Chapter 2

IN WHICH THE AUTHOR TREATS OF LOVERS IN GENERAL.

At thirty, a man takes a more decided--I wish I could add a more amiable--character than at twenty. At twenty he loves sincerely and devotedly; he respects the woman who has inspired him with the noblest sentiment of which his soul is capable. At thirty his heart, hardened by deceit and ill-requited affection, and pre-occupied by projects of worldly ambition, regards love only as an agreeable pastime, and woman's heart as a toy, which he may fling aside the moment it ceases to amuse him. At twenty he is ready to abandon everything for her whom he idolises--rank, wealth, the future!--they weigh as nothing in the balance against the fancied strength and constancy of his passion. At thirty he coldly immolates the repose and happiness of the woman who loves him to the slightest necessity. I must admit, however--in justice to our sex--provided his love does not interfere with his interest, nor his freedom, nor his club, nor his dogs and horses, nor his _petites liaisons des coulisses_, nor his hour of dinner--the lover is always willing to make the greatest sacrifices for her whom he has honoured with his regards. The man of thirty is, moreover, a man of many loves; he carries on half-a-dozen affairs of the heart at the same time--he has his writing-desk filled with _billets-doux_, folded into a thousand fanciful shapes, and smelling villanously of violets, roses, bergamot, and other sentimental odours. He has a pocket-book full of little locks of hair, of all colours, from the light golden to the raven black. In short, the man of thirty is the most dangerous of lovers. Let my fair readers watch his approaches with distrust, and place at every avenue of their innocent hearts

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A DEER BARGAIN.

In consequence of an advertisement in the _Sporting Magazine_ for SEVERAL OLD BUCKS, some daring villains actually secured the following venerable gentlemen:--Sir Francis Burdett, Lord Palmerston, Sir Lumley Skeffington, Jack Reynolds, and Mr. Widdicombe. The venison dealer, however, declined to purchase such very old stock, and the aged captives upon being set at liberty heartily congratulated each other on their

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OUT OF SCHOOL.

An attenuated disciple of the ill-paid art which has been described as one embracing the "delightful task which teaches the young idea how to shoot," in a fit of despair, being but little skilled in the above sporting accomplishment, endeavoured to cheat nature of its right of killing by trying the efficacy of a small hanging match, in which he suicidically "doubled" the character of criminal and Jack Ketch. Upon being asked by the redoubtable Civic Peter what he meant by such conduct, he attempted to urge the propriety of the proceeding according to the scholastic rules of the ancients. "It may," replied Sir Peter, "be very well for those chaps to hang themselves, as they are out of my jurisdiction; but I'll let you see you are wrong, as

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PUNCH'S LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

We understand that the Author of "Jack Sheppard," &c., is about to publish a new Romance, in three volumes, post octavo, to be called "James Greenacre; or, the Hero of Paddington."

We are requested by Mr. Catnach, of Seven Dials, to state that he has a few remaining copies of "All round my Hat" on sale. Early application must be made, to prevent disappointment. Mr. C. has also to inform the public that an entirely new collection of the most popular songs is now in the press, and will shortly be published, price One Halfpenny.

Mr. Grant, the author of "Random Recollections," is, it is said, engaged in writing a new work, entitled "Quacks as they are," and containing copious extracts from all his former publications, with a portrait of himself.

"An Essay on False Wigs," written by Lord John Russell, and dedicated to Mr. Wakley, M.P., may shortly be expected.

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PUNCH'S THEATRE.

THE UNITED SERVICE.

The man who wishes to study an epitome of human character--who wants to behold choice samples of "all sorts and conditions of men"--to read out of a small, a duodecimo edition of the great book of life--must take a season's lodgings at a Cheltenham, a Harrowgate, or a Brighton boarding-house. There he will find representatives of all kinds of eccentricities,--members of every possible lodge of "odd fellows" that Folly has admitted of her crew--mixed up with everyday sort of people, sharpers, schemers, adventurers, fortune-hunters, male and female--widows, wags, and Irishmen. Hence, as the "proper study of mankind is man," a boarding-house is the place to take lessons;--even on the score of economy, as it is possible to live decently at one of these refuges for the destitute for three guineas a-week, exclusive, however, of wine, servants, flirtation, and other extras.

A result of this branch of study, and an example of such a mode of studying it, is the farce with the above title, which has been brought out at Covent Garden. _Mrs. Walker_ (Mrs. Orger) keeps a boarding-house, which also keeps her; for it is well frequented: so well that we find her making a choice of inmates by choosing to turn out _Mr. Woodpecker_ (Mr. Walter Lacy)--a mere "sleeping-apartment" boarder--to make room for _Mrs. Coo_ (Mrs. Glover), a widow, whose demands entitle her to the dignity of a "private sitting and bedroom" lodger. _Mr. Woodpecker_ is very comfortable, and does not want to go; but the hostess is obstinate: he appeals to her feelings as an orphan, without home or domesticity; but the lady, having been in business for a dozen years, has lost all sympathy for orphans of six-and-twenty. In short, _Mrs. Walker_ determines he shall walk, and so shall his luggage (a plethoric trunk and an obese carpet-bag are on the stage); for she has dreamt even that has legs--such dreams being, we suppose, very frequent to persons of her name.

You are not quite satisfied that the mere preference for a better inmate furnishes the only reasons why the lady wants _Mr. Woodpecker's room_ rather than his company. Perhaps he is in arrear; but no, he pays his bill: so it is not on _that_ score that he is so ruthlessly sent away. You are, however, not kept long on the tiptoe of conjecture, but soon learn that _Mrs. W._ has a niece, and you already know that the banished is young, good-looking, and gay. Indeed, _Mrs. Walker_ having perambulated, _Miss Fanny Merrivale_ (Miss Lee) appears, and listens very composedly to the plan of an elopement from _Woodpecker_, but speedily makes her _exit_ to avoid suspicion, and the enemy who has dislodged her lover; before whom the latter also retreats, together with his bag and baggage.

There are no classes so well represented at boarding-houses as those who sigh for fame, and those that are dying to be married. Accordingly, we find in _Mrs. Walker's_ establishment _Captain Whistleborough_ (Mr. W. Farren), who is doing the extreme possible to get into Parliament, and _Captain Pacific, R.N._, (Mr. Bartley,) who is crowding all sail to the port of matrimony. Well knowing how boarding-houses teem with such persons, two men who come under the "scheming" category are also inmates. One of these, _Mr. Enfield Bam_ (Mr. Harley), is a sort of parliamentary agent, who goes about to dig up aspirants that are buried in obscurity, and to introduce them to boroughs, by which means he makes a very good living. His present victim is, of course, _Captain Whistleborough_, upon whom he is not slow in commencing operations.

_Captain Whistleborough_ has almost every requisite for an orator. He is an army officer; so his manners are good and his self-possession complete. His voice is commanding, for it has been long his duty to give the word of command. Above all, he has a mania to become a member. Yet, alas! one trifling deficiency ruins his prospects; he has an impediment in his speech, which debars him from the use of the _W's_. Like the French alphabet, that letter is denied to him. When he comes to a syllable it begins, he is _spell_-bound; though he longs to go on, he pulls up quite short, and sticks fast. The first _W_ he meets with in the flowery paths of rhetoric causes him to be as dumb as an oyster, or as O. Smith in "Frankenstein." In vain does he try the Demosthenes' plan by sucking pebbles on the Brighton shore and haranguing the _w_aves, though he is unable to address them by name. All is useless, and he has resigned himself to despair and a Brighton boarding-house, when _Mr. Enfield Bam_ gives him fresh hopes. He informs him that the proprietress of a pocket borough resides under the same roof, and that he will (for the usual consideration) get the Captain such an introduction to her as shall ensure him a seat in her good graces, and another in St. Stephen's. _Mr. Bam_, therefore, goes off to negotiate with _Miss Polecon_ (Mrs. Tayleure), and makes way for the intrigues of another sort of an agent, who lives in the house.

This is _Rivet_ (Mr. C. Mathews), a gentleman who undertakes to procure for an employer anything upon earth he may want, at so much per cent. commission. There is nothing that this very general agent cannot get hold of, from a hack to a husband--from a boat to a baronetcy--from a tortoise-shell tom-cat to a rich wife. Matrimonial agency is, however, his passion, and he has plenty of indulgence for it in a Brighton boarding-house. _Captain Pacific_ wants a wife, _Mrs. Coo_ is a widow, and all widows want husbands. Thus _Rivet_ makes sure of a swingeing commission from both parties; for, in imagination, and in his own memorandum-book, he has already married them.

Here are the ingredients of the farce; and in the course of it they are compounded in such wise as to make _Woodpecker_ jealous, merely because he happens to find _Fanny_ in the dark, and in _Whistleborough's_ arms; to cause the latter to negotiate with _Mrs. Coo_ for a seat in Parliament, instead of a wedding-ring; and _Pacific_ to talk of the probable prospects of the nuptial state to _Miss Polecon_, who is an inveterate spinster and a political economist, professing the Malthusian creed. _Rivet_ finding _Fanny_ and her friend are taking business out of his hands by planning an elopement _en amateur_, gets himself "regularly called in," and manages to save _Woodpecker_ all the trouble, by contriving that _Whistleborough_ shall run away with the young lady by mistake, so that _Woodpecker_ might marry her, and no mistake. _Bam_ bams _Whistleborough_, who ends the piece by threatening his deceiver with an action for breach of promise of borough, all the other breaches having been duly made up; together with the match between _Mrs. Coo_ and _Pacific_.

If our readers want to be told what we think of this farce, they will be disappointed; if they wish to know whether it is good or bad, witty or dull, lively or stupid--whether it ought to have been damned outright, or to supersede the Christmas pantomime--whether the actors played well or played the deuce--whether the scenery is splendid and the appointments appropriate or otherwise, they must judge for themselves by going to see it; because if we gave them our opinion they would not believe us, seeing that the author is one of our most esteemed (especially over a boiled chicken and sherry), most merry, most jolly, most clever colleagues; one, in fine, of PUNCH'S "United Service."

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"I have been running ever since I was born and am not tired now"--as the brook said to Captain Barclay.

"Hookey"--as the carp said, when he saw a worm at the end of a line.

"_Nothing is_ certain"--as the fisherman said, when he always found it in his nets.

"Brief let it be"--as the barrister said in his conference with the attorney.

"He is the greatest liar on (H) earth"--as the cockney said of the lapdog he often saw lying before the fire.

When is a hen most likely to hatch? When she is in earnest (her nest).

Why are cowardly soldiers like butter? When exposed to a _fire_ they _run_.

Do you sing?--says the teapot to the kettle--Yes, I can manage to get over a few _bars_.--Bah, exclaimed the teapot.

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