Chapter 2

4. The more crowded an assembly is, the greater quantity of carbonic acid is evolved by its component members. State, upon actual experience, the _per centage_ of this gas in the atmosphere of the following places:--The Concerts d'Eté, the Swan in Hungerford Market, the pit of the Adelphi, Hunt's Billiard Rooms, and the Colosseum during the period of its balls.

ANIMAL ECONOMY.

1. Mention the most liberal pawnbrokers in the neighbourhood of Guy's and Bartholomew's; and state under what head of diseases you class the spring outbreak of dissecting cases and tooth-drawing instruments in their windows.

2. Mention the cheapest tailors in the metropolis, and especially name those who charge you three pounds for dress coats ("best Saxony, any other colour than blue or black"), and write down five in the bills to send to your governor. Describe the anatomical difference between a peacoat, a spencer, and a Taglioni, and also state who gave the best "prish" for old ones.

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HARVEST PROSPECTS.

Public attention being at this particular season anxiously directed to the prospects of the approaching harvest, we are enabled to lay before our readers some authentic information on the subject. Notwithstanding the fears which the late unfavourable weather induced, we have ascertained that reaping is proceeding vigorously at all the barbers' establishments in the kingdom. Several extensive chins were cut on Saturday last, and the returns proved most abundant.

Sugar-barley is a comparative failure; but that description of oats, called wild oats, promises well in the neighbourhood of Oxford. _Turn-ups_ have had a favourable season at the écarté tables of several dowagers in the West-end district. Beans are looking poorly--particularly the _have-beens_--whom we meet with seedy frocks and napless hats, gliding about late in the evenings. Clover, we are informed by some luxurious old codgers, who are living in the midst of it, was never in better condition. The best description of hops, it is thought, will fetch high prices in the Haymarket. The vegetation of wheat has been considerably retarded by the cold weather. Sportsmen, however, began to shoot vigorously on the 12th of this month.

All things considered, though we cannot anticipate a rich harvest, we think that the speculators have exaggerated the

* * * * *

PUNCH'S RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

(IN HUMBLE IMITATION OF THE AUTHOR OF "THE GREAT METROPOLIS.")

No. I.--THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

Before entering on this series of papers, I have only one request to make of the reader, which is this: that, however absurd or incredible my statements may appear, he will take them all for _Grant_-ed.

It will hardly be necessary to apologise for making the hero of Waterloo the subject of this article; for, having had always free access to the parlour of the Duke of Wellington, I flatter myself that I am peculiarly fitted for the task I have undertaken.

My acquaintance with the duke commenced in a very singular manner. During the discussions on the Reform Bill, his grace was often the object of popular pelting; and I was, on one occasion, among a crowd of free-born Englishmen who, disliking his political opinions, were exercising the constitutional privilege of hooting him. Fired by the true spirit of British patriotism, and roused to a pitch of enthusiasm by observing that the crowd were all of one opinion, decidedly against the duke, worked up, too, with momentary boldness by perceiving that there was not a policeman in sight, I seized a cabbage-leaf, with which I caught his nose, when, turning round suddenly to look whence the blow proceeded, I caught his eye. It was a single glance; but there was something in it which said more than, perhaps, if I had attempted to lead him into conversation, he would at that moment have been inclined to say to me. The recognition was brief, lasting scarcely an instant; for a policeman coming round the corner, the great constitutional party with whom I had been acting retired in haste, rather than bring on a collision with a force which was at that time particularly obnoxious to all the true friends of excessive liberty.

It will, perhaps, surprise my readers, when I inform them that this is the only personal interview I ever enjoyed with the illustrious duke; but accustomed as I am to take in character at a glance, and to form my conclusions at a wink, I gained, perhaps, as much, or more, information with regard to the illustrious hero, as I have been enabled to do with regard to many of those members of the House of Lords whom, in the course of my "Random Recollections," it is my intention to treat of.

I never, positively, dined with the Duke of Wellington; but on one occasion I was very near doing so. Whether the duke himself is aware of the circumstances that prevented our meeting at the same table I never knew, and have no wish to inquire; but when his grace peruses these pages, he will perceive that our political views are not so opposite as the _dastardly enemies_ of both would have made the world suppose them to have been. The story of the dinner is simply this:--there was to be a meeting for the purpose of some charity at the Freemasons'-hall, and the Duke of Wellington was to take the chair. I was offered a ticket by a friend connected with the press. My friend broke his word. I did not attend the dinner. But those virulent liars much malign me who say I stopped away because the duke was in the chair; and much more do they libel me who would hint that my absence was caused by a difference with the duke on the subject of politics. Whether Wellington observed that I did not attend I never knew, nor shall I stop to inquire; but when I say that his grace spoke several times, and never once mentioned my name, it will be seen that whatever may have been his _thoughts_ on the occasion, he had the delicacy and good taste to make no allusion whatever to the subject, which, but for its intrinsic importance, I should not so long have dwelt upon,

Looking over some papers the other day in my drawer, with the intention of selecting any correspondence that might have passed between myself and the duke, I found that his grace had never written to me more than once; but the single communication I had received from him was so truly characteristic of the man, that I cannot refrain from giving the whole of it. Having heard it reported that the duke answered with his own hand every letter that he received, I, who generally prefer judging in all things for myself, determined to put his grace's epistolary punctuality to the test of experience. With this view I took up my pen, and dashed off a few lines, in which I made no allusion, either to my first interview, or the affair of the dinner; but simply putting forward a few general observations on the state of the country, signed with my own name, and dated from Whetstone-park, which was, at that time, my residence. The following was the reply I received from the duke, which I print _verbatim_, as an index--short, but comprehensive, as an index ought to be--to the noble duke's character.

"Apsley-house.

"The Duke of Wellington begs to return the enclosed letter, as he neither knows the person who wrote it, nor the reason of sending it."

This, as I said before, is perhaps one of the most graphic _traits_ on record of the peculiar disposition of the hero of Waterloo. It bespeaks at once the soldier and the politician. He answers the letter with military precision, but with political astuteness--he pretends to be ignorant of the object I had in sending it. His ready reply was the first impulse of the man; his crafty and guarded mode of expression was the cautious act of the minister. Had I been disposed to have written a second time to my illustrious correspondent, I now had a fine opportunity of doing so; but I preferred letting the matter drop, and from that day to this, all communication between myself and the duke has ceased. _I_ shall not be the first to take any step for the purpose of resuming it. The duke must, by this time, know me too well to suppose that I have any desire to keep up a correspondence which could lead to no practical result, and might only tear open afresh wounds that the healing hand of time has long ago restored to their former salubrity.

It may be expected I should say a few words of the duke's person. He generally wears a frock coat, and rides frequently on horseback. His nose is slightly curved; but there is nothing peculiar in his hat or boots, the latter of which are, of course, Wellington's. His habits are still those of a soldier, for he gets up and goes to bed again much as he was accustomed to do in the days of the Peninsula. His speeches in Parliament I have never heard; but I have read some of them in the newspapers. He is now getting old; but I cannot tell his exact age: and he has a son who, if he should survive his father, will undoubtedly attain to the title of Duke of Wellington.

* * * * *

EXTRAORDINARY OPERATION.

_Royal Dispensary for Diseases of the Ear_.

Our esteemed friend and staunch supporter Colonel Sibthorp has lately, in the most heroic manner, submitted to an unprecedented and wonderfully successful operation. Our gallant friend was suffering from a severe elongation of the auricular organs; amputation was proposed, and submitted to with most heroic patience. We are happy to state the only inconvenience resulting from the operation is the establishment of a new hat block, and a slight difficulty of recognition on the part of some of his oldest friends.

* * * * *

EXTRAORDINARY ASSIZE INTELLIGENCE.

One of the morning papers gave its readers last week a piece of extraordinary assize intelligence, headed--"_Cutting a wife's throat--before Mr. Serjeant Taddy_" We advise the learned Serjeant to look to this: 'tis a too serious joke to be set down as an accessary to the cutting of a wife's throat.

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A SPOKE IN S--Y'S WHEEL!

"For Ireland's weal!" hear turncoat S--y rave, Who'd trust the _wheel_ that own'd so sad a _knave_?

* * * * *

ALARMING DESTITUTION.

In the parish of Llanelly, Breconshire, the males exceed the females by more than one thousand. At Worcester, says the _Examiner_, the same majority is in favour of the ladies. We should propose a conference and a general swap of the sexes next market-day, as we understand there is not a window in Worcester without a notice of "Lodgings to let for single men," whilst at Llanelly the gentlemen declare sweethearts can't be had for "love nor money."

* * * * *

A NATURAL INFERENCE.

"There'll soon be rare work (cry the journals in fear), When Peel is call'd in in _his_ regular way;" True--for when we've to pay all the Tories, 'tis clear, It is much the same thing as the _devil to pay_.

* * * * *

THE TORY TABLE D'HOTE--BILLY HOLMES (_loquitur_)

"Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen, feeding is going to commence Wellington and Peel are now giving their opening dinners to their friends and admirers. All who want _places_ must come early. Walk up! walk up!--This is the real constitutional tavern. Here we are! gratis feeding for the greedy! Make way there for those hungry-looking gentlemen--walk up, sir--leave your vote at the bar, and take a ticket for your hat."

* * * * *

BLACK AND WHITE.

The Tories vow the Whigs are black as night, And boast that they are only blessed with light. Peel's politics to both sides so incline, His may be called the _equinoctial line_.

* * * * *

THE LEGAL ECCALOBEION.

Baron Campbell, who has sat altogether about 20 hours in the Irish Court of Chancery, will receive 4,000l. a-year, on the death of either Lord Manners or Lord Plunkett, (both octogenarians;) which, says the _Dublin Monitor_, "taking the average of human life, he will enjoy thirty years;" and adds, "20 hours contain 1,200 minutes; and 4,000l. a-year for thirty years gives 120,000l. So that he will receive for the term of his natural life just one hundred pounds for every minute that he sat as Lord Chancellor." Pleasant incubation this! Sitting 20 hours, and hatching a fortune. If there be any truth in metempsychosis, Jocky Campbell must be the _goose that laid golden eggs_.

* * * * *

IRISH PARTICULAR.

SHEIL'S oratory's like bottled Dublin stout; For, draw the cork, and only froth comes out.

* * * * *

CALUMNY REFUTED.

We can state on the most positive authority that the recent fire at the Army and Navy Club did not originate from a spark of Colonel Sibthorp's wit falling amongst some loose jokes which Captain Marryatt had been scribbling on the backs of some unedited purser's bills.

* * * * *

HITTING THE RIGHT NAIL ON THE HEAD.

The Whigs resemble nails--How so, my master? Because, like nails, when _beat_ they _hold the faster_.

* * * * *

A MATTER OF TASTE.

"Do you admire Campbell's 'Pleasures of Hope'?" said Croker to Hook. "Which do you mean, the Scotch poet's or the Irish Chancellor's? the real or the ideal--Tommy's four thousand lines or Jocky's four thousand pounds a-year?" inquired Theodore. Croker has been in a brown study ever since.

* * * * *

CHARLES KEAN'S "CHEEK."

MR. PUNCH,--Myself and a few other old Etonians have read with inexpressible scorn, disgust, and indignation, the heartless and malignant attempts, in your scoundrel journal, to blast the full-blown fame of that most transcendant actor, and most unexceptionable son, Mr. Charles Kean. Now, PUNCH, fair play is beyond any of the crown jewels. I will advance only one proof, amongst a thousand others that cart-horses sha'n't draw from me, to show that Charles Kean makes more--mind, I say, makes _more_--of Shakspere, than every other actor living or dead. Last night I went to the Haymarket--Lady Georgiana L---- and other fine girls were of the party. The play was "Romeo and Juliet," and there are in that tragedy two slap-up lines; they are, to the best of my recollection, as follow:--

"_Oh!_ that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that _cheek_."

Now, ninety-nine actors out of a hundred make nothing of this--not so Charles Kean. Here's my proof. Feeling devilish hungry, I thought I'd step out for a snack, and left the box, just as Charles Kean, my old schoolfellow, was beginning--

"Oh!--"

Well, I crossed the way, stepped into Dubourg's, swallowed two dozen oysters, took a bottom of brandy, and booked a small bet with Jack Spavin for the St. Leger, returned to the theatre, and was comfortably seated in my box, as Charles Kean, my old school-fellow, had arrived at

"------cheek!"

Now, PUNCH, if this isn't making much of Shakspere, what is?

Yours (you scoundrel), ETONIAN.

* * * * *

AN AN-TEA ANACREONTIC--No. 4.

The following ode is somewhat freely translated from the original of a Chinese emigrant named CA-TA-NA-CH, or the "illustrious minstrel."

We have given a short specimen of the original, merely substituting the Roman for the Chinese characters.

ORIGINAL.

As-ye-Te-i-anp-o-et-sli-re Y-oun-g-li-ae-us-di-din-spi-re Wen-ye-ba-r-da-wo-Ke-i-sla-is Lo-ve-et-wi-nea-li-ket-op-ra-is So-i-lus-tri-ou-spi-din-th-o-u In-s-pi-re-thi-Te-ur-nv-ot-a-rin-ow &c. &c.

TRANSLATION.

As the Teian poet's lyre Young Lyæus did inspire; When the bard awoke his lays, Love and wine alike to praise. So, illustrious Pidding, thou Inspire thy _tea_-urn votary now, Whilst the tea-pot circles round-- Whilst the toast is being brown'd-- Let me, ere I quaff my tea, Sing a paean unto thee, IO PIDDING! who foretold, Chinamen would keep their gold; Who foresaw our ships would be Homeward bound, yet wanting tea; Who, to cheer the mourning land, Said, "I've Howqua still on hand!" Who, my Pidding, who but thee? Io Pidding! Evoe!

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THE STATE DOCTOR.

A BIT OF A FARCE.

_Dramatis Personæ._

RHUBARB PILL (a travelling doctor), by SIR ROBERT PEEL. BALAAM (his Man), by COLONEL SIBTHORP. COUNTRYMAN, by MR. BULL.

SCENE. _Tamworth._

_The Doctor and his Man are discovered in a large waggon, surrounded by a crowd of people._

RHUBARB PILL.--Balaam, blow the trumpet.

BALAAM (_blows_).--Too-too-tooit! Silence for the doctor!

RHUBARB PILL.--Now, friends and neighbours, now's your time for getting rid of all your complaints, whether of the pocket or the person, for I, Rhubarb Pill, professor of sophistry and doctorer of laws, have now come amongst you with my old and infallible remedies and restoratives, which, although they have not already worked wonders, I promise shall do so, and render the constitution sound and vigorous, however it may have been injured by poor-law-bill-ious pills, cheap bread, and _black_ sugar, prescribed by wooden-headed quacks. (_Aside_.) Balaam, blow the trumpet.

BALAAM (_blows_).--Too-too-tooit! Hurrah for the doctor!

RHUBARB PILL.--These infallible remedies have been in my possession since the years 1835 and 1837, but owing to the opposition of the Cabinet of Physicians, I have not been able to use them for the benefit of the public--and myself. (_Bows_.) These invaluable remedies--

COUNTRYMAN.--What be they?

RHUBARB PILL.--That's not a fair question--_wait till I'm regularly called in_[1]. It's not that I care about the fee--mine is a liberal profession, and though I have a large family, and as many relations as most people, I really think I should refuse a guinea if it was offered to me.

[1] Sir Robert Peel at Tamworth.

COUNTRYMAN.--Then why doant'ee tell us?

RHUBARB PILL.--It's not professional. Besides, it's quite requisite that I should "_feel the patient's pulse_," or I might make the dose too powerful, and so--

COUNTRYMAN.--Get the sack, Mr. Doctor.

RHUBARB PILL (_aside_).--Blow the trumpet, Balaam.

BALAAM.--Too-too-tooit--tooit-too-too!

RHUBARB PILL.--And so do more harm than good. Besides, I should require to have the "_necessary consultations_" over the dinner-table. Diet does a great deal--not that I care about the "loaves and fishes"--but patients are always more tractable after a good dinner. Now there's an old lady in these parts--

COUNTRYMAN.--What, my old missus?

RHUBARB PILL.--The same. She's in a desperate way.

COUNTRYMAN.--Ees. Dr. Russell says it's all owing to your nasty nosdrums.

RHUBARB PILL.--Doctor Russell's a--never mind. I say she _is_ very bad, and I AM the only man that can cure her.

COUNTRYMAN--Then out wi'it, doctor--what will?

RHUBARB PILL.--_Wait till I'm regularly called in._

COUNTRYMAN.--But suppose she dies in the meantime?

RHUBARB PILL.--That's her fault. I won't do anything by proxy. I must direct my own _administration_, appoint my own nurses for the bed-chamber, have my own herbalists and assistants, and see Doctor Russell's "_purge_" thrown out of the window. In short, _I must be regularly called in_. Balaam, blow the trumpet.

[_Balaam blows the trumpet, the crowd shout, and the Doctor bows gracefully, with one hand on his heart and the other in his breeches pocket. At the end of the applause he commences singing_].

I am called Doctor Pill, the political quack, And a quack of considerable standing and note; I've clapp'd many a blister on many a back, And cramm'd many a bolus down many a throat, I have always stuck close, like the rest of my tribe, And physick'd my patient as long as he'd pay; And I say, when I'm ask'd to advise or prescribe, "_You must wait till I'm call'd in a regular way_."

Old England has grown rather sickly of late, For Russell's _reduced_ her almost to a shade; And I've honestly told him, for nights in debate, He's a quack that should never have follow'd the trade. And, Lord! how he fumes, and exultingly cries, "Were you in my place, Pill, pray what would _you_ say?" But I only reply, "If I am to advise, _I shall wait till I'm call'd in a regular way_."

It's rather "too bad," if an ignorant elf, Who has caught a rich patient 'twere madness to kill, Should have all the credit, and pocket the pelf, Whilst you are requested to furnish the skill. No! no! _amor patriæ_'s a phrase I admire, But I own to an _amor_ that stands in its way; And if England should e'er my assistance require, _She must_--

* * * * *

ON DITS OF THE CLUBS.

Peter Borthwich has expressed his determination--not to accept of the speakership of the House of Commons.

C.M. Westmacott has announced his intention of _not_ joining the new administration; in consequence of which serious defection, he asserts that Sir Robert Peel will be unable to form a cabinet.

"You have heard," said his Grace of Buckingham, to Lord Abinger, a few evenings ago, "how scandalously Peel and his crew have treated me--they have actually thrown me overboard. A man of my weight, too!" "That was the very objection, my Lord," replied the rubicund functionary. "Their rotten craft could not carry a statesman of your ponderous abilities. Your dead weight would have brought them to the bottom in five minutes."

* * * * *

THE REJECTED ADDRESS OF THE MELANCHOLY WHIGS.

Alas! that poor old Whiggery should have been so silly as to go a-wooing. Infirm and tottering as he is, it was the height of insanity. Down he dropped on his bended knees before the object of his love; out he poured his touching addresses, lisped in the blandest, most persuasive tones; and what was his answer? Scoffs, laughs, kicks, rejection! Even Johnny Russell's muse availed not, though it deserved a better fate. It gained him a wife, but could not win the electors. Our readers will discover the genius of the witty author of "Don Carlos" in the address, which, though rejected, we in pity immortalise in PUNCH.

Loved friends--kind electors, once more we are here To beg your sweet voices--to tell you our deeds. Though our Budget is empty, we've got--never fear-- A long full privy purse, to stand bribing and feeds. For, oh! we are out-and-out Whigs--thorough Whigs! Then, shout till your throttles, good people, ye crack; Hurrah! for the troop of sublime "Thimble-rigs!" Hurrah! for the jolly old Downing-street pack.

What we've done, and will do for you, haply you'll ask: All, all, gentle folks, you shall presently see. Off your sugar we'll take just _one penny a cask!_ Only adding a shilling a pound on your tea. That's the style for your Whigs--your _reforming_ old Whigs! Then, shout, &c.

Off your broad--think of this!--we will take--(if we can)-- A whole farthing a loaf; then, when wages decline, By one-half--as they must--and you're starving, each man In our New Poor Law Bastiles may go lodge, and go dine. That's the plan of your Whigs--your kind-hearted, true Whigs! Then, shout, &c.

Off the fine Memel timber, we'd take--if we could-- All tax, 'cause 'tis used in the palace and hall; On the cottager's, tradesman's coarse Canada wood, We will clap such a tax as shall pay us for all. That's the "dodge" for your Whigs--your poor-loving, true Whigs! Then, shout, &c.

To free our dear brothers, the niggers, you know Twenty millions and more we have fix'd on your backs. 'Twas gammon--'twas humbug--'twas swindle! for, lo! We _undo_ all we've done--we go trade in the blacks. Your _humanity_ Whigs!--_anti-slavery_ Whigs! Then, shout, &c.