Chapter 4

9. Conductors should particularly aim to take up laundresses returning with a large family washing, bakers and butchers in their working jackets, and, if a wet day, should be particular not to pull up to the pathway.

10. For want of space, the following brevities must suffice:--Never say where you wish to stop until after you have passed the place, and then pull them up with a sudden jerk. Keep your money in your waistcoat-pocket, and button your under and upper coat completely, and never attempt to get at it until the door is opened, and then let it be nothing under a five-shilling piece. Never ask any one to speak to the conductor for you, but hit or poke him with your umbrella or stick, or rap his hand as it rests on the door. He puts it there on purpose. Always stop the wrong omnibus, and ask if the Paddington goes to Walworth, and the Kennington to Whitechapel: you are not obliged to read all the rigmarole they paint on the outside. Finally, consider an omnibus as a carriage, a bed, a public-house, a place of amusement, or a boxing-ring, where you may ride, sleep, smoke, chaff, or quarrel, as it may suit you.

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PETER THE GREAT (FOOL?)

The following colloquy occurred between a candidate for suicidal fame and the City's Peter Laureate:--

"So, sir, you tried to hang yourself, did you?"

"In course I did, or I should not have put my head in the noose."

"You had no business to do so."

"I did it for my pleasure, not for business."

"I'll let you see, sir, you shan't do it either for fun or earnest."

"Are you a Tory, Sir Peter?"

"A Tory, sir! No, sir; I'm a magistrate."

"Ah, that's why you interfere; you must be a low Rad, or you wouldn't prevent a man from

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THE WISE MAN OF THE EAST.

SIR PETER LAURIE begs Punch to inform him, which of Arabia's Children is alluded to in Moore's beautiful ballad,

"Farewell to thee, Araby's daughter."

He presumes it is Miss Elizabeth, commonly called _Bess-Arabia_.

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SONGS OF THE SEEDY.--No. VII.

I love the night with its mantle dark, That hangs like a cloak on the face of the sky; Oh what to me is the song of the lark? Give me the owl; and I'll tell you why. It is that at night I can walk abroad, Which I may not do in the garish day, Without being met in the streets, and bored By some cursed dun, that I cannot pay. No! no! night let it ever be: The owl! the owl! the owl! is the bird for me!

Then tempt me not with thy soft guitar, And thy voice like the sound of a silver bell, To take a stroll, where the cold ones are Who in lanes, not of trees but of fetters[1], dwell. But wait until night upsets its ink On the earth, on the sea, and all over the sky, And then I'll go to the wide world's brink With the girl I love, without feeling shy. Oh, then, may it night for ever be! The owl! the owl! the owl! is the bird for me!

But you turn aside! Ah! did you know, What by searching the office you'd plainly see, That I'm hunted down, like a (Richard) Roe, You'd not thus avert your eyes from me. Oh never did giant look after Thumb (When the latter was keeping out of the way) With a more tremendous fee-fo-fum Than I'm pursued by a dread _fi-fa_. Too-whit! too-whit! is the owl's sad song! A writ! a writ! a writ! when mid the throng, Is ringing in my ears the whole day long. Ah me! night let it be: The owl! the stately owl! is the bird--yes, the bird for me!

[1] Fetter-lane is clearly alluded to by the poet. It is believed to be the bailiffs' quarter.

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POPISH RED-DRESS.

The _Examiner_ states that there is no such fabric as scarlet cloth made in Ireland. If this be true, the Lady of Babylon, who is said to reside in that country, and to be addicted to scarlet clothing, must be in a very destitute condition.

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A SPOON CASE.

A well-dressed individual has lately been visiting the lodging-house keepers of the metropolis. He engages lodgings--but being, as he says, just arrived from a long journey, he begs to have dinner before he returns to the Coach-Office for his luggage. This request being usually complied with, the new lodger, while the table is being laid, watches his opportunity and bolts with the silver spoons. Sir Peter Laurie says, that since this practice of filching the spoons has commenced, he does not feel himself safe in his own house. He only hopes the thief may be brought before him, and he promises to give him his _dessert_, by committing him without

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A DAB FOR LAURIE.

SIR PETER LAURIE, on a recent visit to Billingsgate for the purpose of making what he calls a _pisciatery_ tour, was much astonished at the vigorous performance of various of the real "live fish," some of which, as he sagely remarked, appeared to be perfect "Dabs" at jumping, and no doubt legitimate descendants from some particularly

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SIBTHORPS CORNER.

If old Nick were to lose his tail, where should he go to supply the deficiency?--To a gin-palace, because there they _re-tail_ bad spirits.

Mr. G., who has a very ugly wife, named Euphemia, was asked lately why his spouse was the image of himself--and, to his great annoyance, discovered that it was because she was his _Effie-G_[2].

[2] I could make better than the above myself. E.G.--In what way should Her Majesty stand upon a Bill in Parliament so as to quash it?--By putting her _V-toe_ (_veto_) on it.--PRINTER'S DEVIL.

I floored Ben-beau D'Israeli the other day with the following:--"Ben," said I, "if I were going to buy a violin, what method should I take to get it cheap?" Benjie looked rather more foolish than usual, and gave it up. "Why, you ninny," I replied, "I should buy an ounce of castor-oil, and then I would get a phial in (_violin_)." I think I had him there.

Why is a female of the canine species suckling her whelps like a philosophic principle?--Because she is a dogma (_dog-ma_).

What part of a horse's foot is like an irate governor?--The pastern (_pa-stern_).

Why is the march of a funeral procession like a turnpike?--Because it is a toll-gait (_toll-gate_).

Who is the greatest literary _star_?--The _poet-aster_.

Why is an Israelite named William Solomons similar to a great public festival?--Because he is a Jubilee (_Jew-Billy_).

Why are polished manners like a pea-jacket?--Because they are address (_a dress_).

Why are swallows like a leap head-over-heels?--Because they are a summer set (_a somerset_).

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CUTTING IT RATHER SHORT.

The unexpected adjournment of the Court of Queen's Bench, by Lord Denman, on last Thursday, has filled the bar with consternation.--"What is to become of our clients?" said Fitzroy Kelly.--"And of our fees?" added the Solicitor General.--"I feel deeply for my clients," sighed Serjeant Bompas.--"We all compassionate them, brother," observed Wilde.--In short, one and all declare it was a most arbitrary and unprecedented curtailment of their little _term_--and, to say the least of it,

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NATIONAL DISTRESS.

The Tee-totallers say that the majority of the people are victims to Bacchus. In the present hard times they are more likely to be victims to

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SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.--No. 12.

Away! away! ye hopes which stray Like jeering spectres from the tomb! Ye cannot light the coming night, And shall not mock its gathering gloom; Though dark the cloud shall form my shroud-- Though danger league with racking doubt-- Away! away! _ye_ shall not stay When all my joys are "up the spout!"

I little knew when first ye threw Your bright'ning beams on coming hours, That time would see me turn from thee, And fly your sweet delusive powers. Now, nerved to woe, no more I'll know How hope deferr'd makes mortal sick; The gathering storm may whelm my form, But I will suffer "like a brick!"

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LAURIE'S RAILLERY.

When Sir Peter Laurie had taken his seat the other morning in that Temple of Momus, the Guildhall Justice Room, he was thus addressed by Payne, the clerk--"I see, Sir Peter, an advertisement in the _Times_, announcing the sale of shares in the railroad from Paris to ROUEN; would you advise me to invest a little loose cash in that speculation?" "Certainly not," replied the Knight, "nor in any other railway,--depend upon it, they all lead to the same terminus, RUIN." Payne, having exclaimed that this was the best thing he had ever heard, was presented by our own Alderman with a shilling, accompanied with a request that he would get his hair cropped to the magisterial standard.

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A MEETING OF OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

At the sale of the library of the late Theodore Hook, a curious copy of "The Complete Jester" was knocked down to "our own" Colonel. Delighted with his prize, he ran home, intending to lay in a fresh stock of _bons mots_; but what was his amazement on finding that all the jokes contained in the volume were those with which he has been in the habit of entertaining the public these last forty years! Sibby declares that the sight of so many old friends actually brought the tears into his eyes.

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PUNCH'S THEATRE.

LOVE EXTEMPORE.

As the hero of a romantic play is obliged to possess all the cardinal virtues and all the intellectual accomplishments, so the hero of a farce is bound to be a fool. One of the greatest, and at the same time one of the best fools it has been our pleasure to be introduced to for some time is _Mr. Titus Livingstone_, in the new farce of "Love Extempore."

_Mr. Titus Livingstone_ possesses an excellent heart, a good fortune, and an uncommon stock of modesty. His intellects are, however, far from brilliant; indeed, but for one trait in his character he would pass for an idiot,--he has had the good sense never as yet to fall in love! In fact, the farce is founded upon that identical incident of his life which occasioned him to suppose that he had taken the tender passion extempore.

Some sort of villany seems absolutely necessary to every species of play. To continue the parallel we commenced with between tragedy and farce, we observe that in the former he is usually such a person as _Spinola_, in "Nina Sforza," whilst a farce-villain turns out to be in most instances an intriguing widow, a lawyer, or a mischievous young lady. The rogue in "Love Extempore" is _Mrs. Courtnay_, a widow, who, with the assistance of _Sir Harry Nugent_, contrives a plot by which the hitherto insensible _Livingstone_ shall fall a victim to love and her friend _Prudence Oldstock_; with whose mother and sister the widow and her co-intriguant are staying on a visit.

The moment fatal to Livingstone's virgin heart and unrestrained liberty arrives. He calls to pay a morning visit, and instantly the deep design is put into execution. _Sir Harry_ begins by a most extravagant puff preliminary of the talents, accomplishments, virtues, beauty, disposition, endowments, and graces belonging to the enchanting _Prudence_. He and the widow exhibit her drawings,--_Livingstone_ is in raptures, or pretends to be (for he is not an ill-bred man). What a piercing expression flashes from those studies of eyes (in chalk)! what an artistical grouping of legs! what a Saracen's-head-upon-Snow-hill-like ferocity frowns from that Indian chief!

At this juncture the captivating artist is herself introduced. _Mr. Livingstone's_ modesty strikes him into a heap of confusion. "He sighs and looks, and looks and sighs again,"--he does not know "what to say, or how to say it; so that the trembling bachelor may become a wise and good lover." He stutters and hems in the utmost distress; to increase which, all his tormentors turn up the stage, leaving him to entertain the lady alone. The sketches naturally suggest a topic, and, plunging _in medias res_ at once, he vehemently praises her legs! The lady is astonished, and the mamma alarmed; but having explained that the allusion was to the drawings, he is afterwards punished for the blunder by being threatened with a song. Though at a loss to find out what he has done to deserve such an infliction, he submits; for he is very sleepy, and sinks into a chair in an attitude of supposed attention, but really in a posture best adapted for a nap. When the song is ended the applause of course comes in; this awakens _Livingstone_ in a fright; he starts, and throws down a harp in his fall.

After this _contretemps_, the villany of the widow and her ally takes a different turn. In a love affair there are generally two parties; and _Miss Prudence_ has got to be persuaded that _she_ is in love. This it is not difficult to accomplish, she being no more overburdened with penetration than the gentleman they are so kind as to say she is in love with. So far all goes on well: for she is soon convinced that she is enamoured to the last extremity.

_Livingstone_ having a sort of glimmering that the danger so long averted at length impends over him--that he is falling into the trap of love, with every chance of the fall continuing down to the bottomless pit of matrimony, determines to avert the catastrophe by flight. The pair of villains, however, set up a cry of "Stop thief," and he is brought back. _Sir Harry_ appeals to his feelings. Good gracious! is he so base, so dishonourable, so heartless, to rob an innocent, unsuspecting, and accomplished girl of her heart, and then wickedly desert her! Oh, no! In short, having already persuaded the poor man that he is in love, _Sir Harry_ convinces him that he would also be a deceiver; and _Livingstone_ would have returned like a lamb to the slaughter but for a new incident.

He has an uncle who is engaged in a law-suit with some of _Mrs. Courtnay's_ family. To bring this litigation to an amicable end it has been proposed that _Livingstone_ should marry the widow's sister. Here is a discovery! So, the deep widow has been unwittingly plotting against her own sister! Things must be altered; and so they are, in no time, for she persuades the easy hero that _Nugent_ is in love with _Prudence_ himself; but, finding she adores her new lover, has magnanimously given up his claims in his favour. This has the desired effect, for _Livingstone_ will have no such noble sacrifice made on his account. He seeks _Sir Harry_; who, discovering the double design of the profound widow, talks as immensely magnanimous as they do in classic dramas. In short, both play at Romans till the end of the piece; the hero and heroine being at last fully persuaded that they have each really fallen in "Love Extempore!"

This idea of persuading two persons into the bonds of love--of having all the courting done at second-hand, is admirably worked out. _Livingstone_ is a well-drawn character; so well, so naturally painted, that he hardly deserves to be the hero of a farce. Although exceedingly soft, he is a well-bred fool--though somewhat fat (for the actor is Mr. David Rees); he is not altogether inelegant. The gentleman who does the theatrical metaphysics in the _Morning Herald_ has described him as a capital specimen of "physical obesity and moral teunity,"[3]--which we quote to save ourselves trouble, for the force of description can no further go. _Prudence_ is also inimitable--a march-of-intellect young lady without brains, who knows the names of the five large rivers in America, and how many bones there are in the gills of a turbot. In Miss P. Horton's hands her mechanical acquirements were done ample justice to. The cold unmeaning love scene was rendered mainly by her acting

[3] _Sic_, actually, in the dramatic article of that paper, Wednesday, 24th ult.

In fine, the farce is altogether a leaven of the best material most cleverly worked up.

* * * * *

A PERFECT VACUUM PROVED.

MR. HALSE, the gentleman who has during the last week been lecturing upon Animal Magnetism, having stated that one of his patients, while under the magnetic influence, could "see her own inside," the Marquis of Londonderry, anxious to test the truth of the assertion, requested the lecturer to operate upon him, and being thrown into the Mesmeric sleep, looked into the inside of his own head, and declared he could see nothing in it.

* * * * *

A CON BY O'CONNER.

Why ought the Children of a Thief to be burnt?--Because _their Pa steals_ (they're pastiles).

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