Chapter 2

Mamas were shaking heads at daughters who had ventured upon a tenth sip of a glass of sherry. Papas were getting extremely jocular about the probability of becoming grand-dittos. Everybody else was doing exactly what everybody pleased, when Mrs. Applebite's uncle John emerged from behind an epergne, and vociferously commanded everybody to charge their glasses; a requisition which nobody was bold enough to dispute. Uncle John then wiped his lips in the table-cloth, and proceeded to inform the company of a fact that was universally understood, that they had met there to celebrate the first dental dawn of the heir of Applebite. "I have only to refer you," said uncle John, "to the floor of the next room for the response to my request--namely, that you will drain your glasses; and, in the words of nephew Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite, 'partake of our dental delight.'" This eloquent address was followed by immense cheering and a shower of sherry bottoms, which the gentlemen in their "entusymusy" scattered around them as Hesperus is reported to dispense his tee-total drops.

Nothing could be going on better--no woman could feel prouder than Mrs. Waddledot, when--we hope you don't anticipate the catastrophe--when two of the Argand lamps gave olfactory demonstrations of dissolution. Sperm oil is a brilliant illuminator, but we never knew any one except an Esquimaux, or a Russian, who preferred it to lavender-water as a perfume. Old John was in a muddle of misery--evidently

and was only relieved from his embarrassment by the following fortunate occurrence:--

By-the-bye, we have just recollected that we have an invitation to dinner. Reader--_au revoir_.

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NEW WORKS NOW IN THE PRESS.

An Abstract and Brief Chronicle of the Times. Very small duodecimo. By Mr. ROEBUCK.

A New Dissertation on the Anatomy of the Figures of the Multiplication Table. By JOSEPH HUME.

Outlines of the Late Ministry, after _Ten Years_ (Teniers). By Lord MELBOURNE.

Recollections of Place. By Lord JOHN RUSSELL.

Mythological Tract upon the Heathen Deity Cupid. By Lord PALMERSTON.

Explanatory Annotations on the Abstruse Works of the late Joseph (_vulgo_ Joe) Miller. With a humorous etching of his tombstone, and Original Epitaph. By Colonel SIBTHORP.

Also, by the same Author, an Ornithological Treatise on the various descriptions of Water-fowl; showing the difference between Russia and other Ducks, and why the former are invariably sold in pairs.

A few words on Indefinite Subjects, supposed to be Sir Robert Peel's Future Intentions. By Mr. WAKLEY.

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AMERICAN CONGRESS.

We hasten to lay before our readers the following authentic reports of the latest debates in the United States' Congress, which have been forwarded to us by our peculiarly and especially exclusive Reporters.

_New York._--The greatest possible excitement exists here, agitating alike the bosoms of the Whites, the Browns, and the Blacks; a universal sympathy appears to exist among all classes, the greater portion of whom are looking exceedingly blue. The all-absorbing question as to whether the "war is to be or not to be," seems an exceedingly difficult one to answer. One party says "Yes," and another party says "No," and a third party says the above parties "Lie in their teeth;" and thereupon issue is joined, and bowie-knives are exchanged--the "Yes" walking away with "No's" sheathed in the middle of his back, and the "No" making up for his loss by securing the "Yes's" somewhere between his ribs. All the black porters are looking out for light jobs, and rushing about with shutters and cards of address, bearing high-minded "Loco-focos" and shot-down "democrats" to their respective surgeons and houses. This unusual bustle and activity gives the more political parts of the city an exceedingly brisk appearance, and has caused most of the eminent surgeons, not attached to either party, to be regularly retained by the principal speakers in these most interesting debates.

In Congress great attention is paid to the comfort of the various members, who are all provided with spittoons, though they are by no means compelled to tie themselves down to the exclusive use of those expectorant receptacles; on the contrary, much ingenuity is shown by some of the more practised in picking out other deposits; a vast majority of the Kentuckians will back themselves to "shoot through" the opposition member's nose and eye-glass without touching "flesh or flints."

The prevailing opinion appears to be, that should we come to a fight they will completely alter the costume of the country, and "whop us into fits." Their style of elocution is masterly in the extreme, redolent with the sagest deductions, and overflowing with a magnificent and truly Eastern redundancy of the most poetical tropes. I will now proceed to give you an extract from the celebrated speaker on the war side--"the renowned Jonathan J. Twang."

"I rather calculate that tarnal, pisoned, alligator of a ring-tailed, roaring, pestiferous, rattlesnake, that critter 'the Old Country,' would jist about give up one half its skin, and wriggle itself slick out of the other, rayther than go for to put our dander up at this present identical out-and-out important critical crisis! I conceit their min'stry have got jist about into as considerable a tarnation nasty fix, as a naked nigger in the stocks when the mosquitoes are steaming up a little beyond high pressure. I guess Prince Albert and the big uns don't find their seats quite as soft as buttered eels in a mud bank! Look here--isn't it considerable clear they're all funking like burnt Cayenne in a clay pipe; or couldn't they have made a raise some how to get a ship of their own, or borrow one, to send after that caged-up 'coon of a Macleod? It's my notion, and pretty considerable clear to me, they're all bounce, like bad chesnuts, very well to look at, but come to try them at the fire for a roast, and they turn out puff and shell. They talk of war as the boy did of whipping his father, but like him, they daresn't do it, and why not? why, for the following elegant reasons:--Since they have been used to the advantages of doing their little retail trade with our own go-ahead and carry-all-before-it right slick-up-an-end double-distilled essence of a genuine fine and civilised country, the everlasting 'possums have become habituated to some of the manners of our enlightened inhabitants. We have nothing to do but refuse the supply of cottons, and leave them all with as little shirts to their backs as wool on a skinned eel. Isn't it the intercourse with this here country that enables them to speak their very language with something rayther like a leetle correctness, though they're just about as far behind us as the last jint of the sea-sarpent is from his eye-tooth?

"Doesn't all international law consist in keeping an everlasting bright look-out on your own side, and jamming all other varments slick through a stone wall, as the waggon-wheel used up the lame frog? (Hear, hear.) I say--and mind you I'll stick to it like a starved sloth to the back of a fat babby--I say, gentlemen, this country, the United States (particularly Kentucky, from which I come, and which will whip all the rest with out-straws and rotten bull-rushes agin pike, bagnet, mortars, and all their almighty fine artillery), I say, then, this country is considerable like a genuine fac-simile of the waggon-wheel, and the pretty oneasy busted-up old worn-out island of the bull-headed Britishers, ain't nothing more than the tee-totally used-up frog. (Hear, hear.)

"I expect they'd have just as much chance with us as a muzzled monkey with a hiccory-nut. Talk of their fleet! I'll bet six live niggers to a dead 'coon, our genuine Yankee clippers will whip them into as bad a fix as a flying-fish with a gull at his head and a shark at his tail. They're jist about as much out of their reckoning as the pig that took to swimming for his health and cut his throat trying it on.

"It's everlasting strange to me if, to all future posterity coming after us, the word 'Macleod' don't shut up their jaws from bragging of British valour just about as tight as the death-squeeze of a boa-constrictor round a smashed-up buffalo!

"If it wa'n't for the distance and leaving my plantation, I'd go over with any on you, and help to use up the lot myself! Let them 'come on,' as the tiger said to the young kid, and see what 'I'll do for you.' They talk of sending out their chaps here, do they; let them; they'll be just about as happy as a toad in hot tar, and that's a fact." Here Jonathan J. Twang sat down amid immense cheers; at the conclusion of which, Mr. Peter P. Pellican, from the back-woods, requested--he, Peter P. Pellican, being from _Orleans_--that Mr. Jonathan J. Twang would retract certain words derogatory to the state represented by Peter P. Pellican. Mr. Jonathan J. Twang replied in the following determined refusal:--"I beg to inform the last speaker, Mr. Peter P. Pellican, from the back-woods, that I'll see him tee-totatiously tarred, feathered, and physicked with red-hot oil and fish-hooks, before I'll retract one eternal syllable of my pretty particular correct assertions."

This announcement created considerable confusion. The President behaved in the most impartial and manly manner, indiscriminately knocking down all such of both parties who came within reach of his mace, and not leaving the chair until he had received two black eyes and lost two front teeth. The general _mêlée_ was carried on with immense spirit; the more violent members on either side pummelling each other with the most hearty and legislative determination. This exciting scene was continued for some time, until during a short cessation a member with a broken leg proposed an adjournment till the following day, when the further discussion could be carried on with Bowie-knives and pistols; this proposition was at once acceded to with immense delight by all parties. If well enough (as I have two broken ribs, my share of the row) I will forward you an authentic statement of this interesting proceeding.

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EPITAPH ON A CANDLE.

A _wicked_ one lies buried here, Who died in a _decline_; He never rose in rank, I fear, Though he was born to _shine_.

He once was _fat_, but now, indeed, He's thin as any griever; He died,--the Doctors all agreed, Of a most _burning_ fever.

One thing of him is said with truth, With which I'm much amused; It is--That when he stood, forsooth, A _stick_ he always used.

Now _winding-sheets_ he sometimes made, But this was not enough, For finding it a poorish trade, He also dealt in _snuff_.

If e'er you said "_Go out_, I pray," He much ill nature show'd; On such occasions he would say, "Vy, if I do, _I'm blow'd_."

In this his friends do all agree, Although you'll think I'm joking, When _going out_ 'tis said that he Was very fond of _smoking_.

Since all religion he despised, Let these few words suffice, Before he ever was baptized They _dipp'd_ him once or twice.

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SIBTHORP ON BORTHWICK.

Our Sibthorp, while speaking of the asinine qualities of Peter Borthwick, remarked, that in his opinion that respectable member of the Lower House must be indebted to the celebrated medicine promising extreme "length of ears," and advertised as

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FIRE! FIRE!

A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER.

How melancholy an object is a "polished front," that vain-glorious and inhospitable array of cold steel and willow shavings, in which the emancipated hearth is annually constrained by careful housewives to signalise the return of summer, and its own consequent degradation from being a part of the family to become a piece of mere formal furniture. And truly in cold weather, which (thanks to the climate, for we love our country) is all the weather we get in England, the fire is a most important individual in a house: one who exercises a bland authority over the tempers of all the other inmates--for who could quarrel with his feet on the fender? one with whom everybody is anxious to be well--for who would fall out with its genial glow? one who submits with a graceful resignation to the caprices of every casual elbow--and who has never poked a fire to death? one whose good offices have endeared him alike to the selfish and to the cultivated,--at once a host, a mediator, and an occupation.

We have often had our doubts (but then we are partial) whether it be not possible to carry on a conversation with a fire. With the aid of an evening newspaper by way of interpreter, and in strict confidence, no third party being present, we feel that it can be done. Was there an interesting debate last night? were the ministers successful, or did the opposition carry it? In either case, did not the fire require a vigorous poke just as you came to the division? and did not its immediate flame, or, on the contrary, its dull, sullen glow, give you the idea that it entertained its own private opinions on the subject? And if those opinions seemed contrary to yours, did you not endeavour to betray the sparks into an untenable position, by submitting them to the gentle sophistry of a poker nicely insinuated between the bars? or did you not quench with a sudden retort of small coal its impertinent congratulation at an unfortunate result? until, when its cordial glow, penetrating that unseemly shroud, has given evidence of self-conviction, you felt that you had dealt too harshly with an old friend, and hastened to make it up with him again by a playful titillation, more in jest than earnest.

But this is all to come. Not yet (with us) have the kindly old bars, reverend in their attenuation, been restored to their time-honoured throne; not yet have the dingy festoons of pink and white paper disappeared from the garish mantel. Still desolate and cheerless shows the noble edifice. The gaunt chimney yawns still in sick anticipation of deferred smoke. The "irons," innocent of coal, and polished to the tip, skulk and cower sympathetically into the extreme corner of the fender. The very rug seems ghastly and grim, wanting the kindly play of the excited flame. We have no comfort in the parlour yet: even the privileged kitten, wandering in vain in search of a resting-place, deems it but a chill dignity which has withdrawn her from the warm couch before the kitchen-fire. Things have become too real for home. We have no joy now in those delicious loiterings for the five minutes before dinner--those casual snatches of Sterne, those scraps of Steele. We have left off smiling; we are impregnable even to a pun. What _is_ the day of the month?

Surely were not October retrospectively associated (in April and glorious May) with the grateful magnificence of ale, none would be so unpopular as the chilly month. There is no period in which so much of what ladies call "unpleasantness" occurs, no season when that mysterious distemper known as "warming" is so epidemic, as in October. It is a time when, in default of being conventionally cold, every one becomes intensely cool. A general chill pervades the domestic virtues: hospitality is aguish, and charity becomes more than proverbially numb.

In twenty days how different an appearance will things wear! The magic circle round the hearth will be filled with beaming faces; a score of hands will be luxuriously chafing the palpable warmth dispensed by a social blaze; some more privileged feet may perchance be basking in the extraordinary recesses of the fender. We shall consult the thermometer to enjoy the cold weather by contrast with the glowing comfort within. We shall remark how "time flies," and that "it seems only yesterday since we had a fire before;" forgetful of the hideous night and the troublous dreams that have intervened since those sweet memories. And all this--in twenty days.

We are no innovators: we respect all things for their age, and some for their youth. But we would hope that, in humbly looking for a fire in the cold weather, even though November be still in the store of time, we should be exhibiting no dangerous propensities. If, as we are inclined to believe, fires were discovered previously to the invention of lord mayors, wherefore should we defer our accession to them until he is welcomed by those frigid antiquities Gog and Magog? Wherefore not let fires go out with the old lord mayor, if they needs must come in with the new? Wherefore not do without lord mayors altogether, and elect an annual grate to judge the prisoners at the _bar_ in the Mansion House, and to listen to the quirks of the facetious Mr. _Hob_-ler?

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AN APPROPRIATE GIFT.

We perceive that the fair dames of Nottingham have, with compassionate liberality, presented to Mr. Walter, one of the Tory candidates at the late election, a silver _salver_. What a delicate and appropriate gift for a man so beaten as Master Walter!--the pretty dears knew where he was hurt, and applied a silver salve--we beg pardon, _salver_--to his wounds. We trust the remedy may prove consolatory to the poor gentleman.

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NOT A STEP FA(R)THER.

The diminutive chroniclers of Animalcula-Chatter, called small-talk, have been giving a minute description of the goings on of His Grace of Wellington at Walmer. They hint that he sleeps and wakes by clock-work, eats by the ounce, and drinks and walks by measure. During the latter recreation, it is his _pleasure_, they tell us, to use one of _Payne's_ pedometers to regulate his march. Thus it is quite clear the great Captain will never become a

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A MALE DUE.

The Post-office in Downing-street has been besieged by various inquirers, who are anxiously seeking for some information as to the expected arrival of the Royal Male.

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CURIOUS SYNONYMS.

Sir Peter Laurie discovered during his residence in Boulogne that _veau_ is the French for _veal_. On his return to England, being at a public dinner, he exhibited his knowledge of the tongues by asking a brother alderman for a slice of his _weal_ or _woe_.

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HAPPY LAND!

Six young girls, inmates of the Lambeth workhouse, were brought up at Union Hall, charged with breaking several squares of glass. In their defence, they complained that they had been treated worse in the workhouse than they would be in prison, and said that it was to cause their committal to the latter place they committed the mischief. What a beautiful picture of moral England this little anecdote exhibits! What must be the state of society in a country where crime is punished less severely than poverty?

Old England, bless'd and favour'd clime! Where paupers to thy prisons run; Where poverty's the only crime That angry justice frowns upon.

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THE NEW STATE STRETCHER.

"What an uncomfortable bed Peel has made for himself!" observed Normanby to Palmerston. "That's not very clear to me, I confess," replied the Downing-street Cupid, "as it is acknowledged he sleeps on a _bolstered cabinet_." The pacificator of Ireland closed his face for the remainder of the day.

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The latest case of monomania, from our own specially-raised American correspondent:--A gentleman who fancied himself a pendulum always went upon tick, and never discovered his delusion until he was carefully wound up in the Queen's Bench.

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"VERY LIKE A WHALE."

The first of all the royal infant males _Should_ take the title of the Prince of _Wales_; Because 'tis clear to seaman and to lubber, Babies and _whales_ are both inclined to _blubber_.

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ARRIVED AT LAST.

We perceived by a paragraph copied from the "_John o'Groats Journal_," that an immense Whale, upwards of _seventy-six_ feet in length, was captured a few days since at Wick. Sir Peter Laurie and Alderman Humphrey on reading this announcement _naturally_ concluded that the _Wick_ referred to was our gracious Queen _Wic_, and rushed off to Buckingham-palace to pay their united tribute of loyalty to the long-expected _Prince of Wales_.

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EPIGRAM.

I'm going to seal a letter, Dick, Some _wax_ pray give to me. I have not got a _single stick_, Or _whacks_ I'd give to thee.

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THE PICTORIAL HISTORY OF PARLIAMENT.