grows | out of the back of the peculiar breed of China cows, sold in England, | and he expects by Christmas—which is the period when the Lowther ; Arcade is the most crowded with the ephemeral trifles of the festive season—to be quite perfect. We hope that good fortune may smile upon both of the Baron’s legs, so that he may not put his foot into a! single Christmas Box. At least £1000 is dependent upon the result. | Stray Piece of Wit Picked up at the Promenade Concerts. On one of the most crowded nights the visitors overflowed the vacant space at the back of the orchestra. This vacant space is filled with statues standing in the midst of small patches of Saloon Garden- ing. The crowd kept flowing faster and faster, and a little gentleman | was carried away by the strength of the current: “Don’t! pray don’t | | You must address the villains in the language of c at Exeter Hall, will be spouted forth, and the beauties of temperance illustrated in | language not always drawn from the same source, we present them with the followirg motto, which we hope every teetotal speaker will bear in mind as he rises on his legs to speak. MODEL PASTORAL. ADDRESSED TO HIS FLOCK, BY THE RIGHT REV. DR. B. B. LAMBKINS, BISHOP OF CAMBERWELL; LATE BISHOP OF RHINOCEROS, AND V.A. OF THE SUBURBAN DISTRICT. Biatse Bonner, Sc., Bishop of Camberwell, and Administrator of the Diocese of Peckham Rye, to our Dearly Beloved the Clergy, secular and regular, and the Faithful of the said Dioceses, Health and Benediction, &c. **DeaRtyY BELoven, “ Av length our dear country, through so many rolling years trampled under the demoniacal hoof of a pestiferous heresy, and pursuing its eccentric and baleful ellipse far, far into the desolate realms of chaos, has now returned into its proper orbit, to its legitimate circum- gyration about the centre of the ecclesiastical universe, just, my dearly beloved, as the obedient solar luminary diurnally revolves around the mighty terrestrial globe — whatever the Tuscan heretic may have pretended to the contrary. “Well might this change in our position, dearly beloved, excite in us emotions of the proudest exultation; but let us rather contemplate it with a becoming humility ; let us speak of it in the simple language of modesty, and not in the florid inflated phraseology of pompous arrogance. “ But how are you to act amid the nary animosity of the implacable enemies of your faith has raised around you? My dearly beloved, you must yourselves meekly towards those atrocious calumniators. You must remonstrate mildly and moderately with these malignant and wilful defamers of your creed and your morals. “Submit patiently to the taunts of the profane, the abandoned, the reprobate wretches. hen you are revil the monsters, revile ed b them not in return—the odious, detestable, cheninahie wicked mis- | No, dearly beloved: be gentle and tender in confuting creants ! their execrable heresies. Deny without acrimony their slanderous accusations; their dreadful, horrid, appalling, terrific lies. Gaze on with a compassionate serenity whilst our sacred vestments, and all our most precious mysteries, are burlesqued and caricatured by the reptiles —the serpents. Oh! never think of avenging your outraged pastors, although you yourselves are insulted in their persons by the vermin. Let no reproaches, however bitter, provoke you to retort on your spiteful, insolent, malevolent traducers. Oh, no! dearly beloved, return not scorn for scorn when you are scoffed at by these con- temptible heretics, the miserable mushrooms of scarce three centuries, and vile spawn of Wycwirre and Luruer and Joan Knox. Let your scrupulous respect to the constituted authorities show how submissive raging storm which the sangui- | —_ and forbearing you can be whilst the shafts of impious ridicule are | hurled at the solemn rites of your worship by the Prime Minister oF | THE Crown. Be patient—enduring—forgiving—whilst Her Maszsty’s ' Clergy are doing their utmost to unleash the bloodhounds of persecu- tion on you. Ah! you must love and pity those rascals and scoundrels, harity, and not launch invectives at the barbarians, blackguards, brutes, beasts. Yes! dearly- beloved, return benedictions for the curses of an infuriated rabble. | Yes! with the kindness of brotherly affection, repay the frantic hatred of the ferocious mob. response to the death-whoop, smiles of benignity your reply to the menacing grimaces, of the savage heathens, the pi infidels, the herd of misbelievers, odious as the Manic as the disciples of Smron Macus. finally, evince the plenitude of obedience to rulers who combine the eens of Jupas with the craft of Herop and the cruelty of | > ILATE. Yes! let words of peace and good-will be your ans, the crew of geans, pernicious Oh, yes! dearly beloved; and, “BLaAIsE Bonner, “ Bishop of Camberwell and “ Administrator of the Diocese of Peckham Rye.” “ Given AT CAMBERWELL, Dec. 10.” Hitting two Opposite Sects with the Same Proverb. As the oe gree Dopey: are aboul to hold a series of meetings at which, as a matter of course, a great deal of nonsense “Tl n’y a pas de sot dans ce monde qui ne peut trouver un plus grand sot que lui-méme.” The beauty of the above motto is that the Temperance Societies push!” he screamed out, from the middle of one of these patches,|may apply it with justice to their speakers, and yet uphold it with “Don’t | equal truth in furtherance of their own good cause ; for it will translate most admirably in the following manner :— 3 ‘Tere is sO SOT iN ‘THIS.WORLD ,BUT WHO IS SURE TO FIND A GREATER SOT | THAN HIMSELF.” with his arms clinging for support round the waist of Apollo. push so,—I’m standing in a flower-pot.”—“ Well, then,” retorted a/| malicious Guardsman, “ Since you are in the flower-pot, my little fellow,

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250 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. SIR CHARLES WOOD’S TALES OF WONDER. N what account should we disbelieve in the winking pic- ture of Rimini, or in the liquefaction of the blood of St. JANvuaRIus, when only last week so astound- ing a statement as the following was made in the Times ?— “ THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER acknowledges the re- ceipt of £80 to the credit of Income Tax, inclosed in a letter from Plymouth.” Considering the want of equity— in plain terms the iniquity —of the operation of the Income Tax, one can hardly be less surprised at the above announce- \ 4 ment than one sciitiaiaecitad — would be at this ;— “ Mr. Punch acknowledges the receipt of £100 inclosed to him in a letter from ‘Q. P., | Surrey,’ as ‘conscience money, being the amount concealed by a mis-statement from } burglars, when the house was broken into the other day.’” But the wonder of wonders is to come. The Zimes paragraph goes on to say, “The CHANCELLOR OF THE ExcHEQUER also acknowledges the receipt of £6 from ‘ MEDICUs,’ as a repayment of public money received when not legally entitled to it.” | The wonder, however, here is not the restitution, but the circumstance | of their being anything to restore. Of all the novelties of these extra- ordinary times, the strangest, to the mind of Mr. Punch, is the fact, that there exists a medical man who has received any public money to which he was not legally entitled. If Punch had a farthing of such money, he would frame it and glaze it; if he had two farthings, he would send the second to the British Museum; if the whole £6 had been transmitted to him, he would, instead of paying the sum into the Exchequer, have sent a farthing a-piece to all the union workhouses in the United Kingdom, to be preserved, by way of memento, in the board-room, and the remainder he would have distributed between the surgeons of those establishments—thus making, proportionally, a very considerable addition to their incomes. WISEMAN IN HIS DINING-ROOM. Nicnotas Wiseman has been cruelly libelled by the press, He has been charged with receiving Catholic visitors and neophytes in state in the dining-room attached to St. George’s Chapel. It was said of him, that “he threw himself comfortably back into an arm-chair, and that he exacted more than the extreme rigour of royal etiquette.” No such thing, says ALEXANDER Goss, of St. Kdward’s, Liverpool; and we im- plicitly believe him. No doubt, malignity has strangely jumbled the two Cardinals—CarpinaL Wiseman, at St. George’s, and Curdinal Wolsey, at the Haymarket Theatre. That WiseMAN is, at the present moment, only Wolsey in his early state—like a young hedgehog in the wool, to come out all over prickles, and not to be touched by lay fingers —we can readily believe; but that Wiseman—give him his growth— would be Wotsey in all his glory, we have the authority of his un- changing and infallible Church for our assurance. At present, however, we can believe WIsEMAN the very combination of Christian humility and gentlemanly courtesy. We can believe him with paternal affection receiving “ young friends, entire strangers to him, to dinner ”—even if the young friends are merely neophytes, desirous of foregoing the irksomeness of daily labour as means of daily bread, for—in due course —the more ascetic life of father confessors. We do not believe in the present royal appointments and royal etiquette of the temporary Cardinal; no, skier very closely, we rather see upon him a hair-shirt, an iron girdle, and—at least—half-a-pint of unboiled peas in either of his pastoral sandals. SoMETHING VERY Patent.—That some reform is strongly needed in the absurd laws that apply to Patents ! } ROEBUCK, THE POLITE LETTER-WRITER. _ Mr. Rozezuck is, unquestionably, an honest man. Mr. Rorsuck is, indisputably, a candid man. Mr. Roesuck is, assuredly, a bold man, And, therefore, so gifted, Mr. Roxsuck is very right, upon the least possible aggravation, to flourish his honesty, his candour, his boldness, in the face of the universe. His flowers of rhetoric were never intended to blush unseen—his jewel of a good name is not to sparkle merely in the privacy of life. No; he makes a regular flower- ae of his eloquence, on the lightest occasion, and sports his good name for plain-dealing, as jauntily as a Sunday apprentice sports his smallest diamond-pin. Hence, Mr. Roesuck writes a letter to Lorp |Joun RussELL upon his lordship’s late epistle to the BisHor oF | DuRHAM. And here let us thank the Porr’s Bull that has caused to be turned up such a polished specimen of the epistolary style, as that subscribed oHN ARTHUR RogxBuck. Its courtesy, its delicacy, is delicious. Perhaps there is no public man who could so delightfully redeem the | harshness of political contest by such elegance of manner, such refine- }ment of expression. We treat ourselves with a morsel of the true, | instinctive gentleman. Mr. Rorsucx tells Lorp Kussett that he will not quote Hansard against him; he will assume no such ungrateful ask. No: Mr. Rorsuck will only deal with the amenities of life; |and, from the nettle controversy, pluck the flower of good breeding ; | and here it is, a flower odorous of the best manners :— | “ As I have no desire to convict you of mere inconsistency—and asI believe that | even a most minute investigation of all that you have ever uttered in Parliament would not greatly conduce to my edification—I would rather address you as the Prime Minister of England, than deal with your sayings as recorded in Hansard.” We have marked the true beauty of the sentence in italics, as we would, were we able, mark a beautiful pansy with an additional “freak” of jet: it deserves to be made to come out with greater force, for the honesty, candour, boldness, and good-manners, combined in a few words —unprovoked words—that say to a gentleman and the Prime Minister of England—“ You have been talking for some thirty years in Parliament —your name is associated with the most important political changes— you are the First Minister, and you have never uttered a syllable that would edify me, Jonn ARTHUR RorBuck!” It was so necessary to the writer’s case—so inseparable from the argument levelled against the | writer of the letter to the Bisnor or DuruaM, that all his antecedents should be put down, badged, branded—upon most minute investigation —as the labours of a nobody, a nincompoop ! Now, Mr. Roesuck’s plain-speaking might tell a man, so burthened, that he had a lump on his shoulder. Mr. Roesuck’s candour might point to the pock-marks in another man’s face; whilst Mr. KorBuck’s perseverance, as a public character, might volunteer to enumerate every pit. Mr. Rogsucx’s boldness might, a risking his own zasws, in- dignantly charge a third man with the possession of a pug-nose. And in each and all of these qualities, namely, the plain-speaking of Mr. Rorsuck—the candour of Mr. Rorsuck—the boldness of Mr. RorBuck,—would be grandly prominent; but not more prominent than the delicacy of Mr. Roesuck—the courtesy of Mr. Rorpuck—and, above all, the chivalrous good-manners of Mr. RoeBucx. Parody for Puseyites. THOUGH crosses and candles we play with at home, To go the whole gander, there’s no place like Rome ; We ’ve statues and relics to hallow us there, Which, save in museums, you ’ll not find elsewhere. Rome, Rome, sweet, sweet Rome! For all us Tractarians there ’s no place like Rome! PLEAS’ DON’T. Somesopy has prepared for the forthcoming Exhibition “a process | for water-proofing any stuff, from the finest lace to the coarsest fustian.”’ If the discovery is applicable to “any stuff,’ it may, we hope, be adapted to that precious “stuff,” a special plea, which frequently fails from its being utterly unable to hold water. Punch and the Pope. WE understand that Pio No-no, that great double negative, who has been attempting to make himself an affirmative in this country, ex- pressed extreme sorrow, almost amounting to despair, when he heard that Punch was opposed to his recent proceedings. Pro, who under- stands the English aontind though he does not seem to understand the English people, remarked to one of his attendants in a half-mournful half-merry tone, “ Alas, alas! I should have cared comparatively little about the probable failure of my attempt to get the English to swallow the bowl of Bishop I have been brewing for them, but it cuts me to the quick to perceive that there is no chance of their having their Punch a la Romaine.

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UCK bold the his vere t to wer- rood his ORD med ibed ous, the fine- rue, eful life ; ing ; that d not er of ; we ak” the ords pr of nent es that y to ; the ents tion ned, ther cter, , in- i of Mr. than and, FUE, OF THE LONDON ! HOW TO MAKE ENGLAND A LAUGHING-STOCK FOR THE POPE! “ Forewarned is turearmed.” LL crotchetty, fidgetty, conceited, eccentric po- liticians, impatient to make themselves con- spicuous : All factious _ parti- sans, bent on over- throwing the Govern- ment at all hazards: | All constitutionally | lukewarm persons, who | _are indifferent to good or evil, and who affect “mo-| deration” systematically, in| order to get credit for ier! candid, and dispassionate, and | philosophical : All perverse and mischiev- ous people, who would like to frustrate any great object, no matter what, merely for amusement : All disaffected individuals, who would rejoice in the hu- miliation of their country, and who are ready to abet any foreign intrigue against the Queen, her Crown, and dig- / nity : _ Are requested to read the following directions which are offered, by way of hints, as to the course they had better pursue, with the view to defeat the national determination to put down the Porr’s attempt to domineer over England :— ‘ As soon as meetings cease to be held, aad addresses to be voted, in reference to the Papal invasion, begin to pooh-pooh the whole movement, and go about saying that all interest in the subject is subsiding. ‘ When the question of legislative resistance to the Pore comes to be discussed, treat it as a religious one, although you know very well that its nature is political. Pretend that the authority of Popish Bishops is merely spiritual, whereas you have seen them use it to}resist the laws in Sardinia, and to oppose the Government in Ireland. Persist in calling the outery, which has been occasioned by the Popr’s attack, a shout of bigotry against the Roman Catholics at large—you being ce aware that it is merely a protest against the pretensions of their priesthood. Keep repeating, no'matter how often you are contradicted, or how false you see your assertion to be, that the demand for prohibiting the Popish Prelates to assume territorial titles, is a call for reviving the penal laws against the practice of the Roman Catholic religion. ; P Nevertheless—utterly regardless of consistency—at the same time, harp con- tinually on the question, “What’s in a name?”—as though the Pore and his Bishops would insist upon names if they were of no consequence; and as though it is not obvious that they want the use of those names to give their Church the appearance of a national character, and thus authority in the eyes of the ignorant multitude. Pretend not to hear when you are reminded that if a name is of no value, the privation of it is no hardship. Endeavour to confound the refusal of Catholics in Westminster. Attack Lorp Jonn Rvusse11 with quotations raked out of Hansard from speeches made by him in behalf of Roman Catholic rights; cast in his teeth the mistakes he may have made in his policy towards the Romish Church; twit him with his liberal concessions; abuse him for his generous civilities to it and its members. In short, use all the common arts of faction—never mind how mean— | against a cause which you may in vain oppose on its own merits. And should you, good worthy friends, succeed in prey the suppression of! qj jg expected that wart the mighty will of the | height ; that meat will the titles assumed by the Popre’s bishops, you will t ' people of England. And then the Popish hierarchy, with uplifted hands and eyes, will declare that a miracle has been wrought in their favour—which many simpletons will believe. And the indignation of the English people will have evaporated in impotent bluster; and we shall be a spectacle of derision to the whole world, and this will be great fun. The Darkest Injustice. Havine to pay the Window Tax during the month of November, when the tremendous fogs prevent Englishmen seeing anything of the article for which they are so blindly taxed ! CHARIVARL 251 NURSERY RHYMES FOR THE PRESENT TIMES. 4 Rive in a ’bus, to Chelsea, with us, . And see Mr. Bennett, who’s making this fuss ; With bells at day’s breaking, and bells at its close, He’s a regular nuisance wherever he goes. I. Hushaby Bennett, on the Church top ; When your bells cease, the outcry will stop. If you don’t stop, when reason shall call, Down will go Bennett, bell-ringing, and all. Ii. Little Jack Russen Got in a bustle, At hearing the general cry ; A letter wrote he, In the fo ular key, And said “ + a good boy am 1!” Iv. Sing a song of Popery, e universal cry ; Six-and-twenty Bishops Their Sovereign standing by. When the Address was opened, Two names were nowhere seen ; Now isn’t this a pretty wa: To serve their gracious QUEEN ? ULLaTHORNE in the pulpit Was speaking words of honey; A Bishop in his library Was counting out some money ; The Pore was in the Vatican, Thinking “ how well it goes,” When up jump’d Pwnch’s little dog, And snapped off his nose. LODGING-HOUSE KEEPERS’ LOGIC. Tue Lodging-House Keepers of London are beginning to calculate the probable profits of the Great Exhibition season of 1851, or in other words, they are “ counting their chickens before they are hatched;” that is to say, before they shell out. Somebody has said that 4, strangers will be poured into London, and as there are not more than 1,000,000 beds to let, the rules of arithmetic call until they have made sure of a substitute. trade has received a tremendous impetus, and sacking is in fierce demand, as if it were expected that the invasion of 1851 would lead to the sacking of the whole city. Lodging- House Keepers are looking out in all directions for bed. steads, or for anything that will turn up to serve instead, and we have heard of a proposal having been made toa ( armission to assume the title of Arch-| family requiring apartments, to make up a bed in the cistern bishop of Westminster with the denial of the right to be Archbishop of the Roman | for two of the children, by drawing off the water in the |evening, and getting the infants up and dressed before the water 1s turned on in the morning. If the company should take it into its head—its New River Head—to sluice the sewers in the course of the night, which does happen now | and then, of course the poor children might be unexpectedly “washed and done for,” as well as boarded and lodged in | the way described. rovisions will rise to a dreadful e sold by the mouthful instead of the pound; that bread will rise, without reference to any | particular quantity of yeast; and that butter will be found | to be fetching a shilling an ounce, by those who are sent to | fetch the butter. As to milk, we have heard that a “ Pure | Milk and Cream Company” have taken thel ease of a chalk- pit near town; and new-laid eggs are being already laid is in lime, with a view to the approaching season. being brought to this country as ballast, to be thrown on to the sugar market, at the proper moment, when the de- mand is at its height; and foreign sloe-juice is being carried into Port, as fast as it can be imported. 000,000 of | upon us to divide one by four, and as four into one won’t | go, we recommend some of the intended visitors, before | they leave a comfortable bed at home, to “sleep upon it,” | The bedstead |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PUNCH ON

Sa CHAPTER I. OF THE PROCEEDINGS IN AN‘ ACTION, FROM ITS COMMENCEMENT TO ITS TERMINATION. Personal, in which the personality is frequently indulged in by Counsel, at the expence of the witnesses; and Méized, in which a great deal of pure nonsense sometimes prevails. Z f sible to the shamness of Real, and the pure nonsense of Mixed actions, abolished all except four, and for the learning on these subjects, now become obsolete, we must refer to the “ books,” which have been trans- ferred to the shops of Butter, from the shop of Butterworth.* There are three superior Courts of Common Law, one of their great oints of superiority being their superior expense, which saves the ommon Law from being so common as to be positively vulgar ; and caviare to the million, or indeed to any but the millionnaire. These Courts are the Queen’s Bench,—a bench which five Judges sit upon; the Exchequer, whose sign is a chess or draught-board,—some say to

the Common Pleas, which took its title, possibly, from the fact of the lawyers finding the profits such as to make them un-Common-ly Pleas’d. The real and mixed actions not yet abolished, are—Ist, the Writ of Right of Dower, and 2d, the Writ of Dower ; both relating to widows ; but as widows are formidable persons to go to law against, these actions | are seldom used. The third is the action of — Impedit, which would be brought against me by a parson if I kept him out of his living ; but as the working parsons find it difficult to get a living, this action is also rare. The fourth is the action of Ejectment, for the recovery of land, which is the only action that cannot be brought without some ground. Of personal actions, the most usual are debt, and a few others; but we will begin by going into debt as slightly as possible. debt is founded on some contract, real or supposed, and when there has been no contract, the law, taking a contracted view of matters, will have a contract implied. Debt, like every other personal action, begins with a summons, in which Victoria comes “ greeting;” which means, according to Jounson, “saluting in kindness,” “ congratulating,” or “paying compliments at a distance; ” but, considering the unpleasant

* Butterworth—the Law Publisher in Fleet-Street. Actions are divided into Real, in which there is often much sham ; The Legislature being at last sen- | its high price gives it one of the qualities of a luxury, rendering it | show how difficult is the game of law, while others maintain it is | merely emblematic of the drafts on the pockets of the suitor ; and thirdly, | The action of |

SPECIAL PLEADING.—INTRODUCTION. EFORE administering law between liti- |

gating parties, there are two things to be done—in addition to the parties themselves—namely, first to ascertain the subject for decision, and, secondly, 40 complicate it so as to make it diffi- cult to decide. This is effected by letting the lawyers state in compli- cated terms the simple cases of their clients, and thus raising from these opposition statements a mass of entan- glement which the clients themselves might call nasty crotchets, but which the lawyers term “nice points.” In every subject of dispute with two sides to it, there is a right and a wrong, but in the style of putting the contending statements, so as to confuse the right and the wrong together, the science of special pleading consists. This system { | WA) «yt hay <\ Att | Awl \ Pa Ke We knows the beginning of it, and this ac- counts for no one being able to appreci- ate its end. The accumulated chicanery and blundering of several generations, called in forensic language the “ wis- dom of successive ages,” gradually brought special pleading intoits present shape, or, rather, into its present end- less forms. Its extensive drain on the pockets of the suitors has rendered it always an important branch of legal study, while, when properly understood, it appears an instrument so beautifully calculated for distributive justice, that, =z : Uh it will often distribute the whole of it among the lawyers, and leave nothing for the litigants themselves. nature of a writ at all times, we cannot help thinking that the word | “greeting” is misapplied. The writ commands you to enter an | appearance within eight days, and, by way of assisting you to make an appearance, the writ invests you, as it were, with a new suit. The action of covenant lies for breach of covenant, that is to say, a promise under seal; and under wafer it is just as binding, for you are equally compelled to stick to it like wax. The action of Detinue lies where a party seeks to recover what is de- tained from him; though it does not seem that a gentleman detaining a newspaper more than ten minutes at a coffee-house would be liable to detinue, though the action would be an ungentlemanly one, to say the least of it. The action of Trespass lies for any injury committed with violence, such as assault and battery, either actual or implied; as, if A, while making pancakes, throws an egg-shell at B, the law will imply battery, | though the egg-shell was empty. | The action of Trespass on the Case lies, where a party seeks damages for a wrong to which trespass will not apply—where, in fact, a man has not been assaulted or hurt in his person, but where he has been hurt in that tender part—his pocket. Of this action there are two species, called assumpsit, by which the law—at no time very unassuming—assumes that a person, legally liable to do a thing, has promised to do it, however is of such remote antiquity, that nobody |

when brought to bear upon property, |

| unpromising such person may be; and ¢rover, which seeks to recover | | damages for property which it is supposed the defendant found and | converted, so that an action might perhaps be brought in this form, to | recover from Popery those who have been found and converted to the | use, or rather lost and converted to the abuses, of the Romish Church. | Having gone slightly into the different forms of actions; having just tapped the reader on the shoulder with a writ in each case, which, by | | the way, should be personally served on him at home, though the baili runs the risk of getting sometimes served out, we shall proceed to | trial, perhaps, of the reader’s patience in a subsequent chapter. !

The Index Expurgatorius. SwaksPEARE and Humsoxprt have recently been promoted to this Index. Shortly, among other persons and things, will appear NEwToy, Harvey, Lorp Netson, WELLINGTON, Wart, Vaccination, Railways, the Tubular Bridge, QuEEN VicTortA, and the Electric Telegraph. | Lo be Given at the Vatican, By AurHority oF THE Pore. | April 1, 1851.

—¥

| uv Printed by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Usper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick Mullert Evaas. of No.7, Uhured Row, Stoke Newington, both im the County of Midd'eeex, Pricters, at their ta ibe Cityot Leadon.—Satuapar, DecemBen |i:r, 1850 Office, in Lombard Street, inthe Precine* ot Whitefriars, in tae City of London, and pubtisxed by the n at \ «55, Fleet Street, nthe Pa isu of St. Bride’s,

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jiti- to Les peveneawweser ft this 'TON, ways, u f, a their 4c, 1850 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 253 ‘| UNPROTECTED ENGLAND. BEING A GROAN FROM THE EX-UNPROTECTED FEMALE. To Mr. Punch, nHoucH Mr. Jongs, Sm, has a great objection to my appearing in print, for he declares that I’ve made myself ridiculous and him too, by the way in which I’ve come be- fore the public in your entertaining Journal, (though I’m sure Mr. J. was ridiculous enough, without any Jetters being | written upon ¢hat sub- ject) ; still I feel that as a female, though not now unprotected (if Mr. J. be any protection, so much from home as he is on his journeys), I ought to . uplift my humble voice against the present awful unprotected state of the country. 1 don’t allude to burglars at present (though I must say your artist never can have seen me, or he would zever have made me in ¢hat nightcap). But, Sir, if it had been only me talking about the unprotected state of the country, you might have said, as Mr. J. always does, ‘There, Mrs. J., you’re talking nonsense again!’ but I don’t speak as a poor, weak woman, now, because I’m afraid, but I’ve seen it all proved in a book, written by Sir F. B. Heap, Barr., with all the Jigures in it, and calculations made, and I feel the serious attention of the married women of England ought to be called to it. All husbands are not like Mr. JonzEs, and some will listen to reason, though it comes from their wives. “ Sir F. B. Heap dedicates his at (inthe most flattering manner, I must say) to unprotected females in general. Little did I think, when I saw the work on Mr. Smiruers’s table, with such a nice, clean, white cover, what awful things it had inside of it! 1 took it up quite promiscuously, but oh, Sir, the state of mind I was in before I laid it down! “First, it shows you that there’s France with 408,630 soldiers, and 2,501,000 national guards, and all know what those nasty —— are by the specimens we see in the streets; and there’s Austria with 378,552 soldiers, all horrid, frowsy, tob king butchers ; and Prussia with as many just as bad; and Russia, with 950,000—and what can be expected from men fed on ¢allow, raw hides, and brandy ? and then there’s poor England with 123,758 soldiers, and ”o more, and many of them, I’m afraid, no better than they should be, running after the maids ; for it was only last week that SmitHERs’s cook was near taking /audanum, because of a corporal in the Scotch life-guards who got a// her wages to buy a discharge and go into the green-grocery and general line, but spent it ali, and isa corporal at this moment, and and never comes near her ! “And if this is the way the British army behaves, in ¢ime of peace, to poor British Semales, what is to be expected from these dreadful foreigners in a war? And, then that horrid book shows that the English men ain’t to be ¢rusted—l’ve long thought so in regard to ove, in particular—and that their confusion increases with their zumbers ; as I’m sure, any one may see, who’s ever been to a review of the Surrey yomanry, at Wormwood Scrubs, (where I was with the SmiTHERs’s no later than last summer,) and the mess they got in with ove regiment, I’m sure I can’t think what it would be with half a dozen / “And as for ships and men of war, and navies; every body knows that those Dover and Boulogne steamers can bring over loads of soldiers, the ook says, in two hours; but, 1’m sure, when J went to Boulogne, it seemed a great deal longer than ¢hat—but one thing I must say that I think he has forgotten, and that is the dreadful state of sea-sickness the foreigners would be in—to judge by what J felt. you might — om down with a feather: until they’d had a nice cup of tea, and a good nigh?’s rest. “ However, there is o doubt that any number of these dreadful foreigners may come up to London to-morrow—and there’s that Exposition—who knows whether the machines may’ni be full of gun-powder and things, and that the artisans and ple, who come over with them mayn’t be soldiers in disguise, with belts stuck a of pistols and daggers—wunder their—what d’ye-call-em—blue smock-frock ings! “ You may believe, my Jlood did run cold, when I came to where the book describes the ‘two hundred thousand young enthusiastic French soldiers, waving ers in our pure English air, on which are mentally inscribed these words—we — ~ as we transcribe them—(I’m sure I quite shuddered when I em “© RooTY, BEAUTY, AND REVENGE!’ plate melted, and me struggling with a foreigner in mousta- chios—and Jones with his throat cut from ear—but I can’é bear it— ** When the book has made out how easy it would be for a French army to invade England (and it seems so easy, one wonders why they haven’t done it ever so long ago), comes the awfullest chapter—‘ The Capture of London by a French army.’ It makes one’s hair stand on end, to think of foreign armies excamped in each of the Parks, another between Clapham and Camberwell, and a third about Brixton and Battersea! That couldn’t be far from the SmitHeErs’s, and how, knowing this, they can have such a book in the house, I can’t think. Then there will be the horses in the churches, and the officers in the best houses —of course we should have one aé least in Craven Street, if it was only for my writing this letter; and people may say what they like about Frenchmen being polite, I’m sure J found them perfect dru¢es in the custom-house at Boulogne—and detachments in the Milbank Penitentiary— a very proper place for ’em—and in the National Gallery, and the Docks, and Regent Street. But oh! that chapter at the end of the book, ‘On the Treatment of Women in War? It’s not so much what i¢ says, but the hints are enough to drive a poor unprotected female out of her senses. “Sir, I have just put the book down, I feel it’s my duty to write to you, and call i the females in the kingdom rotected and unprotected, to awaken their husbands, an rothers, and fathers, and male relations omy to what is hanging over us! I don’t know Sir F. B. Heap, Bagrt., but J ie what a debt of gratitude is due to him from me and all the young women—yes, Sir, and all the old women— in Great Britain, Ireland, and Scotland, and I remain “ Your alarmed, but constant reader, “Marrua JONES.” A (PUMP) HANDLE FOR A JOKE. VERY one knows that Mr. Bennett has re- signed because the BisHor or Lonpon would not allow him to intone the prayers. * Don’t you think him a great pump ? ” asked A of B on hearing the news. “I don’t know about his being a pump,” was B’s. re- ly;. “but, when I ft him ae out the service, ways regarded him as some- thingonthe high-drawl- ic principle.” (Loud cries of “Turn him out ! ’—“ Apology ”— &e., &e.) Exit Sr. Barnabas BENNETT. CONSOLATION AMID CONTROVERSY. Amp these controversial breezes, One slight consideration pleases: | Than i there’s shed no graver fluid, For Roman Bonze, or British Druid. Suppose this epoch of Addresses Had not Victortia’s been, but Bess’s, It would have adced one more story To Persecution’s annals gory. We’ve now some sharpish mutual slanging, Rut, Heaven be thanked, there is no hanging ; No axe, no chopping-block, no drawing, But only just a little jawing. On Temple Bar no heads are sticking, *Gainst Ocans’s supremacy for kicking ; On London Bridge we see no quarters Of traitors cut up into martyrs. There’s no Jack Ketcu his business plying, People beheading, throttling, frying. Punch, and he says it without boasting, “T declare as I came to those words, I saw our furniture smashed and the Does all the cutting up and roasting. VOL. XIX. DD

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. — THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION. T a moment like the present, when everybody is asking whether the fire | of war, so long smouldering i in Ger- many, is to burst out into flame or to end in smoke? whether France is to} see the spectacle of Liberty devour- | ing her own children, or her own | children devouring Liberty? whether England is to become a province of the Papal dominions, or whether the Pore will discover that he has gone beyond his province in doing what he | has done ?—though these and other important interrogatories agitate and divide the public mind, the question which really absorbs the attention of the whole world is—When are we to have PUNCH’S ALMANACK? This question is being answered in typographic thunder and telegraphic lightning, by the steam-struck advertisements of the newspaper press, and the electro- agitated wires of the Railway Companies. One half the world is asking “ When will PUNCH’S ALM AN ACK be published?” and the other half is answering “On the 23rd?” No one has yet ventured to surmise what the result will be, and we dare not trust ourselves to divulge the grand secret which in a few days will burst upon the senses of enraptured millions. What we have already done has surpassed the wildest anticipations of the most boundless fancy ; but what we are about to do, will as far surpass everything that has gone before, as Pelion, Ossa, and Olympus, piled one upon the other, exceed in altitude the pebble on the pavement. We are about | to fire into the country a tremendous ads Te of wit and humour | which shall wondrously surpass our ordinary weekly few de joie’ and though even this comprises a mifraille, as the French would call it, of a round of shot from sixteen columns, ‘each comprising some fifty to a hundred jokes, the volley we are about to deliver can only be slightly | conceived by multiplying every fifty by five hundred, and recollecting that our ammunition has no lead in its composition, but consists of a material like the diamond, with all its most brilliant and most cutting qualities combined. POLICE REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLICATION OF PUNCH’S ALMANACK. N order to preserve order during the exe- 3{ Cution of the orders for Punch’s Almanack, I+ the following orders will be issued as to | the order in which the public will present themselves at the office on the 23rd. All persons belonging to the trade must enter Fleet Street at the Farringdon Street end, and form in six rows along the south-side as far as Bride Court. Private individuals, requiring single copies, must enter the City through into the line at the Law Life Insurance Office. As soon as the line extends to the corner of Bride Court, a fresh row twelve abreast, after which no more will be admitted into the City; but those coming may leave their names with the City Toll Collector, which will entitle them to a place in the pro- cession on a subsequent day. After being served, the trade will draw off by St. Bride’s Church, and retire over Blackfriars’ Bridge, entering the City again by London, Southwark, or any of the other Bridges, should they require to do so. The public after having obtained their copies, will pull off to the north side of Vleet Street and retire by Clerkenwell, re-entering the City, | should they desire to do so, by the City Road and Moorgate Street. Foreign Ambassadors, producing their credentials under the sign manual of their respective Sovereigns, and presenting them to the City Toll Collector, will be allowed to proceed without reference to the foregoing rules. ‘Temple Bar, or Chancery Lane, and fall | must be formed, and so on untill there are | BARON YON REICHENBACH’S PHILOSOPHY OF A KISS | A Lecture for the Ladies’ College.) “Wnar’s in a kiss ?? demands a once popular song, ladies. “There’s no harm in a kiss, replies the self-responsive lyric. *°Tis a pure pledge of friendship to man. The answer is vague, if not evasive. A more definite one has been given by Baron von RricHENBACH, in a book, whose title must, to most of those lips which lend the quest ion its interest, prove rather trying—“ Physico-Physiological Researches on the Dynamics of Mag- netism, Electricity, Heat, Light, Crystailisation, and Chemism, in their | Relations to Vital Force.” | Von ReIcHEnBacu writes this book to prove that he has discovered a new force or principle in Nature, similar to electricity, only immensely more subtle than the electric fluid. This—what d’ ye call it?—the Baron calls Od. Well he may, some of you will perhaps remark— judging merely from the sound of the word. Others may suggest that the letters should have been reversed, and that the Od is, properly speaking, a Do. Od, according to B: sRoN Vow REICHENBAC H, emanates io everything in Nature, more or less; but especially from magnets, crystals, the sun, moon, and stars, and the tips of the fingers. It is luminous in the ‘dark to se nsitive persons ; if affects their nerves of touch ; and it is what operates im animal magnetism. Besides escaping from the fingers’ ends, it also issues pow erfully from the lips ; and this brings us to Von RE ICHENBACH ’s theory of a kiss. Punch quotes Dr. ASHBURNER’s translation, page 257, of the treatise of the astound- ing Baron ;— We here arrive at a not uninteresting explanation of a hitherto obscure matter— the import of the kiss. The lips form one of the foci of the biod, and the flames which our poets describe, do actually blaze there. * * “Tt may be asked, how this can agree with the circumstance that “ mouth is od-negative? This, however, does harmonise very well with the fact; for the kiss gives nothing—it desires and strives merely, it sucks in and sips. The kiss is, there- fore, not a negation, but a physical and moral negativ ity.” | “ Biod,” ladies, means vital Od; the mesmeric influence, in fact. The somewhat curious description of. a kiss, as being “not a negation, but a physical and moral negativity,’ ” is simply as much as to say, the it the ye is a decided fact ; but that the act of kissing is not confe rring a favour, but taking a liberty; which seems true. | Certainly, a genuine kiss is not a negation, but, on the contrary, a strong affirmation, which the lips cannot express so forcibly by any articulate phrase—* Je vous aime”— Zoé mou sas agapo”’—or ditto in | plain English. But neither can a kiss be a “ negativity ” in all cases—at least, accord- ing to the experience of Mr. Punch. It may be so when A snatches a |kiss from B. But if every kiss is a negativity, when A and B kiss one another at the same moment, the kisses of both are negativities. Now, rere implies positivity. Therefore, if A is kissed by B, and B by | A at the same moment, their kisses are both positivities, because they are both negativities, w hich is absurd. If negativity does not imply posi- tivity, then, when A and B mutu: illy kiss, neither of the two imparts any positive gratification to the other, which is still more absurd. And lon the last supposition, the answer to the question, “What’s ina kiss?” would be, “ Nothing at all,” the absurdity of which is self-evident. Baron voN REICHENBACH leaves reciprocity out of the question, as if he had no idea of it. His od theory of kissing shows that jhe is little | versed in the practice, which, if it were all a “negativity,” would be truly odious. ‘There would be nothing more pleasant in lovers’ kisses than there is in kissing the book to make an affidavit. The Baron should try a few experiments relative to this branch of his subject: he had he etter come to England at Christmas, and perform them under the mistletoe. Universal Contempt of Court. It seems that any person is liable to be committed to prison for his lifetime by the Court of Chancery, as guilty of contempt of Court, for not paying that which he has not to pay, and for not doing other im- possibilities. What a number of ae might be committe »d for con- tempt of the Court of Chane: ry, if we all expressed our feelings ! DIRECT FROM THE UNITED STATES, Tne matrimonial knot is like the Gordian Ditto—those who would be eat men must cut it. (Loud cries of “ Shame,” from the Editor, and all the married contributors.) gr The Press and the Papacy. THosE who would—if they conld—bring us again under the yoke of superstition, may ascribe the opposition which they encounter in t! 1eir designs to the agency of the Arch-Enemy; but the real truth is, that | the only devil ys have to contend with is the pune’ Ss.

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ma OoPFr i ch i i o =} i] Qn his | for im- ou- | l be all e of heir hat PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CIARIVARL 256 when they say what I’ve taught ’em, a Paternoster and an Ave-Maria IMPORTANT LEGAL INTELLIGENCE.—PROBABLE a-piece, with a special prayer for FaTruxeR lenatius. SECESSIONS FROM THE BAR “T’ve got a 'l'welfth-Cake blessed by Faruer Matoney, and have P " sciiaiaia no doubt that will—with your blessing—in the fulness of time, bring We have heard with eonsiderable regret, that the same spirit of | °V@ the whole family. “Your Dutifial D oo ceremonialism, which has caused so much division in the Church, has ow Uw aug acey, 4 at length re to the ogg Law, * is likely to lead to os ANGELICA. secessions of a very sweeping character. For some time past Mr.! ,, . : 4 ‘ . | Brisrixss, immediately on his arrival in Westminster Hall, has been | P.S.—Hols Father, you can hardly fathom & ones these | in the habit of going through a series of absurd mummeries, which have | Browns v WwW hat a daily trial it is for me to myself dowm to ; at last attracted the attention of the Judges. It seems that the learned their level! | gentleman, no sooner appears upon the back row, in any of the Courts, | than he bows with great pertinacity to the Bench, and if the salutation | | | { svelte is not noticed or acknowledged, he proceeds to cough with such violence,| . that attention is sure to be attracted towards him. He, also, has dis-| SA | covered, or believes that he has discovered, somewhere in the books, am! | Sa | allusion to an oflice connected with that of Ancient Serjeant, and to) | i | which he gives the name of Ancient Junior. By virtue of his supposed | right to this imaginary position, he claims pre-audience of all other | juniors, and he sometimes causes much confusion in the Court by alter- | cation with any of the younger members of the bar, whom he will not | allow to rise without molestation, until they have recognised his ancient | juniorship, when he permits them to proceed by courtesy. | He has also, on more than one occasion, behaved in such an extra- ordinary manner with respect to motions of course, insisting upon) handing them in direct to the Judge, without the intervention of the'| Usher, that once or twice the Bench has expressed displeasure; but Mr. Brieriess insists that as the barrister hands the motion in, the | old law knows no intervening hand, and he cannot conscientiously avail | himself of such a go-between. | These ceremonials are now carried to such am extreme, that the highest legal authority will probably be called upon to interfere, and the result may be the secession of the learned gentleman from the Hall of Westminster. Some correspondence has already passed between Mr. Briercess and a high legal authority, but we do not at present feel called upon to give it publicity. MAIDS OF ALL-POPERY-WORK. A tate Puseyite, turned inside out to a Roman Catholic, and rechristened upon his turning, Ienativs—Faruer Ienatius (the | “ Walworth. St. Pan’s Day Loyo1a is for a time suppressed)— has called on all Catholics to send | : : ‘ ie ae ti i female servants of their own creed—servants of the lowest degree, even | “ Tory Farner,—In obedience to your commands, and as a dutiful to that of scullions—into the houses of Protestants, that the heretics, or | daughter of the Porr, I have now lived six weeks with the J ENKINSONS, at least the forlorn and foredoomed children of the heretics, may be | ironmongers, as plain cook and maid of all work. I found them lured into the fold of the Pops. Fatuer IGnatrus has not preached | stubborn heretics, only fit for the Cardinal to deal with—but at last to careless hearts or deaf ears: many female servants, from lady’s-maid have hopes. Last Sunday but one we had a goose, which I singed to the above-named scullion, are at this moment in the bosoms of Pro- with a copy of his Holiness’s | Bull; which has done precious work. testant families, wriggled there to carry out the blessed intentions of | Besides this, I’ve had ali the night-lights of Mr. and Mrs. JENKINSON Fatuer Ienxatrus. The subjoined correspondence—(for the present | blessed, and though they ’ve only got through a pound and a half, I can we cannot disclose the source whence we obtained it)—directed to | See that the unction conveyed into the tallow has entered their hearts, Fatuer Iexatius, has been forwarded to CarpInaL WIsEMAN, who, | and that they already begin to soften. of Mr. Bennett, late of St. Barnabas. | with a heretic shoulder-of-mutton, that the darkened creatures might te , Pas | make their dinner upon some blessed herrings. 1 shall do some such Belgravia Square, Day oy St. Tippets. | rious fraud every Wednesday and Friday. “Most ReveREND Fatner,—I entered my present service on the | Pr oy Py hae & j or “ day of St. BLANCMANGE; and—my character as a Protestant lady’s-maid | Hoping for pe ees, r o, y P - r “Ty ¥ Devoted D: ehter. who could dress hair, having deceived the scrutiny of even the heretical | remain Lour Vevoted Vaugnter, grandmother, I was very soon received into the confidence of “ TERESA.” Mis. * * * and her three daughters. In another month, and they = « oe sla will all be brought over. They have thrice attended mass—service I! P.S. The butcher’s man has only got half through the holy Des, believe they call it, at St. Barnabas; and, as I say, in a month at most, and has already been twice to St. Barnabas. they must be at the feet of the Cardinal. I have insinuated under the | illows of each of the young ladies a pocket copy of the pious and lessed PETER Dens, and the good fruits of that holy book are livelily WHERE IS THE BRITISH LION? apparent. | “ Blue Bells 0 nd” “i have promised Miss Leonora—(she proposes to call herself See Veronica)—the little finger of Sr. Fres, as you desired me, and she Ox where, and oh where, is the British Lion gone, P awaits with an ardour almost seraphic the arrival of a relic that will | ‘That we hear no mention made of him im the row that’s going on! snatch her, a brand, from the fire.” | And it’s oh! in my heart, 1’m afraid that he is done. “T remain, your Obedient Daughter, , Oh where, and oh where, did your British Lion dwell ? “Monica.” | Oh! *twas somewhere in a den, of course, but where I cannot tell ; “P.S.—How I yearn for the day, when ry present duty accom- But he’s now quite used up—and package oe os well. plished, I return to the Sisterhood of St. 'Thistle’s !” | Suppose and suppose we the British Lion try, a |'To point an antipapal speech, should we get applause thereby ? “ Baker Street, St. Sago’s Eve. | No; your hearers all would laugh at you, and would sing out “ All my “Hory Faturr,—For three weeks I’ve been here with the heretic | eye. Browns, and have, at last, turned two of the children, girls, aged six 5 ' a and eight. I began my pious work by giving ’em rosaries of bull’s-| Wao 1s ror Sr. Arsan’s?—Onr friend, the Daily News, writing of eyes, and Sarnt MarGaret in gingerbread, with Bleeding Hearts in| this borough, calls it “adrug.” If this be so, Mr. Jacos Bet, the sugar and horehound. ‘Yhey continually ask for more; which I give| candidate chemist, is the very man to represent it. | | | | | } in the handsomest manner, has offered fine paper copies for the service! ,““On Wednesday last, I let the big dog, at the last moment, run away | | |

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256 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL t\\\\ \ from different quarters relative to the Lt WI Ass Sas ee WS | COMPLAINTS OF QUESTIONS. |! MWCO WI Cu \ cea WE have received a variety of letters | | a 4 . , | Papal Aggression, but alluding to it in Ks by Wt iid " {1 bj | an entirely novel point of view. Our | | Ny f - ‘ > Aid if an Val correspondents express the fear that Vis sey ; | ~ al (A | | their various claims on public and par- | } liamentary attention will be overlooked | | } agp eg in the present excitement. We can | a only find room for the heads of these ' | Mh communications.—“The Income Tax” | en in 7 a fils HL complains that its adjustment is in | I mht \S Ail [fi (ai | danger of being postponed or not at- Hh | Sa Mh} ANH tended to. “The Assessed Taxes” \ | | lh ey / > se |i \M are under serious apprehensions that they will not be revised; and “The Window Tax,” in particular, is afraid its unpleasant and invidious position between the light and the people. “Smithfield” dreads that its promised removaloutof town for change of airwill — Britannia’s peculiar empire —is about candles. NAAN > One oF THE Licuts oF CivILtIsa- S TION WHICH Barsarous Nations - ARE EXEMPT FROM.—The Window- AGGRAVATING—RATHER! Tax. ‘ — — RUB UP YOUR BLUNDERBUSS ! NURSERY RHYMES FOR GREAT BABIES, To Mr, Punch. Poor Curates who know not the world and its crimes, “ Srp “ Mildew Hall. Dec. 13,1850. | Green half-pay Lieutenants, oh, do read your Times / ”“ T am an old gentleman, and of an old way of thinking. I When letters come offering you cash to advance, hate all new-fangled notions. Most of the advertisements that I meet You should know of such people as Mr. H. Hance. with in the newspapers annoy me. Nine out of ten of them are puffs of If hard-up, pay your price for a loan if you will, some stupid invention, or other novelty pretending to be an improve- But ne’er give a stranger your name to a bill, ment. But now here, Sir, is an advertisement copied from the 7imes For you’ll not have a farthing remitted to you, of this day, which really was quite a treat to me to read. It shows that And you will have to pay the bill when it falls due. the fine old spirit of Jou But is not yet extinct, in spite of all your : ; | “progress” and philanthropy. Here it is, Sir; aud much good may it Would you keep on the safe and respectable side ? do you, as it has done me :— Take this maxim in money-affairs as your guide— | s " ; ee Except people in business, and children, by rights, H RIMLEY MURDER—The Winter approaching, and taking into con- No person whatever should ever fly kites. | sideration the late murders and burglaries, it behoves all persons, either — or country residents, to be armed with a weapon of defence; all parties desirous of so . 28 $j ‘ doing will find a very large ASSORTMENT OF PISTOLS AND GUNS, at all v magneton Oe rule bis sek es put Seas me See, prices, Life Preservers, Blunderbusses, &c., at” —— &c., &e., &c. our transactions are render 1€ talk Of the Lown, 2 : ; an And a gentleman thus in the newspaper flames, Eh, Sir? What do you say to this? Doesn’t it remind ‘you of the With Lazarus and Lev, and such pretty names. fine old times described by Fre~p1ne, when a walk from Westminster to the City had the excitement of adventure, from the chance of being robbed? Here, Sir, we have the glorious days of Dick TuRPrN an Cardinal and Gecese. JERRY ABERSHAW come back again. We shall now be ina position es E thoroughly to enjoy the Beggar’s Opera—which excellent old play,I| REAxLy, it is too bad of the public to hiss and hoot that very clever hope will be revived at some of the theatres—as once more holding the | actor, Mr. RoceRs, when he plays C ardinal Pandulph to Mr. Macreaby’s mirror up to society. Of course I do not mean to say that I should | King John, at, the Haymarket. We all know, of course, that the dis- | like to be robbed and murdered; but, Sir, 1 must confess I do feel a approbation is meant for the character itself, and not at the manner | sort of pleasure and gratification in the idea that it is once more neces- | in which it is acted. But it is not usual to hiss Jago or Shylock, because | sary to keep arms in the house. Often have I sighed when I recollected | their characters are odious; on the contrary, the more perfectly their | the old blunderbuss that I used asa little boy to see hanging on the | personator expresses roguery and |malice, the more he is applauded. | wall when I went with my father to the County Bank at Mouldyhurst. | As sibilation is always an unpleasant sound to a performer’s ear, Punch | There is nothing in my opinion, Sir, like shooting a thief when you | would suggest that popular feeling as regards Cardinals might be | catch him; and I hope we shall return to that sensible plan, and to the | evinced much more pleasantly to Mr. Rocers, as well as more un- old precaution of setting steel-traps and spring-guns ; for it is | mistakeably, and even more loudly, by cheering that gentleman instead quite clear that your modern preventive police is no protection what- | of hissing him. ever against robbers. “T am, Sir, &., The Queen at the Cattle Show. ee BE eemeees We are glad to see that the Queen honoured the Cattle Show this tk ee ake year with her presence. Her Masesty had seen beef-eaters before: Frreworks FoR THE Mitition!—Mr. Puncu, Pyrotechnist, con-| she has now seen what they are made of; and must, no doubt, have fidently recommends his Squibs, which, both in brilliancy and utility as | been highly aang by a sight proving how many of them she has signals, &c. are infinitely superior to the finest Roman Candles. among her subjects. that it will be suffered to remain in | be deferred. ‘“‘The deep deep Sea” | afraid that maritime affairs, properly | speaking, will be forgotten in the heat | of our dispute with the See of Rome: | and, lastly, the “Electric Light” | declares it has been quite snuffed | out in the ecclesiastical controversy | —— a

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POSEY aa — ~ SS: — “ ~ i ? SEQ - — GREAT CATTLE SHOW. THE ROMAN BULL THAT DIDN'T GET THE PRIZE, ] ‘) ss pode? Je ces gaits HROmtda da som: Zhen Ooh Las |] & co n 5) oe

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. A GENTS OPINION ON HATS. ‘ _. ERTAINLY, JOLLY must say that, in all your observa- ’ tions about hats, you have hit the right nail on the head. Nothing can be more in- convenient than our present cha- = peau. Now, wit- ness the hats at > the Promenade Concerts, or any of our theatres, when ‘God save the Queen’ is being sung. There is an instant ery of ‘ Hats off!’ Yes, it’s all very well to ery ‘ Hats off!’ but when you have taken your hat off, where are you to put it to? Your arms are pinioned to your side as tight as a trussed fowl. Your hat is con- sequently either knocked off, or smashed in, or else wedged tight‘over your eyes; in which elegant position every one takes advantage of giving you a friendly knock on the head, whilst you have not even the pleasure of seeing who your assailant is; and if you do succeed in lifting off your hat in time, it is very little better off than on, for you are obliged-to hold it up in the air, whilst all the solos are being played with innumerable variations, on the cornet, bassoon, ophicleide, an iccolo; or else you must hold it by your side, or between your legs— bee which position it is sure to issue forth more like the saucer to a flower-pot, or the iron lid of a coal-hole, or anything else that is round and flat, and not usually worn on the top of a gent’s head. “No less than six valuable hats of mine were ruined in this way, and you are at liberty, dear old Puach, to inspect their mangled remains at my rooms, any day you like. Latterly, I have grown wiser, and always go to the concerts in a Turkish, or a felt or a smoking cap; something which I could either stow away in my pocket, or wear on my cranium, as Lliked. In fact, our present style of beaver is quite unfit for any place of amusement, and to take one to an evening party, why, it is ay pe dangerous. I suppose some one comes in for the good hats, ut I know I never take a bad hat to a soirée, but I am sure to come away with a worse one. “Some reform, as Jozky Hume would say, is terribly wanted, for I know a whole gang of young fellows who, like myself, are heartily tired of being treated hke so many tenpenny-nails, by having a body of arms | descending, like a shower of hammers, and knocking us perpetually on the head. We are not to blame—the fault lies in our hats. * Yours, Dear Punchy, ** Regularly every week (price 37.) “Tim Bounce.” PUSEYITE CATTLE SHOW. Mr. Puncu is happy to publish the announcement, that a new Smithfield Club is to te established on Puseyite and Medieval prin- ciples, to promote retrogression, in opposition to the spirit of the age. Instead of the fattest of cattle, will be exhibited the leanest of kine— anchorite, hermit, and recluse stock; sheep of the skin-and-bone foreign variety (for shearing), and ascetic pigs. A list, placed over the head of each, will specify the articles of diet on which the creature has been starved down to its particular extreme of emaciation—as split-peas, ulse, oatmeal, sorrel, dandelions,—perhaps thistles—and red-herrings. he dead stock up-stairs will include thaumaturgic mummies and relics | in great plenty, and an extensive assortment of scourges, hair-shirts, iron belts and collars, and the like implements of self-annoyance. There will be store of images and beads for those who have a taste in such articles, and of course, an abundance of crosses; but the most remarkable crosses in the Exhibition will be those shown below—the crosses between the Roman Bull and the Oxford breed of soft-horns. Otp Puncu, I! SMITHFIELD CLUB CATTLE SHOW. | (From our own Protectionist.) Tuts melancholy event came off last week, when prizes were dis- tributed to the breeders of the very leanest stock—a brass band, the | | horns and ophicleides draperied with black crape, playing funereal airs at | intervals. ‘The results of free trade were never more shockingly con- |spicuous than in the shadowy forms of steers and oxen; whilst there | |was a pen of a dozen pigs, scarcely one of which was visible to the | jnaked eye. We observed more than one benevolent lady weeping pearls |over indefinite things that had vainly struggled to become porkers. | There were sheep that were nothing but the merest bladebones, here nd there covered with threads of worsted. The QurEN and Prince ALBERT, with two of the little Princes, visited the spectacle, contem- iplating it with becoming gravity. The Prince carried away the prize |for a bull that was only visible when placed under a glass of forty Opera | Occasionally, an acute ear might detect sounds that a liberal | power. |mind might interpret as ghost-like bellowings—spectral bleatings—with now and then an asthmatic attempt at a grunt. The Duxr or WEt- LINGTON’s battering-ram is not to be seen when looked at in front; but only from either side. It is said to have been fed upon old drum- heads, with occasionally the ribands of a recruiting-sergeant chopped and made into a warm mash. We ought, by the way, to have remarked that the Duke or Ricumonp attended, as President, in deep mourn- jing; and bore in his face and manner the profoundest traces of unutter- able woe. However, let us proceed to give the list of prizes, all of them so many triumphant proofs of the withering influence of Free-T'rade. OXEN OR STEERS. | The Duxe or Rutianp carried away the £30 prize for the thinnest isteer. It had been fed on waste copies of Protectionist pamphlets with ithe tune of “The Roast Beef of Old England,” played in A flat lon a tin trumpet. Some idea may be entertained of the nicety with which the animal had been brought to the lowest point of life-—when we state that five minutes after the noble duke received the rize, the thing died; all the brass band braying “The Roast 3eef of Old England” for half-an-hour in the vain hope of reviving it. The beast was distributed among the Marylebone poor; all of them ordered to appear in spectacles to see, if possible, their proper quantities. LONG-WOOLLED SHEEP. The Duke or Ato. bore off the first prize of £20, for an extra- ordinary specimen of highland sheep, that both puzzled and delighted the judges. The sheep had been reared upon Highland thistles, accord- ing to the Duke’s well-known hospitality ; and these thistles so judici- ously served, that they had taken the place of the wool growing through the animal’s sides, and coating them all over with their brushy points. The Rev. Mr. Bennett, was present, and was much delighted with his wool of thistles; he is to be presented with a comforter—the thing will be very popular by Christmas, to be called the Atholl Bosom Friend —woven from the fleece. ‘The web, in place of the vulgar linen shirt, is expected to become very general with the ladies and gentlemen who feed upon the honey hived at St. Barnabas. PIGs. Coronet Srstrorr took the prize for the Pig of Lead; so small a nig, that it might creep down the tube of a Morpan’s pencil. Mr. | tel sent the shadow of a sow; one of his practical epigrams, showing he had ceased to have even a real squeak for Protection; he also sent a porker that, from its largeness of size—where smallness was RAELI carefully removing a muzzle from the pig’s snout, the animal collapsed flat as a crush-hat. The fact is Mr. Disraetr had, as he afterwards averred, seemingly fattened the hog upon a pair of bellows. There are, we have heard, pigs that see the wind; whether Mr. D1s- RAELI’s pig is of that sort, the eloquent Protectionist said not. He however took a second prize; and next year promises to exhibit a whole _— of the smallest pigs in the world, suckled upon phials of aqua- | fortis. COWS. The leap of the Cow that jumped over the Moon was exhibited by the Duke or Ricumonp. ‘This Cow had been fed on the printer’s ink from the Standard newspaper, which sufficiently accounts for the daring | altitude of its flight. The Duke was proffered the gold medal, but resolutely refused any such vanity. In conclusion, we are happy to say that the Exhibition was well attended. ‘The thousands of our countrymen who witnessed the wretched condition of the cattle must have carried away with them | the profound conviction, that the days of Free Trade are numbered ; jand that a speedy return to Protection is called for by the interests of man and brute—from Dukes to steers, from Parliament men to pigs. the object—was deemed hopeless of any reward. However, Mr. Dis- |

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. ——— ‘Shas! Ss — . J | ita (ht | , q Mit DRAMATIS PERSON... OW | Slam (to the Driver). Hold hard! Mr. Moopy Siam ° ‘ Miss TALBOYs . Miss PEABODY A Malcontent. A Conductor misconducting himsel/. ° + Passengers starting for boat not Miss JANE PEABODY arriving at Blackwall, Mrs. JINGLE ° ° ia LitrTe JinGies, LirTLe Peanopies, Passengers, &c. The Stage represents the Interior of a Blackwall Omnibus. Moopy and Sour other passengers discovered. Moony occupies one of the corners near the door, looking at the Knightsbridge clock. Moody (poking the Conductor with a stick). Now, then,Isay! When are you going to start ? Slam (the Conductor). Why, you’re enough to make one start indeed; My coat’s a pretty stout one, or by Jove You ’d stab a fellow with that stick of yours. Moody. None of your impudence—arn’t you going on. Slam. Going on—of course we are—but give us time To take the nose-bags off the horses’ heads. Moody. 1’ve sat here twenty minutes by the clock. Slam. That clock’s convulsive—don’t believe it, Sir. It’s got delirium tremens in its hands ; It’s very liable to fits and starts. Moody. ’Tis fit that thou should’st start— I’Il take your number. Slam, Thirteen’s our number, and we wish to take it. [He jumps on to his bracket, and cries out, “City!—City!— ank ! ”’—&c. Moody. Oh, Patience !—of the virtues rarest, best— Why do they place thee on a monument ?— *Tis in an omnibus thou’rt needed most. (Moony ts making a dig at the Conductor with his stick, when the door suddenly opens, and Miss Ta.xoys ts pushed in, making the _ _ sixth passenger, who receives the point of the ferule in her chest. Miss Talboys (shrieking). Mercy, what’s that ?—some one has run me through. Moody. I beg your pardon, madam ; but, indeed, The poke received by you was meant for him. (Loudly to the Conductor). we going on? Slam. You ’re going on pretty fast, It strikes me, Sir; striking the passengers In that ferocious way (to the Driver without). Right! cut along. [Moony ts about to remonstrate, when Stam bangs the door, and the Omnibus proceeds. Moody (¢o Miss Tatnoys). Madam, I trust I caused you no— Slam (without). Hold hard! On the off-side—two ladies and a gent. (The Omnibus stops with a jerk, which throws Miss Tatzoys forward into Moopy’s arms. Slam (opening the door—addressing himself to Moopy). Now, Sir, as soon as it’s agreeable, To let that lady be—perhaps you ’ll allow | These passengers to get into the *bus. Moody. Insolent scoundrel !—to insinuate—— Slam. ’Tis you that’s the insinuating gent, If from appearances we ought to judge. Now ladies, if you please. [He assists Miss Peanopy, Miss Jane PeaBopy, and MAsTER Peasopy into the Omnibus, who make ten passengers. Moody. 1’\| summons you. Slam. What a cantankerous old cove it is. [Jumps on to his bracket, slams the door, and the Omnibus goes on. Moody. Talk of the savage in his native state ; There’s not, I’m sure, a greater brute on earth Than the conductor of a Blackwall ’bus. (The vehicle proceeds at a furious rate, and sways from side to side. Miss Peabody. Oh, mercy! they ’ll upset us. [Miss Peasopy poking at the Conductor'with her parasol. i!—Conductor! | Slam (looking in at the window and addressing Moopy). At it again— you’re never satisfied. Moody. What d’ye mean—I never spoke to you; There ’s somebody inside wants putting down. | [The Omnibus stops ; Stam opening the door, says Now ladies, please to look alive ; , The other *bus is coming down upon us. | Miss P. No, no; ’twas not for that we stopped the ’kus ; ’Twas but to beg of you to be so kind | As to inform the driver that my sister | Is very nervous when he drives so fast. } | Slam (jumping up on his bracket, and talking without to the Driver). A pretty thing to stop the ’bus for, Brtu! We’ve got a nervous lady, here, inside. (Zo Miss Peanopy, through the window. Shall we pull up, Ma’am, at the Doctor’s shop? P’rhaps youd find something there to do you good. Miss P. Tnsolent fellow! What a set ? are ! Miss T. You’re very right, Ma’am. Talk of Polar Bears, They can’t be half such bears as— [The Omnibus stops with a jerk, which throws the MissEs PEABODY sideways on to Miss Ta.Boys. Mercy on us! [The door opens, and Master Joun Jina, aged 6, is pushed head- foremost into the vehicle; Master Epwarp JINGLE, aged 4, is thrown on to the lap of Mr. Moony, and Mrs. JINGLE, making thirteen passengers, with Master CHARLES and Miss Jutta JINGLE (twins), one in each arm, is squeezed through the door, looking back as she enters, Mrs. J. (standing in the doorway of the Omnibus). That parcel goes with me inside—that box Must not stand side sideways—ho! my carpet-bag. Slam. Sit down, Ma’am. Mrs. J. Not until I’m satisfied My things are safe—don’t throw that on the roof ; I’m sure that box is sideways. Slam. Take your seat— The opposition pole will run you through. [He pushes her forward, and slams the door, Master CHARLES and Miss JINGLE scream. Mrs. J. (looking round). Why, where am I am to sit ? Moody (looking at Master Epwarp). Whose child is this ? Puts him down in the centre of the Omnibus. Mrs. J. (looking at Moony angrily). How disagreeable some | people are! | Moody. They are, indeed, Ma’am! | Mrs. J. (seating herself with difficulty). What a deal of room ; Some people take. | Moody. Women especially ! | Mrs. J. (a notice at one end of the Omnibus having caught her eye). What ’s that ? No, no!—I can’t believe my eyes. | And yet it says, that ‘‘ Children must be paid for!” | Moody. If it said “double fare,” I’d cry “ Amen.” Mrs, J. Brute! but 1’ll ask at once. | (Hitting Stam with a large brown paper parcel. I say, Conductor ! | Slam. Now, then, Ma’am, keep your parcels to yourself : | What do you go to hit a fellow for ? Why can’t you speak before you come to blows ? (He stands on the step,and delivers the following speech in at the window. i 1’ll tell you what it is; ’twould serve you right,

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ward ir, as RD 4 se] S S On, side. asol, 1in— says e; ver). dow, 30DY ead- d 4, GLE, Miss h the with and bus. ome eye). reel, dow, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. To pull you up before the magistrate 7 For an assault, THE PREMIER’S LETTER-WRITER TO THE POPE. Mrs. J. Nonsense, I oy you. Slam. Nudged me, indeed ! hy, only yesterday Mr. Puncn, as ponte m8 confidential Secretary to the Premier, I got a walking-stick half-down my throat. begs to transmit the subjoined letter, together with a more formal Just now, that discontented-looking gent official communication, by the ordinary medium of conveyance, to His : [Looking at Moovy, who scowis.| Holiness :— Gave me a poke enough to stir the fire “My pear Sir, * Downing Street, Dec. 14, 1850. ah ae a4 fa a ead ag —, , : “T wish to address you—plain Masta FerReTTI—as equally For what we bear, bears out the name you "give - plain Joun Russett. My object in writing this note is, to render the Moody. Well deat on an in Geek nanitinn way ; diplomatic message a ge it perfectly clear to you; so that The lady wants to speak to you - . there shall be no mistake about it. Of course you are aware, by this Slam ” Oh. does she? time, of the violent excitement which has been occasioned among us by P ° your division of England into bishopricks. Do not suppose that this was in the least degree created by my letter, directed to the country through the BisHor or Dunnam. On the contrary, to that letter alone m. Yes. of course we do. |it is owing, that the excitement was not much more violent. If I had Mrs. J. What for such precious dears as these ? | not written it, I don’t. know what would have happened, and I know yee Why, Ma’am | not what —aaer if I do not fulfil the pledge it contains. I have as These precious dears were precious dear to us sas , zood as promised the people legal redress, by abolishing your bishops If we fr nothing carried them about ie ‘territorial titles. ‘That has, comparatively, quieted them. I must keep Mrs. J. *Tis crael: can you look into the face my promise, or be universally scouted, or you must take the affair out Of helpless infancy, and have the heart ‘ | Melipotamus, and Utopia, and Jericho. ? ! 7; po 9 ? he sh a Tithe ve ony | “As Vicars pate 9 or whatever else you may please to call them Slam. Our little charge is three-pence—mark’d outside ; jexcept bishops of places in England, there is mo objection at all to You see the notice, “Children must be paid for!” : their remaining here. Our people don’t wish to persecute them in the Mrs. Jingle. What, all my chickens ?—all at three-pence each ?— slightest manner, or to prevent them from preaching and teaching their You have no children. *busman. if you had— ; peculiar doctrines with perfect freedom; but the British public, mind dng : . |you, will not have those doctrines preached and taught under what (Mrs. JINGLE és proceeding in her declamation, when a smash is| appears to be its sanction and approval. heard, a jerk is felt—the two near wheels become “ off” wheels,| “Now, my dear Sir, you must see that to call a Mr. Sotomon, and the Omnibus and the curtain fall together. ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER, is nothing more nor less of a trick than _ | making use of Westminster’s name to indorse a bill. So with the rest lof your bishopricks throughout England.—I forbear from qualifying these transactions with the terms which I should be justified in apply- She ’s capable of speaking for herself. [Moony gruxts. Mrs. J. What I would say is this—you don’t of course Charge for the children ? | won't do: and you cannot be allowed to take these liberties with our credit. Understand, once for all, that Joun Butt is resolved to be a me between those of a very unpleasant dilemma, I have the honour to be, my dear Sir, “Yours, as you behave yourself, “The Rt. Rev. Mastaé Ferretti, “Joun Russet.” Bishop of Rome.” THE WOMEN OF WINDSOR, Papal aggression, and among other matters, they express “ the gratitude of their hearts for the atmosphere with which th We know that some people about a court give themselves precious airs, but we cannot say whether these form part of the atmosphere so | prized by the Women of Windsor. The address has too much of the scent of Windsor soap about it to please us,and we are pretty sure that Her Masesty’s one |a lustre over their maternal duties;” or in other words, rendered it THE NEW OXFORD COSTUME. |“ genteel” to have a family. The maternal duties when properly per- An Unnanenaneare come ve Lucrens. | formed, as in the case of Victoria, give lustre to the highest station, — ‘ ™ we | can require no sanction from a court to add to their respectability. We EXTRACTS FROM THE IRISH HUE AND CRY. never wish to be hard upon the soft sex; however, we must tell the | : , , ae Women of Windsor that $ quite ch tw: 7: vad yisrr Toxy Gowan is advertised as having lost “A Pig with a very long Vomen of Windsor that there is quite enough twaddle and toadyism tail, and a black spot on the tip of its snout that curls up behind.” A Cow is desenbed as “ very difficult to milk, and of no use to any one but the owner, with one horn much longer than the other.” Joun Hawkins is alluded to as having “a pair of quick grey eyes, | Sener a with little or no whiskers, and a Roman nose, that has a great difficulty | in looking any one in the face.” Betsy Waterton is accused of having drawers and a cock and hen, and has red hair and a broken tooth, none | the following mild caution :— of which are her own.” The Manager of the Savings’ Bank at Dunferry, near Goofowran, is | ; - spoken of in these terms: “He had on, when last seen, a pair of cor-| We agree, for once, with the Bishop of London, and must say that duroy trousers, with a tremendous squint rather the worse for wear,| when a gentleman runs from Pimlico to Rome, and carries his princi- description is proverbial. Going a Little too Far. “ec “T really fear you are carrying things too far.” of my hands, by revoking your bull,and retranslating your bishops to | ing to them; but really, my dear Sir, I must say that this kind of thing , bull to himself; and let me recommend you—I speak vernacularly, not | as an expositor—to draw in those horns of yours, or else you will place | — Tne Women of Windsor have been petitioning the Qurew on the + e court is surrounded.” , | zood sense will revolt somewhat against the conclusion | j come to by the Women of Windsor, that “‘the royal example has thrown | but as to their deriving any lustre from it, the QuEEN herself would tell | —————— | the Women of Windsor that the first and most natural of our affections | in the world without their adding to the stock, especially when they , address it to an illustrious lady whose aversion to humbug of every absconded with a chest of! Tap Brsor or Loxpon wrote to Mr. Sr. Barnabas BEnyertt | besides an affected lisp, which he endeavours to conceal with a pair of | ples to the extreme lengths which Mr. St. B. Bennerr has done, that | gold spectacles.” lit is “carrying things a little toofar.” If the reverend gentleman were | A burglar has his portrait taken in the following manner. “He has/to carry his principles out altogether—we mean out of the Church of little or no hair, but black eyes on a turned-up nose, which is dyed | England—we think it would be very much better for the interests of all black to conceal its greyness.” parties. | | |

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PUSEYISM IN THE POLICE. Tue resignation of Mr. Bennett will at all events stop the spread of Puseyism that might have been introduced among the Police force, by its being necessary to send some 200 or 300 of them every Sunday to form a part of the congregation of St. Barnabas. We have not | heard of any very strong case, but had the recent proceedings gone on, we might have met with a constable here and there insisting on lighting the candle in his bull’s-eye by day, and ringing at five o’clock every morning the bells of his own neighbourhood. Happily, these Bennett- isms are not now in danger of arising, as the Police force will no longer be permed to be on duty while the clerical duty is being performed mm co.

SMITHFIELD FOR EVER! Wirs the view to improve Smithfield, the Corporation proposes to enlarge it. Every child must perceive that this will simply be making Smithtield a greater nuisance than it was before.

LONDON CHARIVARI.

PUNCH ON SPECIAL PLEADING. CHAPTER THE SECOND.—OF THE DECLARATION. Tue writ being now served, it is next to be returned, and this is sometimes done by giving it back at once to the bailiff or throwing it in his face. Such quick returns as these would bring such very small profit to a plaintiff that they are not allowable, and the writ can only be returned by the sheriff bringing it back, on a certain day, into the superior court. He then gives a short account, in writing, of the manner in which the writ has been executed; but, if the bailiff has been pumped upon—as we find reported in SHowER—or pelted with oysters, as in SHELLEY’s case, or kicked down stairs, as he was in Foor against the Sheriff, it does not seem that the particulars need be set forth. If the defendant does not appear within eight days after the writ has come “greeting,” as if it would say, “ my service to you,” the plaintiff may, in most cases, appear for him ; and this shows how true it is that appearances are often deceitful and treacherous ; for, when a plaintiff appears for a defendant, it is only to have an opportunity of appearing against him at the next step. The pleadings now commence, which were originally delivered orally by the parties themselves in open Court, when success might depend on length of tongue; but, the parties themselves being got rid of, in the modern pract ice, and the lawyers coming in to represent them, success usually depends on length of purse. The object of pleading, whether oral or written, is to bring the parties to an issue; which means literally, a way out; but, in practice, the effect of getting plaintiff and defendant to an issue is to let them both regularly in. Almost all pleas, except those of the simplest kind, mast be signed by a barrister; who does not usually draw the plea, but ae merely draws the half guinea for the use of his name. The pleading begins with the declaration, in which the plaintiff is supposed to state the cause of ac- tion ; but in which he gives such an exaggerated accountof his grievances, that not more than one-tenth of what he states, is to be believed. For ‘example, if A. has had his nose slightly pulled by B., the former pro- ceeds to say that “the defendant, with force and arms, and with great |force and violence, seized, laid hold of, pulled, plucked and tore, and | with his fists, gave and struck a great many violent blows, and strokes, 'on and about, divers parts of the plaintiff’s nose.”* If Jongs has been |given into custody by Smiru, without sufficient reason; and JonEs brings an action for false imprisonment ; instead of saying, “he was com- pelled to go to a station-house,” he declares that the defendant, “ with force, and arms, seized, laid hold of, and with great violence pulled, and dragged, and gave, and struck a great many violent blows and strokes, and forced, and compelled him—the plaintiff—to go in and along divers public streets and highways, to a police office; whereby the plaintiff was not only greatly hurt, bruised and wounded, but was also kept.” If Snooxs’s dog bites THomson’s pet lamb, SNooxs declares “‘ That defendant did wilfully and injuriously keep a certain dog, he, the defen- dant, well knowing that the said dog was and continued to be fierce and mad, and accustomed to attack, bite, injure, hurt, chase, worry, harass,

tear, agitate, wound, lacerate, snap at, and kill sheep and lambs, and | that the said dog afterwards, to wit, on the-——day of ————, and divers other days, did attack (&c. &c. down to) and kill one hundred sheep and one hundred lambs of the plaintiff; whereby the said sheep and the said lambs (it will be remembered there was only one lamb,) were greatly terrified, damaged, injured, hurt, deteriorated, frightened, depreciated, floored, flustered, and flabbergasted, to the damage of the |

plaintiff of £ ., and therefore he brings his suit.” The various forms of declaration are so numerous, that they fill a volume of 700 large pages of Chitty, who is quite chatty on this dry subject, so much Raiba find to say with man to it. To this able and amusing writer we refer those who are curious to know how a school- | master may declare for “work and labour, care, diligence, and attend- ance of himself, his ushers and teachers, there performed and bestowed in and about the teaching, instructing, boarding, educating, lodging, flog- ging, enlightening, thrashing, washing, whipping, and otherwise ~ ote improving divers infants and persons.” ‘These, and almost all other conceivable causes of action, are dealt with fully in the pages to which we allude, and all therefore who wish the treat of going to law, are referred to the treatise alluded to.

Musical Intelligence. TE celebrated Harp of Ireland is, we are informed, to be thoroughly repaired and improved. The old strings, that were always Snapping or jangling, are to be replaced by entirely new ones, manufactured from Trish flax, and prepared with an application of the products derived 'from Irish peat ; which will greatly ameliorate the tone and enlarge the | capabilities of the instrument, rendering its powers equal to the tune of | some millions per annum.

* Chitty on Pleading, vol. ii. p. 605.

ae by William Bradbury, of No. 13, Upper Woburn Place, in the Parish of St. Pancras, and Frederick

Mullett 5 in the City of London.—Saturpar, Dacemsen 2ist, 1950. Evans, of No.7, Church Raw Stoke Newington, both in the County of Middlesex, Printers, at their in Lombard Street, in 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,

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arass ndred sheep tened, of the y fill a le and | chool- ttend- | vedin | 4 flo ii yundly other which V, are PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 263 MR. PUNCH’S ADDRESS TO THE GREAT CITY OF CASTLEBAR. E Men of Mayo! Mr. Hucues, the Secretary of the Castlebar Industrial Society of Gentle- men! Your letter, with its enclosures, has come to hand; and as the Castlebar Industrial Society appears desirous to give —— to its resolutions, I have the honour to print them, ih | in this the last number of my Se 1 i A eriodical, which appears in this HAI ee ast week of the melancholy year 1850 :— 7 ; THN ))) as | CASTLEBAR} “RESOLVED: That in consequence of the attacks made on the Catholic religion of this country, as well as on all Catholics indiscriminately, all over the world, by that notorious paper called Punch: notorious for many falsehoods and wicked intentions; and uli ti UH) although the subscription is paid for some time in advance, the Committee are unanimously of opinion that it would be encouraging a repetition of similar falsehoods and designs, as well as encouraging that fanatical system of ignorance and intolerance in the misguided English people, to receive it, for the future, into their Reading- Rooms ; and our Clerk is directed to | give intimation of this our intention to the Proprietor, as well as to send | him a copy of this Resolution; and | that the Telegraph, the Freeman's Journal, and Tablet newspapers, be supplied a copy, requesting that same will be inserted in their patriotic papers.” It appears from the above statement, (1) that in consequence of the attacks made by the notorious Puxch on the Catholic religion of Ireland, and, indeed, of all other countries, (and although the subscription is paid for some time in advance,) the Committee of the Castlebar Society will not_receive the misguided English people into their reading-rooms: and (2) that the Clerk is instructed to inform the Pro- prietor : and that the editors of three Irish newspapers shall “be supplied a copy” of this resolution, requesting “that same” will be inserted in their papers. As the Proprietor of the benighted English people, I must grieve that the doors of your Atheneum are closed to them: considering “ the subscription is paid for some time in advance,” this measure is hard upon my people; but as your Committee has come to the resolution, I have but to record “‘ that same,” and deplore the loss which has befallen this infatuated nation. Sir, and good friend—this is the end of the year; my paper will appear upon a da which, since the first of Christmas Days, has been consecrated to peace and good- will; and I am not going to lose my temper at this season, or have a word of any- thing but kindness, for you or any other Irishman, Anglican, Roman, Puseyite, Gorhamite, Mormonite, or what not. ‘This is a truce day—and — to be held as those days were held in the Peninsular campaigns, when the French and the Anglo- Trish outposts came down and talked to each other in a friendly manner, and handed each other their beef or their brandy-flasks across the water with a “ Bonjour Pappy!” or “How d’ye do, Mounseer?” I hope, in the neighbouring ca ital of Tuam, His Grace your Lord Archbishop will have as good a dinner as my Lord Bishop. I hope his Eminence at St. George’s and his Lordship at Fulham will be pretty cheerful; and Doctor Apiex will have a comfortable turkey (without sausages) and Doctor Cummine a pleasant dinner, though they both of them belong to sects which are not in the habit of keeping Christmas. | And I would that, the year ending so, the next could begin and continue so; and that you and I, Mr. Hucues, could have no cause for disputing. But before you | accuse me and others of making attacks upon Catholics all over the world, see, my | good Sir, how it is, and since when it is, that these hostilities have begun! Not | two months ago we were living in peace and quiet ; not two months ago, and I had | the benefit (or somebody to whom you showed that touching mark of confidence) | of your subscription to my paper; not very many months ago, when your people of Mayo were in straits, who came to help? whose money was it that supplied you ? | who brought Indian corn and rice to you? Did relief come from Rome or from London? It was the English Protestants that helped you—and who showed that their meaning was peace and good-will. ; What was it altered the relations of amity? Who was it began war? Let the Lion of St. Jarlath’s himself say, was the truce broken by us, or was it the Porr’s army that marched upon us to take possession of our territory? Industrial Castlebarians! we appeal_to you, and ask who gave the signal for the fight, and whether it was not his Eminence with his pastoral crook that first occasioned the Shaloo? Yes, it was the march of that confounded prelate from the Flaminian Gate, who came upon us “ rubente tibid sacras jaculatus arces,” and caused this abominable strife and uproar. ; Before that, we were living in peace and freedom ; before that, if the services of the BisHor oF MELIPOTAMUS were not required at that remote see, he was quite welcome to live in Golden Square; before that, our Catholic friends lived in confidence with us, and we laughed and worke together; FatHer Icnativs was as much at liberty to wear a beard as Mr. Muniz; Fatuer Faber might wear his cloak ; Mr.Brnnerr might light his candles ; the Lion of St. Jarlath’s might growl now and anon—but Chume is a distant place and the voice of Mayo is not very loud in this city; we were all at peace and loving each other, ortolerating each other, which is the next thing ; when his Eminence puts his confounded crimson foot into our premises, and our whale empire is at strife; Lorp Joun begins to cry out “ Mum- mery!” Doctor Newman begins to tell us that we are all —I need not say what ; the Bisuior or Lonpon begins to blow out poorMr. BeNnneETY?’s candles; the boys begin to hoot the Oratorians in the streets ; the Irish begin to thrash the policemen (“Let the Pore give the word, we’re the childthren of the Cruseeders,” as Mr. AMBROSE PHILLIPS says); Punch (who mustalwaysbe a Protestant) begins to cari- cature his Eminence, and to laugh at his stockings; and my honest Castlebar Industrial Society publishes, not a bull, but a resolution full of bulls ; and there’s brawling, and bicker- ing, and broken heads, and friends parting, and fighting and fury all round. Ah, Mr. HucHes—ah, ye men of the Castlebar Athenayum! it’s hard to think that the Porg or Rome, who had been got to allow one little Protestant Chapel to exist in his city, in the midst of these very disputes—in the midst of these shrieks for freedom and fair play and liberty of conscience with which his officers are invoking the genius of our country —it is hard, I say, that the Pops or Rome should have had that one little Protestant Chapel shut up! On this Christmas Day our people can find no refuge within the Pore’s city, but must go out of the Flaminian Gate to say their prayers. ound the walls of his capital, monuments imperishable of the constancy of Christian men, are caves — catacombs, in which the first bishops and believers in his faith worshipped and died in secret. ‘I'he symbol of his creed is raised up triumphantly in the arena, where its martyrs of old braved torture and overcame death ; and the apartments of his palace are still decorated with pictures representing and lauding the slaughter of Protestants. Ah me! that Christian people should ever have sale for those portraits or painted them! You who sneer at the beadle who keeps guard at the shrine of Saint Epwarp, what say you to the librarian who shows you the medal of the sean of Bartuotomew? If a Pore could absolve from allegiance to EL1zABETH, excuse us at least for thinking that the same fate might befal the successors of either. See, at any rate, that there are reasons why we must differ from you; and why, when you make your own claim, plant your own standard, appeal to your own pedi- gree, we should advance ours in our turn. And when the battle begins again—May tue Ricut Sipe Wix—that is a toast which we all of us can drink on this day of truce ; and which concerns the humblest persons | engaged as much as it does the Primate of all England, in whichever part of Lambeth he be. May the Right Side Win, and the fight be conducted with manly fair-play. The Sweating System. Tue venerable old proverb has recorded the melancholy | \fact, that “It takes nine tailors to make a man; ”» an really, from the miserable way in which the Jew “sweating” masters treat them, one might be induced to believe it as a truth; for their wages are so shamefully small, that _ it may be said, “It takes the wages of nine tailors to make the pay of an ordinary workman.” HEAVY SLEEP, A PERSON cannot sleep, ve are told, when he has any- thing heavy weighing upon his mind, and we have felt this heaviness of sleep ourselves, most particularly at this time of the year, when we have found it totally impossible to compose our minds comfortably to sleep, owing to the number of Christmas Waits. The Cardinal Controversy. _ Boru sides in this controversy declare that the question is so plain, “ that it is quite unanswerable ;” but from the number of letters that have been written upon the subject, oo the endless answers they have received, it hardly looks ike it. VOL. XIX. EE

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| ancestors to place Smithfield Market so near a Hospital ! 264 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. CHRISTMAS BEEF IN THE CITY. FARLY all the streets of Lon- don last week were more or less hung with prize beef. | Tallow-chandlers and_ soap- boilers, as they looked upon | the carcases, paid homage to | the fat, and cooks and kitchen- | maids dropped curtsies to per- | quisites in perspeetive. But of all the show-beef exhibited, no carcase soworthily appealed to the admiration of a discrimi- nating public as the carcase of | an ox, destined, as we heard, for the Lorp Mayor’s table | during the dinner festivities of the season—it was no other than the carcase of the last bullock that, driven from | Smithfield market, broke | shop-windows, knocked down horses, and in Bowling-Green- Lane lifted an old woman “into the air several feet, letting her fall near the walls” ofanappropriate burial-ground, which, as a final tenant, she narrowly escaped. Further, the bullock gored a man named THomas Lacan; who two days afterwards died in St. Bartholomew’s. bullock was—especially for the It will be readily conceded that this City of London—the prize bullock of the season, as vindicating the civic wisdom that clings to Smithfield Market as a no less vital than venerable institution. The carcase was tastefully decorated with black ribands; and will be brought to the civic table to solemn music, the “Dead March” ree for the nonce, the place of “The Roast Beef of Old England.” All the champions and defenders of Smithfield Market have been invited by the Lorp Mayor to partake of what may em- phatically be called, the City Prize Bullock. BARE PROBABILITY. We have heard of a state of surliness comparable only with that of “a bear with a sore head;” but it has been found that a bear with a sore eye is a still more unmanageable animal. Science has therefore been lately occupied in operating on the ursine orgauis of vision, as it occasionally does upon the human eye for cataract. A curious account has lately appeared of the treatment of bears for this affection ; and, we are happy to say, the attempt has been so far successful, that we shall not be under the necessity of seeing at the Zoological Gardens a lot of short-sighted bears, or bears with eye-glasses and spectacles. he bear who was a patient on a late occasion. was kindly regaled with a draught of chloroform, which rendered him insensible to all pain. So great was the gratitude of the bear to the medical gentlemen, that he would have acknowledged their attentious with an affectionate hug, if he could have got near enough; and as it was, there streamed from his eyes a cataract of tears of joy, which pleasingly replaced the cataract from which he had been suffering. The Affairs of Grease. WE are sorry that the fat cattle did not sell well this year. Their | over-obesity seems to have been one of the causes of their going off so heavily—which is no wonder. Fat oxen cannot be expected to be brisk. Now this truth has been brought home to graziers, perhaps they will abandon the system of fattening animals so enormously; which is the merest infatuation, THe Soverzign Contempr.—The Kine or Prussia! VERY LITTLE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THEM. An eminent Tallow Chandler in the City, being asked what he thought of the great candle difference between Mr. St. Barnabas BENNETT, and the Bisnor or Lonpow, replied that “he could see very little difference between them—it was six short sixes of the one against half-a-dozen of the other.” - ForesiGHt oF ovuR Ancestors.—It was extremely kind of our or NELSON.) TRIMMINGS FOR TRACTARIANS ; OR, ROMAN “NOSES” IN BELGRAVIA. Messreurs Noses have found—without very great search— There’s a slight disagreement, just now, in the Church. Some parties by daylight wish candles to burn, Or this way or that way would bow, kneel, or turn: But others not liking the views of those gents, The result has been recent unpleasant events. The discussion of questions like these I decline ; Tn fact they are quite out of Noszs’s line, All but one, and on that a few words I will$ay, Because public opinion assures me I may. Messieurs Pusty anp Co. lay on one point great stress ; Which is, as of course you’ll anticipate, dress. Now [’ve mentioned a theme that’s contested by none To be quite in the province of Nosxs and Son. Where they see demand brisk, prompt supply to imyart, In‘Belgravia they ’ve opened a splendid branch-mart ; Of their business still further extending the scope, Messreurs N. anp Son there sell stole, amice, and cope ; Best chasubles, too, may be had very low, And Tractarians will also find albs, quite the go. In the first style of fashion prevailing at Rome Every article ’s cut—so they ’ll feel quite at home. To their palliums the Noszs attention direct ; Their pontificals all are extremely select. If your Puseyite wants under-clothing that hurts, He had best go to Nosxs anp Son’s for hair-shirts, Manufactured expressly of super-stiff bristles, : That will sting you like nettles, and prick worse than thistles. There ’s a large stock of sandals from which he may choose, At Nosss’s likewise ; besides boots and shoes, Which will fit to a T, should the customer please, Or leave room, if he likes, for a number of peas. For those, too, whom satire calls clerical Bats, There ’s an ample and various assortment of hats, From tiara to plain sacerdotal black cap, Or friar’s flat wideawake, wanting in nap; Which, with cloak, hood, cowl, cassock, and girdle to match, Is, at Nosks’s prices, a regular catch. All these garments, in short, would have just suited Lavup, And the stock Pro Nono himself would applaud. Come, run then, ye reverends of Pimlico, run, And be rigged out like Romans, by Noses anp Son ! _*,* A new book called “ Divinity’s Darling,” just published, with directions for self-measurement. A CHRISTMAS ADVERTISEMENT. UR Metropolitan walls, about Christmas time, generally present a juvenile invocation to a arent, commenc- ing with the very touching, and, ac- cordingly, very taking words, “Do, Papa, buy me so and so.” As the idea is gettin dalgwhentesiiod isms, and matters of that infantine class, we suggest that it might be rendered more telling and novel by something like the following :— “Do, Papa, buy me Prrersporrr’s Abridgment: it’s in sixteen beautiful volumes, so nice, so large, and so cheap—only twenty guineas !” “A Real Lad of Wax.” Ir one were called upon to give the best instance of undaunted courage, we would point to the bronze medallion, which has just been put up on the Trafalgar Column, and which illustrates the fact of to Peter Parley- NELSON calling fora candle and a piece of wax for his letter, refusing, for | fear the enemy should think he was in the least hurried by their guns, | We maintain that the above fact is the strongest Three cheers, boys > to seal it with a wafer. proof on record of wnwafering courage. (Bravo! ATO eee nee ~~

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Tre Os @e =. — =e we Fe 8 eee Ce OY rT lUT weer ee PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 265 PRE 3. ‘ manently enlarged,” in the hands of the fattener and the cake-se SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE AND THE EXHIBITION OF 1851. WE understand that South Staffordshire will be as pertinently repre- sented in the Crystal Palace as in the House of Commons; where Lorp Lewisuam supplies the senatorial porcelain clay, to the advan- tage alike of the county and the country. His Lordship attended a late Protection feast at Sutton Coldfield; and “greatly daring, dined” in honour of a hopeful return to high prices. His Lordship, moreover, made a speech; flinging a few pas and diamonds at, what he happil called, the Great Exhibition of Reciprocity in Hyde Park, in whic ‘industry was to be forcéd like early asparagus ;’ and his Lordship might have added, like much after-dinner eloquence, “ under @ glass.” Further, his Lordship, “putting Free Trade altogether on one side, reall did hope that the Government would take care tliat Mr. Mazzint, an others of that stamp who belonged to the Red, Republican Club in London, did not give the nation a specimen of their industry also, on the occasion.” The wisdom and good taste of this allusion were not lost upon the commercial men of Staffordshire ; for next morning a deputation of masters from the Potteries waited upon his Lordship, earnestly praying of him that he would condescend to sit fora Mug—a Monster Mug — to be formed out of his exaggerated portrait, of tlie very best Stafford- shire clay, as a triumphant specimen of the county matiufacture. And this vessel—to be known as the Lewisham Mug—will be so constructed, in order to illustrate the peculiar faculty of his Lotdship as a senator and an orator, that whatever may be poured into it shall always rise above the top; so that, whilst the mug shall really cotitain nothing it ave it shall never fail to display to the world—an etiormots head of roth. “HERE THEY ARE ALL A-GROWING.” Tue Proprietor of the Baker-Street Bazaar (which, by the bye, is rather a Bazaar of Butchers than Bakers) has been solicited by the Smithfield Cattle Show Committee to enlarge his premises. This is evidently done with the wise provision—or rather the foresight of future provisions—that, if the animals keep growing in the same ex- traordinary proportions they have hitherto done, not only must the doors be enlarged to receive them, but the whole Bazaar considerably widened to contain even one-twentieth part of them. The pigs, alone, are swelling out to such tremendous dimensions, that they will soon outgrow all recollection of their primitive size. It would not be a bad lan, we think, to hang one of Mortann’s pictures up in the Pig oe et in order to give the spectators some idea of what the size of the pig originally was. The same plan might be carried out with the other animals. LANpsEER, or SypNEY Cooper, should be commissioned to paint portraits of the Sheep and the Bull and the Cow in days of yore, so as to give the non-mangel-wurzel public some estimate of what those animals respectively were in weight before they had become “ _ er. Some scale of measurement will be absolutely necessary, or else our children will be imagining that the cows and bulls in the bucolic days of Vireit were of the same Brobdignagian proportions as those, half- a-dozen of whom at present cause an overflow, (which every manager of a theatre must envy,) at the Baker Street Bazaar. England's Peace-Offering. Tur Crystal Palace may be looked upon as a noble Temple of Peace where all nations will meet by appointment under the same roof, an shake each other by the hand. It is very curious that one half of Mr. Paxron’s name should be significant of Peace. We propose, therefore, that over the principal entrance there be erected in large gold letters the following motto, so that all foreigners may read it as a friendly salute on the part of England :— “PAX(ton) VOBISCUM.” The Battle of Hastings. We all know that Hastings is very near a little place called Baitle ; and, from the belligerent manner in which Str Tomas Hastrnes has been writing to Mr. Coppen, we should think the noble Admiral was anxious to put himself up as a finger-post on the high road to Battle. We recommend to artists, as a companion picture to their oft-painted “ Finding the Body of Harold,” the following pendant—“ Finding the Head of Hastings.’ They have only to read through his correspondence first, and they will at once see, in all its gloominess, the inviting grandeur of the subject. DESCRIPTION OF PUSEYISM. A Lapy, being asked for a description of Puseyism, said, “it ap- peared to her like an Acting Charade—the meaning of which it was very difficult to find out.” Like all puzzling Charades, then, which it is impossible to guess, the sooner Puseyism is given up the better. OUR MODEL OF SMITHFIELD MARKET. B have {not seen the model ‘that was exhi- bited by the City Corporation of their Smithfield Market; but we can imagine exactly what it was, if it was in the least ~—— nature. : € can imagine it contained twice as many sheep and oxen as there was any | convenient space for. We can imagine that the drovers were subjecting the poor animals to all kinds of cruelties, in order to force the above number into the small space allotted for them. We can imagine the place to be knee- deep in filth; and the market to be one immense scene of rioting, confusion, swear- ing, and quarrelling. e can imagine all the numerous public- | houses round it to be choke-full, and that the drinking does not much contribute to the gentleness of the drovers’ tempers, or considerably lessen the tumult of the scene. We can imagine sheep to be lying down on the ground in the last stage of ex- haustion, and infuriated oxen to be plung- ing down the streets in all directions. e can also very easily imagine a man or two being gored to death, and several : _ Old women being tossed in the air in con- | sequence ; but no, it requires no imagination to believe the latter facts, for the accidents of the last week prove but too painfully that they are | sad truths. | All the above incidents should have been fogeoetited in the Model | of Smithfield Market, if it was in any way a faithful copy of the Market, | as it at present exists, or must, under any improvements, exist, as long as the nuisance is allowed to continue in the heart of a Metropolis, which, at present, numbers a population of near upon two million people. } A | A YORKSHIRE JURY. A rurriAN, named Joun Rostnson, was tried last week at York. The fellow had made one of a wedding-party ; and crowned his festive mirth by perpetrating the worst offence against the weaker sex, of which the lode and the coward can be capable. The dastard was found uilty: there was no doubt, whatever, of the extent of injury suffered by his hapless victim; an innocent young woman,—one of the brides- maids. And a Yorkshire Jury, after five hours’ deliberation, return a verdict of guilty; tempered with “a strong recommendation to mercy on the grounds that he was not quite sober at the time, and excited by the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed.” Thus, with a Yorkshire Jury, drunkenness palliates the atrocily of felon lust; and the mirth of a marriage feast affords peculiar cireum- stances of extenuation to the cowardly villainy of a Tarquin Rosinsoy! The women of York ought, by some significant testimonial, to comme- morate the manly wisdom of their Civic Jury. We presume they were all bachelors, without any female relations. Indeed, after such a verdict, it is made rather difficult to believe that twelve such apologists in a box ever had mothers. Specimen of a Bit of London Fog. Tue specimen of a slab of fog, too thick, until broken, to pass through Temple Bar, has been brought to Mfr. Punch, who—in the proportion of rome one-twentieth of an inch to a foot —here gives its grain and texture. It has a very fine sulphurous flavour, and is perhaps the best specimen of the real London article. Mr. Punch thinks that London fog might become a very profitable article of com- merce, inasmuch as there can be little doubt that, when cut, it is susceptible of a very high polish, and might be worn as mourning-rings or shirt-studs. | - | PROCRASTINATION IN REWARDS IS THE THIEF OF MERIT. GovERNMENT is, generally speaking, very dilatory in its system of rewards, such as medals, and marks of merit. and promotion, to poor military heroes, but we never heard yet of an instance of a mark of well-earned merit—a pension, for instance—being delayed in its pay- ment to a government functionary some twenty or thirty years after his | retirement !

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266 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CIIARIVARI MR. BRIGGS HAS ANOTHER GLORIOUS DAY WITH THE HOUNDS, AND GETS THE BRUSH (FOR WHICH HE PAYS HALF-A-SSOVEREIGN—ONLY DON’T TELL ANYBODY). TIMELY CAUTION. | CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR THE CRABBED. CHRISTMAS comes with holly twig, Christmas comes with mistletoe, Christmas comes with waltz and jig, Christmas comes with—what we owe! > _— ur attention has been di- - “ty rected to the following alarming advertisement in the Zimes :— | “ Fifty Widows’ Caps Hands | Ah! with aor gr and with beef, Wanted immediately. Apply | Happy child, thy stomach fill, to,” &e. &e. Heedless of thy parents’ grief, We are married our- 2d Ficerns’s and CLEAvVER’s bill ! selves, and so are insured from all danger, but we = cannot caution young men, =f and widowers especially, too strongly against the imminent peril in which they are, every one of , them, placed. They had Who is Chaff-Wax ? better stop at home fora) Ayone the expenses of obtaining a patent, we find re- month or two, until the | peatedly in one transaction the name of Chaff-wax, placed danger has a little blown opposite’ to a fee of ten shillings. We have heard of bee’s- over. The police should | wax, sealing-wax, and cobbler’s-wax, but Chaff-wax was have the same instructions | something new to us, until we found that he is entitled with regard to widows, as | to several half-sovereigns upon every patent. Is Chaff- they have with regard to | wax employed to cut chaff upon the humbug of the patent orange peel, that, if they | jaws and at the expense of the patentee? for if he is, why see any weeds encumbering pot adopt as a substitute at a single cost Many WEDLAKE’S the pavement, they should | chaff-cutter? Chaff-wax must be some lad of wax who has instantly take them up, or | obtained ¢ e berth. but as the light of i ini remove them, so that the public may be protected from the liability of any isyery. ee ee with “4 neues paeed oy apne Otherwise it will be scarcely safe, with such an increase of widows, for an unmarried | the shameful absurdities of the patent laws, we advise Chaff man to walk the streets ! to drop the wax, lest he may burn his fingers, Foot it nimbly on the floor, Youths and maidens—dance away ; He whose dancing days are o’er, For the piper has to pay! a, CattLe ror Covenanters.—The Pope sends a Bull into Scotland. The Scotch} Sone ror Mr. Sr. Barnanas Bennett.—“I’ve been send it back again, and inform his Holiness that they have a Knox of their own. Rome-ing, 1’ve been Rome-ing.” —

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~~ =? 3 J ‘2d NI WSOOH YWHH YNILLOd HOYNHO UAALOW “UATaO : —— | NWA yyy AMES FFL 95 2 See oy / 7 Vr Wy fy / A 7 UY al a a a : SS PIII I aS : So a a Za Z

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Azsops of Moonshine (The), 121 Advertisements in High Life, 49 Addiscombe Geese, 149 Affair of Folly (An), 221 Affairs of Grease (The), 264 | Aggression on the Omnibus Roofs, 210 Alarming Balloon Accident, }71 Alarming State of Crops, 19 ** All Soldiers are Gentlemen,”’ 119 American Electricity, 160 Another Candidate for a Statue, 159 Another Pucch at Punch’s Railway, 110 Appetite for Novelty (An), 210 Articles Intended for Exhibition, by our Fast Man, 10 As Regular as Clockwork, 63 Assurance against Raiiway Accidents, 169 Astley’s Mazeppa, 134 Astronemical Examination Paper, 205 Athol Passport Office (The), 144 Austrian S: ldiers Rampant, 142 Authors of our Own Pleasures (The), 220 Basigs at the Play, 159 Bacon’s new Brazen Head, 195 Balloon Scientific Preparations for the Ensuing Week, 62 Barclay and Perkins’s Draymen, 119, 129 Bare Probability, 264 Baron Rothschild on a Wheelbarrow, 72 Baron Von Reichenbach’s Philosophy of a Kiss, 254 Battie of Hastings (The), 265 Beef from the Vatican, 189 Beginning at the Proper End, 98 Beginning of the End (The), 58 Be'gravians’ Lament (The), 23 Between Mr. and Mrs. Jones and the Post, 47 Biroam Wood removesto Dunsinaze, 169 Black Prince (The), 23 Blackwall and Whitebait, 12 Blind Competition, 140 Boarder Life in Ergiand, 155 Bonnycastle and Broadcloth, 62 Briefless on Puseyite Bell Ringing, 216 Bri:annia Ruling the Waves, 113 British Fountain (The), 169 Brougham Arms (The), 172 Brougham Himself Again, |73 Bit of my Mind, by Mrs. Mouser, 1, 11, &c. BuilJdirg Glass Castles in the Air, 13 Ball Fight of London, 725 Bull. fights in Paris (The), §8 Burglars Carousing, 177 Burial of the Dead (The), 57 CaBMAN (The), 219 Californian Costumes, 102 Cambridge Bubble (The), 103 Cambridge Job (The), 54 Cambridge Monument (The), 78, 99, 240 Campaigns of Louis-Napoleon (ihe), 175 Can Anything be more Intoicrable? 79 Cannibalism in the Army, 33 Cardinal and Goose, 256 Cardinal’s Hat (The), 192 | Cart before the Horse (The), 77 j Catches in the New World, 100 j Catalogue of the British Museum, 190 | Celestial Family (The), 140 Chancery and Chancery Lane, 161 | Chancery Lane worthy of its Name, 165 | English Locusts, 124 Charity begins after Dinner, 163 Charity Made Easy, 43 Cheerful Farmer (The), 165 Chiltern Hundreds (The), 52 Chip, Chow, Cherry, Chow, 206 Christmas Advertisement (A), 264 Christmas Beef in the City, 2/4 Chris!mas Carol for the Crabbed, 266 Church on the Continent, 176 City Committee’s Report of Smiilfield Market, 69 Claims for the British Chorus, 49 Climates for all Nations, 2:9 Coming Event (A), 159 Complaints of Questions, 256 Conscience Money Mania, 161 Constantinople Removed to Street, 97 C mtracting Bad Habits, 114 Conundrum for Farmers, 172 Regent Convent of the Belgravians (The), 163 Conversations of the Sunday-Bound Let- | ters, 8 Conversations of Lord Brougham, 69 Convict’s Gastronomic Regenerator, 33 | Cosmopolite Motto (A), 183 Gost of our Consular Establishments, 120 | Country in Alarm (The), 172 Court that is Always Adjoursing \The), 130 Cruel Case of Jew-Dropping, 69 1 DAMAGES £200, 88 Dangers of Omnibus Travelling, 110 Darkest Injustice (The), 252 Day at Camden Town (A), 9 | Detenceless State of Englaud, -20 Destruction of Westminster Hall, 195 } Diary of the Hippopotamus, 20 D:fference between French and English Barricades, 131 Dispersary Indispensable (A), ¢9 Domestic Scenes, 213 Donkey on Balloons (A), €9 Down Go the Bridges, Ch! 78 | Dramas for Every-Day Life, 232, 244, 260 Drama in Chancery (The), 37 Dream of Whitefriars (A), 183 Ducks and Drakes in St, James’s Paik, | | Duelling Season (The), 29 | Duke in the Parks (The), 133 | Duke of Cambridge’s Annu'ty, 125 | Farty Closing of Glen Tilt, 124 larly Closing Shojykeeper (The), 125 | Economics of Smoking (The , 37 | Elective avd Collective Wisdom, 73 | Eleven Words on Toleration, 229 H Emperor in a Bottle (An), 179 j Exsgland Expects every,Kishop to do his | Daty, 70 England’s Green Woods and Forests, 161 | Engiand’s Peace-Offering, 265 | English Gratitude, 89 Error of the Press (An), 165 | Exhibition of 1851, 88 Exhibition Plague (The), 191 Expensive Game of Marbles (An), 124 Ex'racts from the Irish Hue and Cry, 261 Farry Land, 93 Fashion for Coquettes, 22 | Fashionable Organs (ome), 39 | Hey! for Scotland’s Female Barristers, 144 First Appearance this Sezson of the Ame- rican Serpent, 114 Fishmonger Poet, 171 Flowers of Fashionab!e Specch, 160 Flunkeyism in Ebony, 69 Foolery of Fashion, 12 Foreigners making free with England, 190 Four Equerries and Three Chaplains, 67 Fragments from the History of Cashmere, 251 French Improving (The), 135 From a very Old Friend, 87 From an Ex-Lunatic to the Duke of Atholl, 179 From an Oid Friend in a New Place, 9 Fruits of Railway Travelling (The), 50 Game Dukes. 185 Gentlemen’s Fashions for the Sea-side, 77 Gent's Opinion on Hats (A), 259 Genuine P. ize Song for Jenny Lind, 162 Getting the Wrong Animal by the Ear, 7y Glass Houses of Parliament (The), 81 Glass Palace and its Architect, 156 Going a little Too Far, 261 ** Good ”’ Butler (The), 199 ** Good”? Royal Domestics, 174 Good furn for Tourists (A), 82 Gordon is Cumming The), 144 Government and the Parks, 135 Government’s Broken Slumbers, 50 Governess Grinders (The), 151 Grand National Concerts (The) 181 Grand Pac:fic Canal. 176 Grand Scramble of Diamonds, 74 | Grand Verpsichorean Feat, 249 Great Cl ck Case Again (The), 34 Green Grow the Critics, Oh! 245 Greenwich Fair, Greenwich Park, and Greenwich Hospital, 3 | Great Welsh Eisteddvodd, 153 Greens to tne Green, 28 Groan from the Counter (A), 91 | Growl from the Boudoir (A), 30 Hatr-Houipay at Hampstead A’, 6 | Hardest Worked man in the City (The), 49 Hat Reform (The), 156 Hatophobia, 145 Hauntea Churchyards, 144 Haynau’s Taste of Barclay and Perkins’s Entire, 114 Heifervescence of Wit, 263 Height of Extravagance (The), 100 Here ’s to the Volume, 1 ‘* Here they are all a-growing,” 265 Law, 87 High Qualifications for a Presidet, 139 Hip, Hip, Hip, fur the Hippopotamus, 79 Hippopotamus in a New Character, 92 Hitt:ng Two Opposite sects wito the same Proverb, 249 | Hob and Nob, 103, 119 Homeopathic System of Rewards, 113 House of Lords’ Orderly (The), 8 ** Housekeeper Wanted,” 109 How do you like it? 93 | How to Avoid becoming a Great Crimi- nal, 222. How to enjoy a Holiday, 1 How to make a Serjeant, 225 Feathered Choristers for Canterbury, 129 How to make England a Laughing-stock for the Pope, 251 How to Rise in France, 170 How to Spend a Holiday Shilling, § How we do Business in the House, 63 = will Glass affect the Human Frame? 94 Hudson Takes a Step forward, 70 Hyde and Seek, 27 IMAGINARY Dialogue (An), 43 Imperial Bagman (The), 94 Improve your ways in Chancery, 160 Increased Attraction, Increased Pay, 230 In Medio Tutissimus, 3 In Medio (Non) Tutissimus, 97 } of Beadledom, 2 Invasion of England, 214 Irish-American Sea Serpent, 124. 141, It is all a Marter of Conjecture, 37 Jenxins for Atholl 195 Jenny Lind and the Americans, 146 Journey up the Monument (A), 1 Judge Knocking at de Door (A), 638 Jullien’s Next Quadrille, 232 Jullien seen in a Moment of Inspiration, 17 Justice to Bachelors, 202, 210 KinpDREp Quacks, #69 Labour and the Rich, 219 Lament of the Man in Brass, 266 Last Man of the Season (The), 111 Last Moments of a Condemned, 28 Lay of the Imprisoned Londoner, 99 Laying on the Cambridge Butter a little to thick, 150 Leading Article on the Admiralty and their Iron Steamers, 149 Leaves from the Artichoke, 27 Legacy to Flunkies (A , 43 Lights, Lights, I say! 100 Lights and Shades of Scottish Journal- ism, 165 Lion Huntress of Belgravia (The), 89, 9! Little Speech from a Little Blue-Coat Boy, 17 Look at Home, 43 Lord Brougham’'s Visit to America, 40 Lord Doublejobn, 63 Lord Mayor’s Siow (The), 194, 203 Lord of the Gien, 189 Lord Sackcloth and Ashleys, 2 Lord Stanley and the Bosworth Ficld of Protection, 181 Loud Cries of ‘‘ Name ! Name!” 37 | Lungs of London, 142 | MAtps of all Popery Work, 255 | Make your Game, Princes, 79 Making Jokes by Steam, 50 Malediction of Thurles (The), 142 Manchester Boys’ and Girls’ Schoo! (The), 193 Master Johnny’s Holiday Letters, 74 Mawworm Redivivus, -¥ Mechi’s Magic Crops, 5: Meeting withoutao , + (A), 163 Melancholy Musings, 170 Mc maid's Last New Song (The), 116 Mill of Atholi’s Glen (The), 1 Minister to his Majority (The), 62 Model Pastoral, 249 Momentous Question (The), 254 Monastery of Pimlico, 189

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270 INDEX. Money no Object, 93 Monster Strawberry (The), 42 Monument to Lord Ashley (A), 87 More about Hats, 194, 244 Most Moving Tale (A), 159 Mother Charch and her Naughty Chil- dren, 231 Mountain of Light (The), 23 Mr. Malony's Account of the Ball, 53 Mr. Punch’s Appeal to an Eminent Ap- pesler, 223 Mr. Punch’s Game List, 149 Mr. Punch to Pio Nono, 173 Mr. Punch’s Tribute to Soyer, 201 Mr. Punch’s Address to the Great City of Castlebar, 263 Mr. See Saw, 13 Museum Flea (The), 2(5 Music and Manvers in London, 209 Masic has Charms, 4 ‘ty Stars and Garters, 93 NAPOLEON Crossing the Alps, 42 National Relief (A), 8 Nepaulese Hunt (The), 49 New Cab Regulations (The), 116 New Colour for a Cardinal, 193 New Cry (A), 6 New Daily Summary of the Debates, 11 New Oxford Costume (The), 261 New Royal Game of Goose (The), 4 ew Way to Pave Old Ones (A), 43 Next Balloon Ascent, 162 Night of Pleasure and ‘* Prophéte” (A),18 No Benefit of the Act, 159 No more Babies at the Theatre, 179 No Such Luck, 93 No Thoroughfare, 170 Notes of a Town Traveller, 164 Novelty in the Month of September, 112 **Now, by St. Paul’s, the Work goes bravely on,” 89 Nursery Rhymes for Great Babies, 256 On! where, and oh! where, is the Aged Tortoise gone? 77 Old Proverb with a New Face (An), 209 Old Saw Newly Set (An), 205 Omissions from the Lord Mayor’s Show, On Birds, Balloons, and Bolusses, 210 One way to Oppose Papal Aggression, 246 Origin of the term ‘‘ Ship-shave,’’ 120 Original “‘ Ineffable Fiunkey ” (The), 119 Our Little Bird, 101 Our Model of Smithfield Market, 265 Our Truant Ambassadors, 224 Patace Periodical (The), 58 Panorama of the British Constitution, 70 Parks and the People (The), 144 Parliamentary Agitation, 78 Parliamentary Joe Miller (A‘, 48, 104 Patent Passenger Detector (The), 211 Pathetic Appeal of 42-Pounders, 10 Patronage of the Drama, 131 Peace Congress (Ihe), 112 Penny-a-liners under Difficulties, 140 Penny-Post Carrier-Pigeon Society (The), 12 Physic and Farming, 57 Pie-Crust Promises, 28 Pimlico Busses, 98 Platitades, 23 Playing at Balloons, 39 Plea’s Don't, 250 Pleasure Trips of Brown, Jones, and Ro- binson, }4, 24, 60, 64, 8¢, &c. Poacher of Westmoreland (The), 151 Poet at Battersea (The), 11 Poet’s Idea of the Submarine Telegraph (A), 72 Police Regulations for the Publication of Panch’s Almanack, 244 Policemen ia the East, 82 Pontifical News, 182 Popery in Fiower, and Popery in the Bud, 246 Popery in Pimlico, 229 Pope’s Contribution to the Exhibition of 6! (The), 200 Post-Office Pet (The), 92 Premier at play (The), 139 Premier’s Letter- Writer to the Pope, 261 Prerogative Wrong, 184 President’s Hornpipe (The), 115 Prevevtion better than the best Cure, 192 Primrose Hill and its Prospects, 11 Proser (The), 7, 59 Prospect of Hampton Court (A), 4 Protection for the Electric Eei, 120 Puff Direct (The), 27 Paffing System at St. Paul’s (The), 192 Pugnacity of the Party Press, 22 Pump Handle for a Joke (A), 253 Punch on Special Pleading, 252 Punch’s Guide to the Science of Things Familiar, 79 Punch’s Handbooks, 101 Punch’s Labour Lost, 83 Panch’s Monument to Peel, 157 Punch’s Notes and Queries, 124 Puoch’s Penance, 204 Punch’s Railway Traveller, 120, 171, 201 Punch’s Royal Progresses, 109, 115 Pursuit of Journalism under difficulties, 154 Paseyism in the Police, 262 Puseyite Cattle Show, 259 Puseyite Cosmetics, 199 Puseyite ** Histrionics,”’ 215 Quen at Sea (The), 94 Race for an Empire (A), 103 Railway Grease, 225 Railway Romance and Real ty, 57 Rapid Act of Assmanship, 62 Rapid View of the English Stage, 184 Real Clerk of the Weather (The), 215 Real Lad of Wax (A), 264 Real State of the Case (The), 133 Real Street Obstructions (The), 30 Recruitiog Department (The), !21 Reflections in a Crystal, 224 Reform your Lawyer’s Bills, 195 Register! Register! Register! 161 Regular Crammer (A), 166 Relief for our Panes (A), 185 Religious Warmth, 221 Renovation of the Thames, 103 République pour Rire (The), 33 Revivals, 213 Riff-Raff on Railways, 159 Richmond Park, 7 Robberies which there is no Noise about, Rods in Pickle, 100 Roebuck, the Polite Le'ter-Writer, 250 Royal Provident Fund, 52 Rab up your Blunderbuss, 256 Rupture between Eng'and and France, 115 SABBATARIAN Slander, 28 Sagacity of American Cats, 155 Science Head over Heels, 82 ** Sea of Heads” (A), 156 Sea-side Lodging-house Market, 81 Sea-side Season (The), 50 Shakspeare & la Francaise, 12 Shall England Swaliow the Leek ? 166 Shemeful Robbery committed on Mr. Washington Irving, 74 Shampooing Made Easy, 144 Sheriff Carden on Army and Navy, 154 Shop! 182 Short Review (A), 222 Short Way with the Pope’s Puppets, 205 Show-up for the American Showman, 200 Sibthorp Cabinet (The), 70 Sign-y Qué Non (A), 48 Silence, pray, Silence for a Pun, 125 Singular Force of Habit, 111 Sir Charles Wood's Tales of Wonder, 250 Skulls at Cologne and Wiesbaden, 121 Smithfieid Club Cattle Show, 259 Smithfield Life Pill, 53 Smoke Nuisance (The), 22 Something very Surprising, 17 Some Ways are Improved Noways, 199 Song of the Cambridge Don, 131 South Staffordshire and the Exhibition of 1851, 265 Specimen of a Bit of London Fog, 265 Spoons of War (The), 150 St. Paul’s beating St. Peter’s, 38 St. People’s Park, 141 Standing for a Seat, 33 State of the Railway Market, 63 Statistics of Guy Faux Day, 204 Statues of the Green and Good, 142 Step not Taken (The), 192 Stocks in Aid of the Pu'pit (The), 132 Strange Likeness between the Old Bailey and the Opera, 57 Stray Piece of Wit picked up at the Pro- menade Concerts, 249 Summer Novelties in Balloons, 52 Summer's Day at Kensington (A), 8 Summit of his Ambition, 166 Sunday at Sea, 54 SSS ——— oo a , a fi LONDON BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. Sanday at the Mint, 49 Sweating System (The), 263 Sympathy for the Higher Orders, 249 Taxino the Nonsensus ofthe Country,195 Tale of an Emigrant Tub, 126 Talent will make a Name, 194 Talking Elms (The), 32 Temperance Wine, 163 Terrors of the Thames (The), 23 ‘* Terms—cash only,” 61 Testimonial to Mr. Walker at Last, 150 | Things for a German to Caiculate, 42 There’s no Preserve like it, 104 Thousand Jokes in a Thousand Hours (A), 176 Tickletoby for Bullmongers, 209 Timely Caution, 266 “ To Erris Human,” 139 To Persoos about to Marry, 113 To Seaside Lodgers, 92 Tournaments of Smithfield (Tce), 83 Traian Taken io Execution ‘A), 231 Trimmings for Tractarians, 264 Trustworthy Guide to London, 104 Tarkish Bishop (A), 83 Tarn, Gentle Brougham, 3 Two Exhibitions in One, 166 Twelve Hours and Twenty Minutes at Rosherville, 9 UnNaTuRat Literary Parent (An), 155 Unprotected England, 254 Ups and Downs of King’s Road (The), 36 Venicte of Satire (A), 2 Very Brazen Trumpet (A), 19 “* Very Sorry, but we have no Room,” 169 Very Worst that was ever made, 182 Voice from the Bottle (A), 206 Voice of the Charmer (The), 111 WanrTeEp, Warehouse room for Art, 210 War without a Wherefore, 229 Warning to Small Sovereigns, 150 We ali must bow to Circumstances, 42 What a Person may do on the Sunday, and what he may not do, 29 What may, or may not be Exhibited in May, What's 199 Where is the British Lion ? 255 Whisperings in the Gallery of St. Paul's, | 109 Whi ebait’s Invitation to Ministers (The), | 2 to become of Westniinster Hall ? 73 | Who is Chaff-Wax? 266 Who’s my Uncle? 1 Will you Buy? Buy? Buy? 231 Windsor, 2 Wiseman in his Dining-room, 250 Word for the Nightingale (A), 101 Word or two on Water, 53 Worshipful Mr, John Ketch (The), 34 Woman and the Cat, 150 Women of Windsor (The), 251 Yeomanry Cavalry Reviewed, 67 | Yorkshire Jury (A), 265

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