Chapter 8

The Editor's Ante-Chamber. Several of the Ministers waiting to see him; some with glittering stars, blue ribbons, &c. A door opens (centre), and an eminent Stockjobber is kicked into the middle of the scene, and falls--a huge bag of sovereigns in each hand. Bags burst, and the gold strews the stage. "_I offered £500,000 for leave to put in one article._" Proud tribute to the British Press. Porters sweep up the gold, and throw it out at window, and the Stockjobber after it. Enter LORD ASTERISK dragging the beautiful lady. "_Ha! you here, my lords! But 'tis well. She appealed to the "Times" and I have brought her hither._" Lady on her knees--back hair down. "_I am innocent--indeed I am innocent._" "_I am not to be juped, Madam._" "_I swear it._" "_I believe you not. Your adorers, in disguise, have been staining the pure streets of our proud Metropolis with ruffianism. But in vain, Madam._" "_In vain! Wretched me!_" "_Now by all that is sulphureous_"--(he draws the sword usually worn by the British aristocrat)--"HOLD!!!" Awful appearance of the EDITOR. "_Mistaken nobleman! She came but to save her_ BROTHER, LORD NAMBY MACPAMBY. _He has spoken in the House to-night, and knowing what a dreadful fool he is, she wished his speech suppressed, that_ your brother-in-law's _idiotcy might not be published all over the world_." "_Her brother! And those Guardsmen!_" "_Her cousins._" "_Ow! ow! ow! Can you forgive me_, CORONETTINA?" "_Am I not your wife, dearest?_" The EDITOR, moved, tears up LORD NAMBY MACPAMBY'S speech. "_One husk will not be missed amid so much chaff._"

* * * * *

AFFECTING DENOUEMENT!

* * * * *

LESSON FOR INNOCENT CABMEN.

Sing a song of Sixpence, "A pocket-full!" says I. Four-and-twenty farthings? That's all my eye! But my eye was opened-- A summons he did seek; And wasn't that a pretty case To bring before the Beak?

The Beak was on his judgment-seat A fining swell coves money; And _Punch_ was perch'd 'longside him, Grinning precious funny. FITZROY had, in the Commons, Been pickling us a rod; And off went the prison van, And took me to Quod!

* * * * *

THE ROAD IN 1853.

The days of the Highwaymen are over: but that need not be lamented by the admirers of the robbers of the good old times. The Highwaymen have been succeeded by the Railwayman.

* * * * *

THE FÊTALIST.

The First Emperor left behind him a "NAPOLEON Book of Fate."

The Second Emperor promises to enrich the history of France with a "NAPOLEON Book of Fêtes."

* * * * *

TOO MUCH AND TOO LITTLE.--The man who believes too little may be safer than the man who believes too much; but it is a question if, through life, he knows half as much pleasure.

* * * * *

RUSSIAN IMPUDENCE.--A celebrated Diplomatist who lisps a little, being asked to define Russian Impudence, answered very significantly "Why, ith's beyond PRUTH!"

* * * * *

BREAKING-UP DAY AT WESTMINSTER.

The Director-General of the St. Stephen's establishment, _Mr. Punch_, proceeded, in one cab, to Westminster Hall, and, desiring a chair to be placed for him upon the top of the flight of steps at the further end, commanded that the gentlemen of the Upper and Lower Schools should forthwith attend him, for the purpose of hearing his opinion of their general and individual conduct, preparatory to their being dismissed for the holidays. It is needless to say that his orders were instantly complied with, and that the Westminster Boys at once assembled before him. The only exception was in the case of MASTER SIBTHORP, who sturdily refused to come, and for whom a policeman was dispatched. MASTER SIBTHORP expended much abuse, and several quotations from the Eton Grammar, upon the officer, but was ultimately brought in, and placed within convenient reach of _Mr. Punch's_ cane. _Mr. Punch_ then spoke as follows:--

"MY BOYS,

"You have had a long half, but it is over, and I am glad to dismiss you for your vacation. The word vacation, SIBTHORP, is derived from the Latin, and originally signifies emptiness, for an illustration of which I will refer you to the head of the gallant member for Lincoln, or to the heads of those who can be such donkeys as to elect him. My boys, I am, generally speaking, satisfied with your conduct during the half.

"BOYS OF THE UPPER SCHOOL,

"I rejoice to find a marked improvement in the way you treat your themes. Your elocution is still open to amendment. I commend your regular adherence to the beneficial habit of early rising. I would caution you against quarrels amongst yourselves, arising from the use of intemperate speech or inapt quotation (_Masters_ DERBY _and_ OXFORD _blushed_); and I would remind you that no social position occupied by your papas and mammas exempts any of you from the duties which are imposed upon others (_Master_ WINCHELSEA _began to cry_). But, as a whole, you have pleased me this year, and I will add that the politeness with which you behave to ladies who may look in upon the establishment reflects great credit upon you, not unincreased by contrast (_Sensation among the Lower School_).

"ABERDEEN, you are leader of the school, and I could wish you to display more energy. I applaud your love for a peaceful life, but remember that there is one thing better than peace, and that is, honour. In the map of Russia, which you have drawn, you have not defined the boundaries strongly and well, and you do not seem to know where Turkey begins and Russia ends. You will lose credit unless you exert yourself.

"MALMESBURY, your English is exceedingly bad, and your logic very unsatisfactory. I understand that you are proud of your intimacy with a French person, who at one time bore no good character. Take care, sir. And be more guarded in your assertions as to what feats you have accomplished, and of which I find few traces in the school records.

"LANSDOWNE, I give you much credit for having just exerted yourself to put down the practice of smoking--the rather, as you have reached an age at which you are entitled to all due indulgence. You are a very excellent member of the school, and I wish you regarded as a model.

"MONTEAGLE, you talk a great deal too much in school hours, and are said to busy yourself in matters with which you have no concern. You have been a lucky boy--be an agreeable one.

"BOYS OF THE LOWER SCHOOL,

"I am sorry to have had to expel so many of your number this half, but I hope it will be a warning. Once for all, I will not permit you, by gifts of money or beer, to induce your inferiors to misconduct themselves for your gratification. I can use no adequate word of contempt for the meanness which sought to shift the guilt upon servants. In other respects I am tolerably satisfied with most of you. A good deal of work has been done, but there is far too much talking in the establishment, and you keep people out of their beds looking after you at hours when you ought to be asleep. I hope to have different reports next half.

"RUSSELL, I am glad to see you the leader of the school. I was pleased with your conduct to the Jew boys, whom I still intend to place in the school. I am sorry you have done next to nothing in the way of helping the education of those under you. However, as you have given me a large promise of reform for next half, I shall say no more.

"GLADSTONE, you deserve the highest praise for your proficiency in arithmetic, and for your gentlemanly conduct. Some of your companions hint that you talk rather too much. I do not impute this to you, but you will consider for yourself whether the allegation is justified. The way you have got through all duties is admirable.

"CARDWELL, I shall give you a well-deserved navigation prize, so you need not be quite so solemn.

"STAFFORD, the painful exposure I was compelled to make of your conduct would have prevented my referring to it again, but that I understand you and some of your friends have been swaggering, and declaring that you had escaped unpunished. Beware, Sir, that I never again hear your voice in the school, in which I only permit you to remain because I believe that you were made the tool of bigger and worse boys.

"FITZROY, I am sorry to see that you are not looking well. Take care of yourself in the country, and be assured, my boy, that I shall not forget the spirited way in which you protected those poor women from their husbands' brutality, or the very proper chastisement you gave to the insolent cabman.

"LUCAS, you are a foolish lad. Instead of enjoying the rational and manly liberty of your companions, you cripple your mind with silly stories and legends, and do not take your meals regularly. I hear, too, that you are very ignorant of the history of Rome, which you appear to have learned at second-hand from some monkish book in dog-Latin. You are no credit to your class, Sir, and I believe I have told you before that you are Lucas, _à non lucendo_.

"BROTHERTON, I applaud you for trying to get the school to bed by midnight, but you want perseverance, and let yourself be put down by any one who opposes you. If you are right and know it, never give way. Be firm, or you will not carry your objects--you cannot bolt a door with a boiled carrot, as you, as a vegetarian, ought to know.

"PALMERSTON, you are a very spirited, gentlemanly, thoroughly English fellow, in whom I have the utmost confidence. All that you have done this half has been excellent. I believe it would give everybody pleasure to see you at the head of the school, and it rests with yourself whether you will be so or not. _Excelsior_, my good boy. By the way, I have of course nothing to do with your amusements, but I observed you gave MASTER CORDEN a tremendous back fall the other day. It has shaken him a good deal, but he richly deserved it for the sneaking way he came to the scratch.

"SIBTHORP, as you say that you consider it an honour for me to notice you, why do you not so conduct yourself that what is certainly an honour to you may be a pleasure to me? (SIBTHORP _burst into tears_.) There, don't cry, you know I am never seriously angry with _you_.

"BOYS ALL,

"You may now go into your respective schools, and wait there until your monitors announce to you that vacation has begun."

* * * * *

THE LAND SCREW STEAM COMPANY.

We believe the General Screw Steam Shipping Company is connected with the Port of Southampton. It may not be generally known that there exists another Screw Steam concern in connexion with that same good town. We mean the South-Western Railway, which, particularly by its arrangements respecting the Camp at Chobham, and the Review at Spithead, appears to have decidedly adopted the principle of the Screw.

* * * * *

A MAN WALKS--A LADY RIDES.

A man should never object to exercise, for the gentleman is always distinguished by his walk; but there is this excuse to be made for a woman who takes but little exercise--that the lady is immediately known by her carriage.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FIGHTING FREWEN AND SOBER SHELLEY.

There appeared a chance a few days ago, that certain Members of Parliament would, instead of shooting the grouse, have the more exciting sport of shooting one another. SIR JOHN SHELLEY very properly refuses to be drawn into either a murder or a breach of the peace; and quietly refers MR. FREWEN'S furious correspondence to MESSRS. TYRRELL, PAINE, and LAYTON, who are, we presume, SIR JOHN'S solicitors.

A "little quarrel" with a legal firm may be less agreeable to one whom we fear we must call Fighting FREWEN, than a personal _rencontre_ with the Member for Westminster. A fight with a forensic antagonist in Westminster Hall is more formidable than a little harmless pistol-popping at Chalk Farm; and the powder of a barrister's wig is more dangerous to be set in agitation than the common gunpowder of commerce.

Poor FREWEN is evidently much nettled at finding that SIR JOHN SHELLEY won't fight, and in the desperate endeavour to stir up the unwilling baronet, tries the old cab-driver's dodge of calling after him "No gentleman!" We must say we cannot congratulate MR. FREWEN upon having got the best of the matter in either spirit, taste, or argument; for there is something more dignified in SIR JOHN SHELLEY'S request to be "excused from answering any further letters," than in MR. FREWEN'S coarse wind up of "Call yourself a gentleman!"

* * * * *

A NEW LACTOMETER.

A great philanthropist, and distinguished man of the world, has invented a new Lactometer for testing the milk of human kindness. We believe it is exceedingly simple, and consists principally of a plain sheet of paper--not unlike, in size, a page torn out of a banker's cheque-book, but having a Government Stamp in the corner of it. It is the size of this stamp that determines the quantity of milk of human kindness. The larger the stamp the greater the supply of milk. The test rarely fails, excepting with lawyers, guardians, step-fathers, and others, whose hardy natures are well known not to be largely imbued with the softening lacteal properties of human kindness. The philanthropist intends taking out a patent for his ingenious invention.

* * * * *

A GANGWAY JOKE.

MR. HAYTER, the Whipper-in, was supposed by the Members of Parliament to be very unfortunate with his servants, for during the past session, he was always going about trying to get a House made.

* * * * *

A RAP FOR THE CZAR.--A great deal of base gold coin is in circulation, but the worst Sovereign that has come before the public lately is the EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FUMIGATION OF THE THAMES.

Tobacco fumes are unpleasant to the majority of ladies. Nevertheless, we must protest against the prohibition of smoking abaft the funnel on board Thames steamers. The other day we were ascending the river in one of these vessels, seated in that quarter of it, when a youth, who was indulging in a Pickwick to the windward of us, was caused to transfer himself and his enjoyment forwards. No sooner had he gone away with his smoke, than our nostrils were assailed by the vilest of odours; a breath from the open mouth of a sewer on the opposite bank. This was just as we were passing the ARCHBISHOP'S Palace at Lambeth; and we could almost have imagined that DR. SUMNER had been at work purifying the Church, and had rendered its abuses palpable to the olfactory sense; in such great indignation were our nostrils at the perfume emitted in the neighbourhood of his Grace's premises. We wished our young friend back again with his "weed," the fragrance of which we very much prefer to that of metropolitan tributaries to the Thames: and until that stream is somewhat dulcified, we should think that even ladies would approve of universal fumigation on board its boats.

* * * * *

THE ENEMY.

The question of Peace has been carried in Europe, _nem. con._ BRIGHT, feeling peacefully inclined, said he should like all war-questions to be met and decided by a similar enemy; and, being asked by COBDEN "What enemy?"--he eloquently replied, "A-_n-emine contradicente_."

* * * * *

WHAT YOU MAY HEAR IN A BELL.

A curious old philosopher of our acquaintance says:--"I can always tell what kind of masters and servants there are in an establishment by the way in which the bell is rung and answered. If the bell is rung sharply, or snappishly, or at all loudly, I say to myself, You are hard masters, impatient, intolerant, making no allowances, and always expecting a thing to be done before it is even asked for, and my suspicions are generally verified by their ringing the bell a second time more loudly than the first; and if the servants take a long time in answering the bell, I say to myself, You are bad servants, either lazy or pampered, or spoilt by too much indulgence, and evidently taking but little interest in your master's wishes. It is a sure sign that there is not much peace or comfort to be met with in the house where the master rings several times for everything he wants; and where the servants require the bell to be rung twice before they think of answering it."

* * * * *

A NAVAL BLUNDERBUSS.

We are sorry to notice an anachronism in a popular review. We mean the review at Spithead. A gun was used in the fleet, called--we cannot say christened--the "NELSON AVENGER." Now NELSON has been sufficiently avenged; if insufficiently honoured: whatever account of vengeance may have been owing to him was settled at the time; though our debt of gratitude to him may be eternal. Posterity has no revenge to take on Posterity: and a gun only meant to rake the rigging of our enemies should not be so named as to rake up animosities with our friends.

* * * * *

FAREWELL TO THE CAMP.

A LYRIC FOR THE 20TH AUGUST, 1853.

(_From_ COWPER.)

The Camp has departed!--farewell the parade, And the earth-shaking march of the stern Colonnade[3] The bands play no longer from manuscript leaves, Nor detectives prowl stealthily watching the thieves.

The City of War, which immense fun we've had in Is fled like the palace that flew with ALADDIN; And musketry's crack, and artillery's roar Astonish the echoes of Chobham no more.

The Lancer in scarlet, the Rifle in green, And the Horse-guard in blue, have abandoned the scene; And we've witness'd the last of the blood-stirring frays Where gallop'd in glory those terrible Greys.

No longer in toothsome libation is spilt The Dew that is dear to the sons of the kilt; No longer falls plashing in pleasantness here, The frothy cascade of the black British beer.

O! Chobham Olympics, your games are all done, The last close is wrestled, the last race is run, The stone's "put" away, to the leap-frog there's truce, And the ultimate caber is pitched to the deuce.

Rejoice in thy stable, thou omnibus steed! For thee the campaign-times were wiry indeed. No more shalt thou toil on that villanous road; With a cargo of snobs for thy heart-breaking load.

Weep, rascally drivers of ramshackle flies, Adieu your extortions, your sauce, and your lies, Farewell to that Station, the cheating point where You've so oft charged a pound for a two shilling fare.

Well, everything passes: a Camp like the rest, But this ends while its novelty still has a zest; And we're free to confess that we see with regret The Flutters Hill's sun, like the Austerlitz, set.

Here's a health to the officer--liner or guard-- Who with CAMBRIDGE and SEATON has laboured so hard. Here's a health to his men, whose good looks and good will Did such excellent credit to messman and drill.

The object was good, and the object is gained, Right sound is the teaching the troops have obtained; And we'll mark that M.P. for a short-sighted scamp Who grudges one mil for the Chobhamite Camp.

[Footnote 3:] A Colonnade is that which consists of columns. The British Army consists thereof. Therefore the British Army is a Colonnade.--WALKER.

* * * * *

NUMBER ONE AND NUMBER TWO.--The first time a woman marries it is generally to please another; but the second time it is invariably to please herself.

* * * * *

THE INQUISITION AT MALTA.

Here is a pretty dish that was to have been set before the QUEEN:--

"Whosoever, during the performance of the sacred functions or ceremonies of the Church of the country, the Roman Catholic Apostolic Church, the maintenance and protection of which, in its present position, are secured by law, and guaranteed by the British Crown, shall disturb the same with violence or with intent to profane, whether within or without places appointed for public worship, shall be punished with imprisonment, from seven months to two years."

According to MR. I. BUTT this passage is contained in the 50th Clause of the amended Maltese Criminal Code which has been coolly sent to this country for the sanction of HER MAJESTY.

No doubt a person who should wantonly interrupt a congregation of Mormonites, or even of dancing Dervishes, engaged in their devotions, would deserve to be punished; of course, therefore, there is no complaining of a law which avenges interference with Roman Catholic rites and ceremonies--those rites and ceremonies not going quite so far as the rite of cremation and the ceremony of an _auto-da-fé_.

It is also indubitable that the adherents of the Romish Church have a perfect right to call their persuasion Catholic and Apostolic, or anything else they please, and hold that assertion against all comers, by all means: except, we will say, by means of fire and sword.

But to propose the recognition of the Roman Catholic Church, as Apostolical, to the QUEEN OF ENGLAND, is--without reference to polemics--richly absurd: since HER MAJESTY holds her royal seat on the very condition of constantly protesting--right or wrong--that the Roman Catholic Church is no such thing.

If _Mr. Punch_ were in Malta, writing under this same amended criminal code, he would have to take care how he pointed out any Roman Catholic absurdity. He is informed by MR. NEWDEGATE,

"That the 54th Clause declared it to be punishable to 'revile or otherwise insult or ridicule any article of the Roman Catholic Church.'"

Now there are other varieties of ridicule than burlesque, caricature, horse-laughter, and making faces. There is the ridicule of the _reductio ad absurdum_. It is possible to place a proposition in a ludicrous light by showing that if it is true, it is a truth which is contrary to another truth. In Malta, therefore, subject to the above clause, it would be dangerous to assert the impenetrability of matter, or any other fact in the nature of things inconsistent with any dogma of the papal system: and if _Mr. Punch_ were not to mind what he was about, he might get himself into trouble in like manner with that other buffoon, GALILEO.

However, MR. KINNAIRD has procured the re-consideration of these penal papisticalities: and Ministers will think twice before they advise HER MAJESTY to stultify herself and sanction a Maltese Inquisition.

* * * * *

A HINT TO BELGRAVIA, TYBURNIA, CADOGANIA, &c. &c.

We hint to noblemen and gentlemen of (very) independent property, before rushing out of town, that they should think of the numerous little bills they leave behind them. They would not enjoy themselves any the less if they discharged those little bills instead of making their tradesmen wait six long empty-pocketed mouths for them. The probability is, even, they would enjoy themselves all the more, knowing that they had left a clear coast behind them, where they could always land with safety whenever they wanted to escape from foreign pirates, and continental sharks, sea and land robbers. We beg, (merely moved by a charitable motive to add to their pleasures,) to draw up the following advertisement for them, on the plan of the one issued at the end of the season by the Directors of the Covent Garden Italian Opera:--

ALL persons having claims for the last season upon the RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD TOM NODDY are requested, before he leaves for Baden-Baden, Homburg, Wiesbaden, &c., where he is going to take the usual annual course of _rouge et-noir_ and the mineral waters, to send in their accounts immediately, and to apply on Saturday, the 27th inst., when they will be paid in full, as the RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD TOM NODDY has no desire to increase the ducal revenues of any German principality with money that belongs properly to his creditors.--239, Belgrave Square.

* * * * *

TOO MODEST BY HALF.

Most of the illuminations in honour of the Emperor's fète at Paris, displayed the glittering initials, N. E. This was only telling half the truth. It wanted the addition of R. O. for the French nation clearly to understand in whose honour the fête was given.

* * * * *

THE PEACEFUL MOOD.

(_As gone through by a real Member of the Peace Society._)

I shall, and will, fight Thou shalt, and wilt, fight He, or she, shall, and will, fight We shall, and will, fight You, or ye, shall, and will, fight They shall, and will, fight.

[_To be repeated as often as the probability of a War springs up._

* * * * *

PLAIN UPON THE FACE OF IT.--Many persons are led by their vices as there are many who are led by their noses: but there are a far greater number who follow both without any leading at all.

* * * * *

ANOTHER DIETETIC RULE OF CONDUCT.--Never to send a servant out on an errand after dinner, but _always a little before_. It is extraordinary how very quick, in the latter case, he (or she) will return.

* * * * *

PEDESTRIANISM VERY EXTRAORDINARY.

The _Wolverhampton Chronicle_ contains the following paragraph, highly important to ladies:--

"THE WOMAN'S WALK.--MRS. DUNN'S pedestrian feat--walking 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours--at Noah's Ark, Hartshill, continues to attract much attention, great numbers of people visiting her. She has accomplished about four-sixths of the task, and is very confident of success."

It has been said with no less truth than vulgarity, that the walking of womankind is all WALKER. Too generally, indeed, it resembles a mode of progression adopted by the insect tribes, except in being performed with two legs instead of several, or without any at all. All praise to the exception to this rule presented by MRS. DUNN. We have not the pleasure of being acquainted with either that lady or MR. DUNN, but sure we are that she makes her husband a happy man if the health of his wife can make a man happy; as of course it can or should: whereas her illness at least makes him very much the reverse. By exercise in the open air is acquired that soundness of condition, accompanied by mental serenity and beauty of complexion which can never result from dancing in an atmosphere of carbonic acid--the only purpose for which many, many ladies use their legs. What MR. DUNN'S partner costs him for shoes, we are sure he does not grudge, and he would be a fool if he did, for it is much cheaper that she should walk him out a little leather than that she should stand him in a large quantity of medicine: to say nothing of the cabs and omnibuses which are frequently required to travel a hundred yards or so by other wives.

* * * * *

BRITISH OBSEQUIES IN SPAIN

If you wish to save your Succession Duty, reform your Undertaker's Bills. There is nothing to prevent you but the censure of the lowest vulgar--the mob that does not think for itself: a mob composed of quite as many well dressed persons as ragamuffins. Unfortunately, however, this populace may be able to injure as well as hoot you; and that power it will exercise if you do not conform to its idiotisms; one of which is, the addition of upholstery to ashes, and drapery to dust.

It would therefore be a great boon to you--being a wise man, and likewise an executor or a legatee charged with an interment--if your expenditure were subject to be regulated by the subjoined ordinance:--

"In conveying dead bodies to the burial-ground every kind of pomp and publicity shall be avoided."

They manage these matters better in Spain, you will say: for this is one of the articles of a Royal decree that has been issued at Madrid.

But it is also ordained in the same decree, that

"No church, chapel, nor any other sign of a temple or of public or private worship will be allowed to be built in the aforesaid cemetery."

Now, the aforesaid cemetery is the Protestant cemetery. And it is further declared that

"All acts which can give any indication of the performance of any divine service whatever are prohibited."

The above regulations will be found in a Parliamentary paper recently published, containing official correspondence between GENERAL LERSUNDI and LORD HOWDEN, relative to the Protestant Cemetery aforesaid at Madrid. The noble Lord's reply to the gallant officer will be found highly satisfactory, as conveying to the Spanish Government the assurance of that distinguished contempt for it, which is due to a set of imbecile and miserable bigots--utensils of their priesthood.

One would really think that the clergy of Spain and almost all other Roman Catholic countries were doing their very utmost to earn the crown of martyrdom--not, however, for themselves, but for their ecclesiastical brethren, together with all the lay partisans of Popery in Protestant countries. They appear to be trying as hard as they can to prove that the predominance of their religion is inconsistent with civil freedom. The struggles, then, so perseveringly made, both in and out of Parliament, to extend and establish an influence which, wherever it prevails, is seen to issue in tyranny the most hateful; what can they be considered but endeavours to spin cobwebs about our liberties? And have we not every temptation to sweep away the spiders? Resist it, however: resist it, MR. BULL: don't crush the poor creatures, but destroy their webs.

* * * * *

THE CONCEIT OF THE WORLD.--"There isn't a mite" (says LAVATER), "but what fancies itself the cheese."

* * * * *

"WE NEVER SELL OUR APPOINTMENTS."

(_Dedicated, without permission, to the Honourable Directors of the East India Company._)

JOHN BRIGHT is a pestilent fellow, Always ready for making a fight, But of all his low bluster and bellow, We East India Directors make light. Some appointments (we do not mind telling him) We do give away now and then, But to go and accuse us of selling 'em!-- When we're all of us "hon'rable men!"

SIR JAMES HOGG from his place in the House Repelled MR. BRIGHT'S imputation; And showed all his usual _nous_ In insisting on investigation. Such inquiry we've made as we can, Sir, And we're ready to make it again, To ask freely--when parties won't answer-- Proves clearly we're "hon'rable men."

In the first place our statutes declare The sale of appointments illegal, So of course to such sales none would dare Directors to try and inveigle, 'T was done once--but though that was by _charity_-- The law on the case threw its ken, And the row that was made proved the rarity Of such practice 'mong "hon'rable men."

City men--we've our City connections-- (In this there is no impropriety) We've the social and private affections Which belong to our grade in society. If I lay a man 'neath obligation, Of course he'll oblige me again; But we never take remuneration-- For we're all of us "hon'rable men."

If the daughter of one of our Board (And such things have occurred in the body), By winning the hand of a Lord From MISS BLOGG become LADY TOM NODDY. If young NODDIES have writerships handed 'em, And young BLOGGS Treasury clerkships, what then? Is BLOGG less, though JOHN BRIGHT may have branded him, One of twenty-four "hon'rable men?"

As we're quite the commercial _élite_, In the very first circles while moving, If the dignified clergy we meet, The occasion we're right in improving. What delight for the son of a bishop To provide, by a stroke of the pen! In return--if a living he fish up Why we're both of us "hon'rable men."

Even Cabinet Ministers often Are proud to admit us as friends, In those social enjoyments which soften Official hauteur, till it bends: What pleasure to give one's cadetships To a hard-worked First Lord--and if then, One's sons, now on half-pay, should get ships, Does that prove us less "hon'rable men?"

As with other men's daughters and wives, So with ours it is often a passion (As the Bank or the Brewery thrives), To shine in the regions of fashion; For a chaperon countess's matronage, Or a duchess's favouring ken, A slice of one's Indian patronage, Is no price among "hon'rable men."

Then let's hope that the scandal will never Again with belief be received, That for Indian appointments we ever Dream of such thing as "Value received." "Nought for nothing," of old was the motto, And appointments were trafficked in then, "All for nothing," is what we have got to-- We twenty-four "hon'rable men."

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.

No. 1.

The philosophic traveller leaves his native country in order to study the manners of "our volatile neighbours." At the London Bridge Station he finds a crowd of excited persons, evidently bent on the same object. Every man has a passport in his breast-pocket, and is encumbered with much unnecessary luggage, including the plate-chest, so indispensable to the English gentleman's toilet. A foretaste of foreign sights is given by groups of Frenchmen in beards and moustachios, wrapped in furred garments of strange fashion, and overcome by nervousness at the varied dangers which they are about to encounter. Your correspondent, with proper indifference, reads _Punch_ and the evening papers all the way to Dover. His companions are two anxious Gauls, a boy and his tutor, and a party of exceedingly gay appearance and manners, who has no uniform rule for the introduction or suppression of his h's. He is perhaps a traveller in the button or hook-and-eye line.

At Dover the tourist is turned out into the dark with his companions, and finds himself in the power of a band of bravoes, who share the luggage between them, thrust us, the helpless owners, into narrow and filthy dungeons on wheels, and then, reckless of prayers and menaces, hold a council upon our fate. We are at length hurried off into deeper gloom, and the plash of the ocean awakens indefinable apprehensions in the breasts of all. But we wrong the band--they are honest as things go, and will take ransom. A shilling, under pretence of an omnibus ride of a hundred yards, satisfies one ruffian; a second shilling stays the wrath of another, who in return mildly slides your portmanteau down a board into the steamer. This vessel is fuming in great excitement at everybody's confounded stupidity and slowness. "What on earth are you waiting for?" it seems to say. "How can you possibly expect me to take the letters in time? It's all very well for you, you know, but I'm a public character, and have got a reputation to keep up. Don't stand loitering there about those things. Pitch 'em in anyhow. Hang the luggage. What's luggage to letters? You have no idea how important the mail-service is. I know I'm very passionate, and if you don't come at once I shall scream."

Ah! the last carpet-bag is in; the bell rings, the bad language partially ceases, the mooring ropes are cast off, and the fussy old animal is allowed to have her own way. The philosophic tourist finds his companions of the train. The tutor is curled up under the table in the cabin, which is full of sleepers, lying about in every direction like great flies who have over-eaten themselves. The distinguished foreigners have already become pale even at the tranquil heaving of the harbour tide. The hook-and-eye man and the boy are smoking infamous cheroots, drinking neat cognac, and making pointless jokes in a loud voice to the steward. We are outside the pier. Your correspondent has no emotions. He sees the cliffs of Albion diminish without a sigh--a regret. He does not feel the poetry of the situation. He omits to quote _Childe Harold_ to a gentleman's servant who kindly helps him on with a third great-coat. He is perhaps brutal; yet he is not without some remains of human sentiment. The greatest pleasure man can enjoy is to contemplate the misfortunes of others. Accordingly, he visits the sick. The cabin has become a hospital--a Pandemonium. To stay there is impossible, he returns to the deck. Alas! the furry exiles are paying a bitter tribute to the ocean. The happier ancients could propitiate NEPTUNE with a horse. Now-a-days he has a fancy for human sacrifices, and will only lie appeased by a portion of ourselves. HOOKS-AND-EYES has lost his disposition to joke, regrets the brandy, curses the cheroot, and sits down in gloomy silence. The youngster is jollier than ever, and chaffs his discomfited friend, whom he pronounces in private an awful snob.

Meanwhile the swift steamship cuts through the hissing waves. A south wind springs up, and we enjoy a pleasant variety of motion. To the original regular dip and rise which tried so many, is now added a jerking roll, occasionally amounting to a lurch. "_Ah ciel!_" gasp the expiring Gauls. "Steward, steward!" yells HOOKS-AND-EYES, as he flies across the deck seemingly by some supernatural impulse, and clings convulsively to the lee bulwarks. "And they said we should have a good passage," complain half a dozen other wretched beings, who make up a party to occupy the same position. The philosopher and his young friend pace the deck as well as they can, and hold sweet conversation. The artless lad details his ancient lineage, his past at Eton, his future at Oxford, and the Continental tour which, illustrated by the mild wisdom of JENKINS, M.A., is to fill up the interval between the two. These pleasant words make short the voyage. "Mark, my youthful acquaintance," says the philosopher, "mark the abject misery of these men. There are Britons among them, but the first, the feeblest of them all are French. Rejoice, therefore, for this malady is the Guardian Genius of our shores. Here are coast-defences more stubborn than Martello towers, more terrible than militia men, more vigilant even than a Channel fleet. Figure to yourself an army of red-trowsered invaders in this state offering to land on English shore, and bless the beneficent dispensations of nature. And now, perhaps, you will do me the favour of whistling _Rule Britannia_. Thank you."

The lights of Calais become rapidly visible, the seas abate, the groaning invalids recover their legs, the poor sick ladies come up from the cabin; we glide into smooth water listening to strange cries from the pier, and finally grate along the quay. We are welcomed to the strand of France by _douaniers_ in green with round caps, and policemen in blue with cocked hats and yellow shoulder-belts. We must try to admire and love these men, for as long as we remain, they are fated to be our constant companions. The dilapidated troop of travellers is marched into a sort of condemned cell, whence a detachment disappears from time to time to undergo the examination of their passports and luggage. Here comes the first need of the French tongue. The miserable foreigners recover something of their importance, and the Britons, proud of their exemption from the troubles of the sea, begin to find that they are mortal. HOOKS-AND-EYES, emboldened by excessive draughts of brandy, which make him blink and walk unsteadily, becomes a public character by the wonderful volubility with which he talks an idiom of his own, perfectly unintelligible to the officials. He fancies, it would seem, that he is speaking some Continental language. An hour--two hours--are thus cheerfully spent, and we ultimately settle into a train which ultimately starts. Sleep is rendered impossible by a tin box full of hot water laid at the bottom of the carriage, which, though it certainly warms your feet, brings your knees up to your chin, and at last amounts to an instrument of torture.

The chill of dawn penetrates through voluminous wrappings, and the grey light, as it gradually strengthens, renders visible the dreary face of the country and the haggard unshaven countenances of the travellers. Our young friend, however, is as fresh as a rose and as airy as a lark. "Why, the sunrise is just like the sunrise in England, only not so fine. My eye, look at those pigs! what tremendous legs they've got! That black one is just like a greyhound; he might go for the Derby if he was in condition. Look, there's a clod in wooden shoes. Ah! none of the labourers in Leicestershire wear wooden shoes. That's what my governor said at the last election, when we licked the Freetraders so. Nothing like the British peasantry, their country's pride, when once--I forget how it goes on. Why, they have not got any hedges, just fancy. That isn't good farming, is it, MR. JENKINS?" That Master of Arts, who, under happier circumstances, might have here given a quotation from _Virgil's Georgics_, was meekly prostrate beneath the vicissitudes of travel, and quite unable to reply. As we stop at occasional stations we see groups of happy country people, the women in jackets and white caps, the men in blouses, mounted in open cars, and laughing and jabbering without end. Houses become more frequent--tall, slim, chilly-looking white structures, with Venetian blinds outside each window. More careful cultivation marks the proximity of a great market. Finally, we pass deep ditches, low massive walls, not visible till you are close to them when you see how enormous they are, a ragged suburb, and we are in Paris. A fresh searching of luggage, a light one this time, for butter, eggs, and cabbages, I believe, sets us free--that is, as free as any one can be out of dear Old England.

The philosophic traveller here makes one reflection. What assurance a man must have to bore the British public with the description of a journey that every one has made, and knows as well as he does the Greenwich Railway, or the route from Chelsea to the Bank!

* * * * *

ALARMING RAILWAY ACCIDENT.

An accident, the consequences of which have proved more serious than was at first anticipated, has occurred on the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, the rails and sleepers of which had, we understand, been, for some time previously, in an insecure condition. The result has been damages to the amount of above £7,000, incurred by the Company at the Northern Circuit Assizes for loss of life attributed to that state of things. As the sufferers in this instance are directors, instead of stokers or engineers, the calamity will perhaps prove a salutary lesson to them, by teaching them to make better arrangements for the safety of the public. Many of the victims, we believe, have wives and families, to whom, however, it is not apprehended that their loss will prove unusually distressing.

FURTHER PARTICULARS.

Since the accident, we are informed by our special contemporary, the _Morning Post_, that the authorities of the Railway in question

"Have issued the following ticket, which passengers on their dangerous line are required to sign, and which we here give word for word as it is printed and issued by these liberal directors:--

"'This ticket is issued by the Company and accepted by the holder, upon the express understanding and agreement that the Company are not to be in any way held responsible to the holder, or his representatives, for the consequences of _any accident, however caused_, which may happen to the holder while travelling in any of the Company's vehicles, or being at any of the Company's Stations. It must be exhibited to the Company's Officers whenever required, and any person using it other than the person named herein will be liable to the same penalties as a passenger who does not pay his fare.'"

We have no reason for supposing that the above agreement is a hoax, which has been palmed off upon our contemporary, or that it is a joke at the expense of those unfortunate people who have been already put to so much. On our mind there is no doubt of its authenticity. We are sorry to say we do not think it calculated to answer its purpose; which is to insure the pockets of the Company against the consequences of those awful accidents which are inevitable on an unsafe line. In the first place, we are of opinion that it would not hold good in law. But even if it were legal, it would only tend to obviate the pecuniary consequences of accidents, by preventing the accidents from occurring; and that simply by deterring the public from running the risk of them. To find a Railway Company demanding to insure their property against his loss of life or limb, as a condition to taking him as a passenger, is rather calculated to reduce a man to a sense of the dreadful situation in which he must place himself by venturing on their line. If they persist in issuing this precautionary ticket, they might as well, for consistency's sake, adorn their stations with death's heads and tombstone cherubim, and cover their platforms with black cloth.

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GREAT SUCCESS OF CLAIRVOYANCE.

It is perfectly well known, and firmly believed by many of the gullible, that some clairvoyants, by the mere inspection of a lock of a patient's hair, are able to ascertain his complaint and also to prescribe for it, without having acquired any knowledge of medicine. We are informed by a person of quality, on whom we can depend, that a certain clairvoyant having had a portion of hair shown to him the other day, instantly pronounced the individual it had belonged to a lunatic, and recommended that the whole head should be shaved. The declaration of the somnambulist was remarkably verified, and the propriety of his advice demonstrated, by the fact, that the individual who had owned the hair turned out to be a gentleman who had been sending conscience money to the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER "for omitted Income Tax."

* * * * *

A Present for Aberdeen.

The _Times_ correspondent writes that English sailors are dying, poisoned by the miasma and mosquito bites at the mouth of the Danube, blocked up by the atrocity of Russia. And what says ABERDEEN? Nothing. We have heard of such visitors as a flea in one's ear; now, by way of a memento of dying British tars, we wish LORD ABERDEEN had just one mosquito in his night cap.

* * * * *

SEA SNIPS.

Battle steamers will, perhaps, in one sense of the word, be correctly denominated Navy tailors, in consequence of cutting out men of war.

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* * * * *

OUR HONEYMOON.

WEDNESDAY--MAY 29, 18--.

"Now, my dear FRED--if I could only feel certain you were quite ashamed of yourself, you don't know how comfortable I should be? Call yourself a Christian, and going out murdering people!" I couldn't help saying as much: no, quite the reverse.

"But nobody's hurt," said FRED, laughing. "Besides, now we're the best friends in the world."

"Well, men _are_ creatures, to be sure! To make friendship over bullets and gunpowder. And supposing you'd been killed? Now, just to satisfy me, just for a moment suppose that?"

Whereupon, in his odd way, he stared in my face; and said he thought the calamity would have mightily become me.

"And to have been made a widow for another person--and that person, one's own servant. But I have given JOSEPHINE warning"--

"Nonsense!" said FREDERICK, and I _did_ stare. "Nonsense, my darling," he repeated in his tender way; but I was not to be persuaded.

"Why, the creature was bold enough before. But with the thought in her head that her master had been fighting a duel, and all about her, she'd be as conceited, the house wouldn't hold her. She _goes_: now, it's no use talking, of _that_ I'm determined."

"And so because a foolish young man--not but what he's a very good fellow--_will_ write letters to a silly girl"--

"Oh, never tell me! He'd never have sent letters and nosegays to _such_ a person, if she hadn't encouraged him."

"Ha! that's how you women help one another! The man begins the injury, and the sister-woman finishes it. No, LOTTY; you'll do nothing of the sort. You'll not part with JOSEPHINE; and, more than that, you'll see young BLISS to-day. Who'd have thought to fight the brother of"--

"The fisherwoman? Well, it's very odd; I must say it's odd: and if I _do_ consent to see him, I know I shall only be laughed at."

"Do what's right, LOTTY; and then you may laugh with the laughers."

Now there was such good sense in this, that what could I say? Why, I didn't know; so I just put my arm about his neck.

"Yes, my love, and you'll not crush poor TRUEPENNY"--

"Now, don't ask me that, FRED; that is really too much."

"They'll both be here to-day; and, come, I'll strike a bargain with you, LOTTY?"

"A bargain?" said I. "Why, what's the use, FRED, when you always get the best of it? Well, I'm in a foolish good temper, so what is it?"

"If you'll receive young BLISS"--

"But is it really true that MISS BLISS--the young lady with the artificial flies--is going to be married? Really true?"

"I've told you, I hear next week. That fine young fellow we saw at the church, he's the man. When _their_ honeymoon is over, I intend to ask them, and young BLISS, too, to _The Flitch_."

"Well?" said I, a little relenting. "And now your bargain?"

"You'll see young BLISS and TRUEPENNY--they'll be here to lunch--and we'll start for home, by the first stage to-day, directly afterwards. Is it a bargain?"

"It's two days earlier than we're looked for," said I.

"Very well, let us stop out the time here," cried FRED.

"Not another hour. No; now I shall never be fully happy till I'm at home. I do verily believe, I shall go upon my knees and kiss the door-step. So JOSEPHINE has but to bestir herself--I only hope she'll prove herself worthy of the confidence we place in her; but it's a risk, FRED; depend on it, 'tis a risk."

With this I ran away to my room, and made JOSEPHINE comfortable, telling her that I thought her a most imprudent, if not a very culpable young woman, to have nosegays and letters sent to her, and so to destroy the peace of families--for it was no use to tell me that she couldn't help the gentleman sending them, that I _couldn't_ believe;--but nevertheless if, as I believed, she was truly sorry for her conduct, I wouldn't have the heart to throw her upon the wide, wide world; but would much rather prefer to take her home with us, and--if she continued to behave herself--to make her happy as the day was long. I said all this; but I was sorry, really hurt to observe, that the young woman listened to a good deal I said, like any stone. But then for gratitude, who's to expect it?

We soon had everything packed, and I returned to FRED. Was ever anything so provoking? Instead of MR. BLISS and that TRUEPENNY, came two letters of apology. MR. BLISS had received a sudden call upon his attention that he must obey, but hoped to be allowed to see FRED and "his charming partner"--(and he'd thought nothing of making her a disconsolate widow!)--some day at _The Flitch_. As for MR. TRUEPENNY, he declared to FRED that "he had not the courage to meet his wife:" which I considered a very proper compliment to my spirit. I scarcely thought the man had as much remorse and proper feeling in him. And then he added--"P.S. I write this upon my knees, sending my contrition to your estimable partner; with an earnest prayer that, at some distant day, I may be permitted to approach her at her own fireside. Dinner is beyond my ambition as above my deserts: but, I trust, that after due time and penitence, I may hope to be called to the tea-table. May hope still lift up her azure eyes to muffins?"

"I really don't see anything to laugh at," said I to FRED, who was mightily amused as he read the letter. And to say the truth I _was_ a little vexed. Because I had made my mind up to show FRED how forgivingly I could behave--and then to be disappointed of the opportunity _was_ vexing.

However, we lunched alone; paid the bill; and--shall I ever forget how I jumped into the carriage? I seemed to have wings!--and away we trundled homewards--homewards!

_Home._

I fairly cried with happiness when I crossed the threshold. When I dropt in my chair at my fireside, I felt like the happiest Queen upon her throne. How beautiful, too, everything looked! There seemed a bloom, a brightness upon everything in the house; whilst the garden was glowing, brimming with flowers; all of them nodding at me, as I thought, a welcome.

What a house-warming we've had! And I never can complain of the smallness of the house after such a party! A hundred and fifty, and still plenty of room for _Roger de Coverley_. Mamma danced with TRUEPENNY who--the foolish fellow!--would go upon his knees on the hearth, and drink a glass of champagne in honour, as he said, of the household gods. We've had merriment enough almost for a life! I begin to be afraid of so much happiness--can it last?

_May 1, Twenty-ninth return of Wedding Day._

Thankful, grateful, for all blessings! Happiness has continued; happiness the purest and best, for--as dear, dear FRED says--the happiness was ever home-made.

* * * * *

BRITISH BLACK SLAVERY.

LORD PALMERSTON has furnished the Women of America with a new answer to the Women of England. The American ladies say that now the Smoke Nuisance Bill has passed, we cannot blame the States for their Runaway Negro Act, inasmuch as we ourselves have made a law to prevent the escape of the Blacks.

* * * * *

VERY LIKE A WHALE.

The Yankee scheme for purchasing the fictitious title to the American Fisheries from the pretended EARL OF STIRLING, comes out under the auspices of an Ex-Secretary of State with the portentous name of--WALKER!

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* * * * *

GREAT CATCHES.

Whether everybody has his price or not; there are some quite capable of selling themselves, even by auction: as, for one instance, we should think, the author of the subjoined advertisement:--

AS LEDGER CLERK, Manager, and Correspondent.--A gentleman, of close-sticking business habits, who does nothing by halves, whose references as to character, &c., are first-rate, and whose devotion to his employers' interests ever has been unbounded, is just now open to a RE-ENGAGEMENT. The advertiser is of ripe, vigorous, middle-age, and so undeviatingly systematic, as by the restless force of example, to be qualified to establish, in all around him, habits of perseverance, self denial, and fagging industry, such as could not fail to tell wonderfully, as those habits became more and more fully developed, on any set of people so organised. Clever men of business, who, one and all, admire cleverness in others, and especially when it makes to them its own peculiar bow of the most profound obeisance, are most respectfully requested to address their replies to ALPHA DELTA, &c., &c.

The gentleman so industriously adhesive certainly does not cry himself up by halves; and the glowing language in which he describes his age as "ripe and vigorous," might well become some YANKEE GEORGE ROBINS appraising an UNCLE TOM. We can vividly imagine him putting himself up, ringing the changes on his ripeness and vigour, first-rate references, undeviatingly systematic ways, close-sticking business habits, and unbounded devotion to his employers' interests: and ultimately, with his "own peculiar bow of the most profound obeisance," respectfully knocking himself down to the best bidder. We should like to buy him at our terms in this manner, if we could afterwards dispose of him at his own. But our friend blows his trumpet with rather too many flourishes; makes overmuch use of the figure hyperbole, to commend himself for employment in those figures that Ledger Clerks are more particularly concerned with.

In the same _Times_ that contained the foregoing announcement, appears also the following:--

NO SALARY REQUIRED.--A young Gentleman, (20 years of age), author of several works, wishes for a HOME. He is a beautiful reader and writer; can write poetry, tales, essays, and anything literary. He is possessed of pleasing manners, kind disposition, and would do all in his power to make himself useful, and contribute to the happiness of those with whom he may become associated. One of his works sent for six stamps. Address Reginald Villiers, &c., &c.

This is a performance on a similar instrument; but it is the clarionet to the cornet-à-pistons. Only 20; a "beautiful" reader and writer; can write poetry, tales, essays, and "anything literary;" and is already the "author of several works." Why, this is a second

"CHATTERTON the marvellous Boy,"

and we should say he had better take care that he does not so far resemble

"The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride,"

as to go off, some day, in a fit of vanity and self-conceit.

We are almost inclined to send him six stamps for one of his works, in order that we may ascertain if it is worth a single rap.

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ROEBUCK HIMSELF AGAIN.

The _Sheffield Independent_ announces that MR. ROEBUCK'S health is so much improved that he has accepted an invitation to the Cutlers' feast. We are happy to hear it, and hope MR. ROEBUCK will do the Cutlers the credit of playing a good knife and fork.

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THE DECIMAL COINAGE.

_The Chairman of the Committee to the Vulgar (fractional) Public._

AIR--_"Won't you Come and take Tea in the Arbour?"_

The Coinage Committee, which sat in the City, At last have completed their labour, And derive from the action intense satisfaction; We're sick of "COLENSO" and "MAVOR!" But as it may be thought that we mean our "report" For the special behoof of "the City," Half a page of the _Times_ we'll condense into rhymes To the air of a popular ditty. So, though it's uphilly, give up all your silly Ideas, which might suit your grandfather About shillings and pence, which are not common sense, And take to the decimals rather!

As in loyalty bound, we shall stick to the pound-- 'Twould be treason the "sovereign" to banish; But all the half-crowns, "bobs", "joeys", and "browns," Into Royal Mint-sauce must vanish. But we'll leave you the _Florin_, which cannot be foreign, As every one lots of them handles, And of these 'twill be found, ten will go to the pound, For all the world like--kitchen candles! Then, though it's uphilly, &c.

Still on decimals bent, we descend to the _Cent_ (Find its value yourself, if you're able), Divide by ten still, and you'll come to the _Mil_ There, my friends, you've the whole of the table. So we hope by next session, you'll be in possession Of some sensible decimal money; And pay all little bills in cents, florins, and mils, Never mind if, at first, it seem funny. But, though it's uphilly, &c.

Those who talk about "browns," and say "bulls"--meaning crowns, Perchance for "nicknames" may be roarin'; Recollect in a "_mill_" you've of _pound_ing your fill, And frequently plenty of _floorin'_. Now, Public! tho' slow--that you're grateful to show (If you are not a stingy, mean sinner), The least you can do, is to just buckle to, And give the Committee--a dinner! Then, though it's uphilly, &c.

* * * * *

THE BRITISH CONSULATE AT BOULOGNE.

(_From our Travelling Contributor._)

The British Consulate at Boulogne still "hangs out" over the "tinnery, leadery, and zincery," at the end of the port, as we have ascertained by a recent visit. The ground floor is occupied by a sauce-pan shop, while British diplomacy has taken the floor above, and the frontage of the premises displays a rivalry of attraction between the "British Consular Office for Passports" and the "_Bazar des Quatre_" something or other, which the tinman adopts as the name of his domicile.

We recognise no change in the arrangements since we noticed the establishment two years ago, except that the individual who represents British diplomacy has got a new cap, is rather more civil spoken than he was, and the boy who runs to call him when he is in another room is grown bigger than he used to be. This is all natural enough, and so far unobjectionable, though we are not quite so well satisfied with a rope that has been attached to one side of the staircase by way of bannisters. On the day of our visit there was a consular _torchon_, or diplomatic dishclout hanging to dry on the landing, which we thought savoured of anything but dignity. The rope was well enough as far as it went, and the Consul has given the public just rope enough to hang itself, or rather to pull itself up by, in ascending the staircase. We presume that all this homeliness is as much as the passport fees will afford, and we can only regret, for the credit of British diplomacy, that it is as much dignity as can be sustained upon the four-and-two-pences that pour in on the establishment at Boulogne.

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PHYSIC FOR BRUTES.

A hair of the dog that bit you is recommended as a cure for the consequences of drunkenness; but when intoxication results in beating women, the dog does not afford so proper a remedy as the cat.

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Who was the first "Gent" on record?--The Lawyer, when he was allowed by Act of Parliament to write after his name "Gent, one, &c.."

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THE PLOUGHBOY'S DOOM!

The stubble-headed Ploughboy No more a-field shall stride, Smock-frocked, with whip on shoulder, The steer or steed to guide; At dawn, no more shall whistle With early lark and thrush; No longer stalk the fallows, The clods no longer crush.

In vacant rumination, No more shall sit on gate; His shanks beneath him dangling By hob-nailed highlows' weight. That form of grace no longer The hedgerows shall adorn, His dab of bacon slicing Upon his palm of horn.

The Boy--smock, boots, and bacon, And whip,--must yield to Steam; His whistle must be silent, Whilst engines hiss and scream; For MECHI has in action A new machine e'en now, And says his apparatus Will supersede the Plough.

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A BEAR SPECULATION.

The Turkish question appears to have subsided into an affair of grease. The subjoined advertisement shows what our Imperial friend has come to:--

BEAR FOR SALE.--A fine large RUSSIAN BEAR, very tame. To be seen on board the Atalanta, CAPTAIN WESENBERG lying in the West India Import Dock.

NICHOLAS has come to the West India Dock. We suppose we shall soon have him Promoting the Growth of the Hair, in combination with essence of rose, violet, or bergamot.

* * * * *

THE HEIGHT OF ABSURDITY.--A Vegetarian attending a Cattle Show.

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LEADING ARTICLE FOR OLD LADIES.

(_On the proposed New Coinage._)

We are, and always were, averse to change. We do not mean to say that we have, or ever had, any objection to those coppers which long custom has hallowed, and which have been consecrated to charity. But when innovation would tamper with the coin of the realm, we, in common with all HER MAJESTY'S loyal subjects, are necessitated to rally round the SOVEREIGN, not only as such, but as represented by monetary subordinates. And when we observe that one of the principal features in the contemplated revolution is the abolition of the Half-Crown, we cannot but consider the CROWN, and with the CROWN the THRONE, and of course the CHURCH to be placed in jeopardy. In short, we must record our emphatic protest against the proposed Decimal Currency. It was under the old arrangement of pounds, shillings, pence, and farthings, that the country attained to its present pitch of glory and prosperity. That the Decimal system has been adopted by foreigners is the very reason why we should persist in our own. What is it that makes them so eager to take our money, if not its acknowledged superiority to theirs?

The democratic, indeed the levelling character of the decimal agitation is obvious from one remarkable fact, which, may, perhaps, however, be new to our readers. It is notorious that the lower classes are addicted to the use of slang or flash language, especially in connection with pugilism. Now we have already had introduced a coin of foreign denomination, but domestic orthography. We allude to the piece of money termed a florin, a word which, as spelt by the populace--as many of them as can spell at all--signifies the act of knocking or being knocked down. It is proposed that one of the new-fangled coins shall bear the yet more vulgar appellation of a mil; which in the same vocabulary signifies a fistic encounter.

From a Parliamentary Commission subservient to a Downing Street gang, thus evidently deriving the nomenclature of their projected coinage on the one hand from Continental Jews, Papists, and Infidels; and on the other from the BRUMMAGEM CHICKEN and the TIPTON SLASHER, what can we expect but the overthrow of all our ancient institutions, unless the blow which they are about to aim at all that we hold tender, be parried by a determined exertion of the art of self-defence?

* * * * *

A REGULAR PUMP.--An eminent teetotaller being requested by "a few of his admirers" to sit for his portrait, consented, on condition that it should be taken in water-colours.

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MR. PETERLOO BROWN'S EXAMINATION OF THE OXFORD STATUTES.

"DEAR MR. PUNCH,

"I venture but once again to trouble you with a few remarks; and, as I am looking forward to my lad matriculating this next October, I shall be glad of your speedy advice as to whether I ought to send him to a place where he will have to swear to observe Statutes like those I have spoken of, and those I am now about to mention.

"The next Statute after 'the herb Nicotiana,' is about the closing of the College gates at 9 o'clock, and says, that if circumstances should call for it (_si res ita postulet_), the Heads of the Houses shall then go round to each chamber (_perlustratis singulorum cubiculis_), to see if their tenants are there. This is a delightful rule; and, if circumstances do _not_ call for the Heads to make their rounds, it only shows that the Statute is obeyed without such supervision. Early to bed, you know, _Mr. Punch_, not only leads to salubriousness of body and purse, but also conduces to wisdom of intellect; and, doubtless, much of the success of the 'Oxford discipline' that we hear so much about may be traced to this 'early-closing movement.' I am glad to find that my son PETERLOO will not have to carry out the popular idea of a student, by burning 'the midnight oil'--which you and I, as men of the world, know is a mere figure of speech, and only leads to biliousness of body and cutting of morning chapels--but that he will have to be in bed by 9 o'clock, and, possibly, may be tucked up by the Head of the College himself, attended, of course, by bedels and 'holy pokers,' and all the paraphernalia of Collegiate grandeur. And, _Mr. Punch_, what an instructive subject 'Alma Mater putting her children to bed' would be for MR. TENNIEL to turn into a cartoon for the new Houses of Parliament; where, in spite of the exertions of MRS.--I mean MR.--BROTHERTON, the Members _will_ waste the gas and their health in keeping late hours--a thing they were plainly never allowed to do as long as they were at Oxford!

"The next Statute not only forbids the students to indulge in all games that might be hurtful to themselves (_abstineant ab omni lusus genere, in quo de pecuniâ concertatur_), but also requires them to abstain from every kind of game or sport which might cause any danger, injury, or inconvenience to others; as, for example, from the hunting of wild beasts with dogs of all kinds, with ferrets, nets, or snares (_item quod abstineant ab omni genere lusus vel exercitu, ex quo aliis periculum, injuria, vel incommodum creatur: veluti a venatione ferarum cum canibus cujuscunque generis, viverris, retibus, aut plagis_). Oh, _Mr. Punch_, does Oxford still keep the same position it held in dark centuries ages ago, that it is forced to make its matriculating candidates swear to abstain from the sports of a savage life, which may be all very well for a GORDON CUMMING, but do not accord with the peaceful pursuits of a cloistered student? And what, I would ask, are the wild beasts for which Oxford is famous? Are they of the same genus as those which my young neighbour BELLINGHAM GREY speaks of? He tells me that Oxford is infested with the varied species of the Ornithorhyncus--_the Beast with a Bill_--which usually lurk in dens to which they endeavour, by many allurements, to entice their victims; and that, so cunning are they, that they will even steal within the College walls and attack a Student in his own private room, and cannot be got away before they have made him bleed freely. He says that there is no way of capturing these beasts, and that they can only be kept off by Degrees; but, that when once you have found means to settle them, their Bill immediately drops off; and that they are not seen again until their bill has been curiously renewed. I wonder that the manager of the Zoological Gardens don't get hold of specimens of this very curious beast, the Oxford Ornithorhyncus; more especially as they seem to be so common. But I suppose that their difficulty of capture at present stands in the way. But, who knows, but what we shall see them next season among the 'lions' of the Gardens, and eclipsing in interest even the vivarium and the hippopotamus?

"But to return to the Statute. Though I think I smell a badger, yet the word 'ferrets' seems to point at rats. But if, in their humanity, the authorities discourage rat-hunting--which, of course, must be an 'inconvenience' to the rat, even if it cause him no 'danger or injury'--why do they shut their eyes to the legions of terriers, and other rat-killing dogs, that are openly possessed by the members of the University? I am at a loss to know for what species of wild beasts the 'snares and nets' are intended, unless the young men poach for rabbits and hares. But as for fox-hunting, I shall know now how far I may believe young BELLINGHAM GREY when he says that he, and more than a score of 'pinks' may be seen in a morning, setting off from the Canterbury Gate of Christ Church! And as for the loo, and whist, and 'Van John' that he speaks of, not to mention écarté, and the money that changes hands in one evening, why I am sadly afraid that the young gentleman has been imposing upon my credulity.

"The Statute goes on to forbid the boys--I beg pardon, the 'men!'--from the use of hawks for fowling, and from the carrying of cross-bows and 'Bombardarum' (_necnon ab omni apparatu et gestatione Bombardarum, et arcubalistarum; sive etiam accipitrum usu ad aucupium_). Now, I am aware that the old noble sport of hawking is being revived, because I take in _The Field_ (for, of course, I look upon myself as a 'country gentleman,' and do everything that country gentlemen ought to do), and in _The Field_ I sometimes read about it; and I suppose the Oxford gentlemen are assisting in the revival. But, in the name of wonder, _Mr. Punch_, what _can_ be meant by 'Bombardarum?' Has it anything to do with your Austrian friend 'BOMBA?' Or does it mean that the young men must not carry about mortars for the discharge of bombs, or battering-rams, or some 'bombarding' implement 'of that ilk?' But no. 'Town and Gown' disturbances can never need such warlike preparations as these. I suppose I must write to your facetious contemporary _Notes and Queries_, and ask what 'Bombardarum' really does mean; for no Latin Dictionary that I have access to is able to inform me. Really, _Mr. Punch_, my LORD CHANCELLOR DERBY ought to publish either a translation of the Statutes of his University or a dictionary of these 'Oxford mixture' phrases, '_canino Anglico Latine reddita_:' for how can young men be expected to obey Statutes which are made up of words of which the meaning can only be conjectured? And if, _Mr. Punch_, you take up the cudgels for the Oxford Statutes, and tell me that they are thus purposely framed, and after the fashion of the Statutes of the country, I beg to observe that the seat of learning ought to be stuffed with other stuff than that which fills the woolsack, and that the framers of its laws should not be like the noble and versatile Lord of the Upper House, to whom we might say, in the words of COLERIDGE:--

"'You can utter, with a solemn gesture, Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning, Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics!'[4]

"The statutes next call upon the matriculating candidate to swear that he will keep aloof from all rope-dancers and actors, and from the strifes and shows of--gladiators! (_Item quod, intra Universitatem Oxoniensem aut Præcinctum, absque speciali veniá Vice-Cancellarii, nec Funambuli nec Histriones, qui quæstús causâ in Scenam prodeunt, nec Gladiatorum certamina sive spectacula permittantur; nec Academici eisdem intersint._) Good gracious, _Mr. Punch_! is this the nineteenth century--is _Punch_ an institution of our land; have we got a Camp at Chobham, and a Fleet at Spithead, or are we RIP VAN WINKLES in an inverse degree, who have slept backwards into the past? My brain is fairly _muddled_, Sir, with the thought that I am about to send my son PETERLOO to a place which I had fondly imagined to be the centre of all enlightenment, and which I now find retains the barbarities of the darkest ages. I don't object to the rope-dancers and actors--although I might perhaps be inclined to ask why SHAKSPEARE, and SHERIDAN, and BULWER-LYTTON should be condemned as improper; and PLAUTUS, TERENCE, and JUVENAL decided to be the only pure and proper dramatic guides of youth--I don't object, I say, to my lad going to see the rope-dancing and acting, but I do decidedly object to his even having a chance of obtaining 'the special permission of the Vice-Chancellor' to be present at such degrading exhibitions as the 'sports of the Gladiators.' I shudder to think (and so does MRS. BROWN, Sir), that my lad, who has been so carefully brought up, will _really_ 'see before him the Gladiator lie, his manly form all cover'd o'er with wounds;' and that he will, perhaps--(I can assure you, Sir, that MRS. BROWN is obliged to have recourse to her smelling salts at the bare thought of such horrors)--that he will perhaps set his own slave (or scout) to fight for his amusement, and, like those frightful Romans that he is obliged to read about, will be turning up his thumbs to give the dreadful signal for his wretched servant's death! I must really pause a moment to recover my equanimity. Yet a bright thought strikes me! Perhaps, after all, _Mr. Punch_, these gladiatorial exhibitions are only intended to assist the students in their classical pursuits, the mind being, we know, often more speedily instructed through an appeal to the eye. And this idea is supported by the words of the Statute that the Students must not be present at such shows without the special permission of the Vice-Chancellor. For, of course, if there _are_ no gladiatorial exhibitions in Oxford, the candidates for matriculation would not be required to take oaths about them.

"It would fatigue both you and me, _Mr. Punch_ (weakened as I feel by these gladiatorial prospects), were I to make more lengthy observations on the Oxford Statutes; for the subject is so copious, that it would take me some time to travel through all the _Statutum ests_, and stop at each. Yet I think I have told you enough about them to enable you to give me your valuable opinion on the propriety and wisdom of suffering my son PETERLOO to enter an university, to the privileges of which he will only be admitted on the condition that he swears to observe all the foregoing Statutes, and a host of others, to the utmost of his power: '_Scito te_,' says the Vice-Chancellor, as he gives the young man a copy of the book which I have now been considering, '_Scito te in matriculam Universitatis hodie relatum esse, sub hac conditione, sempe, ut omnia Statuta, hoc libro comprehensa, pro virili observes_.'

"But I will add one word in favour of a few more Statutes of this '_Tit._ XV.' I am glad to see that, while my son will not be permitted to draw a weapon upon another, or threaten him with a knife, dagger, sword, or other species of weapon (_cultellum, pugionem, gladium, aut aliquot aliud genus teli aut distrinxerit, aut intentaverit, cum minis, &c._), yet, that he will be allowed to bear a bow and arrow for the sake of honest recreation (_qui honestæ recreationis causá arcus cum sagittis portaverint_), and will not be suffered to ride in, or be the charioteer of, any vehicle, unless he is permitted to do so by the Proctors or the Heads of his College, on account of his infirm health, or some other reasonable cause (_nisi cui propter infirmam valetudinem aut rationabilem aliquam causam licentia, &c._). And yet, _Mr. Punch_, why does young BELLINGHAM GREY tell me tales of Traps, and Dog-carts, and Tandems, and Teams? Have _all_ their charioteers infirm health? or has that young gentleman, in this as in other things, been practising upon the credulity of

"Dear _Mr. Punch_,

"Your constant reader,

"PETERLOO BROWN."

[Footnote 4:] "Tragedy of Remorse." Act ii., Scene I.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE MONEY MARKET FOR INFANT MINDS.

Here go the Funds, up, up, And there go Consols, down, down, Fluctuate backwards and forwards, And then come around, round, round,

NICHOLAS cries, "No, no!" There's a fall in the Three-per-Cents, Aloft like rockets they go The moment the CZAR relents.

Sing hey! for the Bulls and Bears, And ho! for the Turkey Cocks, Sing Bonds, and Scrip, and Shares, Sing British and Foreign Stocks.

Sing Ninety-seven, Two, Three, Sing Two-and-a-Half at Par, And that's the way £ _s._ _d._ Depends upon Peace or War.

* * * * *

FLOWERS OF THE TOWZERY PLANT.

In these days of steam we encounter a great deal of puffing, but few probably have beheld the largest locomotive emit so extensive a puff as the subjoined:--

"Grand, Fortentous, and Most Auspicious Event. Speedy and Imperative and Peremptory Sale of the Entire Stock of Shawls, Mantles, and Robes, of

a firm that we will take the liberty of calling MESSRS. HOKES AND CO.

In the first place, MESSRS. HOKES are to be congratulated on having introduced a striking novelty into the English language--the word Fortentous; which, being big and indistinct, looms, as it were, at the head of their advertisement, with a misty sublimity.

The nature of the impending event, denominated "fortentous" is thus elucidated:--

"In consequence of the Proprietors being made Sole Agents for MACINTOSH'S Registered Waterproof Dupallas, for Ladies' Sea-side, Yachting, or Travelling Wear, they are determined to clear off their entire Stock--and, doing this, they sink all Personal Interest, forego every consideration of gain or lucre, renounce every motive but the one Grand Object--that of a positive and absolute Clearance of the entire Stock--and this, they are determined, must, will, nay shall be accomplished, as the Dupalla will be ready for Inspection in a few days."

This paragraph is a masterly composition--the very perfection of the insinuating style. Sinking all personal interest, foregoing every consideration of gain or lucre, renouncing every motive but that of desiring the positive and absolute clearance of a quantity of stock--that "one grand object" might obviously be accomplished in a simple and effectual manner by making a bonfire of the goods; which, moreover, would probably be the best thing to do with them.

The conclusion of H. AND CO.'S Puff at once invites criticism--and defies it--

"But words are but words, after all, so H. & CO. will proceed to lay before the Public something of a more tangible nature. They pass on to facts, and facts are stubborn things, but they unhesitatingly affirm that the incontrovertible facts given in the annexed quotations of prices, only require ocular observation to establish their identity."

The stubbornness of H. AND CO.'s facts is only exceeded by their acquisitiveness; and perhaps, indeed, the latter propensity may be considered to have dictated their entire advertisement.

* * * * *

GENTILITY AT THE GOLD FIELDS.--Refinement in Australia appears to be a gross anomaly: and the only use of polish relates to boots.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS. No. 2.

The traveller whose philosophy has passed through these severe trials, hungry, dirty, unshaved, weary, almost querulous, hurls his baggage and himself into a venerable and heavy hackney coach (such a one as DR. JOHNSON might have hired to take MRS. THRALE to the play), drawn by a pair of ragged grey ponies painfully over the rocky ways, which people here have the face to call a pavement. Half-an-hour's jolting brings him to the Hotel in the Rue de Richelieu, where he demands a lodging. "But yes, Monsieur can have a chamber, but certainly," is the cheerful announcement of the _concierge_, a very pearl among women, who advances from the lodge with a smile to welcome the travel-stained, ill-favoured guest. "Behold the steward who will make Monsieur know." "Give yourself the pain to mount, Monsieur," says a solemn official in a fur-cap, with a reverence. The traveller wearily ascends hundreds of shiny, slippery steps, till he arrives at the third floor, where he pauses out of breath. "Mount, mount always!" says the respectable conductor. "But Monsieur, behold us who are arrived at the fourth. This is in fine enough, is it not?" "But no, Monsieur, pardon; it is necessary to mount always." The traveller's hind legs are awfully done up; nevertheless, _allons_! we arrive at another floor. "Behold, Monsieur," gaily says the steward, as he opens the door of 299.

The first thing that strikes one is, that the last gentleman must have been addicted to chewing garlic, and smoking very bad tobacco. The windows, which appear not to have been opened for weeks, enable the fastidious English nostrils to analyse these flavours with unerring certainty. A little hall of entrance, furnished with a stove, a table, and a bench which seems intended for the repose of exhausted creditors before they make their unsuccessful appeal to milord, leads to an apartment furnished both as bed-room and sitting-room, with great taste and cheerfulness. The chairs are pretty in form, and covered with maroon velvet. There is a walnut table, escritoire, and chest of drawers. Over the chimney-piece of black marble is a mirror and a clock. (There is not a room in Paris which does not boast a looking-glass and a clock or clocks, though the latter may not go.) In a recess is a bed, which turns out to be perfect. The last detail, however, strikes the traveller with horror. He will be forced to wash with a slop basin and a milk jug. What to do? The official in the fur cap listens with smiling courtesy to the expostulations of Monsieur, but cannot comprehend his meaning.

There are excellent baths in the Rue Vivienne. But in the chamber? Ah, good, they shall bring a hot bath to Monsieur at three francs. It is still something else? The English waiter shall mount to Monsieur. A shower-bath, a hip-bath, or a sponging-bath he hath not seen, neither can he conceive. The philosopher straightway orders a hot bath, and makes a note never to leave his country for the future without a collapsible caoutchouc arrangement, which may so far make him independent of the short-comings of continental civilisation. The respectable steward retires, the hot bath arrives, painfully supplied with water by a groaning gentleman in a blouse who evidently hates his business, especially in its _higher walks_. Perhaps he will be a member of a Provisional Government some day, and pay society off for his present griefs.

Under the potent influence of hot water the traveller gradually returns to his usual serenity. The bravos of Dover, the exhibitions of weakness on board the steamer, the bureaucratic tediousness of the _douaniers_, the insolence of the police, the jolting over the _pavé_, the interminable flights of stairs, all fade from his memory as he simmers into a happier and more tranquil world of thought. Mysterious analogy to the miracles of culinary science! His heart, so to speak, stews into tenderness in like manner as the lobster, hideous and savage, gradually is divested of his gross nature till he becomes the delicate inmate of a Mayonnaise. Full of this pathetic thought the sage reaps his chin, anoints his hair, makes an elaborate toilette, and descends like JUPITER from Olympus to mingle with men of lower earth. He returns with confidence the smiling salute of the _concierge_. Ah, Madame! you may now regard us; we carry fair linen, and smell of sweet odours: we are no longer a disgrace to Albion. An astounding breakfast, and so to the Boulevards.

How much alike men are! Here are a few more Leicester Squarers than one sees in Regent Street. The gentlemen wear plaited trowsers and broad-brimmed hats, and turn-down collars; women of the lower class walk about in caps; here and there is a blouse, and that is pretty nearly all the difference to be seen. To what end should we describe an ordinary Frenchman? Have we not seen him?--have we not noted him? What child is ignorant of his unobtrusive costume, his pantaloons full round his hips and covering all his boots, his pockets half way down his leg, his tight-waisted coat, his dubious linen, his not dubious hands and face, his modest gait and diffident manner? Know we not his hair grotesquely short or filthily long, his stubbly moustache and beard, or imperial, or republican; his high cheekbones, his eyebrows running up on each side; his vehement discourse, his grimaces, his shrugs, his lively gestures? Mark those three _flâneurs_! They are talking each as loud as he can on a different topic, not listening or listened to, yet perfectly happy and content. Would any one but a Frenchman call such monkey-jabber conversation--_and like it_?

They slacken their talk a little, to exhibit the national politeness. A lady, young, charming, and dressed to perfection, though a little more sumptuously than is usual with us for the promenade on foot, must descend into the kennel (a little river) if these Messieurs will not give place. Ah, bah! do not derange yourselves. JULES puts his head under her bonnet, and perfumes her exquisite coiffure with tobacco smoke. ADOLPHE and HORACE exchange _bon mots_ with a coarse laugh, and the poor lady makes her escape as she may. Oh, French politeness! truly thou art a thing of the past. The modern Gaul has still the trick of taking off his hat; but the spirit of courtesy is evaporated, leaving nothing but dregs behind.

Your correspondent leaves this last sentence as he wrote it in the heat of indignation (if his temper is capable of heat) at what _could not_ have happened in England. Mindful, however, of the danger of drawing general conclusions from particular premises, he wishes to limit his censure to French officials and French Boulevard _flâneurs_, the only persons that have as yet shown themselves to deserve it, and who may be unfavourable specimens of their countrymen. Certainly he has met with an obliging good humour in waiters and shop-keepers, that contrasts favourably with the reserved and almost sullen air of the same classes in England. On the other hand, carters and cabmen seem brutally cruel to their cattle, and will drive over a foot passenger (especially, perhaps, if an Englishman) without scruple. Who shall correctly appreciate these things?

* * * * *

A LION RAMPANT MAD.

That troublesome quadruped the British Lion, generally supposed defunct, turns out to have been Scotched not killed; as he is now roaring and bellowing more ridiculously than ever, in the character of the Lion of North Britain or Scotch Lion. He is clamouring not only for what he conceives to be his proper corner on the Royal flag, but also, on behalf of his baronetage and some other connexions, for the whole territory and fishing-grounds of the Royal Province of New Scotland, as he calls it; that is to say, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the adjacent regions. We expect very soon to hear this foolish old Lion roar for the moon, in a state of second cubhood. To humour him, however, it might be advisable to depict him wherever he wishes in that state of rampancy which he chooses to figure in, that is, in an attitude of rampant absurdity.

* * * * *

HONOURS TO PALMERSTON.

It is determined that LORD PALMERSTON--who goes in attendance upon the QUEEN to Scotland--shall have the freedom of Perth. Had PAM had his own way, we take it, long ere this, he would have had the freedom of Turkey.

* * * * *

THE HOUSE OF FAME.

DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION OF THE PRESIDENT AND COUNCIL, TO THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

Clear, and grey the day is dawning, free from each ill-omened warning, And the sharp fresh air of morning blows upon our mountain way, As o'er brook and chasm springing, or up woody crag-sides swinging, Showers of dew and blossom bringing down from each rich laden spray; While the birds from tree and thicket greet us with a jocund lay, Merrily our band advancing, towards the mountain's summit glancing, Sees the early sunbeams dancing on a dome of burnished flame, Where, with open doors entreating our approach, a cordial greeting Angel voices seem repeating, singing, sloth and fear to shame, "Hasten! favoured mortals; hasten upward to the House of Fame!" Pausing now, in contemplation, I perceive that every nation, From each calling, class, or station, sends its quota to our band; Poets jostling grave logicians; botanists by politicians; Soldiers marching with physicians; kings, with hermits close at hand Miners, æronauts, and divers, pass before me as I stand. OWEN, with a fossil tusk or femur strides along, and BUSK a Jar has got of fresh Mollusca to sustain him in his toil; WILLIAMS, fond of vermicelli, has a mess of small Sabellæ, Serpulæ, and Terabellæ; FOWLER in his "mortal coil" Thinks he has a force sufficient any obstacle to foil. MURCHISON, with CHAMBERS walking, of striated rocks is talking; CUMMING up a glen goes stalking deer, with LANDSEER painting him; BROUGHAM here and there is tripping, up the rocks for wild bees skipping, In the brooks and fountains dipping; gazing, till his eyes are dim, On the Sun, as "Hydrostatics," "Optics," "Instincts," suit his whim. While ARAGO drags his dying limbs with us, and, though still plying All his much-loved arts, is sighing for his country's broken laws: Happier HUMBOLDT'S mind in masses groups rocks, pebbles, trees, and grasses, Clouds, brooks, torrents, mountain passes; thence one grand conclusion draws; From the greatest and the least of Nature's works the Common Cause And purpose of them all divining. "Sages, in a well reclining, Saw the stars at noon-day shining," ancient legends said; but HIND Marching on in contemplation, by mere force of calculation Every wandering planet's station in the sunlit sky can find, Gazing at them from the deep recesses of his mighty mind. And as thus, with collimators, syphons, hydro-incubators, Seismoscopes and insulators, stuffed birds, insects, ferns and grasses, Microscopic preparations, tons of fire-new publications, Trophies of departed nations, jars of new invented gases, Lenses, crucibles, and gauges, all the hurried _cortège_ passes; CLAUDET, on the concourse gazing, as they come beneath the blazing Sun, much dust around them raising, dips his brush in solar flame; And so skilfully his art he plies, that 'ere the busy party From before his eye can start, he manages the whole to frame In one picture, as a fitting tribute to the House of Fame. Now the glens and gorges clearing, and on steep bare slopes appearing Blither grows our band at hearing, from the gazing crowd below, Shouts of praise and gratulation: but our joy to consternation Changes, on the observation that some men we do not know Have crept up by other paths, and share our glory as we go. And these interlopers blending thoughts of fame and pelf are vending Various wares while they're ascending. FOX the public fancy hits, At so much per scratch revealing scratches on the walls and ceiling, Made with infinite good feeling, by dead heroes, bards, and wits, To amuse an epileptic milliner between her fits. REICHENBACH here runs up, saying he can see a marsh light playing On the hill in open day; in swamps to sink above his knees For his pains he is devoted. 'Mongst the rest, too, here, I noted The unknown, but often quoted, author of the "Vestiges," Seeking for the geese that spring from barnacles that grow on trees. Here our path with doubts and dangers thick is set; for shabby strangers, Little better than bush-rangers, try our purses to retain: Pupils these of PROUDHON'S teaching: CARLYLE runs amongst us preaching That we are but wind-bags, screeching flunkies, shams and shadows vain: CULLEN, WISEMAN, NEWMAN, tell us our true path is down again. And a band, denominated Critics, of mere words created, (Like the horses who were stated to be children of the wind) Come to settle each pretension; but our best and wisest men shun The oft proffered intervention of these blind guides of the blind; On we press, and leave quacks, critics, dreamers, schemers, all behind. From the crowd some intervening pine-trees now our band are screening, Yet they shout, their praises meaning for the quacks we leave below. We, with bated breath, slow creeping up the sharply rising steep, in Indian file our course must keep in paths that faint and fainter grow-- Only by the spoils of those who went before, the track we know. For in crevice, nook, and cranny peering, we perceive that many Of our predecessors any loads they liked not, here threw down. LOYOLA'S whole knightly armour, and the ploughshare of the farmer HAMPDEN; SOUTHEY'S early drama of _Wat Tyler_; CODRUS' crown; Stout ARCHBISHOP BLACKBURN'S cutlass; JOAN OF ARC'S plain hodden gown; GALILEO'S _early_ notion of the Sun's diurnal motion; BECKET'S slily feigned devotion to his Royal Master's sway; LOPE'S, CALDERON'S, CERVANTES' swords, exchanged for pens, and DANTE'S (When as force could not supplant his foes, he took a surer way); BRUTUS' simulated weakness; strewn about the mountain, lay. On these relics as we trample, fired by such a good example, Some of our men leave an ample share upon the flinty strand; PIO NONO'S contribution is his taste for Revolution; "RUSSELL on the Constitution," tumbles from its author's hand; DISRAELI flings away his projects to relieve the land; Engineers let fall a shower of statements that the tractive power Of steam, just fifteen miles an hour cannot possibly exceed; SUGDEN his determination quits, the due acceleration Of amended legislation, by mere quibbles to impede, _Pelham_ and _Paul Clifford_ BULWER drops, and climbs with greater speed. Now small hillocks round us lying mark the spots where others, trying Feats beyond their strength, sank dying, ere the summit they could gain. LUTHER'S love of toleration perished _here_ by congelation; _There_ the too great elevation turned NAPOLEON'S seething brain; _Here_ a whirlwind caught DESCARTES and swept him downward to the plain. And the day is well nigh ended, as against the steep extended, Each by each in turn befriended, each to each for succour clings; While the tempest, well nigh brushing us away sweeps down, and gushing From our very path come rushing mighty rivers' snow-fed springs, And the avalanche's roar through far off glens and valleys rings; But, a glimpse sometimes espying, through the clouds beneath us flying, Of the plain all peaceful lying, of the paths by which we came, Or, along the road before us, of the fame close hanging o'er us-- Where the high celestial chorus greeting every one by name, Sings; "O! Hasten, favoured mortals! Hasten to the House of Fame!"-- Pressing upwards at a pace, meant for success, we reach the basement. Shattered is each door and casement; ruined are the lower halls, Not a word by us is spoken, seeing statues long so broken That of what they were no token yet remains, and crumbling walls Whence the mouldering tablet, carved with long-forgotten letters, falls. Through these chambers sadly wending, and to other halls ascending, Newer they appear, though tending slowly to a like decay; ARISTOTLE'S, PLATO'S pages, which, through long succeeding ages, O'er the minds of other sages held so absolute a sway; Panels, which APELLES used, with all the colours worn away; Witty jests of PERIANDER; bulletins of ALEXANDER; Systems of ANAXIMANDER; fossil _Pterodactyles_ found In the old Homeric strata; speeches that could once create a New soul in a dying state, or burst the chains a tyrant bound; Once loved arts and cherished customs; moulder on the dusty ground. To the higher rooms approaching, still we find the new encroaching On the old; the Moderns poaching coolly on the Ancients' land. NIEBUHR'S stern determination many an ancient reputation Tumbles from its lofty station; HARDOUIN'S sacrilegious hand Threatens Virgil; SHEPHERD scarce will let one ancient father stand. Nay, our predecessors hearing our approach, and greatly fearing Hurt from us, on our appearing, mostly haste to give us way; BREWSTER with delight is glowing, laurels won from NEWTON showing; CUVIER yields his wreath to OWEN, DAVY _his_ to FARADAY; HUME does homage to MACAULAY; FIELDING welcomes THACKERAY. But though on the topmost story now we stand, we know our glory Shall at best be transitory; brief our triumph is, though proud, For, far down the mountain glancing, rays, that set for us, are dancing On the rapidly advancing columns of a mighty crowd; As their leaders cheer them on we hear them shouting long and loud. That, as ours was, so their race is; that their course our track defaces; That they crave our hard-won places; thrills us like a sudden flame; And the high celestial chorus once again descending o'er us, As of old it would implore _us_, sings, to urge _them_ on, the same Strain of "Hasten, favoured mortals! Hasten to the House of Fame!"

* * * * *

NEW AMERICAN MOVEMENT.

Somebody writing from Naples, about Music, to a fashionable contemporary, says:--

"I know, too, more than half-a-dozen Americans who have left their gold cupidity behind them, and are now in Italy, living in small dirty back rooms with a piano-forte, practising _solfeggios_, with the intention of becoming singers of Italian opera."

The development and cultivation of music in the soul of America may, perhaps, tend to arrest the progress of Filibusterism, and other stratagems and spoils; including the spoliation of black liberty: and to render the airs which JONATHAN sometimes gives himself--on the fishery question for instance--tolerable. But it will in all probability produce results yet more extraordinary. A go-ahead people will not be content to stop short at operas and concerts. Music will be utilized; applied to political and social purposes; employed to enhance the charms of eloquence, and adorn the wisdom of statesmanship. Patriots will sing bravuras at caucus or in Congress on behalf of freedom: and Presidents will express themselves in notes arranged to form symphonies; whilst the foreign policy of the States will take the form of overtures. The unseemly contests which sometimes occur in the Legislature will be replaced by grand scenas; and the stump-orator that now is will become a stump-warbler: whilst the mob will respond in chorus. American song will be famous all the world over, and command immense engagements, being paid for--as no doubt it will be delivered--through the nose.

* * * * *

A BISHOP IN DISTRESS.

It is seldom that signals of distress are hoisted from the episcopal bench; but the signals in question have actually been hung out recently on behalf of the BISHOP OF DURHAM. One of the "friends of the Church" has made the melancholy calculation that the good Bishop is in such an impoverished state that, after making sundry deductions, the poverty-stricken prelate has scarcely more than seven thousand a year to live upon. Considering how bishoprics go in the present day, we are astonished how the prelacy of Durham can pay at the price, and how, in fact, the bishop can manage to do it for the money.

We shall probably be told next that it is a losing concern, and that the occupant of the wretchedly seedy see is about to give it up in consequence of his being "out of pocket." We recommend the Bench of Bishops to fraternise with the cabmen in making one common stand against the system of reduced fares to which both have been doomed in obedience to the modern principles of economy. The Bench may object to the association, but it is clear there is some affinity between the episcopal and the other class, for the cabman can drive his horse, while both cabman and bishop can drive a bargain.

* * * * *

A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.

Among the recent visitors to London we find notified an extraordinarily dense fog. This visitor, though somewhat obscure, created considerable sensation, and a sort of general illumination was got up by the London shopkeepers on the occasion. The fog arrived by the Thames, and made so much of the short time of remaining that the visitor was nearly all over London in a very brief period.

* * * * *

STANDING BY THEIR ORDERS.

Frenchmen having foreign orders are, by a recent decree, to be allowed henceforth to wear them. If the French boot-maker in Regent Street should really wear all the foreign orders he receives he will be papered from head to foot, and it will be necessary for him to wear an additional placard requesting bill-stickers to beware, to prevent them from mistaking him for a hoarding on which bills may be exhibited.

* * * * *

* * * * *

GREAT AND LITTLE SPORTSMEN.

Our fashionable contemporaries have been amusing their readers with the details of how many birds have been bagged by my Lord This, or the Honourable Captain Tother; and, as every class has a peculiar interest attached to it, we have been at some pains to collect the results of the sporting season among a somewhat humble order of individuals. The best accounts assure us that the DISHONOURABLE BILL SOAMES bagged no less than twenty pocket-handkerchiefs in a few hours, and brought down--off a clothes' line--everything within his reach. In the juvenile sporting circles MASTER JONES bagged twenty blue-bottles off his own pop-gun, and young SMITH had a splendid run after a butterfly with a few young dogs of about his own age.

* * * * *

ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS TO JARDIN DES PLANTES.

The following brief note has been forwarded by the Rhinoceros of our Zoological Gardens to Cow, the Rhinoceros of the Jardin des Plantes:--

"DEAR COW,--The French papers say you're the first rhinoceros in Europe since the time of the Romans. Gammon! I've been here more than these two years. But then, as it's only London, what should Frenchmen know about it?

Yours, from the bottom of my tank, R."

* * * * *

CHINA AND BACK--IN NO TIME!

The Chinese revolution threatens to lead to other revolutions, not only in England, but in Europe generally. As prognosticated by the _Times_, tourists are making quite a rush to the Celestial Empire. The CHUM-LI'S, CHOO-HOONS, MAR-CH-BANKS, and other Belgravian mandarins have already beat a precipitate retreat from Paris, Baden-Baden, and such common-place places, and have arrived at their respective mansions with a view to arrange passages to Pekin by the "tidal trains." Valets are busy packing and directing port-mantchoos (oh!) for the scene of the contentions of the MANTCHOO dynasty, and the youthful scions of Belgravia are already letting their tails grow in anticipation of the tour. To these latter, _Punch_ would whisper a caution: _they eat little dogs in China_. "Chinese in six lessons," "Chinese without a master," may now be seen placarded everywhere; while our old friend DR. BOWRING is busily engaged, and will shortly publish a Pekin guide book, with dialogues for every possible occasion, which will enable the reader to distinguish a Joss house from a Pagoda, and to ask for a "little more bird's nest," in the most approved accent. Those who are prevented by business or means from visiting this new fashionable resort, will doubtless become familiar with the manners and customs of Pekin through the medium of panoramas, or by becoming guests at the Feast of Lanterns and the flow of oil, as held at the Surrey Zoological.

* * * * *

THE BEST CHRISTIAN.

MR. COBDEN would be "sorry to see this country fighting for Mohammedanism." So should we. But in fighting against NICHOLAS of Russia for ABDUL-MEDJID of Turkey, we opine that we should fight for considerably the best Christian of the two. Who was the better Samaritan? The Russian who would have betrayed the victims of Austria: or the Turk, who at the cannon's mouth protected them?

* * * * *

FASHIONS FOR OCTOBER.--Bonnets will be worn on the small of the back.

* * * * *

* * * * *

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

AN ENQUIRING MIND (Finsbury) requests that we will give him an historical sketch of Philosophy generally, with biographies of its principal professors, and an analysis of their corresponding or contradicting tenets. He also wants to know what is good for corns, and he particularly desires answers to both his requisitions this week.--On the first point we must refer him to any Encyclopædist, and on the second to any Chiropodist.

BISMILLAH.--Turkey is certainly in Europe, but there is also a Turkey in Asia. There are doubtless wild turkeys in America. But we suspect that some one has been hoaxing you about the four Turkeys. To your second enquiry, about "the directest way for you to become a Member of Parliment" (usually spelt Parliament), we reply that you had better commence by an educational process, which you cannot take up at too early a stage.

ROBERT BLOGGS.--We never before met with the lines you sent, commencing

_To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler, &c._

We agree with you in thinking that they are probably from some play. But perhaps some of our readers can furnish the information.

ALBINIA E. M. has no reason to be "afraid" of our "sarcastic speeches." We never make any. Besides, her handwriting is very pretty, and we dare say corresponds with her face. But in reference to her petition that we will "manage to introduce her to some nice, clever man, with dark eyes, at least £400 a year, and a turn for music," we must pause. Is she sure she is in earnest? Our young men do not like their affections to be sported with. Let her ask her own heart, write again, abstain from sealing with a fourpenny bit, and spell "intense" with an "s," not a "c."

AMOR VIRTUTIS is informed that we cannot tell him where to get skeleton keys made.

NON MI RICORDO, and numerous other correspondents are apprised that we believe the lady was born about the end of the reign of King George the Second. But her address is in the _Court Guide_, and they had better apply to her personally. We do not profess to keep a Register Office.

SAUCY LIZZY.--The best cosmetic is health. Rise early, take exercise, read _Punch_, and be asleep before dark, and you will not need "washes," which, as the _Vicar of Wakefield_ says, do no end of mischief. But if you must use anything of the kind, a little cantharides and mustard, rubbed into a paste with turpentine, laid on over night, and the face washed with sulphuric acid in the morning, will probably produce an alteration. But, Lizzy, on no account use it unless made up by a chemist.

A YOUTHFUL ASPIRER.--We happen, at this moment, to want neither "poetry" _nor_ "a boy as can black boots and run errands," but should a vacancy occur in either department, we will bear you in mind. Your "Lines to the Two Warrens" scarcely do justice either to the Blacking or the Blackwood one.

J. WHEELER BLASHBY (or some such name).--How can _we_ tell you where to get a hippopotamus? But we could tell you where to get a writing master, who would be a much better "companion for your leisure hours."

MUSIDORA.--We need hardly say that we do recognise the hand, and with pleasure. Your grace's secret is, of course, perfectly safe with us, and we should write privately, but have no right to disturb a lady's _incog._ As your grace is pleased to prefer periwinkles we must bow, but a good deal may be said for whelks. We cannot, however, concur in your opinion of the music of _Rigoletto_, which we must, with all deference, pronounce "stunning." Your enclosure shall be duly forwarded to the Marquis.

ARCHIMEDES.--Yes, logarithms and decimals mean the same thing, and to reduce decimals into the concrete formula of logarithms, it is only necessary to extract the cube root and take the middle term (of course omitting fractions) until the tangents have for their basis the sine of the complement. Any charity boy could show you the process.

S. F. (Leeds).--We are surprised at such ignorance in a place of progress like Leeds. The Letters of Junius were not written by any man, but by Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who conveyed them to the press through her friend John Evelyn, author of the poem of _Silver_ (on which Phillips founded his, of the _Splendid Shilling_), and she took the name of Junius as a sort of joke, because at the time of writing them she wore one of the Brutus crops introduced at the French Revolution.

JACK ROBINSON.--Rather, and before you could mention your own name. But when you send us grouse, send a leash, not a brace.

MACDONALD PAUL says, that the family of Skirwharmlie is Scotch, and its members have been worthy to rank with many of whom Scotia is most proud. Owing to the unfortunate prejudices of past ages against treason, arson, cattle stealing, and the like, the family was continually decimated by judicial interposition, but its representative keeps, or kept (for the police are very tyrannical) a marine store shop near Old Gravel Lane.

ROSE AND MATILDA.--Very much ashamed of both of you. To write to two officers whom you do not know, making them offers of marriage, might, under certain circumstances, be defended. But to tie your letters to the necks of two kittens, and to fling the inoffensive creatures in at the military party's windows, was contrary to all etiquette. Pray abstain from such demonstrations, if you wish us to think you ladies.

HEIR-AT-LAW.--We are afraid we cannot assist you in tracing your relative. There was, we think, a person named Smith living either in Clapham or Shoreditch during the early part of the present century, and you might search the registries of the churches there. It may aid you in identifying the party, if we add that he was in the habit of smoking a good deal on Saturday evenings. We shall be happy if our information enables you to recover your estate and title.

RUNIC.--Your lines are very pretty, and shall appear as soon as ever we can make room for them, probably in September or October, 1873. You need not wait until their appearance before sending the game.

JUVENIS.--The epigram is by MARTIAL, and runs, correctly, thus:--

_Spes primâ facie largo factotum amicus, Curiæ per contra nil desperandum gratis._

Which may be translated--but, on second thoughts, we invite our young classical friends to send us in their translations of this very terse and sparkling epigram. The name of the first and second best shall be given, as also that of the worst, if he lets us know it.

JOSHUA R.--We are not aware that the "Finding the Dead Body of Harold" has ever been made the subject of a painting, but now you have suggested it, we have no doubt that some artist will take the idea with thankfulness. We are always glad to be the vehicle for conveying such hints, and may mention that we have often wondered that neither _Gil Blas_, nor the _Vicar of Wakefield_ has supplied subjects for painters.

MURPHY.--We do not profess to be weatherwise, but we believe that it has been observed, that before rain swallows fly high, dogs are unusually brisk and active and will not eat grass, waterfowl keep on the surface of the water, fish bite greedily, toads disappear, and sheep and cattle seem remarkably calm and comfortable. We can hardly tell you "how to avert the consequences of rain," but a good deal might be done by staying within doors.

A MOTHER.--Your excuse is a common one, but it is your business to know that he is out. Respecting the demand of your youngest son for cigar money and a latch key, we think you perfectly justified in refusing either until he is eight years old. And though we consider all coercion as objectionable, we cannot blame you for fastening the street door top-bolt, which is above his reach, to prevent his going alone to Vauxhall at half-past eleven at night. But beware of severity, and talk to him of the beauty of virtue, and the social advantages of subordination.

BACKFIN.--Sturgeon abound in the Hampstead ponds, but as they belong to the Lord of the Manor, Sir T. M. Wilson, no one will fish for them. We have ourselves taken salmon, in the New River, of from sixty to eighty pounds, but the tall iron railings sadly interfere with an artistic throw of the fly. We doubt whether the fine trout you describe can be caught in Peerless Pool. From off the terrace of the Houses of Parliament, now that the session is over, anglers are seen hooking John Doreys and smelts daily, but it is stated that the fag ends of the members' cigars have given them a cabbagy flavour.

A NOVICE.--Always happy to give any information on etiquette. If you are on the top of an omnibus, and see a lady walking, to whom you are but slightly known, call out "Hi!" and kiss your hand to her in a facetious manner. If she be of superior rank, it is usual, though not necessary, to put your hat on the end of your stick and spin it round, but discretion must be your guide. True politeness is that which places every one at ease.

ADA JANE.--We suspect poor ADA JANE is in rather an awkward position. We cannot see how she is to prevent her cousin's marriage with the young nobleman to whom ADA JANE herself has taken a liking. She might, certainly, go to the intended bride's mother, represent her own feelings, and ask her to give up the cousin's brilliant match--such things are done on the stage. But we doubt whether it would do in Belgravia. Let ADA JANE catch a young nobleman for herself, there are plenty about.

HENRY E. (Walton).--How can that be? The square of the half of any chord of a circle is equal to the product of the sagittæ of the opposite arcs, that is, the segments of the diameter bisecting the chord, or the versed sines of half the opposite arcs. From this the Jews argue, and we agree with Colonel Sibthorp in thinking they argue rightly, that no man can, by self-measurement, get a decent fit from a tailor.

W. W. and F. F.--Your account of your ascent of Primrose Hill is very exciting, but the feat has been performed before. To be sure, we observe that, like some other gentlemen who just now write to the papers about their "Ascents of Mont Blanc," you failed in reaching the top; but even this remarkable feature in the performance scarcely entitles you to publicity.

AFFECTIONATE EMMA.--Your "Lines to My Little Brother (aged 2¾), on his accidentally Sitting down upon some Stinging Nettles," have point and pensiveness, but scarcely sufficient interest for the general reader. Still we hope your brother is better.

CHARLEY, having been thrown over by a young lady, wishes to return everything she has ever sent him, but finds a difficulty, from the fact that, her papa having been a pastrycook, her presents chiefly consisted of jam tarts, Albert rock, and the like, which CHARLEY has eaten long ago. The dilemma is new and delicate, but if CHARLEY'S conscience is tender, he had better estimate the price of the articles, and enclose it to the old Pattypan, from whom Miss had clearly no right to take them. But, as has been classically said, _Jams ate is_.

BELLICOSUS JOCOSUS.--You may obtain a commission in the army, by leaving your card at Lord Hardinge's any day before four o'clock, and by calling for an answer next day. You may give the servant one shilling. This applies to the line only. To become a guardsman, call at the Junior United Service Club any evening between six and nine, walk boldly into the dining-room, and state your wish to any party who may be dining together. The rest of the process you will find very simple.

A BRIDE.--Do not distress yourself. Very likely he loves you sincerely, and his winking at the bridesmaid might be mere accident--the whisper was probably to tell her how pretty you looked--and the pressure of her hand gratitude for her ready acknowledgment of it. Even the note may be explained; it was the address to which she is to forward some present for you. Never worry yourself about trifles--you have married him, and she is cut out. Go on your tour rejoicing.

JEUNE PHILOSOPHE.--Matter is, no doubt, as you contend, an integral part of cognate consciousness; but do not push this law to an absurdity. If homogeneous self-antipathies come into conflict with inchoate rationalism, where will you draw the line between casuality and causality? Hadn't you better shut up?

ANXIOUS JEMIMA.--There is no rule as to the number of clergymen requisite at a wedding. One able-bodied clerk in orders can do all that is necessary. The "assisting" system is a ridiculous custom, introduced by the Puseyites, by way of assimilating the ceremony to that of Rome. At the same time, we admit that a clergyman has a hard duty to perform in managing _some_ couples, and it is probably in these cases that he calls in extra hands. Look at the announcements with that idea in your mind.

SIGHT-SEER.--You may walk into Buckingham Palace whenever you please, and without any ticket. But when you enter the rooms in which any of the Royal Family are sitting, you should put out your cigar, and politeness, if not loyalty, dictates your making some complimentary remark on the elegance of the building. If you have apples or other fruit in your pocket, you may offer them to the younger Princes and Princesses; but we believe there is an objection to their R. H. accepting slices of cocoa-nut, or toffy.

WILLIAM P.--We think the young lady was quite justified in slamming the door in your face, and in throwing the geranium pots at you from the two-pair window; indeed, we do not see how any person calling herself a lady could have acted otherwise.

PUZZLED.--We have so repeatedly explained that _R. S. V. P._, on a note of invitation, means "Write and Say Vether you'll be Present," that we are tired of answering the inquiry.

THEATRICUS (Ebury Street).--We shall be happy to read all your thirty-four plays, and, having done so, to recommend them to such managers as they may best suit. There will be no difficulty about money, but we shall be happy to make any advance you may require while the plays are in rehearsal. One hundred guineas an act is the lowest price paid at any Metropolitan theatre.

SMACKARJEE WOPPAJEE (Calcutta).--We are much obliged. The sketch of the Ayah running round the compound after the Adjutant (bird), and the khansuma and the chuprassy pelting her with her own tabeejes and banjoobunds, has been handed to one of our artists, but we fear the nutcut will make but a queer jummakur of it. So you have got your juwaub, eh? Never mind, there are other young ladies in India. Ask again.

QUERY.--You are wrong. Sardanápalus is accented on the middle syllable; Zante is a dissyllable; Chobham is pronounced Cobham; theátre is accented on the _a_; Phäeton is sounded fee-á-ton; and Mr. Disraeli as Mr. De Hisreelly. Attend to these niceties if you would be supposed to have lived in good society.

A YOUNG HOUSEKEEPER.--In September pickle garlic, parsnips, and spinach, and pour vinegar into each of your marmalade pots, to prevent fermentation. Smear the frames of your looking-glasses and pictures with tar and treacle; and be careful that the pantry doors and windows are left open at nights, as the autumn air of the garden is cold for the cats. If you have beer in the house, drink it.

* * * * *

SAINT CABBIE!

The French have their SAINT FIACRE, who must be the patron saint of hackney coaches; why shouldn't the English calendar boast, in the like manner, of its "SAINT CABBIE?" The sufferings of that much injured creature have been more than sufficient lately to elevate him to the honours of canonisation; and the weakness, the uncomplaining resignation, with which he has borne those sufferings, surely entitle him to some public mark of our gratitude? Has he fallen from his high elevation of eightpence--or, rather, a shilling--down to sixpence, fallen almost without a murmur--and is no popular testimonial to be given him by way of ointment to that fall? Has he not endured the taunts of vulgar minds without a retort? Has he not sat quietly under the sarcasms of little boys, and never once used his whip to drive them away? Has he not been hunted from stand to stand, worse than a wild beast, by the policemen? And has he not been compelled, which was adding insult to injury, to carry himself and cab to the station-house (without being paid, mind you, for the additional distance,) as often as the vindictive object was to fine him? These are broad daylight truths which we require no turning on of the gas to recognise--these are trials and triumphs of temper which are so many proofs of martyrdom, scarcely to be surpassed by any you will find in "Fox's Book Of Martyrs." We propose, therefore, that some statue be erected in honour of SAINT CABBIE; and we think Scotland Yard, which has been the scene where he has been made to bleed so often for his injured cause, would be the fittest spot for the erection. Designs for the statue should be thrown open to public competition and sent in, for selection, to the Police Commissioners. For ourselves, we are anxious to contribute our small mite to the worthy object, and beg, therefore, to suggest the following appropriate design:--

Let a wild horse--the wildest that can be found on the Green Yard--be harnessed to the craziest cab that can be picked off a nocturnal cab stand, and on the top of that cab let poor Cabbie be fastened _à la Mazeppa_. An aureol, made of dirty straw, should shine round his head; his whip should be lying by his side, broken in two, and suspended round his neck should be his badge of suffering, on which should be marked the fatal word "6_d._" On the box should be seated a Member of Parliament (the conventional long ears of an M.P. might be left out on this occasion), with the New Cab Act in his hand, driving the poor Cabman to desperation. The motto on the panel might be "FOR WHEEL AND WOE."

The above design, we are sure, would work up into a very magnificent statue.

In the meantime we hope CARDINAL WISEMAN will exercise all his influence with the POPE, or whoever may be the great almanac-maker; at Rome, to have SAINT CABBIE introduced by the side of SAINT FIACRE in the Romish Calendar.

* * * * *

A PRESENT FROM THE POPE.

His Holiness--says the _Journal de Bruxelles_--has sent to the young bridegroom, the DUKE OF BRABANT, "a fragment of the wood of the manger which formed the cradle of our Saviour." The POPE has a constant supply of relics on hand to be bestowed on fitting persons and fitting occasions. Enthrone Liberty in the Capitol, and the POPE, no doubt, would send _her_ a relic; nothing less than "the Kiss of JUDAS?"

* * * * *

POOR SHAKSPEARE!

The fiddles are once more at him. Again is SHAKSPEARE to be bow-strung. VERDI--we learn from the _Post_--is putting _King Lear_ and _Hamlet_ to cat gut. It is, moreover, whispered that _Hamlet_ is destined for the Princess's; _Hamlet_ to be sung by MR. CHARLES KEAN, who is expected to make a great hit in the solo of "To be or not to be," in which he will accompany himself on the Jews'-harp.

* * * * *

REVIEW OF THE MEDICAL LINE.

A grand review of the Medical Staff of the Metropolis was held yesterday by SURGEON-GENERAL _Punch_; the officers and men of the various parishes presenting themselves in professional rank and file.

The colours of the corps have become rather faded in consequence of exposure to foul air and exhalations. They are red, blue, and green, in correspondence with night-lamps and shop-window bottles; and are emblazoned with the names of various localities in which the force, performing services of danger, has triumphed over cholera, typhus, and other foes; as "Fig Tree Court," "Puddle Dock," "Twister's Alley," "Paradise Row," "Mount Pleasant," "Slumson's Rents," "Grimes's Mews," &c.

The troops went through the exercise of prescribing, compounding, mixing, and the other evolutions of a sham fight with disease; executing their operations with great rapidity and precision. The mortar practice was much admired.

The appearance of the officers and men was better than could have been expected, considering the generally small amount of their pay.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A SHOE-LANE RALEIGH!

The _Morning Herald_ has a beautiful leader upon the QUEEN'S visit to Dublin; a very beautiful bit of work, indeed. The _Herald_ praises with manly devotion the name of woman, and the name of mother. _But_--

"But when to both these there is added the title of our QUEEN! she may not only as in the days of RALEIGH, step on our cloaks, but our---

What do you think? Guess. Breasts? No. Guess again. Hearts? Oh dear no--

"but our _coats_!"

If the loyalty of the _Herald_ continues--regardless of expense--to rise in this manner, the next climax may be thus--

"Not only on our coats, _but_ our WAISTCOATS!"

There, we trust, the loyalty of the _Herald_ will, if only for the sake of appearances, stop.

* * * * *

THE WRONGS OF SCOTLAND.

SCOTLAND--it is said by Scotch patriots--is shamefully snubbed and slighted by sister England. There are two Dukes to be made Knights of the Thistle: and the _Edinburgh Evening Post_ very pertinently asks, Why should they not be created at Holyrood, on the soil whereto the thistle is indigenous? Why not? Honest SANCHO says, "Let every tub stand on its own bottom." And in like manner, why not every Scotch knight sit on his own Thistle?

* * * * *

REMARKABLE SELF-SACRIFICE.

Now that Parliament stands prorogued, and the game of all parties consists of partridges and grouse, the journals naturally supply the place of political news with wonderful shots, and other marvellous items of sporting intelligence: as, for instance, the following paragraph which the _Morning Post_ quotes from the _North British Daily Mail_:--

"NEW MODE OF CATCHING WILD DUCK.--A farmer in Bute, some time ago, having sown his crop, set up a couple of harrows in a field to dry, back to back, _i.e._ with the iron spikes outward. On making a round of his field shortly afterwards, to his astonishment he found a wild duck spitted on one of his harrows. Whether the creature in its flight in the dark had encountered the spike of the harrow, or been dashed against it by a gust of wind, no one can tell; but the truth of the story may be relied upon, as our informant, the farmer himself, is a most respectable man, and an elder of the Church."

Both respectable men and elders of the Church are capable now and then of indulging in a little toxophilite recreation; archery: shooting with the old English weapon of ROBIN HOOD. The elder sometimes comes, or becomes, the ancient of the Church militant or old soldier, over us. The above narrative may, perhaps, be regarded as a shaft of waggery aimed at the bull's eye of faith. A correspondent, however, who is farther North than even the _North British Daily Mail_, assures us that it tells the truth, though not the whole truth. That a bird was spitted on one of the harrows in the manner described, is a positive fact. But the additional circumstance should have been mentioned, that a couch-fire having been made between the harrows, for the twofold purpose of burning the weeds, and drying the implements the more effectually, the creature was found not only spitted but roasted. It further remains to be stated, that the bird which was so silly as to spit itself, or get spitted, in its blundering flight, was not a duck, but a goose; which thus became its own cook. Last of all the coincidence deserves to be recorded, that the feathered simpleton, which, previously to the stupid act, had just been feeding, probably in an adjoining garden, was discovered, with some presentiment of its destiny, to have stuffed itself with sage and onions.

* * * * *

A CHAUNT.

BY A TEETOTALLER.

Hence away, loathed Melancholy! Friends around again we see: Banish care, and let's be jolly, Eating muffins, drinking tea.

Round the social board we'll cluster, (That which names from tea I mean), And wash down the festive "buster" With deep draughts of Black and Green.

What care we for Beer-kings' prices? Or the bitters of the vat? ADAM'S pale ale never rises, There's no strychnine, boys, in _that_!

What to us the size of bottles? Pint or quart, who cares a jot? While we to tea confine our throttles, Ours will always be a Pot.

(Only mind lest "Fine Young Hyson" Be a synonyme for "sloe:" And beware the aqueous poison Which from filthy Thames doth flow.)

Jovial boys, come pass the Sally Lunn, nor let the crumpet stand: Round the jocund kettle rally, And silence for its song demand.

Water from its dumpy level Shall elevate each thirsty soul: And if dull care approach our revel, We'll drown it in the sugar bowl.

Thus we'll pass each festive season, From all indigestion free: And enjoy the feast of reason, Coupled with the flow of tea.

* * * * *

WALKER!

WOMEN--they so like matches of any sort--have taken to walking-matches. A MRS. DUNN, of Hartshill, is walking 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours. Another lady, one MISS MEW, of Cateaton Street, has also offered to do the same distance in the same time with this additional difficulty--she offers to walk in walnut-shells. Friends who know her best back her at long odds.

* * * * *

AN AUSTRALIAN CLIPPER.

Lighting accidentally on an Australian paper, we were struck by an advertisement of a steamer for sale at Sydney, which really seems worth attention. It professes to be so complete in every department that, if it should happen to go to pieces, there are ample arrangements on board for building another vessel as a substitute. There is "a double set of machinery;" and, in fact, there appears to be everything in duplicate, so that, if the vessel should unhappily go down, there is a counterpart on board to supply the defect.

We do not quite understand the mode by which this desirable state of things has been effected, but we have long ceased to be surprised at anything, and should not be astonished if we were to see the announcement of a ship with a double set of officers, and even a double supply of passengers, so that if anything happened to either there would be sufficient substitutes at hand. Considering that the announcement comes from a land in which the gold mania is at its height, we cannot wonder at the duplicity of the speculation, since double-dealing is thought nothing remarkable where all are thinking of nothing but getting gold.

* * * * *

THE GOVERNESSES IN DESPAIR.

"DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The Chinese language will no doubt be added to the already long list of acquirements necessary to a governess. The advertisements are even now frightful to read. When, and how am I to learn such words as will soon be expected of me? How am I to afford a journey to China in order to get the right pronunciation? I am told everything is to be taught through the medium of the Chinese: our only chance seems to be to get the Pekin twang as fast as possible.

"Yours truly, JULIA."

* * * * *

AN ABODE OF BLISS.

We wish we were on visiting terms with the family, the heads of which have put into a Manchester contemporary the subjoined advertisement:--

TO PARENTS AND GUARDIANS.--WANTED, in a family, a respectable YOUNG PERSON, as Seamstress and Upper Nurse, and to make herself useful. It is expected that a comfortable home, and the opportunity of improvement, will be considered equivalent to her services for the first twelve months.--Address, M., 27, at the Printers'.

Were we in the habit of friendly intercourse with these nice people, they would sometimes--often, we should hope--ask us to dinner. And what a dinner it would be! Moreover, if we stopped to sleep, what luxurious accommodation would be provided for us in a house where the comforts of home are considered equivalent to the services of a Seamstress or Upper Nurse! O the turtle! O the venison! O the superior descriptions of French and Rhine wine! O the profundity of bliss in sinking to slumber in an abyss of down! But O the victuals! O the dinner!--in the first place--if dinner can be depended upon in an establishment wherein the cook most likely gets no wages.

* * * * *

A WARNING TO VEGETARIANS.

One J. J. DAW--alias, we presume, JACK JACK-DAW--has been up at Guildhall to profess himself a convert to the Jewish faith. "He is not insane," says the medical authority; "but is a vegetarian." The truth is, the cause of the poor man's conversion is simply this: he has lived upon roots only, and they have got into his head and taking great interest there, have become Hebrew ones.

* * * * *

THE GUILLOTINE IN CHINA.

(_From our own Correspondent._)

The Chinese Revolution progresses in a peculiar manner. Heads are not falling, as was the case in France, but tails are with marvellous rapidity in this Celestial Reign of Terror, the ROBESPIERRES of which are sending mandarins by thousands to the scaffold, to be deprived of those appendages. The execution of one of these dignitaries took place yesterday, in conformity with the following sentence:--

"DING DONG, Brother of the Moon, and Chief Justice to the Planets, having sat in judgment with great patience for the greater part of an hour upon KU LONG, accused of narrow-mindedness and villainous detestable obstinacy, in adhering pertinaciously to obsolete usages and fashions, considers the said charge against the prisoner fully established, and hereby pronounces him to stand convicted of rascality, perversity, and pig-tailed obstructiveness, which are evil principles, proceeding from the suggestions of demons and imps; seeing that these bad dispositions form the source whence the pigtail springs, and whereby that horrible and ugly excrescence is nourished, it would be desirable to eradicate them, in order that the absurd and ludicrous tail might fall off in consequence. But as there are some objects which are not possible, in the nature of things, and this is one of them, it is best not to attempt to do what would prove impracticable; and therefore the case requires the decree to be different.

For which reason, the sentence upon KU LONG is declared to be that he shall, with as much expedition as the necessary preparations admit of, be conducted by the officers of justice to a scaffold, and having been placed thereon in a convenient chair, shall have his pigtail severed from his head, both as a punishment to himself, and a warning to others, to intimidate and deter them from making hogs of themselves by wearing tails, like those of swine, but not in the manner the pig wears his tail in, but the reverse--which makes it more preposterous. Respect this; and chop KU LONG'S tail off as soon as you can."

* * * * *

EVIL EYESIGHT.

Some of our contemporaries appear to be labouring under a political jaundice, by which distemper they are caused to see everything through a blue or buff medium. The _Standard_ supplies a case in point, out of the _Yorkshire Gazette_; in the subjoined portion of an account of some local festivities:--

... "Before late in the day not less than 1500 had congregated together, and were engaged in all kinds of sports and games, and many were the waltzes and polkas, &c., which were gracefully performed by the lovers of the dance. THE EARL AND COUNTESS OF MULGRAVE, with their children and the HONOURABLE E. PHIPPS, the rejected candidate of Whitby, joined the party.

"We would advise our Conservative friends to watch the influence acquired by this new mode of treating."

This is the way in which one party looks at another, that other being a simple merrymaking! Motley is the only wear for a writer whose ideas are so party-coloured. Cannot the superior classes cultivate kindly feelings with their neighbours without being accused of inferior motives? Such mean imputations ought not to emanate from the forces who march under the banner of COLONEL SIBTHORP, but with whom the Member for Lincoln will be ashamed to march through Coventry, or at least, through thick and thin of this kind. The COLONEL, who insists on the right of treating his constituents jovially, would repudiate with scorn the charge of corruption, brought against him for dancing amongst them around a Maypole; he would be highly indignant at being suspected of trying to turn voters round by spinning their daughters in a waltz; of insidious designs in tripping down the middle and up again, and, in doing hands across, of an underhand manoeuvre: he would be disgusted to find himself thought capable of any trick below the double shuffle.

The "new mode of treating" might, indeed, be advantageously "watched by our Conservative friends"--and imitated. To treat the people, by mixing with them in courteous intercourse, would be wise of the aristocracy. But sorrily will the great folks be encouraged to relax their exclusiveness, either socially, or as proprietors of parks and picture galleries, by representing them as doing so merely in a spirit of baseness.

* * * * *

GREAT CURE AND SMALL PAY.

Did you ever hear of a clerical SERGEANT KITE? Here you have apparently that non-commissioned officer--no offence to the probably Tractarian author of the advertisement following, taken from that highly religious paper, _The Guardian_:--

CURATE WANTED, for a small country village in the diocese of Lichfield. Incumbent resident; daily prayers; weekly Communion; day, night, and Sunday schools; plenty of work of all kinds. Salary £90, with a house and garden. The Curate must be a sound Churchman, with his heart in his work, and willing to obey orders. He must have good health, be able to conduct a choral service, and to preach (if necessary) three or four times a week. Direct P., under cover to MR. MASTERS, 33, Aldersgate Street, London.

This is a roll on the modern drum ecclesiastic--SERGEANT KITE beating up for recruits in the noble army of martyrs. For the services above enumerated, many and arduous as they are, appear to be services of danger, rather. The heart which the Curate is expected to have in the work would be soon worn out in it. It is to be feared that the good health he is required to enjoy would not endure very long. In an extremely brief space of time he would pray, preach, teach, and chant himself to death. At least the sound Churchman would speedily get out of condition; grow as phthisical and hectic as any hero of a "religious" novel. With a salary of £90 a year, it may be anticipated that he would go fast to the dogs, and make such an end as a Curate might have made under NERO.

The Incumbent, however, in want of a Curate, may perhaps be also in want of bread, or so poorly off in that respect, as to be unable to offer the assistant for whom he advertises more than a share of his crust. But then he ought to have mentioned this circumstance, that broken meat might have been sent to him, and that steps might have been taken to enable him to participate in the bounty of the Society for Supplying Clergymen with Old Clothes.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE CHELSEA GHOST.

Within the sound of the pleasant bells of St. Barnabas, and within stone's throw of--_Punch_ does not know how many--churches, chapels, literary and scientific lecture-rooms, schools, and other institutions, mainly intended for the exorcising of ignorance, a Ghost has just dared to show itself, and hundreds of fools have attended its levee.

Pond Street is the locality--the name is suggestive of stagnation and greenness--and here has been seen a terrible apparition, "A Tall Man with a Deathlike Face and Snowy Garments Reaching to his Feet." Allowing for the poetry which broke out in snow, the description serves wonderfully for an Irish labourer who, having been desperately beaten in one of the religious ceremonies of his nation, gets out of bed in the night-gown lent him by the hospital. But we will believe the Ghost to be veritable, and to have a mission. Let us see what it is.

First, a sturdy young "excavator" goes up-stairs into the ghostly chamber, and being in his cups, is the easier victim to the saucer eyes, which flame on him so hideously that he falls down in a fit.

Secondly, another "excavator" (if these poor spade men have been disturbing the Ghost's earthly tenement in its grave, justice would have sent the remonstrating spectre to the surveyor's office, or the contractor's counting-house) goes up-stairs, only to fall down in a fit like his predecessor.

Thirdly, an older labourer comes home, and being informed of the affair, proceeds to enquire into it. Stricken down in horror, his fits last for hours.

The neighbourhood, now clustered in agitation round the haunted house, clamours for the Police. Three gallant and well-grown officers, uniformed, and belted, and braceleted, and bludgeoned, march fearlessly into the house, prepared to say "Come, cut it," or "Be off out of that," to the grimmest phantom on the walk. In a few minutes the lettered heroes rush out of the dwelling, their horror untold; but a policeman, paid a guinea a week (less deductions), must have seen something remarkable when he declares, that "untold gold" should not induce him to stay in the place. And these legal authorities actually counsel the householders to leave the dreadful house as soon as possible.

The mission, you see, for which a supernatural visitor is sent from the world of spirits, prospers. Three labourers go into fits, and three policemen are frightened out of their duty. Then doors bang all night, and groans are heard, and a mob blocks up the street until five in the morning. And _Mr. Punch_, who, as may often be seen in the streets, is ready to tackle any ghost with that unhesitating club of his, goes the next afternoon to Pond Street, and finds the assembly again in full force, but not very reverent, and discussing the ghost's nature with that freedom of epithet characteristic of street conversationists. _Mr. Punch_ was very much shocked to hear the roar of laughter which greeted a proposition, made by a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves and with a short pipe, to the effect that if any one would "stand" (_Mr. Punch_ believes he reports the right word) a vessel of malt liquor, he would go into the house (which appears to have resembled that of SAUL), and inflict upon the Ghost--as to whose future destiny the speaker's expressions showed that he had made up his mind--a species of castigation which certainly should be reserved for extreme cases. And _Mr. Punch_ further reports that all along the King's Road, and near the Hospital, and even towards theatrical Brompton, many of whose inhabitants have rejoiced to see "the Ghost walk," the popular invitation was "Come on; let's go and see that blessed Ghost." Clearly, therefore, the supernatural visitor is fulfilling the important mission for which only can we suppose he has been sent from another world.

When the clergy of the neighbourhood heard of the affair, they were greatly moved. One of them, a young Barnabasian, threw down the sweetest handful of charming artificial flowers, with which he was making an altar-wreath for Sunday, rushed into the crowd, and affectionately, but earnestly, reproved his humbler brethren for putting faith in such vulgar and impious folly. He entered the haunted house, walked all over it, and throwing up every window in turn, addressed a few words of gentle ridicule from each: and he ended by leading away the whole assembly to his church, where he gave them some sound, shrewd counsel, which will probably spoil a Ghost's market in that quarter for some time. Others of the clergy, roused by the spectacle in Pond Street, have been equally active; and perhaps after all, this was the Ghost's real mission. In this case "it is an honest ghost, that let _Punch_ tell ye."

The Roman Catholic priests of the vicinity, however, look at the matter in another light, and regard the "Deathlike face" as the editor of the _Tablet_ does the Salette miracle, where the Virgin astonished the weak mind of the pig-boy and girl, and sent a very proper message to the French people not to swear. They say that the Ghost is that of somebody who, not having paid up the priest's "dues," will haunt the neighbourhood until somebody else pays them for him. The landlord of the house, who seems to have most reason to complain of the apparition, intends to pay these "dues," and charge them in the rent, unless the next tenant likes to take the Ghost with the fixtures.

This is, _Punch_ joyfully admits, an enlightened age, but its lights will, sometimes, burn blue.

* * * * *

A CONSULTATION "IN ARTICULO."

Doctors, diplomatic doctors, mixers of the paper-pill. Fuming, fussing, drafts discussing, o'er a dying nation, Protocol-prescription-mongers, slow to cure, but strong to kill, Spreading words, like blister-ointment, to allay an irritation.

CLARENDON, M.D., prescribeth sedatives and cooling potion; _Le Docteur_ DROUYN DE L'HUYS to stimulants inclineth; _Hofartzt_ BRUCK of _vis naturæ medicatrix_ hath a notion; _Medicus_ AUPICK, looking wise, doth nothing, but defineth.

Wrangle, jangle, argol-bargol, still the Doctors diplomatic But differ to agree again, and but agree to differ, While the poor old Turk, their patient, groweth more and more asthmatic, And his eye gets dim and dimmer, and his limbs wax stiff and stiffer.

While behind the patient's curtain, with cautious step, yet certain, The AZRAEL who that poor old Turk hath threatened many a year-- A Calmuc skull, with vulture claw, and waist like spider girt in-- To choke death's rattle, and do battle for the body, doth appear.

The Doctors argue with him, and he patiently doth listen; He treateth them to reasons, and they treat him to replies; But the old Turk's eyeballs glaze, and the Calmuc eyeholes glisten;-- And while the Doctors differ the presumptuous patient dies!

* * * * *

LOUIS NAPOLEON AT BOULOGNE.

It is said that "the authorities" are making extensive preparations for the reception of LOUIS NAPOLEON at Boulogne. As this is not his first visit, and as it is usual on occasions of great public ceremonials, to refer to "precedents," we may expect to find the "authorities" searching their annals in order to discover how LOUIS NAPOLEON was formerly received. It is not necessary to go very far back in making the inquiry, as it is as recent as 1840 that LOUIS NAPOLEON was "received" by the authorities of the place. On that occasion he was met by the National Guard, who, with great valour, fired a salute of loaded muskets on the present Emperor and his handful of almost defenceless friends. No other carriage being in readiness, a bathing-machine was provided for the reception of the Prince, who was conveyed, amid a detachment of soldiers, to the prison in the upper town. The Imperial eagle, instead of being displayed on banners, was present in person, and was removed by the "authorities" to the _abattoir_.

Having reached this result of an inquiry into precedents, we wait patiently for the official programme of the _fêtes_ which will take place in honour of the Emperor's visit to Boulogne. It is quite clear from the events of the last four years that the watering place alluded to was, in 1840, wholly unacquainted with the real sentiments of the French nation. We must suppose that, in 1853, it comes much nearer the mark.

* * * * *

* * * * *

AUTUMNAL PROMOTIONS.

As the Autumn advances, certain promotions always take place, which we never notice at any other period of the year. We beg to record the following amongst those which have recently occurred:--

MR. JONES, the veteran ballad-singer between the acts at the Pavilion Theatre, promoted into SIGNOR JONESI, "the celebrated tenor from HER MAJESTY'S Theatre," who is now delighting the gay _habitués_ of the different Libraries at Ramsgate, Margate, &c.

MISS ROWE, whose favourite song of "_Will you buy my Oysters, Sir?_" has been sung no less than 300 times at the Grecian Saloon, promoted into "MADLLE. ROEWE, the celebrated _cantatrice_, from the Nobilities' Concerts," who is nightly encored tumultuously at the different "Fairy Scenes" that at this time of the year generally enliven Gravesend about tea-time, and make of it quite a Fairy Home.

MR. O'MULLIGAN, the celebrated Owl in _Der Freischütz_, at the Surrey, into HERR MEULIN, "the popular Shakspearian Clown from Astley's," who is now tumbling his way through the provinces to the especial Shakspearian delight of the visitors of MR. FLICK'S "unrivalled troupe, and quadruple equestrian company."

MR. RODGERS, the forty-third pupil of MRS. SEARLE, and principal waterer of the stage at Covent Garden, promoted at Brighton into "MONSIEUR ROGER, the admired teacher of dancing and calisthenics at ALMACKS'."

MR. NIGGERS, acknowledged to be the greatest villain that ever appeared at the City of London and QUEEN'S Theatres, promoted, for a six months' engagement at Leamington, into "MR. STANLEY SMITH, the leading light comedian of the Lyceum Theatre, under the tasteful management of MADAME VESTRIS."

MR. BROWN, the rich grocer of Finsbury Square, promoted, for the short time he is travelling in France and Italy, into _Milor_ BROWN.

ENSIGN HARRISON, who has just received his commission in the "Bucks Invincibles," promoted, during his stay at Baden-Baden, to the Captaincy of a crack regiment in HER MAJESTY'S line.

MRS. SUTHERLAND, the stock-broker's wife, of Dalston, who is at present stopping at Ems with her seven unmarried daughters, promoted by the landlord and waiters of the Hotel, where she is stopping, into LADY SUTHERLAND, and the promotion gazetted accordingly in all the _Journaux_ and _Zeitungen_ of the place. N.B. The promotion is not in the least denied by MRS. SUTHERLAND, until she is presented with 'the small amount' of Her Ladyship's bill, when she is very indignant "at the idea of being taken for a Lady."

There are several other promotions that generally take place during the Autumn by persons who are travelling. Shopmen aspire to the rank of gentlemen; young gentlemen give themselves the air and pretensions of noblemen; and ladies do not mind to what high rank they may be promoted, knowing well enough they must sink down again to the plain Mrs., the moment they return to Baker Street. But it is otherwise with the gentlemen, who, it is notorious, are more easily led away by the vanities of this world than the ladies; thus, you will meet with swarms of _Rentiers_ in the shape of young gentlemen who have scarcely got sufficient to pay the expenses of their journey home; with innumerable _Hommes de Lettres_, who have never had anything to do with them, beyond writing a letter occasionally, signed "A Father of a Family," or "A Constant Reader," to the Editor of the _Times_; with railways-full of _artistes_, who, if the truth were known, are only hair-cutters, or else the drawing-masters of some suburban girl's-school; and with no small quantity of _Banquiers_, whom, if you could see them only in their counting-houses at home, you would find, probably, behind the trellis-work of a suspicious Betting-Shop, or else secreted in a dark back-parlour, with some six other _Banquiers_, at the head of a "Mutual Loan and Investment Office"--for the benefit, of course, of the "Poor Man" and not at all of themselves.

Beware, especially at the sea-side, and on your travels, of all AUTUMNAL PROMOTIONS.

* * * * *

THE ENGLISH HIPPOPOTAMUS, AT THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, to the FRENCH DITTO, AT THE "JARDIN DES PLANTES."

"MON CHER HIP.,--I have been reading the account of your glorious reception at Paris. Don't you allow your simple head to be turned by the homage you have been receiving. Look at me, and profit by the ridiculous lesson.

"But a short time ago I was as great a favourite as you now are. I was run after worse than a Nepaulese Ambassador--though what little lustre there was about me was all my own--not a single diamond shone in my ears! and my nose (at present so snubbed) was unconscious of the smallest precious stone! No valuable Cachemire was coiled round my head, that, in a moment of admiration, I could unroll and lay at the feet of my fair worshippers. What little merit I possessed consisted in my native ugliness; and though I flatter myself I am as ugly now as I was then, still no one runs after me now.

"As it was with me so it will be with you. My word for it, your nose will be similarly put out of joint by M. DUPIN, or some other monstrosity. I was the rage, the fashionable lion of the day. Thousands of ladies tore their dresses, and fought with their parasols, to get a passing peep at me. They called me 'dear,' 'duck,' 'pet,' and other fond terms of female endearment; and much they care about me at present! Casts were made of me in sponge-cake, and adorned the pastrycooks' windows. You saw my portrait in the frontispiece of every polka. No periodical was complete without my biography, whilst my bulky proportions were multiplied in a thousand different shapes, either in snuff-boxes, ink-stands, salt-cellars, butter-boats, or else figured on ladies' brooches. And where, I ask, am I now? I hide myself in the mud of my bath, with shame and indignation, when I think of the base ingratitude of the public.

"I cannot believe you are any uglier than I was. I will not pay you so egregious a compliment. I will say you possess the same bountiful share of recommendations. In that case I beseech you, _mon cher_ animal, not to allow your brain to be affected by the popular incense that at present is being burnt under your admired nostrils. It is ever the fickle taste of Fashion to forget to-morrow the idols it is worshipping to-day. Believe me, and I speak as one who is both a hippopotamus and a brother, you will be as little run after, as little cared about this time next year, as I now am. At present you are _un charmant hippopotame_, the _fêted_ curiosity of the moment; wait another twelvemonth, and they will say of you, as they do of me, that you are nothing better than a great pig, or, worse still, they will call you probably, in their insulting vernacular, '_un gros cochon_'. Ponder, be wise, and don't grow too conceited.

"Such is the affectionate advice of

"_Mon cher Hip_, your old _camarade du Nil_,

"THE HIPPOPOTAMUS (_of the Zoological Gardens_).

"P.S. Will you believe it, the fashionable world is now running, 'like mad,' after two little monkeys they call _Aztecs_? The ladies actually kiss them! It makes one sick merely to think of it."

* * * * *

FEARFUL ACCIDENT TO A GREAT CIVIC AUTHORITY.

The _Times_, in describing the late accident on the Great Northern Railway, assures us, first, that the LORD MAYOR escaped with a trifling injury, but on the next day informs us that his Lordship continues "to swallow with difficulty." As his Lordship was on his way to the Cutlers' Feast, and as his Lordship's tenure of office ceases on the 9th November, _Punch_ does not see how the _Times_ can reconcile its first with its second statement.

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH IN CHINA.

Since each _gobe-mouche_ is speaking of Nanking or Peking, And as each critic, wit, or professional diner, Explains that you can't choose but see that the Mantchews Must soon be entirely driven from China, And that a high price on our Pekoe and Hyson Must be the infallible end of the clatter, _Mr. Punch_, who's a strong _goût_ for Souchong and Congou, Determines to go and see what is the matter, It boots not to say _how_ he goes; for to-day Young and old, grave and gay, so affect locomotion, That the press every hour produces a shower, Of "Rough Notes of a Slide on the Great Frozen Ocean," Or "A Midsummer's Ramble from Stamford to Stambol;" Or "The Steppes of the Cossacks, by one who has walked in 'em;" And I'm sure that whate'er _Mr. Punch's_ plans were, If _these_ tourists could prosper, _he_ wouldn't be baulked in 'em. Like the witches, perchance, he might choose to advance, And so order his coachman to bring out his brougham; Or ask Phoebus to lead forth that spirited steed, Which is furnished, in turn, by each Muse, with a groom; But, however, we'll fancy him safely in Quansi, Or Quantong, where, taking his place 'mid the great, he, Like any philandering son of a mandarin, Sits enjoying his opium _cum dignitate_. Rich and stately pagodas he finds on the road, as He goes through the land, for the most part erected, When the smallest house-tax on Gaul, Briton, or Saxon, Would have stood not the least chance of being collected. Wide canals, dykes, and sluices he sees, too, whose uses Were applied both to traffic, to drainage, and tillage, When a hard rain had undone both Paris and London, To the mud they were made of restoring each village. And they show him the pages of China's first sages, Which were printed for sale in the towns of the Tartar; When, with us, scarce a spark of wit gleamed in one clerk, And DE MONTFORT "his mark" set to our Magna Charta. They declare, too, that banking quite flourished in Nanking, And that printed bank-notes were in vogue at the hour When our yeomen and reeves exchanged bannocks for beeves, And seldom bought less than a sheep'sworth of flour. And he learns their silk factories furnished phylacteries, Robes, handkerchiefs, tapestry too, in the jolly days When our sires wore a quaint but light coat of blue paint, With a few streaks of red upon high days and holidays; And that long, long 'ere BACON and BUNGAY were taken Unawares by the sudden blow up of their crucible, Each Chinese fire-eater had found "vile saltpetre" To the purpose of killing "tall fellows" reducible. Then the more he enquires concerning their sires, The greater the reason he sees to anticipate That much of the mystery shrouding the history Of Europe, the records of China will dissipate; For as old HOANG TI built the wall, strong and high, To check the fierce Huns as it now checks the Tartars, Not long after old HANNIBAL conquered at Cannæ, And then wasted his time in his snug winter quarters; And as if China's sons had not driven those Huns Into Europe by many a subsequent battle, a Longer respite, I ween, for old Rome there had been, Nor Europe so early had bowed to an ATTILA. It is clear that a stranger and far greater danger Threatened Rome when on Carthage her wrath she was wreaking; And that Cato the Censor had shown greater sense, or Discernment, by crying "_Delenda est_ Peking!" But alas! all these stories of China's old glories, _Mr. Punch_ plainly sees it is vain to recall, Since the course of the nation in civilisation Has for ages been typified best by its wall. No more, like his sires, the Chinese aspires In science and art to be making some new step; But the national skill, like a soldier on drill, Keeps performing a kind of perpetual goose-step. For the vast population, the _hand_ cultivation Of the still fertile country no longer suffices; Though to drain swamps they toil, and to carry up soil To the rocky hill sides, no unfrequent device is. And, on seeing their dainties, poor _Punch_ fit to faint is, As he cries, "Nought but famine gives such things a price!" "Rats and mice, and such _small_ deer," snakes and puppies are all dear. As helping to eke out their pittance of rice. Now whilst thus his quick wit is on their antiquities Busy as that of a LAYARD or BONOMI; Or, like that of M'CULLOCH, of pig, sheep, and bullock, Rice and tea, is discussing the social economy, There springs up a great riot near, and the patriot Army comes marching along in its pride; Crying out as they go, "We are hostile to Fô!" They fling down the josses on every side, And smash, in their scrimmages, all Buddha's images, Whilst a new-fangled creed by their chiefs is propounded, Which they call Christianity; though, when _Punch_ comes to scan it, he Finds it is but CONFUCIUS his creed "worse confounded." Now in hamlet or city, all quarter or pity To their long hated rulers the natives refuse; "Peacock's plumes" and "Red buttons" are nought but lost muttons. Whilst impatient his badges of serfdom to lose, Each Chinese without fail parts his head from his tail, And henceforth minds his _toupées_ instead of his _queues_. _Mr. Punch_--whilst applauding their courage, and lauding Their natural wish to recover their freedom-- Still thinks that society may with propriety Expect him a brief "screed o' doctrine" to read 'em. So he summons their leader, and says, "You indeed err, If you think that this triumph your labour will terminate; When the Mantchews have vanished, there still must be banished Many faults which for ages you've suffered to germinate. Your own gross inhumanity, cunning, and vanity, Which still are so great that I cannot ignore 'em, Helped the Mantchews, who knew you right well, to subdue you, As the Mongols and Khalkas had oft done before 'em. You have broken your chains of to-day with small pains; But hereafter, if courage and honesty you lack, you Will be conquered once more--like your fathers of yore, By the might of some yet to come KUBLAI or HULAKHU; For the hordes of the North are still ripe to burst forth. As oft in their tents the rude minstrel or rhymer Tunes his harp in the praise of those glorious days, When their sires fought bravely for GENGIS or TIMUR. To conclude. If you'd thrive, you must earnestly strive To rub out of men's minds the stern dictum of TENNYSON, That 'in Europe one day beats a year in Cathay,' And thereto _Punch_ heartily gives you his benison."

* * * * *

HINT TO RAILWAY ROGUES.

There is a certain arrangement which Railway Directors would do well to adopt in the construction of their time-tables. It is one very generally prevalent among that class of tradesmen whom Railway Companies, for the most part, resemble, generally, in their manner of doing business, considered with reference to fairness and honesty. At present, the hours of arrival and departure are given in the tables--together with a simple disclaimer of the obligation to keep them. This is like giving an I.O.U., under protest of non-liability for the amount; a coarse and clumsy mode of shirking responsibility, and, what is worse, an ineffectual one, being impracticable in law. A far preferable device would be that of printing the hours in large letters with the qualification of "somewhere about" prefixed in very small. By this expedient the appearance of contradicting an engagement would be presented without the reality, and the comfort of security would attend the advantage of swindling.

* * * * *

RIVAL REAPING-MACHINES.

We hear a great deal about the merits of some rival reaping-machines, but we know of nothing that can equal in the force of rivalry those wonderful reaping-machines--a barrister's tongue, and a physician's finger and thumb; which are the means used by both in reaping their tremendous harvests.

* * * * *

AN IMPERIAL SWEEP.

We believe there is a species of long broom, called "a Turk's Head." Now we should say, that the EMPEROR OF RUSSIA would soon make a clean sweep of the Mohammedan Church, Empire and all, if the Sultan would but only put the "Turk's Head" in his hands.

* * * * *

* * * * *

QUEEN CHRISTINA IN ENGLAND.

QUEEN DOWAGER CHRISTINA--who has brightened our darkened land with the lustre of her presence--is sedulously studying all our London institutions, in order to do her best to take back and naturalise copies thereof in Spain. She has already visited the Bank of England, and exhibited the most interesting astonishment on learning that the dividends were regularly paid to the public creditor. At first she received the intelligence laughingly, as a bit of heavy _badinage_, the best joke that the dull English could get up for her. However, the Governor of the Bank of England, having gravely assured HER MAJESTY that the Bank regularly paid the public creditor--he moreover produced the books in testimony of the pleasing fact--CHRISTINA, as an ex-queen and a lady, with a frank smile and a graceful curtsey, avowed her belief in the singular custom.

CHRISTINA, though still handsome and by no means old, is nevertheless addicted to serious meditation. It is said that, in token of her contempt of all worldly fopperies, she has worked more than one flag for fast-sailing vessels, trading to the coast of Africa, and landing--(LUCIFER willing and able)--their black merchandise at the Havannah. The flag has at once been typical of the profits of trade, and the final nothingness of all commercial things; _i. e._--a Death's Head and Cross-Bones embroidered in white silk upon black satin; and duly blessed by HER MAJESTY'S confessor. It is said that HER MAJESTY, in admiration of _Uncle Tom_, offered a very handsome testimonial to MRS. BEECHER STOWE; namely, a little black boy, wonderfully accomplished, as page. This story, however, wants confirmation.

We keep the most interesting intelligence for the last. HER MAJESTY has paid a visit to the cemeteries of Norwood, Kensal Green, and Highgate; and--she is an excellent artist--was so much pleased with the last, that she made a sketch of the burial-grounds with her own royal hand, and sent it off by express to Madrid, accompanied by an autograph letter to her queenly daughter, recommending the sketch to be followed (with all allowance for limited space) in the new cemetery (_when_ granted) to the Protestant English.

* * * * *

AN OMNIBUSIAN SONG.

(_After_ BARRY CORNWALL.)

Ride! Who rides In a 'bus that taketh twelve insides? Ah! who is this lady fine That falls on this lap of mine? A lady is she, As big as three. I prefer her room to her company.

Smoke! Who smokes To the great annoyance of other folks? Ah! who is this snob so fine? A gent, Sirs! a gent! He comes with the noxious scent Of tobacco, beer, and wine: Far better that he On the roof should be. I prefer his room to his company.

* * * * *

COTTON AFLOAT.

The Americans have made another magnificent discovery of the use of cotton. Cotton makes the best cordage for ships. It runs freer, and ties tighter knots. (The knots hitherto caused by cotton all _Uncle Tom's_ can bear witness to.) Cotton, moreover, makes the best sails: for the _Sovereign of the Seas_, Yankee craft, has sails as well as rigging of the fabric. What a slave-clipper might be rigged by the appropriate cotton! What a thing of life (and death) to walk the middle-passage; to fly in and out of African bays and creeks! But one ceremony would be needed to make such a craft perfect. She ought to be christened by the QUEEN DOWAGER OF SPAIN. As HER MAJESTY is about the richest slaveholder, the very largest dealer in human flesh, it would be very appropriate that she should give a name to the kidnapping craft. We would suggest as a name _The Christina_. The slaver rigged with cotton, and the Dowager Queen rigged with the spoils of slavery, would be worthy of one another.

* * * * *

HOW TO WRITE THE BIOGRAPHY OF A WOMAN.

An impudent fellow says: "Show me all the dresses a woman has worn in the course of her life, and I will write her Biography from them."

* * * * *

* * * * *

PERVERSION OF A CLERGYMAN.

The Advertisements that are sent to some of our contemporaries, must be altered by them. Here, for instance, is a notification, extracted from the _Lincoln, Rutland, and Stamford Mercury_, by which unprincipled journal it has evidently been corrupted in the grossest manner:--

THE REVEREND RALPH WILLIAM TOLLEMACHE having obtained the exclusive right of Shooting, Sporting, &c., over the whole of the Manor of CLIPSHAM (except Addah Wood), and Lands belonging to J. M. PAGET, Esquire, in the Lordship of PICKWORTH, in the county of Rutland, hopes that all qualified Persons will refrain from trespassing upon the said Lands; as also upon Lands in the Lordship of SOUTH WITHAM, over which he has the right of Shooting, &c., including Lands belonging to the Blue Bull Farm in the Parish of CASTLE BYTHAM and the Hamlet of LOBTHORPE, in the county of Lincoln; and in the Parish of THISTLETON, in the county of Rutland; also on the Blue Point Farm in the Parish of WYMONDHAM, in the county of Leicester.

All Poachers, &c., will be proceeded against _with the utmost rigour of the law_; and MR. TOLLEMACHE _hereby gives notice_, that he will pay to any Person who will give such information as will lead to the _conviction_ of any Person or Persons, for any breach whatsoever of the Game Laws upon any of the aforementioned Lands, the sum of Ten Shillings upon _each such conviction_.

_South Witham_, August 22, 1853.

In the above announcement should be made the following corrections:--For "Shooting, Sporting, &c.," read "Preaching, Praying, &c.;" for "Manor," read "Parish;" for "Persons," read "Parsons;" for "County of Lincoln," read "Diocess of Lincoln," &c. &c.

For "All Poachers, &c., will be proceeded against with the utmost rigour of the law," read "All Preachers will be proceeded against with the utmost rigour of the Gospel"--by "Poachers," understanding to be meant unauthorised fanatics and disseminators of false doctrine. Understand, also, that the hope expressed by MR. TOLLEMACHE, "that all qualified Parsons will refrain from trespassing," &c., means that he does not wish other clergymen to interfere with his people. Lastly, for "Conviction," read "Conversion;" for "for," "from;" and for "Game," "Divine." This is a quaint way of expressing himself on the part of the REVEREND RALPH WILLIAM LIONEL TOLLEMACHE; but JOHN BUNYAN was quaint; so was JOHN WESLEY: so was ROWLAND HILL--why not MR. TOLLEMACHE?

It is too bad to represent a Minister as addicted to the sports of the Field, when, in fact, he devotes himself to the labours of the Vineyard; as beating stubble and cover with retrievers of the canine species, instead of perambulating the highways and by-ways with Scripture Readers; and in place of converting criminals to rectitude, as converting poachers into criminals.

The spiritual manor of the REVEREND MR. TOLLEMACHE includes several districts; but, anxious as he is to do the work of them himself, it is not fair to call him a pluralist. His mild wish that his brethren will refrain from trespassing on his ground, assures us that he has no difficulty in forgiving all his neighbours their trespasses.

* * * * *

THE DISAPPOINTED DIRECTOR.

(A FABLE.)

An eminent Railway Director, having early business of importance, ordered himself to be called at 6. He was not roused till 6.35. His footman said he was very sorry; he had overslept himself. But he protested he had made every effort to insure his getting up soon enough.

The Railway Director rang for his hot water. It was lukewarm. The kettle had not been got to boil. However, the housemaid vowed she had made every effort to insure its boiling.

The Director of Railways sat down to breakfast. He had to wait five minutes for his egg: and then it was but half done. The egg had not been thought of till just that moment, and then had to be sent out for. Nevertheless the cook had, she declared, made every effort to insure breakfast betimes.

Having swallowed his coffee, which was filthy, notwithstanding that the servant had made every effort to insure its goodness, and devoured his heavy roll, to insure whose lightness every effort had been made by the baker; the Railway Director called for his boots, which did not shine, although every effort had been made to polish them. He then took a cab, and arrived at his destination about a quarter of an hour later than the time that should have been occupied by the journey; still, the driver averred stoutly that he had made every effort to get his horse to go.

A large party of friends and colleagues, including several capitalists, most of whom were great epicures and gluttons, and also dyspeptic and gouty subjects, whose stomachs and tempers were alike impatient, had assembled at the house of the Railway Director to dine at 7.30. The dinner was not announced till 8.15, albeit Messrs. BUBB and GRUBB, with all the resources of MAGOG'S Coffee-House at command, had made every effort to insure punctuality.

Hereupon the Railway Director, losing control over his feelings, indignantly demanded what was the meaning of all this? adding, with an oath, that he supposed the world to be in a conspiracy against him. To which one of his guests, a little punchy man, who was wiser than the rest, replied, "You are quite right; but the reason why the world has conspired against you is, because you and your association conspire against the world to deceive and defraud it; for you fix certain hours in your time-tables, thereby engaging to keep them, and, not keeping them, pretend that you have only contracted to make every effort to insure punctuality in keeping them. And this is all the reply you have to make to the complaints of those whom you have choused. And so, the world has combined to pay you in your own coin, in order that you may feel how disagreeable it is to have people, from whom you expect punctuality, not showing it; but instead of practising it, putting you off with the excuse that they have made every effort to insure it."

MORAL.

Railway Companies are servants of the public; but if the Director of any Railway Company were to be treated by his own domestics and tradesfolk with the same neglect and inattention that he and his fellows treat the public with, and were to have agreements and bargains made with himself violated with the like impudence, he would be mightily incensed and exasperated. And, instead of assuaging, it would only aggravate his wrath to tell him that every effort had been made to discharge those obligations to the fulfilment of which there had been paid small regard, if any.

* * * * *

OCEAN MELODIES.

(_Refined from the original_ Sea-Songs, _for the use of the Yacht Clubs._)

The Wife wishes to go upon the Continent.

ADELINA has flirted--not once, she declares, Since you placed on her finger the ring that she wears; Since at gloomy ST. GEORGE'S your bride she became, And you gave her an Opera-box marked with her name.

When I sailed in that yacht a whole fortnight with you, Did I say I was bored (if I did it was true), With my ALFRED for hours at _ecarté_ I played, And his meerschaum I lit, and his coffee I made.

When, the night we'd a box at ST. JULLIEN'S last _bal_, And--goodness knows why--you deserted the _salle_, I gave you a smile when you chose to appear, Nor asked whom you knew on that horrid top tier.

Why won't you, dear AL, by mamma be advised? A wife who don't pout, AL, deserves to be prized-- So to Constance and Rome ADELINA you'll take, Or a nice piece of work that young person will make.

* * * * *

A NUISANCE.

"MR. PUNCH,--I should be very much obliged if you would put a stop to a species of annoyance which I am continually subject to. I allude to a system of 'Notes and Queries,' which is becoming daily more and more impertinently annoying. These questions are put to me every morning through the medium of the newspapers, which I am obliged to read, 'just to be in the world.' I am a poor student, Sir, and have enough to do to answer questions of a very different description to the following, viz., 'Do you want luxuriant whiskers?' 'Have you been to ---- emporium?' 'Do you bruise your oats?' &c. &c. And then if I take a walk, there is scarcely a street in which I am not assailed by a pictorial Barmaid ejaculating 'Sherry, Sir?' Do, _Mr. Punch_, allow me, through your columns, to answer these impertinent questions once for all. I have _not_ been and never will go to ---- emporium. My AMELIA doesn't care about whiskers, and therefore _I_ don't; and as for bruising oats, and drinking sherry, 'this my answer:'--I don't keep horses, and when I want (and can pay for) wine I'll ask for it.

"I am, _Mr. Punch_, yours &c., FIZ.'

* * * * *

"Non Tali Auxilio."

The head of the Chinese rebellion is extremely indignant with the conduct of the Comet who has lately been rushing about his dominions. He has dispatched a near relation of the Moon's to arrest him in his flight, and, wherever he may find him, instantly to cut off his tail.

* * * * *

A NEW ZODIACAL LIGHT.

At the recent Meeting of the British Association, PROFESSOR GLIMM, of Finsterberg, favoured Section A with the outlines of his plan for the better arrangement of the signs of the zodiac, which, as he truly remarked, were in a very unsatisfactory state, and not at all in accordance with the spirit of the age. "What occasion have we," he asked, "for Libra, the Balance, when we have already the scales of the Pisces?" He therefore proposes to remove Libra from its control over the harvest month, and to substitute for it Virga, which, as every school-boy knows, is the Latin for a threshing machine in common use. As Aquarius comes under the provisions of the New Cab Act, which declares that no water-man shall be allowed on the stand, he is to retire on a pension, and his berth is to be held over for FATHER MATHEW.

The weapons of Sagittarius, and his mode of conducting the chase, have become quite obsolete, and can only excite ridicule in an age which has made so many improvements in fire-arms. He is therefore to share the honourable retirement of Aquarius, and his duties and emoluments are to be divided amongst a troop of shooting stars. These last have petitioned that Canis Venaticus (the hunting dog) may be allowed to attend them, but their request cannot be complied with until it has been ascertained that this celestial pointer will refrain from worrying Taurus and Aries, and barking at the heels of Virgo. PROFESSOR GLIMM has also persuaded some distinguished members of the Peace Society to arbitrate between the Gemini, who have not been on visiting terms for many years. By the intervention of these gentlemen, it is hoped these discreditable squabbles will be stopped, and Castor and Pollux will be once more seen in company.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 3.

The Englishman in Paris lives one of two lives: a life of duty or a life of pleasure. In the former case he wanders drearily through the Louvre and the Luxembourg; he makes painful pilgrimages to churches, museums, and galleries, in the hope of picking up a knowledge of Art. He devotes this day to St. Denis, the next to Versailles, the third to St. Cloud. He fills his catalogue and guide-books with annotations, and perhaps spends a cheerful evening over a diary, in which desperate efforts are made to distinguish the styles of RUBENS and TITIAN, and the eras of Notre Dame and the Sainte Chapelle. In the latter case he frequents the Opéra Comique, the theatres, and the public balls: he breakfasts in the Palais Royal, and dines at PHILIPPE'S, and makes a regular promenade in the Champs Elysées every afternoon. The well-balanced mind of your correspondent seizes the advantages of both these systems. He devotes his morning to the cultivation of his intellect, and the rest of the day to the gratification of his tastes.

Behold him, then, after a conscientious study of the pictures in the Louvre, prepared to refresh himself by an airing in the Elysian fields. What a panorama of superb points of view! The Rue de la Paix, the Place and Column Vendôme, the Attic Madeleine, the endless arcades of the Rue de Rivoli, the imperial facade of the Tuileries, its classic gardens, the noble opening of the Place de la Concorde, with its obelisk and fountains, and the avenue ending with the sublime Arch of the Star. Where else can such a group of beauties be found? No wonder the poor Parisians find London dull and ugly! But the less we talk about the appearance of our dingy city the better; we must forget Trafalgar Square and its monuments, and console ourselves with our pavement, our drainage, and our comfortable firesides.

The sun shines cheerfully, the air is pure, and the philosopher enters the Champs Elysées in a state of serene enjoyment, proposing to study the manners of the great nation. He observes an ancient man by the wayside in tattered garments, who plays soft tunes on a bass trombone. No one pays the least attention to this mild minstrelsy. It is a perfect image of Wisdom talking in the streets, and no man regarding her. Another poor creature seated on the ground, grinds a feeble tootling organ amid similar neglect. The French are evidently not a musical people. The observer passes on to a temple of Punch, at whose exhibition (in reverence to the august original in England) he is about to assist, when he is suddenly aroused to a sense of a cruel disappointment. He might just as well be in Hyde Park. It is the drive by the Serpentine over again. Why, there's OVERALLS, of the Blues. There's SWELLINGS SWELLINGS; you never can go anywhere without seeing him. That was BOB HILTON, driving the high-stepping grey horse. There goes THREADPAPER of the Foreign Office, with his infant moustache (what the deuce does _he_ want with a moustache, I should like to know?) There's old GRATINGS, who is such a bore at the Club; there's CHARLEY MARTINGALE of the Plungers, with HOOKER (known by his friends as the Bravo) in his wonderful tight trousers. But who isn't here? Two men behind are talking about the Metropolitan Handicap and GRUMBLER'S chance of the Derby. Really, really, this is too bad. The ancient poet asks, "What exile from his fatherland can leave _himself_ behind?" The question now is what man, by departure from his country, can hope to be free from his countrymen? It is intolerable. How is it possible to take notes of Parisian manners when you are seized upon by SWELLINGS SWELLINGS and catechised about the prospects of the Haymarket Opera? You get rid of him by informing him, in confidence, that it has been taken by MR. JOHN BRIGHT for a series of Bal Masqués and Ballet entertainments, when up come the BRAVO and MARTINGALE, who want to know when PYTCHLEY'S stud is to be sold. You profess a sulky ignorance of the subject, and try to get away, when MARTINGALE enters upon a sketch of French character, which he holds very low, chiefly on grounds of a sporting nature. Ever see such dogs?--ever see such horses?--ever see such riding and driving?--ever see such grooms and coachmen? You should go to one of their steeple-chases and look at them tumbling about. The last time, at La Marche, white and red cap came pounding along fifty miles an hour, and pulled up short at the brook to inquire for the _bridge_.

"_Ou est le pont, Messieurs? Mon Dieu, je vais perdre! De grace, ou est le pont?_" and another man got with his horse on to the top of a bank, where he stopped for a quarter-of-an-hour without being able to get off again, until at last the crowd flicked the unfortunate animal with their pocket-handkerchiefs into a state of madness, when he jumped down, only it was on the wrong side, and his rider gave up the adventure. MARTINGALE was also very severe on the cavalry, whom he described as tailors mounted on bad cart-horses, and unable to stand for a moment before British heavies.

HOOKER endorsed the criticisms of his friend, and called attention to the cavaliers who pranced up and down the drive. Certainly it was rather a ludicrous contrast, both for men and cattle, with our exhibition in Rotten Row. The horses were mostly weedy, leggy, tucked up brutes, all mane and tail, and worth about two pound ten each. One young fellow, a tremendous dandy, galloped up and down on a gray Arab-looking pony that an English gentleman would have put his little boy of twelve upon. The styles of riding were various. There were the _haute école_ men, who rode very long, and showed all their saddle in front of them, and the Anglo-maniacs, who rode very short, and showed all their saddle behind them. Some gentlemen seemed disposed to tie their legs together under their horse's belly; others projected them on each side of his chest like the cat-heads of a man-of-war. They all rode on the curb, with a grasp of iron, holding the snaffle in the other hand, perpetually nagging and spurring and hustling the wretched animals about, till they did not know what to be at. HOOKER'S honest Yorkshire heart swelled with bitterness all the time. "They oughtn't to be trusted out with a horse," he said. "It's a shame, by JOVE! They drive like a butcher, and ride like a chummy on a moke" (HOOKER meant to say, a sweep on a donkey; but he always prefers idiomatic expressions, which add great vigour to his discourse). "However, I won't be unjust to the Mossoos. They can cook a good dinner, and no mistake. Come to-night, old fellow, and dine with us in the Rue Montorgueil. There's HAYCOCK of the 190th coming, and we shall have some of CLICQUOT'S Champagne."

Good. We will be there.

* * * * *

A MUSICAL PUMP.

A Composer, whom we cannot do less than call a Musical Pump, so full is his head of crotchets and water--has published three watery sheets of music for the Pianoforte, respectively entitled "The Morning Mist," "The Rainbow," and "The Waterfall." Why should he stop here? why not thoroughly drain the subject? why not fathom it in all its depths, until he has not left a drop of water that can be sounded, or out of which any sound can be got, by any other composer? In our liberality, we beg to suggest a few subjects for him.

THE SHOWER OF RAIN--dedicated to the Lessee of Vauxhall, with an illuminated frontispiece, showing a view of the "Ten Thousand additional Lamps," in water colours.

THE UMBRELLA GALOP, and PARASOL POLKA, dedicated to the fair frequenters of the Horticultural and Botanical Gardens--with a fine running accompaniment.

THE DELUGE--humbly inscribed to LORD MAIDSTONE.

THE MACKINTOSH MARCH--with a view of Chobham Camp--and a beautiful waterproof wrapper.

THE BUCKET OF WATER--A composition for the milk-pail.

THE OVERFLOW--with a splendid engraving of the Surrey Zoological Gardens, showing the overflow caused by a little Poole. "Exceedingly playful."--_Musical Review._

THE CATS AND DOGS' SCHOTTISHE, as danced at all the Scottish Fêtes in Holland Park, Cremorne, &c.

And when the subject of rain-water is fairly pumped out, there are all the other atmospheric changes, of which our climate offers such a tempting variety, and some of which must surely contain a few of the elements of success. We scarcely know which are the most ridiculous--the titles that are given now-a-days to new shirts, or the subjects that are chosen, as the sources of inspiration, by our musical composers.

* * * * *

EXTREME CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

The _Field_ newspaper prides itself in giving "No Reports of Prize Fights." So conscientious is the paper in this particular, that it has announced its determination--in the event of the decimal coinage being adopted--to turn away every farthing, rather than derive a profit from a single _mil_.

* * * * *

CAUSE AND EFFECT.--It is said that a cause is always followed by effect, but this is not the case at all events at law, where a cause is too frequently followed by "No Effects."

* * * * *

LINES ON THE BURIAL OF A BRITISH PROTESTANT IN SPAIN.

Not a knell gave out any funeral note, As his corpse to the shingles we hurried; And below water-mark we had bare leave got That our countryman's bones should be buried.

We buried him, dog-like, on that mean site, The tide on the point of turning, At the wretched Spaniards' bigot spite With contempt intensely burning.

No use in coffin enclosing his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud that bound him! For he lay where he scarce would remain long at rest, With the ocean washing round him.

None at all were the prayers we read; And we felt more of rage than sorrow, As we thought on the brutes who insult us when dead, And don't pay us alive what they borrow

We thought as we hollowed his shelly bed, And smoothed down his pebbly pillow, That the crabs and the lobsters would creep o'er his head, And we with our fleets on the billow!

Lightly they'll talk of our spirit as gone! Our guns might to atoms have brayed them, Yet we've let the rascals in this way go on, Treating those very Britons who made them.

But half of our shameful job was done, When the waves roared the hour of retiring, And we knew we the distance should have to run, To divert a rabble admiring.

Sharply and quickly we laid him down, 'Mid the jeers of the monks, young and hoary, And we said, unless Spain is compelled to atone, All a humbug is Old England's glory!

* * * * *

THE LAWYERS ABROAD.

Our latest advices inform of us of an extensive inundation of the Rhine. It is impossible to get into a steamer without having "with you MR. SERGEANT SOMEBODY," or finding a Judge "sitting in error" by taking possession of the camp-stool we have for an instant quitted. Every town in Switzerland has its proportion of British Lawyers. Peru the other day could boast of two justices besides its own; and many a legal luminary has been exploring the summits of the Jura, as an agreeable change from his habitual contemplation of the _summun jus_. Equity draftsmen instead of drawing conveyances have been glad to get conveyances to draw them; and the common lawyer has forgotten every other motion but locomotion, which, at this season of the year, is almost a motion of course. The diligences nearly all over the Continent are so unusually loaded, that there is scarcely a vacant corner to be found in any one of them, but we cannot be surprised that when so many lawyers are travelling by them they should be rather heavily charged.

* * * * *

THE CLOTH AND THE PLUSH.

In SWIFT'S time a Chaplain was a mere clerical domestic; and some Curates appear to be little better now. Did ever any one hear of an ordained valet?--somebody wants to hear of such a servant, however, to judge herefrom:--

Curacy, with Title for Holy Orders, in the Diocese of Canterbury. Remuneration--board and lodging, and £20 per annum. For further particulars apply to MR. CLERC SMITH, Secretary to the Church of England Club, 36, Southampton Street, Strand.

The above is taken from the _Times_. What is the Curate expected to undertake for £20 a year and his victuals? The cure of Soles--in the sense of scraping them, perhaps--with the additional duty of polishing upper leathers. To answer the bell that rings for prayers, peradventure--and also that which rings for hot water. We should like to know whether the employer of such a Curate returns him in his Assessed Tax Paper, with a farther entry on his account under the head of Hair Powder.

* * * * *

POLITICAL CAPITAL.--The only capital most Irish Members have, and even that is at a terrible discount.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A CITY WITHOUT SMOKE!

That a city can exist without Smoke, we beg to refer our readers for the proof of such a possibility to MR. BURFORD'S Panorama in Leicester Square. There they will be able to admire, in all its beauty and undefiled cleanliness, the lovely City of Mexico. You are standing on the top of the Grand Cathedral, and, look in all directions as you will, you cannot see the smallest wreath of smoke curling about the place. Now, we should like to see the curl taken out of London in a similar manner. It may not look, perhaps, so grand, so showy and glittering as Mexico, but still it may, in its new aspect, appear sufficiently tempting to induce Mr. BURFORD to select it as the subject of some future Panorama. The probability is, we should not know it again as the same city, in which we are now, like so many living chimneys, inhaling and exhaling smoke all day long. The new Zealander, when he does view the ruins of our sooty metropolis from London Bridge, would be able to see them at all events to greater advantage then than he would if he were to take his private view from one of the parapets to-morrow. For our own selves, we are most anxious to see how London would look without smoke--for, in the name of darkness, it looks ugly enough with it.

* * * * *

"THE GREAT GLOBE ITSELF."

MR. ALBERT SMITH alters his song of "_Galignani's Messenger_" to the current events of the day. MR. WYLD will have to follow his example, and keep a staff of colourmen constantly at work on his Model. Poland is gone! Turkey threatened! and in the _Times_ of Saturday, we find--

"Last week of Hindostan!"

And

"Mont Blanc will close this Evening!"

* * * * *

ANOTHER INSULT FROM THE SAXON.

(_From "The Nation._")

Another insult, hot and hissing, has been flung in the scar-seamed face of Ireland from the Saxon! And the Crystal Palace--or, rather, the Vitreous Dungeon for Ireland's liberties--was the appointed scene of the atrocity. Among the more sublimating objects was the venerable form of O'CONNELL (in something harder than wax!) surrounded by a crowd of his own finest peasantry.

"That's O'CONNELL," said the QUEEN.

"And very like him," said PRINCE ALBERT. And with all respect for his Royal Highness--(for, as we are slaves, we have learned to treat the Saxon with respect!) with all respect we ask, how he should presume to know it was like the deified lineaments of the sublime Liberator?--"And very like him!" said the Queen's husband; but--patience is the badge of all our tribe, and we'll let _that_ pass.

But the withering insult is now to be recorded; if it do not, as we write it, turn our steel pen red-hot, and singe the paper into flames!

The DUKE OF WELLINGTON--the second Duke--the son of O'CONNELL'S "stunted corporal"--yes, Dux Secundus--presumed to "buy O'CONNELL and the peasantry!"

Think of that, oh countrymen! The DUKE OF WELLINGTON dared to put his hand into his pocket, and to take out so much tax-wrung, Saxon gold, and--counting it piece by piece--he laid it down as the price of O'CONNELL!

What did he mean by that cowardly, atrocious, ready-money transaction? Why, this: by purchasing O'CONNELL he intended to fling this burning libel in the face of Ireland--he wished to show it as his decided opinion that O'CONNELL _could be bought!!!_

But the day of reckoning with the Saxon _will_ come. Meantime, if we hug our chain, it is only to count and _pay for_ the links!

* * * * *

A CLERK PAID IN KIND.

Law is looking up at Manchester--to judge from a paragraph in the _Morning Herald_; to wit--

"MANCHESTER LIBERALISM.--The following announcement has been posted on the walls of the Manchester Law Library:--'An experienced clerk, who writes a good hand, is wanted by a respectable solicitor in Manchester. Salary 7_s._ per week, with perquisites in the shape of cast-off clothes. Apply to the librarian.'"

Dull literalism would denounce the respectable solicitor who proposes to pay an experienced clerk principally in cast-off clothes, as a screw. Many a plodding fellow will expatiate on the unreasonableness on the part of a legal gentleman who remunerates a clerk on this scale, of being astonished that the said clerk should go seedy, or stretch forth his hand and commit acts contrary to ordinances and statutes in such case made and provided. It will occur to the stolid mind that the offer of a stipend of old clothes is not likely to attract any clerk of experience, beyond that of a Jew salesman. But the true man of figures, he who understands the language of Fancy, revelling in metaphor, perceives at once that the proposition which seems so stingy is, in fact, very liberal. He discerns that by cast-off clothes is meant a share in the business, consisting in those suits, which though considerably profitable, are not of sufficient importance to be attended to by the head of the establishment. It is pleasing to find the language of poetry thus obtaining, in a profession of which the phraseology has hitherto been so very unimaginative.

* * * * *

WASHING MADE AGREEABLE.

There is no washing, after all, like gold-washing. It is the kind of washing that pays the best, and the only one that a gentleman can, with credit, put his hands to.

* * * * *

* * * * *

CLASSICALITIES FOR THE NEW COINAGE.

In adopting the decimal coinage, it would be desirable to alter as little as possible the existing nomenclature of the QUEEN'S cash. The idea of the decimal may be expressed by the slightest variation of a term in vernacular use to denote a certain piece of money. By the change of a letter in the word "Tanner," the sixpence might, nominally, be retained to the great bulk of the people; whilst, by the conversion alluded to, namely, into "Tenner," the new elements of its constitution would be at the same time signified. The novel word "Mil," should be rejected; and for it might be substituted the similarly sounding but more familiar name of "Bill," the adoption of which may be recommended on the ground of analogy, as the shilling has been already long stamped with the popular diminutive of "Bob." If the somewhat fanciful expression "Mil," or "Mill," is employed, the principle of its derivation should be consistently carried out. The words "Winder," "Bender," "Twister," "Topper," and "Stunner," might be borrowed to designate money, which itself should change its present correct appellation for the more sportive and appropriate title of Blunt. The mutation of "Florin" into "Floorer" would be obviously called for, and the crown piece might be neatly styled a "Punisher," as being the well-known amount of the fine for inebriety.

On all the coins emanating from the pugilistic mint, it would be requisite that the Lion and the Unicorn should be fighting; and whilst V. R. figured on one side of them, P. R. should be stamped on the other, that it might in every respect be characterised by the true ring.

* * * * *

PUNCH'S POTATO PROPHECY.

The reader, who minds his _Punch_, of course remembers what _Punch_ prophesied in 1847 on the Irish potato rot. From that very decay, _Punch_ predicted regeneration.

"The butcher, the baker, The candle-stick maker, All jumped out of a rotten potato."

So runs the childish doggrel; but _Punch_ heard in that shambling verse a musical promise; and hearing, foretold the coming time when, from the very blight that smote the people of Ireland through Ireland's potatos, there should be peace and plenty for Ireland regenerate. And is it not so? Answer with one of your wildest roars, oh, Lion of Judah! Is it not so--reply and tenderly, cooingly, oh Dove of Galway!

* * * * *

DISRAELI'S COAT AND BADGE.

Was a smarter old feller than I be e'er seen In these bright brass buttons--this new quoat of green? Why is it I'm rigged out so fine as this here? Why for sarvin' one master for full thirty year.

But wherefore should I be so proud o' my clothes, And strut in 'em so, stickin' up my old nose? Do I think the prize-suit such an honour to wear? Shoo! it baint for the raiment alone as I care.

'Tisn't that--the mere valley and worth of the coat-- 'Tis the honour the present is meant to denote, The respect I be held in, the height of esteem, Which is far above all I could possible dream.

Why, what dost thee think, man? these things is no less Than a passpoort for wearers, a privileged dress, I puts on this quoat on my back--that was all-- And they lets me walk in to the grand County Ball.

There was MEASTER DISRAELI, the friend o' the land, He comes and he catches me hold by the hand, "Come along," a sez, "JOHN;" up the room then we stumps, Which occasioned some noise, as I didn't wear pumps.

To a Lord and a Lady of rank and degree, 'Mongst a whole kit of other fine folks he led me, And he says to 'em, s'ee, "I the honour ha' got O 'troducin' my friend to yer, MEASTER JOHN TROTT.

"He's a noble, is JOHN, though he isn't a Peer,-- I wun't say as how he's the noblest that's here; But an honest man JOHN is, and all on you know, In course, what the poet calls him as is so.

"Look at this horny palm! how became it like that, So that on it he uses to slice bacon fat? Why by thirty years' toil--and for whom, d'ye suppose? For a wife and five children?--not only for those--

"My lady, to earn his own bread warn't enow, He yarned your meat as well, by the damp of his brow; And your silks, and your satins, and jewels besides, And the coaches you keeps, and the hosses you rides.

"Arter that, I be certain that you won't deny MEASTER TROTT your fair hand for a dance by and by." "Such a trifle," she said, "I of course can't withhold." "But for dancin'" I sez, "I'm afeard I'm too old."

"Oh! we won't 'tempt the Poker, nor Valsa dew Tong, And I'm sure we shall get very nicely along," Said my lady; when straightways the music did play, And to "_Pop goes the Weasel_" we capered away.

Her ladyship flew, amost, over the ground, Which I could do nothin' but hammer and pound; But nobody laughed, for in course they thought how Arkard they'd look suppose they was tryin' to plough.

When the dancin' was done unto supper we went, And I feasted away to my full heart's content, On cake, chicken, lobster, sweets, aught I could find, The fust time I ever ate all I'd a mind.

'Tis the bein' acknowledged, you see, like that 'ere, Is what makes me feel proudish this clothin' to wear, I should say "Dash the buttons!" if that warn't the case, And consider the quoat but a badge o' disgrace.

* * * * *

IRON BARS OF MUSIC.

We have often wished that we could suggest anything that would afford some scope for the unemployed ability of the artists of our almost extinct English Opera. Here, in an advertisement out of the _Times_, appears to be something like an opening for one of them--if the foreign predilections of our superior classes have not starved them all:--

ORGAN.--WANTED, a respectable man to act as TURNKEY in a County Prison. One who understands music, can play the Organ, and sing bass would be preferred. For further particulars apply, post paid, to T. T. S., Post-office, Bath.

The popular air of "_Still so gently o'er me stealing_," will immediately suggest itself as one of the first airs that would be called for from the musical turnkey, having been transposed so as to be sung in the bass, which "would be preferred." Any one who had personated the gaoler in the vernacular version of _Fidelio_ would, however, be the man for the situation; and it is pleasing to imagine such a respectable vocalist leading the Prison Chorus at the head of real convicts. A pretty idea, too, is that of a Nightingale within four stone walls, beguiling the tedium of confinement with his "jug-jug." Of course the harmonious turnkey would enchant his incarcerated audience by his performance of the Witch music of MATTHEW LOCKE. That he should also be an organist is a good notion; phrenologists will admit it to be judicious to play the organ of tune against that of acquisitiveness or theft, and all other human organs out of tune and discordant with man's better nature. Talking of the organ, SEBASTIAN BACH would have been just the very turnkey in request, for he was a master of that noble instrument; and the kind of piece which he most delighted in performing thereon was a QUOD-_libet_.

It is to be hoped that the cultivation of music will be introduced at Newgate; and then, perhaps, we shall at last witness a genuine representation of the _Beggar's Opera_.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 4.

When, Sir, you selected me from the crowd of eminent persons who solicited the honour of furnishing you with their impressions of the French metropolis, you were good enough to attribute to me an uncommon impartiality and serenity of mind. "That impartiality," you observed with your usual force and felicity of language, "will preserve your communications from the onesidedness that usually deforms a traveller's views of foreign country." My modesty, Sir, (almost amounting to bashfulness) is well known to you, but I will venture to say that you were correct in your estimate. I feel myself equally free from the sturdy prepossessions nourished by MR. DOWLAS of Mecklenburgh Square and the rose-coloured delusions which captivate young THREADPAPER of the Foreign Office. The former gentleman marches through this city in company with MRS. D. and the girls, armed with a guide-book and a pocket map, and finds all barren. The latter wishes to introduce absolute government into England, supported by an army of five hundred thousand men and a censorship of the press. THREADPAPER is of tender years; his moustache is downy, indeed hardly visible without a glass; he will grown wiser with time, but MR. DOWLAS, I very much fear, is beyond all cure.

D., you old humbug! what do you mean by uttering your shallow vulgar criticism on the greatest nation of Continental Europe? You know nothing of their history, except that they were beaten at the battle of Waterloo; you can't speak a word of their language; you can't read one of their newspapers; you are supremely ignorant of their character and institutions, and yet you treat them as a mob of hairdressers, dancing masters, and cooks (and not good cooks either), and exult in the time-honoured conviction that one Englishman can thrash two Frenchmen. DOWLAS, attend to me, I am going to talk about taste--a word that ought to excite shame and anguish in your mind. For a quarter of a century you have been smothering the world with printed fabrics of fantastic and horrible ugliness. Millions upon millions of yards of these abominations have found their way into every nook and corner of the world. Remote tribes of wandering Tartars and the squaws of painted Choktaws have clad their bodies and depraved their souls with your outrageous patterns. Bales marked with the well-known D. (oh, how could you, MR. DOWLAS, Sir?) have carried their baleful influence into the innocent populations of the Peaceful Ocean. The least hideous of these productions are those you have stolen (and spoiled) from the French, and if there is any improvement in your patterns of late years, it is entirely to be attributed to your piracy of French designs.

The fact is, that France has become the Mistress of Arts to the world. If England lives in a fever of industry, _she_ lives in a fever of invention. Every novelty we have is due to her restless creative spirit. In arts, in letters, in philosophy, she scatters abroad new ideas with unsparing profusion; other nations, following with unequal steps, treasure up what falls, and claim it as their own. This exuberance of fancy is only the result of the universal artistic feeling which seems to animate her citizens. You cannot go anywhere in Paris without being conscious of this. Every shop window is a picture. Look at that pastrycook's. A few pieces of china and half-a-dozen bon-bon boxes form a composition that is really charming. Is there any one from Marlborough House could do it as well? Only think of the tons of three-cornered tarts and Bath buns that form the decoration of a London confectioner's. And yet this pretty arrangement is due to the intuitive taste of the little scrubby ignorant daughter of the people who serves in the shop. I will not draw your attention to the quiet becoming style of her dress, because you have often confessed to me in private your admiration of Parisian toilettes, though in the presence of MRS. D. you loudly affect to prefer the dowdy manner adopted by that lady in common with the most part of her countrywomen. I will, therefore, make no further mention of ladies' costume, only protesting that, in my opinion, all Frenchwomen in their degree dress to perfection, and that an ugly bonnet is no certain proof of wisdom or goodness as is generally supposed.

Turn to the houses, and compare their gay ornate appearance with the dismal monotonous streets of London. Every one has its separate character. The portal is of sculptured stone, always decent and often of beautiful design. A little bit of carved cornice, a simple moulding round the windows gives individuality and interest to the upper part without any of the astounding architectural eccentricities of Regent Street. Enter, and you will find the furniture of even the humbler occupants varied, characteristic, and pretty. Where ornament is attempted, it is well chosen and sparingly introduced. A beautiful cabinet, a few small pictures, a group or two in bronze, some exquisite china--quite a contrast to the overwhelming magnificence of English upholstery. I know, DOWLAS, you gave a _carte blanche_ to JOBKINS and SON for your house in Mecklenburgh Square. Well, well--if the subject is a painful one we will not pursue it; though I must say that I think six copies of the peacocky young woman in fetters, called for some inscrutable reason the Greek Slave, rather too much for two drawing-rooms (couldn't you send up a pair to the best bed-room, and one to the butler's pantry?) and I may also take this opportunity of informing JOBKINS, JUNIOR, who does the "tasty" business of his firm, that merely multiplying expensive tables and chairs, and daubing everything over with gold, though it may satisfactorily swell the bill, shows a miserable want of fancy and cleverness in a decorator.

I quite admit the solidity and conscientiousness of English workmanship. We buy a frightful table in Bond Street, and, behold, it will last for ever. The drawers in DOWLAS'S house are as delightful to open and shut as they are horrible to look at. English boots will outlast French boots, and English gloves French gloves. Whatever may have been the case years ago, it is a great mistake to suppose that these articles are better now in Paris than in London. The great difference is shortly this[5]--our artists are tradesmen and their tradesmen are artists. In all articles of simple usefulness we have an unquestionable superiority, but where something more than convenience or durability is required our designers seem quite helpless. A certain funeral car will occur to many as an example of this truth, and, perhaps, by malicious persons, will be taken to shew how much or how little is to be expected from Government Schools of Art.

The Tourist is aware that no one can walk about Paris without seeing abundant evidences of the coarsest moral and social feeling, and claims an infinitely higher position for his own countrymen and countrywomen in this respect. He also recollects that he has already ridiculed the dress of Frenchmen, and sees that this may be supposed inconsistent with a sweeping panegyric on French taste. But this is an exception that proves the rule. A Frenchman's _theory_ of dress is wrong. He always wants to be conspicuous and picturesque. Hence, nothing is too singular and showy for him. He gets himself up, as if for the stage, with velvet and fur and beard and moustache, and exhausts the resources of his inventive mind for new and still more _piquant_ combinations. When he turns his attentions to the chase, the result is something worth seeing, and no mistake, as will be more plainly seen by a picture of a party of sporting gentlemen going out shooting. But these comicalities are eschewed by the genuine "swells," who adopt our sober English notions of masculine costume, and, indeed, dress exactly like Englishmen. The advice of _Polonius_ to _Laertes_ will literally apply to the matter at the present day:--

"Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. But _not expressed in fancy_--rich, not gaudy-- For the apparel oft proclaims the man. And they in France _of the best rank and station_ Are most select and generous, chief in that--"

The most august confirmation has been given to this view. I state with becoming reverence and awe that his I----L M----Y, with that regard for detail which characterises his great mind, has sent a special envoy to London, and had all his liveries made in Saville Row, with which unspeakably solemn allusion I close this communication.

[Footnote 5:] This is not intended to apply to our painters, who may well be compared with those of any country, but to the designers for manufactures.

* * * * *

SPIRITED CONDUCT OF A PUBLIC COMPANY.

The Greenwich Steamboats have recently been employed in the important, but somewhat dangerous, service of destroying the various piers, at which they call for passengers. These absurd and useless structures--which are usually composed of three or four superannuated barges, loosely connected by a twopenny cord; several flights of stairs, leading up into the air and down again, on to the next pier and back again, or, indeed, anywhere but into the boats; a hut which combines the accommodation of a watch-box with the cleanliness of a pigstye, and a series of gangways which are intended to accommodate themselves to the rising and falling of the tide, but which invariably stick fast at the wrong end, and either carry the unfortunate traveller some 20 feet above the wharf, or threaten to precipitate him down a sort of Montagne Russe into the water;--these agglomerations of tar, dirt, touchwood, and rope-yarn, have so long encumbered and disfigured the bank of the river that the Directors of the Greenwich steamboats have come to the resolution which their boats have been carrying out.

The plan, on which the work of demolition is carried on, is as follows: The captain drives the boat stem on to the pier, without giving any order to reverse the engines, and the immediate consequence is a most satisfactory collision. It is not true, however, that the French, in despair at ever being able to effect a landing in London over these piers, have bribed the Directors to destroy these bulwarks of the river. Nor are the Directors following the example of the Scotch Baronet, who has just pulled down a pier on his estate, because the boats stopped at it on Sunday. The cases are quite different, for the Scotch piers are only private, or representative, and can be removed at pleasure, whereas the London piers have persevered in their career of uselessness for many ages, and can only be got rid of by violent measures.

* * * * *

PAT'S WELCOME TO THE REAPING-MACHINE.

I'm sick of the sickle, MOLLY dear, and stooping so long and so low; And it's little grief it gives me, to give the ould bother the go! And when another harvest comes, by the Saints! I'd like to see The money or anything else that 'ud make a Raping-Machine of me!

I've raped in Scotland and England, and I've raped in the Lothians three, And I dar' say it's twenty year since first I crossed the Irish Sea; I've raped yer wheat, and yer barley, and oats and beans, sez Pat: But as for Profit--it's sorrow the raping that ever I raped of that!

So, good luck to you, MISTHER MAC CORMACK, and Yer Reverence, MISTHER BELL, And good luck to you, MISTHER HUSSEY--I wish yer Honours well; The shearer's footing on the fields ye've fairly cut away; But it's not been worth the standing on, bedad, this many a day.

And now the Horse takes the raping in hand, and pulls the huge machines That go clicking and snicking across the fields of wheat, oats, barley, and beans; Ye've got machines for sowing, and thrashing, and raping, between and betwixt, And, troth, it's my private opinion ye'll have a machine for eating it next!

But we'll throw the sickle aside, MOLLY, and go and try our luck On the banks of the far Australian strames, where the otter is billed like a duck: For there's mate, and drink, and clothes, MOLLY, and riches and rank to be won. At the Anti--what d'ye call the place, on t'other side of the sun?

And there'll be no land-agents, nor middlemen, nor Jews, But ye'll see me stoning lumps of gould at the beggarly Kangaroos; And there's nayther shooting of bailiffs, nor any such wicked fun, In land that lies beneath our feet, on t'other side of the sun.

And no more masses to pay for!--good day to ye, FATHER O'BLADD, The last Confession from me, faiks, and the very last penny ye've had; It's little Yer Reverence leaves behind when ye clear away our sin, As the prophet sez, ye purge our dross, and take precious care of the tin.

Ye've a bandage on yer wrist, MOLLY; that wrist with gems I'll deck, And a string of nuggets, like millstones, I'll hang about yer neck, And we'll live in a snug retirement where our nearest neighbour'll be The EMPEROR OF CHINA, who will sometimes look in to tea!

Och! the world we're leaving, MOLLY, is a world of grief and care, For even the pigs and potatoes are not the angels that once they were; But the world we're going to, MOLLY, is where the giants of ould Buried--for want of a better bank--their stocking-legs crammed with gould!

It's a world of wonders, MOLLY, a world without a peer; For what it has, and what it wants, we've nothing like it here: But of all its wondrous things, it seems the strangest thing to me That there the labouring man's the man gets first to the top o' the tree.

* * * * *

SEA-SIDE INTELLIGENCE.

A _spirituelle_ young lady writes up from Ramsgate to say:--"In the morning, my dear, we have a delivery of letters by the Post. In the afternoon we have another delivery--the delivery of husbands, brothers, _cousins_, or beloved acquaintances, as the case may be, by the steam-packet. In this manner, darling, we have a _mail_-delivery twice a-day. It would ill-become _me_ to say _which_ one I like best."

* * * * *

NECROMANCY FOR GENTS.

Table-rapping with Genuine Spirits every evening at the SHADES Harmonic Free and Easy, in Scamp's Alley. A Medium in the Bar--but "goes" of whiskey, brandy, rum, or gin unlimited.

* * * * *

TEST FOR TRAVELLERS.

It is complained that there are no examinations at the Inns of Court in town, whilst it is forgotten that thousands of applicants for admission are daily plucked at the hotels all over the country.

* * * * *

PURITANS IN REQUEST.--The metropolis would be much more pleasant if the Commissioners of Sewers had a proper number of disscenters among them.

* * * * *

* * * * *

PRINCE ALBERT, THE CZAR, AND THE TURK.

"For Heaven's sake, gentlemen, _don't_ nail the poor man's ears to the pump!"

Such was the benevolent exclamation of TYGER ROCHE (an Irish fire-eater of the last century) when he beheld a certain attorney within the walls of Dublin Jail. And the prayer was sufficient; for no sooner was it uttered, than the hapless lawyer was in the clutches of invoked persecutors, and hammer and nails hotly sought for.

Our friend the _Spectator_, oddly enough, is, for once, very like TYGER ROCHE. He says--

"It is evident that a serious disturbance in Europe might be very inconvenient to the minor German Powers; and that fact has _perhaps_ suggested _the rough guess_, that a Prince bound up with German interests by family relations, has used his position near the British Sovereign for the purpose of inducing England to assist in hushing up the quarrel, with scanty regard to the justice of the case; _in short, that_ PRINCE ALBERT has induced England to abandon her pledge and her ally!"

The _Spectator_ having made "the rough guess," reasons on it in his own logical way, and concludes with these convincing words--

"_We do not believe_ that PRINCE ALBERT has so far forgotten his happy and exalted duty, of which he has shown so just an appreciation, by officious meddling with affairs which are not his."

That the _Spectator_, the Esquimaux of the Press--for somehow he always appears to _Punch_ in a suit of sealskin, with a very blue nose, prepared, if necessary, to harpoon the whale that shall supply his midnight oil--that the cold _Spectator_ should suggest such a charge against PRINCE ALBERT merely to express a disbelief is, at least, a very unnecessary trouble.

"Don't nail the poor man's ears to the pump!" cries TYGER ROCHE.

"Don't believe PRINCE ALBERT an ally of NICHOLAS!" cries the _Spectator_.

* * * * *

A SERIOUS QUESTION TO COLONEL SIBTHORP.--Is the ghost of Pond Street, Chelsea, the ghost of Protection?

* * * * *

TAVERN EXPERIENCE.

I went to the sign of the Cat and Fiddle, Whereat they did me grossly diddle: I went to the Commercial Inn, Where they well nigh stripped me to the skin: I went to the Manchester Business House, And equally there I found them chouse. I went to the Coffee-House and Tavern, Which turned out a regular robbers' cavern: I went to the Family Hotel, And they pillaged and plundered me there as well: I went to the Recreative ditto, My Stars and Garters!--wasn't I bit--oh!

* * * * *

* * * * *

ALL MY EYE AND BEATE MARTIN.

The humbug of the Holy Eye-water at Salette has been recently exposed very efficiently; but we are told the BISHOP OF GRENOBLE has adopted it, because, to use a legal expression, it "runs with the surplice." We can but express our astonishment that such eye-water should be necessary to make a Bishop ('s) see.

* * * * *

A PETRIFIED LUNCHEON.

"MR. PUNCH,--The periodical review of the uses and abuses of English Hotels having commenced, I beg leave to state that there is a small, unpretending hostelry at Matlock Baths, where the luncheon (price 2_s._) supplied is invariably made up of bits of loins of mutton, and leavings of ribs of beef, all--in honour of the locality--duly petrified. Last week I managed to chip off and swallow a bit of a joint, and I verily believe have been troubled with the stone ever since. (Price 2s.!)

"Yours, VIATOR."

* * * * *

A TRAP TO CATCH A MOONCALF.

The _Times_, in a letter from Grenoble, states that the Trappists in the neighbourhood of La Salette are busy in the manufacture of a beverage which, from the writer's description, seems to be about identical with that which is produced by MESSRS. SEAGER & EVANS. We congratulate the worthy monks upon taking to honest gin-spinning, which is a much more laudable occupation than weaving toils to entangle simpletons. We should think this order must be rather numerous in the district in question, as surely all those must have been regular Trappists, who were concerned in getting up the enormous hoax which has given it celebrity.

It seems that they have entrapped some gulls of the LUCAS tribe, who were not up to Trap: but we should have considered even that common marine fowl, the Booby, too old a bird to be capable of being caught by chaff so extremely palpable.

* * * * *

PEBBLES PICKED UP AT THE SEA-SHORE.

BY A SENTIMENTAL OLD YOUNG LADY.

One's existence down here is divided between donkey-riding and novel-reading--pretty exercises for the mind and body! It would be difficult to say which were the slowest--the donkeys or the novels. It's very strange, but how extremely rare it is you come across a donkey or a novel that's in the least moving!

Youth writes its hopes upon the sand, and Age advances, like the sea, and washes them all out.

We raffle, and raffle our best affections away, like shillings at the Library, and Man looks coldly on, and smilingly says, "Better luck, Miss, next time."

I am sure that the sand, with which Time has filled his hour-glass, must have been picked up at a watering-place, for nowhere else does the time run on so slowly, or the hours succeed one another with such provoking similarity.

It is very curious that the sea, which brings the colour back to our cheeks, generally takes it from our ribbons!

It is the same with dispositions as with bonnets; it is not every one that can stand the sea-side.

Scandal is a rank weed which is generally found in great profusion near the sea-coast.

A watering-place is a harbour of refuge, that we, poor weak vessels, after having been tossed about for nine months in the year, are obliged, during the other three, to put into for repairs.

I am frequently reminded, when I see a party about to start in a pleasure boat, of the effect of a London season. Every one is so gay and blooming, so full of health and spirits at the starting, but how pale, dejected, dragged, drenched, and fairly sickened they look, if you chance to see them returning at the end of it!

* * * * *

SONG OF THE TRANSPLANTED SHAMROCK.

"One of the Royal servants brought with him to the train a sod of shamrock which had been dug up in the grounds attached to the Viceregal Lodge. A porcelain pot received the plant, which, as it had been obtained at the special request of HER MAJESTY, is probably destined to be transplanted to some of the Royal grounds, and cultivated as a memento of a visit which will be long memorable in Ireland."--_Dublin Daily Express._

Erin mavourneen, torn up from thy green, Lonely, withered, and drooped for a while, Though planted in porcelain, and nursed by a Queen, I was sick at the roots for my own pleasant isle;

Where the winds came so gently to kiss me and love me, There was tenderness e'en in the breath of the north; Where the kind clouds would fling their soft shadows above me, When the hot sun of summer came scorchingly forth.

I pined for those tender grey eyes, whose black lashes Veil a tear and a smile alike ready to start; I longed for the mirth, whose unquenchable flashes Hold a struggle with gloom in the Irishman's heart.

White hands were about me, but not my own people's, Kind hearts, too, but not the kind hearts I had known; The bells that I heard rang in Sassenach steeples, And wanted the music I loved in my own.

An' I fancied they scorned me, the poor plant of Erin, Them roses so gaudy, them thistles so tall; An' I thought as they tossed their proud heads, it was sneerin' At my poor lowly leaflets, wid no flower at all.

But by little and little I felt that about me The soil gathered cheery, and kindly, and warm; And the illigant flowers that I thought meant to flout me When I larnt what they said, sure they meant me no harm.

The hands I thought cold I found true in their tending, The hearts I thought hard, sure, were soft at the core; So I opened my leaves with less fear of offending, And the longer I knew I loved England the more.

For my Queen is a mistress that's gentle and tender, And oft my poor leaflet her bosom adorns; She says I've my sweetness, if roses their splendour, An' if I've no blossoms, why, sure I've no thorns.

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR THE LEADER OF THE CHINESE REVOLUTION.--Heads I win, Tails you lose.

* * * * *

THE INSTITUTION OF OUR SPECTRE OF CHELSEA.

The following "Pastoral" has been published by an obscure individual, who pretends to adopt a certain episcopal style.

To the Inhabitants of Chelsea, Brompton, Fulham, Kensington, and the Neighbourhood, Health and Good Digestion.

Respectable and Intelligent,--From the Apparition of GILES SCROGGINS of tuneful memory, to that of the Head of the Woolly Quadruped which manifested itself to WILLIAM WHITE, there was no want of spectral appearances sufficient to convince the enlightened British Public of the existence of Ghosts. Not to mention the unfortunate MISS BAILEY, who, after suspension by the cincture of her own stocking, revisited an unprincipled CAPTAIN SMITH, nor to say more than is necessary of the Ghost of Cock Lane, it may suffice to cite the instance of the Hammersmith Ghost which, as is well known, appeared to, and terrified a great many people. And now lately, in this very place, which is not far from that, there has appeared a Ghost, which has frightened multitudes; as countless thousands among you are able to testify.

But the incredulous--insensible to the force of table rappings, disbelieving the prodigies of clairvoyance, and deriding the wonderful visions of the Crystal--who, in short, ascribe all the supernatural events of the day, which are very numerous, to imagination or fraud, will doubtless, after a short time, by the lapse whereof the recollection of the fact shall have been weakened, dispute or deny the truth of the Chelsea Ghost, and attribute the authentic narrative thereof to the incredible WALKER.

Lest, therefore, the memory of this so wonderful Apparition should perish, and in order that, on the contrary, its fame may endure for ages, we have decreed to erect a Spirituous Establishment, in the immediate vicinity of the house wherein it took place, namely, in Pond Street, Chelsea, to be called and known by the name and sign of the Ghost and Goblet, which all are invited to frequent, and partake of the refreshment of spirits.

Beneath the edifice to be reared under these auspices, there will be provided a subterranean retreat, bearing the name of The Shades, in further allusion to the miracle which it is intended to commemorate.

A confraternity of the Ghost and Goblet has already been formed for the purpose of celebrating with an appropriate banquet the approaching Festival of Michaelmas. Additional Members may be enrolled at 6_d._ per week each.

The following indulgences are promised to those who repair to the Hostelry of the Ghost and Goblet with the usual dispositions:--

Unlimited indulgence in Roast Goose, on the aforesaid Festival of Michaelmas, which will also be the Anniversary of the Foundation, on condition of eating with the goose an optional quantity of mashed turnip, in order to signify the demolition of that Lantern to which profane scepticism would refer supernatural appearances.

Indulgence in brandy, gin, rum, Hollands, and whiskey; in superior ale, porter, and stout; and in genuine foreign wines and liqueurs--to any extent, on condition of ringing the bell, or calling the waiter, and repeating the proper order for the liquor as often as may be requisite.

Indulgence in tea and shrimps.

Indulgence in tobacco for any term of hours; the hostelry remaining open.

Indulgence of the same duration in the amusement afforded by a good dry skittle ground.

Indulgence above stairs in the exercise of dancing; on condition of executing the proper movements to the tune of "_Pop goes the Weasel_," or whatsoever other measure may be prescribed by popularity.

Indulgence in the delights of harmony in the Shades below: on condition of expressing a desire for refreshment.

To secure the full benefit of these Indulgences it will be only necessary, further, to pay for them; and that this may the more conveniently be done they will be supplied on the most liberal scale of charges.

In addition to the Skittle Ground, there will be provided a Bowling Green, surrounded with a Ghost's Walk, adorned with Winking Statues, Bleeding Pictures, and other objects of like nature calculated to edify the faithful in such matters. In conclusion, Respectable and Intelligent, as touching liquor, we profess ourselves ever ready to supply you

IN YOUR OWN JUGS, BRUMMAGEM BROMPTON.

* * * * *

* * * * *

NEUTRALITY IN PLUSH.

The wonders of steam at Manchester and other great manufacturing towns are quite eclipsed by the triumph at which mechanical science has arrived in an obscure locality. Witness this advertisement, extracted from the _Cambridge Chronicle_ of the 10th instant:

WANTED in a Clergyman's family in the country, a FOOTMAN, _which_ must also have a knowledge of Gardening. For particulars address X.Y., Post Office, Caxton.

The Footman _which_ is wanted in a Clergyman's family, is, of course, a Machine; as the neuter pronoun, by the tenet of MURRAY, held of course by every clergyman, is to be applied to animals and inanimate things; and no known animal is capable of a Footman's place. The Footman thus wanted might have been supposed to be a trivet, but for the requisition that it shall have a knowledge of gardening. This proves that it must be an Engine--and in part a Garden Engine--endowed with intellectual faculties. That it is advertised for is sufficient evidence that it exists.

Necessity is the mother of invention; and the dearth of labour, combined with the insolence, unthrift, and dishonesty of servants, has compelled some clever mechanist to devise the sort of Footman which is wanted by the clergyman; and has been long in general request.

How such a domestic could have been constructed; how it was possible to make a lackey that should not only clean boots and wait at table, but dig, and prune, and plant, and exercise intelligence, moreover, in these horticultural operations, it is difficult to conceive. Imagination staggers at the idea of a Steam Flunkey. The MR. SMEE, who resolves thought into electrical action, may suppose that galvanism might have served to vivify the apparatus, and cause the fibres of its artificial brain to quiver with those vibrations which constitute perception, memory, and understanding. But if mind consists in vibrations, the abilities of a SHAKSPERE are no great shakes; therefore we cannot accept such a theory of the constitution of the Footman which is wanted in a Clergyman's family.

The mysterious agency concerned in Table Turning, belief in which has in some minds survived its refutation by FARADAY, we should rather consider to be the animating principle of this FRANKENSTEIN'S Androides or ANDREWOIDES, artificial Andrew or automatic John Thomas.

The female domestics in the family of the clergyman are, of course, of a nature similar to that of the manservant which is wanted there, since no housemaid or cook could stay in a house where a Footman was kept referred to by the neuter pronoun, which, and consequently where the Footman was an Inanimate Thing.

* * * * *

A FABLE FOR MR. COMMISSIONER MURPHY.

Once upon a time, a lot of murphies--_id est_ potatoes--were put in a pot together. "Now, boys"--said one of the praties--"as we'll all be in hot water--all of a bilin'--wobble as we may, for the credit of ould Ireland--don't let us _split_ on one another."

* * * * *

THE MAIN STAYS OF SCIENCE.

The _savans_ at Hull have lately been giving some very interesting results of the trial of the strength of "stays." Surely this department should have been left to a female committee, for the true strength of "stays" can only be ascertained by experiments in very tight lacing.

* * * * *

A NEW TIDE OF EMIGRATION.

Gold has been discovered in Scotland. This discovery may work perhaps a miracle. It may have the effect of sending all the Scotchmen, who for years have left their native country, "bock again."

* * * * *

ANOTHER "HEIGHT OF IMPUDENCE."--Naming a Railway Engine "Safety."

* * * * *

BRITISH ENTERPRISE.

An opulent Bill-sticker has, we understand, made offers to the leader of the Chinese insurgent forces to rent of him, in the event of his being made Emperor, the renowned wall of China. The sum offered has not transpired, but it is said to be something extremely munificent. It is the billsticker's intention, as soon as he obtains an imperial grant, to form a company of persons who spend large sums of money every year in advertisements, and to cover the entire length of the wall with their bills and posters, a larger price being, of course, charged for those which will be posted inside than for those outside the wall, where comparatively but few people will be able to see them. The bills will be in English, or specially translated into Chinese, at the option of the advertisers. In the event of China being thrown open to English commerce--and there is, at present, every opening of such a fact--it will be at once seen what "a desirable medium for advertisements" this national posting-station will be. So favourably is the scheme entertained by some of our leading advertisers, that already have 12,000 miles of that part of the wall, which runs through the most densely populated districts of the Empire, been bespoken at an enormous rental. The company will be announced in a few days, and it is expected that the shares will be quoted on the 'Change at a heavy premium the very first day. MR. BERNAL OSBORN has been heard to say, "that next to a celebrated Marquis's property, it will be the largest hoarding in the world," and there is no doubt it will be. All our puffing tailors, pill-merchants, quack medicine-sellers, and Cambridge Sherry dealers, are actively on the look-out. Professor Liebig's testimonial in favour of Bitter Beer is already printed in all the Chinese dialects, only waiting to be pasted up. We shall keep our eye upon the wall.

* * * * *

DEAR ENTERTAINMENT FOR DEAR CREATURES.

"MY DEAR PUNCH,

"There is no doubt that the prodigious expenses of hotels are--as I overheard certain _gentlemen_ say--in a great measure owing to us _confounded women._ We cause so many rooms to have to be kept up on our account. Why can't we--as they further asked, with a _stronger_ expression--be content with a decent coffee-room, instead of requiring a separate sitting apartment? Why? I asked myself the same question, and being unable to answer it, I thought the next time I was out with Charles I would go into the coffee-room and not be _confounded._ So the other day when he took me to one of those inns which a letter I read in the _Times_ calls a "Hotel of recreation", I insisted on our dining in the public room. There were some gentlemen sitting there that we have since met in society, when they behaved in such a way that I couldn't think what they meant, until at last I found that we were looked upon as improper people because I had been seen at dinner in the coffee-room of a tavern! When I discovered this I felt _confounded_ indeed. It seems that I have committed an offence against society, everybody is so cool to me, and really, if it were not for the contempt I feel for such slaves of custom and prejudice, and the support I derive from the knowledge that I have pleased my husband, and saved us both money, I should be dreadfully grieved. But his approbation, and that of my own conscience, are quite enough for me; however, as that is not quite the case, I am afraid, with all women, the consequence is that they won't brave the world, and go in the coffee-room. I must confess, _Mr. Punch_, that before we take all the credit for what is called in novels the 'Self Sacrifice of Woman' which is given us, we might as well immolate a little of our conventionality on the altar of domestic happiness. I am sure that Judy is of the same mind as your equally constant admirer,

"_Belgravia, Sept., 1853._" "FIDES."

* * * * *

STRIKES TO BE LAUDED.

We are glad to see that the needlewomen have at last struck, and we wish another class of the overworked and underpaid would follow their example, the working clergy. Such a course would not be uncanonical. A bishop, to be sure, is required to be "no striker," nor has he occasion to be one with his thousands a year; but the case is very different with the curate who has only twenty pounds.

* * * * *

KING CHOLERA'S PROCESSION.

From Russian steppe, from Persian sand, From pine-fringed Norway fiord, From Elbe's and Eyder's peopled strand I've skimmed the sea--I've swept the land-- Way for your lord!

Come deck my board--prepare my bed, And let the trump of doom Peal out a march, that as I tread Above the dying and the dead All may make room!

From far I snuff the odour sweet That I do love the best; And wheresoe'er I set my feet, Courtiers and liegemen flock to greet Their King confest.

Well have you done your loyal part, My subjects and my slaves-- In town and country, port and mart, All's ready--after my own heart-- All--to the graves!

What is my feast? These babes forpined;-- Men ere their prime made old;-- These sots, with strong drink bleared and blind-- These herds of unsexed woman-kind Foul-mouthed and bold--

These bodies, stunted, shrivelled, seared With the malaria's breath; In foetid dens and workshops reared; From reeking sewers, drains uncleared, Drinking in death.

What is my court? These cellars piled With filth of many a year-- These rooms with rotting damps defiled-- These alleys where the sun ne'er smiled, Darkling and drear!

These streets along the river's bank, Below the rise of tide; These hovels, set in stifling rank, Sapped by the earth-damps green and dank-- These cess-pools wide.

These yards, whose heaps of dust and bone Breathe poison all around; These styes, whose swinish tenants grown Half human, with their masters own A common ground.

What are my perfumes? Stink and stench From slaughter-house and sewer; The oozing gas from opened trench, The effluvia of the pools that drench Court-yards impure.

What is my music? Hard-wrung groans From strong men stricken down: Women's and children's feebler moans, And the slow death-bell's muffled tones In every town.

Who are my lieges? Those that rule In Vestry and at Board; The Town-hall's glib and giddy fool, The mob's most abject slave and tool Though called its lord.

He who with prate of Vested Rights Old forms of wrong defends; Who for pound-foolishness still fights, Wisdom, save penny-wisdom, slights;-- These are my friends.

* * * * *

THE INDUSTRIOUS COSSACKS.

We don't wonder that some of our Manchester friends should be content to see the Russian forces holding the Principalities. Those who object to the idleness of a military life must naturally admire an army of occupation.

* * * * *

* * * * *

OPINIONS OF OUR CONTEMPORARIES.

"The Steppes of Russia are long dreary tracts, extremely tedious and very difficult to get over, requiring the greatest patience so as not to lose yourself in the midst of their interminable flatness; and, on my word, the same thing may be said of the diplomatic steps of the same country."--_Aberdeen._

"Meeting one's constituents is sometimes as disagreeable as meeting a bill; but still it must be done, for the form of the thing, if it is only to save one's political credit."--_Disraeli._

"The fault is not so much in bribing, as in being found out."--_W. B._

"The only balls England should fight her battles with should be balls of cotton; the only shot, shot-silks'"--_Bright._

"There are two kinds of M. P.'s; those who confine themselves to merely representing the people, and those who think it their duty also to represent their wrongs and grievances."--_Roebuck._

"If I had my way I would very soon make the Russians leave the Danubian provinces. I should say to them very plainly, "_Sortez, Messieurs, voilà la Porte_;" and, if they didn't, I would soon make them."--_Palmerston._

"I wouldn't dine with a Custom House officer, not even if he was to invite me, for I should be afraid he would always stop the bottle and never pass the wine."--_B. Oliveira._

"Dentists stop vacancies in teeth by filling them up with gold, and really I know of no better plan for filling up a vacancy in Parliament."--_Coppock._

"What's the use of my having a seat, if you will not allow me to sit down upon it?"--_Rothschild._

"The EMPEROR NAPOLEON distinguished himself, it is true, in taking a few capitals; but let me ask what capital can stand in the way of LOUIS NAPOLEON without his immediately taking it? Such an Emperor is worth a fortune--aye, several fortunes--to France."--_Malmesbury._

"The fact of the House sitting till so late an hour in the morning may, perhaps, account for there being so few rising men in Parliament."--_Brotherton._

"Peace is the only commodity that, in a commercial country like England, one can never pay too dearly for, but then you should purchase it always in the cheapest market, and sell it in the dearest. But selling it is out of the question, for it is my advice to keep the peace, and not to sell it."--_Cobden._

* * * * *

SHORT AND SAPONACEOUS.

Some of _Mr. Punch's_ contemporaries have been circulating, together with other small change, an account of a plant, newly discovered in California by a Viennese. This plant, they say, "is about a foot in height, and fades away in May, revealing to the astonished botanist a ball of natural soap, contained within its stalk, and superior to the best brown Windsor." They have forgotten, however, to add some particulars, which _Mr. Punch_, in his zeal for the public service, has taken pains to collect. He has ascertained that, out of one hundred and twenty-nine persons who have read this paragraph, thirty-two have observed, "that the properties of the plant are evidently soap-orific;" twenty-eight have opined "that, when Nature planted it in California she must have had an eye to the gold-washing;" sixty have pronounced authoritatively, "that the discoverer of the plant ought at once to be made a Companion of the Bath;" eight have expressed their surprise "that it should have been discovered by a German, who could have had but little previous knowledge of the article which it is said to produce;" whilst the remaining person, an eminent boiler in the City, who prides himself upon his French accent, remarked that, "they might say it had been discovered by a German naturalist, but that, for his part, he should always think it had been found out by a French _savon_." _Mr. Punch_ has further ascertained that, in the Californian dialect of the language of flowers, this plant signifies "I wash my hands of you!" and is employed by ladies to intimate their rejection of an unwelcome suit.

* * * * *

THE CHELSEA GHOST.

The lovers of the marvellous will be sorry to hear that the Chelsea Ghost is a spirit raised by the penny-a-liners in the hope of raising their own spirits by a few extra pence during the present dull season. We felt quite sure that directly the police went in search of the apparition, it would not appear to any summons that might be served upon it; and when we were told that SERGEANT SOMEBODY had walked through the ghost, we were convinced the real fact must have been that if there was a ghost at all, the police, instead of walking through it, would have walked into it. We felt perfectly satisfied that the spectre must vanish before the inspector, and we are happy, for the sake of common sense, to find publicity given to the fact, that the Chelsea Ghost lives only in the imagination of the unhappy paragraph-mongers, who have been tempted to idealise a spirit for the purpose of realising an extra glass of grog or some "other compound."

* * * * *

TOAST FOR TAVERN LANDLORDS.--The Cricketer, who always runs up a score by his innings.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 5.

With that spirit of zealous self-sacrifice which becomes his office, your Correspondent has visited the great masqued ball at the Opera, that terminates the festivities of the Carnival. He was accompanied by the rising diplomatist GEORGE ERNEST CLARENCE PROTOCOL, whose filmy white choker, pink shirt, opal studs, and shining boots were truly an honour to his country. At one o'clock his Brougham whirled us rapidly to the theatre. The streets were alive with people. A masqued ball is a fête for those who can't go as well as for those who can. Riotous groups in costume were exchanging badinage with the crowd and each other as they converged to the great point of attraction. Flaring gas-lights illuminated the street down which we turned out of the Boulevard, and showed to advantage two bearded and cloaked warriors on horseback, who looked as if they might be part of the entertainment. More flaring gas-lights, like a butcher's shop on Saturday night; more picturesque mounted swordsmen--the Brougham pulls up, and we alight amid the respectful congratulations of the officials. We mount the stairs in company of masks, dominoes, and persons in ordinary evening dress, and pass into the Salle.

The effect is bewildering, overwhelming. The theatre is open to the uttermost back wall, and, even so, barely holds the multitude of dancers. The orchestra is probably the noisiest in the world, but is nothing to the astounding din of the people. No words can describe the combination of the two. As for the spectacle, several thousand lunatics, in the violent stage, capering and gesticulating under a strong paroxysm of their malady, will present a faint picture of it. The madmen are all costumed, and resent the appearance of a black coat in their terrific orgies. Probably it reminds them of the medical gentlemen from whom they have escaped. There is a sprinkling of Greeks, knights, nobles of LOUIS THE THIRTEENTH, shepherdesses, court ladies, and so forth; but the prevalent costume of the men is the white and red of a Pierrot; of the ladies, the chemise and trowsers of a _débardeur_. It is this division that makes the most clamour and has the greatest enjoyment of the fun. Groups of the white figures with floured faces, tall hats, and streaming ribbons loll in the boxes, and hold a "chaffing" conversation with those below, which may be witty, but, at all events, is deafening. The young ladies in the embroidered shirts, satin pantaloons, and trim hats, beneath which their hair descends in long plaited tails, contribute at least their fair share to the uproar. But, besides, there are other characters not so intelligible. One grotesque shape is composed entirely of seaweed, or what looks like it; another is in rags, with carrots and turnips on his head; a third sports a chimney pot as a head dress; a fourth is surmounted by a weathercock. There is no limit to the fantastic combinations thus arrived at, which are generally more odd than pleasant; and any enterprising individual who should make his appearance in a very dirty shirt, a crownless hat, and a pair of pumps would, probably, make rather a hit than otherwise.

It must be confessed, after the first half-hour, when the eye is more accustomed to the scene, and the ear has begun to discriminate between the various noises, the refined taste of your Correspondent (used to the assemblies of MONSIEUR JULLIEN) was very much outraged. The orchestra is simply infamous, nothing being audible but sounding brass and the jangling cymbal; the house is foully dirty and badly lighted. The company is shabbily dressed, and, apparently, includes many of the lowest ruffians of Paris. On the other hand, there is immense enjoyment and fun, and the dancing made even your travelling sage open the eyes of astonishment.

The police, of course, are everywhere, and at the ordinary public balls interfere to moderate the antics of the dancers. But at the masqued balls they let things take their course; and the consequence is, that each lady and gentleman, to the best of her or his ability, indulges in those variations on the quadrille which are collectively objectionable. They are, in musical phrase, perfectly _ad libitum_, and give scope for an exercise of fancy and agility, which would produce rather a sensation at ALMACKS. There was one couple, MOROK the Lion Tamer in red and hessians, and a _débardeur_ in yellow trowsers and a powdered peruke, who really were astounding. MOROK ended by carrying off his friend on his shoulders, to the great delight of a fat Pompier, who stood by in a bright brass helmet, exactly like a small coalscuttle.

PROTOCOL leads the way to the _foyer_, where a totally different scene presents itself. This saloon is consecrated to persons in evening dress and dominoes, no costumed characters being admitted. This is the resort of all the "swells." Of course the blond children of Albion muster strongly, and, indeed, rather eclipse the native gentlemen with their severe hauteur and stately presence. Some of the ladies are in ball dresses, and hang on the arm of cavaliers; the majority are in that mysterious envelope which recalls AUBER'S charming comic opera, and employ themselves in puzzling, or, as they say, "intriguing," whatever acquaintances they recognise. PROTOCOL is immediately attacked by a tall black domino, whose eyes sparkle with a lustre no mask can hide. She whispers something in his ear which heightens his colour, and is gone before he can demand an explanation. Now, by the shades of RADCLIFFE and SIR WALTER, there is romance in the nineteenth century! Protocol, you must practise the guitar and learn a collection of serenades "arranged to suit a voice of moderate compass." "My dear fellow," replied the diplomatist, "I thought no one in the world knew what that lovely creature (I'm sure she's lovely) told me. Just fancy if she should turn out to be as noble and rich as she is beautiful. Hey?" Ah, PROTOCOL, as you say, just fancy! Why there she is again. MACHIAVEL is off in a trice and pursues the fair who flies from him. The Contemplative One entertains himself with hearing the adventures of young TWEEDLES, who has just joined the Lancers, and is away on a fortnight's leave. The poor child was induced to present a white domino with about five pounds' worth of _sucre de pommes_, which he afterwards saw her resell to the Marchand, to his infinite disgust. "You know," complained he, "it ain't the money I care for, but it's such a howwid baw to be an object of widicule to a dem Fwenchwoman. They widicule evewy one, and wespect nothing. No wonder they're always having wevolutions and upsetting weligion, and all that sort of thing. Let's make up a supper party at the _Café Anglais_. You know my cousin SWELLINGS SWELLINGS, and there's DE FAULTRE, who was in the 20th Black Guards, but wesides in Pawis now--plays _écarte_ vewy well--twemendous luck--always turning up the king. I hope PWOTOCOL will come and bwing his fwend."

Another look at the lunatics, who are worse than ever. MOROK and the party in yellow satin trowsers excel themselves. The Cherokees shake their plumes and howl after a most horrid sort. The Pierrots redouble their "chaff," and make up in clamour what they want in wit. The Carnival is on its last legs, and does not spare them. It is still alive, and kicking. A few hours hence, and those pious persons will be repenting of their sins on cabbage and onions. Ah! as the lady with the camellias says, _Quelle belle chose que la religion!_

When Sardis revolted against CYRUS, a wise captive gave the angry monarch this advice: "Send men among them to teach them to fiddle and dance and love pleasure, and they will never more give you any trouble." I wonder if Paris would revolt now against CYRUS.

Supper at the _Maison Dorée_. A little _consommé_ with poached eggs, a _filet aux champignons_, and a salad with a bottle of Champagne. PROTOCOL'S acquaintance, it appears, was the _blanchisseuse_ of the Embassy, an exceedingly respectable person of fifty. The rising diplomatist seemed rather sore on the subject of _Le Domino Noir_, which became the principal topic of conversation in consequence. Of course, the secret she told him must have been about his washing-bill.

The present opinion of the Sage is, that pleasure, and indeed things in general, are vanity. _Bals masqués_ are noisy, dusty, and dull. People ought not to pay, but be paid, for going to them. Monastic institutions have charms for a well-constituted mind. Literary pursuits are laborious and not sufficiently remunerated. When Champagne is not good, it has disagreeable effects on your health the next day. Bring me some _Cognac_ and _Eau de Seltz_. Oh dear, I wish had cut the supper.

* * * * *

FRENCH TIES AND DYNAS-TIES.

The Grand Opéra at Paris has just re-opened, after a perfect "restoration" made by order of the EMPEROR, who is more favourable to a "restoration" in affairs of the drama than in affairs of politics. The theatre has been gorgeously re-decorated and overlaid with a profusion of gold, which stands out in all the bold effrontery of gilt beneath the blaze of a thousand gaslights. Even the members of the orchestra are elaborately got up, and though not absolutely bound hand and foot at the will of the EMPEROR, they are literally taken by the throat, for they are compelled to appear in white neckcloths. Every instrumental performer must become a member of the stiff-necked fraternity if he wishes to be engaged at the Grand Opéra; and it matters little what may be his reputation, or how illustrious may be the stock to which he belongs, if he refuses to bind himself to the tie prescribed by the French Government. Such is the pliancy with which all classes now bow their necks to the ruling power, that we have not heard of one instance in which the forced application of the starched cravat has roused any artist's choler. It is, however, feared that in a very heavy and fatiguing opera the time of some of the pieces will have to be changed, in order that the orchestra may get a few bars' rest to adjust their neck-ties, which some of the tremendous _crescendo_ movements of MEYERBEER will be likely to derange. We tremble to think of the consequences of the "Blessing of the Poignards" on the cravats of the poor fiddlers.

* * * * *

SECOND THOUGHTS.

It was intended to inaugurate a statue of LOUIS NAPOLEON at Lille, bearing the inscription--"To the Protector of Native Sugar." It was, however, abandoned for re-consideration. It will probably be amended as follows, and the statue inaugurated on the 2nd of December--"To the Protector of Native Sugar--_of lead_."

* * * * *

A JOKE THAT MUST BE FELT IF IT CAN'T BE SEEN.

We perceive that all Military Hats are to be superseded in the British Army by a "Felt Helmet." We trust this arrangement will prevent everything but the helmet from being "felt"--on the head of the soldier.

* * * * *

BRITISH REASONS FOR BOULOGNE ADDRESS.

The copy of an address of British residents at Boulogne lay for signature--as British residents were duly informed by the _Impartial_--at the library of MRS. MONEYDUE. We have been favoured with the various reasons--and subjoin a few--the exquisite reasons that, delighting and uplifting the British brain--induced the British residents and visitors to write themselves down the very humble and much obliged servants of the EMPEROR OF FRANCE.

MR. ALDERMAN GREENFAT signed "because he likes a strong Government. He also likes success; there is no getting on in this world without it. Has always believed that the French were only to be ruled with a rod of iron, and believed that LOUIS NAPOLEON was the very man to keep that rod in pickle."

MR. SHADRACH SHEKELS, money scrivener, signed "because he would always support legitimate government. Him as was strongest was always most legitimate. As a conscientious Jew he didn't care about France, having, of course, his serious thoughts fixed on settling down in his old age in New Jerusalem. Didn't think much of LOUIS NAPOLEON when once upon a time he come into the City of London with his bills: wouldn't look at his paper at no price. But times is changed. Would do his bill now--if not at a _very long date_--not only with pleasure, but with great interest."

CAPTAIN PLANTAGENET SIMCOX (of the Stonehenge Yeomanry), signed "because he liked PLUCK. And the EMPEROR had shown himself a clever fellow. He had proved to Europe that he had head beside pluck. Without pluck, who could have a stake in any country?"

PROFESSOR WOBBLES signed "because he considered His Imperial Majesty to be one of PLUTARCH'S men. The EMPEROR had the true heroic nose. It was a vulgar error that the world was governed by heads: no; the noses carried it. Waterloo was won by a nose. The nose is the natural sceptre. The EMPEROR was born a natural."

JOHN STRAIGHT, ESQ., (retired on his property) signed because "he thought the EMPEROR so very much improved, having sown all his wild oats. Was residing at Boulogne when LOUIS NAPOLEON landed, and was bundled like a sack of sawdust into a cart and delivered at the prison. But circumstances being changed, would now with the greatest pleasure give in his adhesion to the Saviour and Protector of France!"

MRS. DEPUTY BOTOLPH would sign "because the dear EMPEROR had asked herself and JEMIMA to the ball at the Tooleries; besides, His Majesty looked such a hero upon horseback."

MISS AGNES BOCHURCH signed "with a sense of gratitude to the dear EMPRESS, who had brought in such a darling style of dressing the hair." Miss A. B. was, when in Paris, _once_ taken for the EMPRESS.

* * * * *

THE FAT OF THE LAND AND LAMBETH.

One MR. RHODES, of Carlisle Street, Lambeth, is summoned before the Lambeth Street Magistrate to answer for the--what shall we call it--indiscretion (?) of boiling down putrid fat on his premises to the prejudice of the health of his neighbours, causing thereby "nausea, and even vomiting." MR. SECKER turns to the wisdom of Parliament enshrined in the Nuisance Act, but found that--

"The words relating to any dwelling-house or building being found in a filthy and unwholesome condition _applied not_, as he took it, to places where _a trade or business was carried on_, but to common lodging-houses and places of that description, and the other part of the clause _did not apply to the premises described_."

That is, if you can make a trade of a nuisance, if you can "carry on a business" by fat-melting, the evil to the public is to be allowed because of the profit to the individual. You may turn a whole parish sick, if you can turn the penny upon their "nausea and vomiting."

* * * * *

EDITORIAL CANDOUR.

The _Morning Herald_ has recently made an approach to the principle of abolishing the anonymous in newspaper writing, and has made a sort of indirect disclosure of its editorship, by meeting the public half-way in authorising an impression that has long existed in the minds of the community. The _Herald_ of Tuesday, the 20th of September, after saying, "_we_ have been favoured with the following letter," prints a communication beginning "My dear Mamma." It is clear that to have made the avowal of its severally imputed editorship complete, the letter should have commenced with the words, "My dear Grandmamma."

* * * * *

THE RUSSIAN BEAR AND THE TURKEY COCK.

We have heard a good deal lately about the "position taken by Turkey;" and as the attitude assumed has been undoubtedly rather warlike, we may come to the conclusion that the "position taken by Turkey" is in fact standing on her drum-sticks.

* * * * *

ALARMING ACCIDENT.

(_From our Own Four-Mil-a-Liner_)

Miraculous escape--Another of those distressing accidents which too often lead to a melancholy catastrophe took place on Wednesday evening last. A party of four adventurous gentlemen, who had resolved on visiting the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, after a quiet dinner at their club, proceeded to that edifice, and, under the direction of a guide, actually penetrated the labyrinths to the lowest box on the opposite side from that at which they entered. Having achieved this feat, and feasted their eyes upon the scenery thus set before them, one of them announced his intention of attempting to get out of the theatre alone. His companions sought to dissuade him from this foolhardy exploit; but, flushed, it is supposed, with an extra half-pint of St. Estephe, the traveller, a remarkably fine young man, to whom his friends were not in the least attached, departed on the perilous enterprise. He ascended eleven staircases, descended fourteen, and, having gone backwards and forwards through twenty-two of the passages which come from nowhere and lead to nothing, in this most wonderfully constructed building, he made the appalling discovery that he had lost his way.

With the true Anglo-Saxon courage, he continued to explore undauntedly, and at one period went down deep into the bowels of the earth, where, far above his head, he could distinctly hear the trampling of feet, and where, in the darkness, he stumbled upon certain whitish objects which may have been either the skeletons of other lost travellers, or else property busts and statues. At length, overcome by terror and thirst, he rushed upwards, and continued to mount until he reached the dizzy height where the air was so intensely rarified as to smell of oranges and gingerbeer, and where, he states, he could distinctly hear the voice of MR. GUSTAVUS BROOKE recommending MISS FEATHERSTONE to go to a nunnery. His sufferings at this period were most acute, and his despairing efforts to open every door he saw were agonizing.

Retracing his steps, he explored every lonely passage, dusty avenue, and dark staircase in vain, and finally he conceived the daring resolution of setting the theatre on fire, in the hope that assistance might thus be summoned, but was prevented by the want of material. At one time he says that he heard female voices, and immediately addressed to the speaker those imploring accents to which woman never listens unmoved; but his words were flung back to him by the echoes with an injurious addition of something sounding like "Tipsy, I suppose." At last, fairly overcome, he sat down upon an extremely dirty couch, and resigned himself to his fate. How many dreadful hours thus passed he knows not, but on returning to consciousness he found himself among kind faces, and being carried over to the nearest tavern he was subjected to a course of restoratives, including alcohol and nicotine, and was finally able to walk home with some straightness. It is hoped that this will be a warning, and inasmuch as proper guides can always be obtained for a shilling, there is really no excuse for running so terrible a risk as that of trying to leave the private boxes of Drury Lane without assistance.

* * * * *

THE POPE'S POST OBIT.

In the _Giornale di Roma_, of the 25th ultimo, appears a document called the "Act of Beatification" of FATHER JOHN of Britto, a Jesuit, who suffered martyrdom in 1693; so that, after the lapse of 160 years, HIS HOLINESS THE POPE has "beatified" the martyred Jesuit--made FATHER JOHN happy at last. The Holy See is really as dilatory in beatifying parties, or making them happy, as the High Court of Chancery. The Church of Rome treats saints as some other churchmen treat bottles of port--laying them down to acquire the right flavour, as well as _bouquet_, notwithstanding that the latter ought to have been already possessed by individuals who had died in the odour of sanctity. Miracles, we believe, are necessary to canonization; no miracles, no Saintship: no niche in the calendar. Our ultra-montane friends tell us that miracles, "the apparition of LA SALETTE" for instance, are rigidly investigated at Rome; but it must be difficult to sift those which occurred above 160 years ago, unless the witnesses are cross-examined by table-rapping, or some equivalent means of communicating with the defunct. However, the case of FATHER JOHN may teach those whom it may concern not to be disheartened by the delay of their beatification by the Roman Pontiffs, by showing them that though they may have had to wait more than a century and a half for their beatitude, they "may be happy yet."

* * * * *

A PROVERB AT FAULT.

Proverbial philosophy will occasionally fail, and we need go no further for an instance than the well known maxim as to the propriety of "a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together." Take six hearty coalheavers, and, putting between them a pot of porter, call upon them to take "a long pull and a strong pull," if you please; but pause before you invite them to the impracticable operation of "a pull all together."

* * * * *

VESTED RIGHT.

There's strength in rock, to take the shock Of wave, with naked brows; There's pith in oak, to mock the stroke Of wind, with stubborn boughs; But where grew wood, and where rock stood Wind blows and sea-wave ploughs.

I am not rock, I am not oak; My roots are short and slight; With foes more grave than wind or wave It is my lot to fight. 'Gainst Time and Life I wage a strife-- My name is VESTED RIGHT!

And still I stand, all through the land, With face for every foe;-- The Vestry's lord--its law my word-- I deal my "aye" and "no:"-- On Boards of Health I glide by stealth, All new lights out to blow.

As Alderman, whene'er I can The civic roast I rule; My fingers fold all icy-cold Round Charity and School; From off the Bench, Law's sword I wrench, And make the blade my tool.

From high St. Paul's my vision falls Upon a world of slaves; That foul line rounds my kingdom's bounds With intramural graves; Yon pall of smoke, that Heaven doth choke-- 'Tis my black flag that waves!

As Kings of old, when they would hold A Progress through the land, Had hunting-seat or palace meet Still ready at command; So seats are mine, where lodgings line, Garnished and swept do stand--

'Tis where doth stream the foetid steam From the bone-boiler's vat, The knacker's yard, which penned and barred, Sends out its odours fat; The slaughter-vault, whence, ne'er at fault, Peereth the carrion rat.

In tanneries' stink, on cesspools' brink, I sit and sleep and snuff; The fever's breath brings me no death, I hold such terrors stuff; The odours flung from Smithfield dung To me smell sweet enough.

I've my own graves to take the slaves Whom 'tis my mood to kill; The parish may the cost defray, Full pits my pockets ill. I've gains allowed from shell and shroud-- Each pauper brings his bill!

When of my field an inch I yield, I yield it nothing loath; The vacant spot is straight a plot For Compensation's growth-- That vigorous weed whose fruitful seed I sow and harvest both.

While thus I rule, the good old school Rebellious spirits tames: My sway supports in camps and courts-- One shape of many names! Who dares make fight 'gainst Vested Right? Who dares gainsay my claims?

* * * * *

SOLUTION OF HAUNTED HOUSES.

A Haunted House is a tenement of any number of ordinary stories, to which is added an extraordinary one, in the form of a Ghost Story.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A NEW DEPARTMENT OF FLUNKEYISM.

One of our contemporaries--the _Observer_--not satisfied with registering the mere dinner-givings, _déjeûners_, migrations, and marriages of the "upper classes," has just started a new department, to which the rather alarming title of "Accidents in High Life" has been given. We are henceforth, it seems, to be treated to the details of aristocratic mishaps, and the public press is to inform us how LORD TOM NODDY tumbled into a ditch while hunting, or what slips have been made by LADY SO-AND-SO. We presume we may anticipate, under the thrilling title of "Accidents in High Life," a few such paragraphs as the following:--

"We regret to hear of a rather uncomfortable casualty having occurred to the young EARL OF SPOONBILL. His lordship, while riding in Piccadilly, had the misfortune to run over a young miscreant who was carrying a basket of oranges. The young nobleman was somewhat shaken by the concussion, which it is understood was sufficiently violent to break the legs of the unhappy wretch who was the cause of it; but, as we ran by the side of his lordship's horse, to be able to give our readers the latest particulars of his health, we did not wait to hear the fate of the degraded creature, who is, we hope, by this time expiating in a jail the offence of obstructing a thoroughfare and causing a temporary agitation to a member of a noble family. Repeated inquiries at his lordship's area-gate have satisfied us that there is no further cause for alarm. The noble earl was attended by the family apothecary, who "exhibited" a Sedlitz powder over night, and beef tea in the morning.

* * * * *

GLUT OF MONEY AT THE MUSEUM.

A complaint has been made against the Trustees of the British Museum, that they keep hoarded up several hundreds of duplicate coins, which might be sold or otherwise advantageously disposed of. It certainly does appear at first sight rather useless to keep several hundred pieces of money of the same sort; but perhaps the Trustees think it would not be prudent to leave themselves without one shilling or penny, as the case may be, to rub against another.

* * * * *

INFALLIBLE BUBBLES.

(_To Mr. Punch._)

"SIR,

"Although yours is not a medical journal, I am sure you will readily give insertion to a few lines, which may be rendered, by means of your enormous circulation, instrumental in the preservation of thousands of lives. Cases of recent occurrence have fearfully exemplified the fact--previously well enough established--of the dependence of Asiatic Cholera, in common with Typhus and other pestilences, on the inhalation of the gaseous products of putrefactive decomposition. These consist principally of sulphuretted hydrogen; indeed that gas is, there can be no doubt, the noxious agent. Now, Sir, I wish to direct public attention to an infallible preventive of Cholera, and every other disease of zymotic origin, which, in the form of an antidote against the gas that occasions them, is presented to us by Homoeopathy. You know that the cardinal doctrine of that science is that _similia similibus curantur_; like cures like. Well, Sir; there is a gaseous compound analogous to, or like, sulphuretted hydrogen: I mean seleniuretted hydrogen, also called hydro-selenic acid. The inhalation of a measure of atmospheric air, otherwise pure, containing one part in ten billions of this gas, will secure any individual whatever against both Cholera, and the whole class of affections resulting from the same cause.

"Observe, only, that in order that the remedy may be enabled to act all impediments to its operation must be carefully removed. Sulphuretted hydrogen must cease to be breathed. The drainage of the neighbourhood should be rendered efficient; all the sewers should be flushed and trapped; all the cesspools stopped; all the graveyards closed; all the knackers' yards, bone-boilers', and catgut makers' establishments and every other description of nuisance in the neighbourhood abated.

"No other subsidiary conditions are requisite, except personal ablution, wholesome food, and abstinence from intoxicating quantities of gin, and other alcoholic fluids."

"PESTLE."

* * * * *

SWEETS TO THE SWEET.--Woman is a beautiful flower, that can be told, in the dark even, by its (s)talk.

* * * * *

THE AGE OF COMPLIMENTS.

Seemingly everybody is getting so very polite to everybody else that it is beginning to be almost impossible for two or three persons to get together without a meeting of two being got up to present the third with a testimonial. If a steam-boat goes on a rather lengthy voyage, there is sure to be a party mustered to pass flattering resolutions expressive of confidence in the captain, although the ship may have gone several hundred miles out of its way, and there may have been a variety of other disagreeable _contretemps_.

The absurdity of testimonial-giving has reached such a height that we may expect it to go still higher before it finally topples over, and we shall not be astonished to hear that two persons riding together in a Hansom cab have formed themselves into a meeting for the purpose of presenting the driver with a new lash to his whip, or some other appropriate "testimonial." When we hear of votes of thanks having been passed in favour of the commander of a steamer across the Atlantic, we feel that the difficult navigation of the Thames would warrant the presentation of a piece of plate--say a toothpick--to the captains of the Penny _Pink_ or the Halfpenny _Bee_, or the twopenny _Citizen_. If steam-boat passengers are to come to complimentary votes, what reason can there be why omnibus passengers should not vote one of their body into the chair, and record a series of resolutions in honour of the driver for his able and impartial conduct on the driving seat, or the conductor for his uprightness on his foot-board?

* * * * *

THE STRIKE OF THE DAY.--The worst of all strikes is the strike of Irish labourers--which generally consists in beating their wives.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE ORGAN BOY'S APPEAL.

"WESTMINSTER POLICE COURT.--POLICEMAN X brought a paper of doggrel verses to the MAGISTRATE, which had been thrust into his hands, X said, by an Italian boy, who ran away immediately afterwards.

"The MAGISTRATE, after perusing the lines, looked hard at X, and said he did not think they were written by an Italian.

"X blushing, said he thought the paper read in Court last week, and which frightened so the old gentleman to whom it was addressed, was also not of Italian origin."

O SIGNOR BRODERIP you are a wickid ole man You wexis us little horgan boys whenever you can, How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek To pussicute us horgin boys, you senguinary Beek?

Though you set in Vestminster surrounded by your crushers Harrogint and habsolute like the Hortacrat of hall the Rushers, Yet there is a better vurld I'd have you for to know Likewise a place vere the henimies of horgin-boys will go.

O you vickid HEROD without any pity London vithout horgin boys vood be a dismal city! Sweet SAINT CICILY who first taught horgin-pipes to blow Soften the heart of this Magistrit that haggerywates us so!

Good Italian gentlemen, fatherly and kind Brings us over to London here our horgins for to grind; Sends us out vith little vite mice and guinea pigs also A popping of the Veasel and a Jumpin of JIM CROW.

And as us young horgin boys is grateful in our turn We gives to these kind gentlemen hall the money we earn, Because that they vood vop us as wery wel we know Unless we brought our hurnings back to them as loves us so.

O MR. BRODERIP! wery much I'm surprise Ven you take your valks abroad where can be your eyes? If a Beak had a heart then you'd compryend Us pore little Horgin boys was the poor man's friend.

Don't you see the shildren in the droring rooms Clapping of their little ands when they year our toons? On their mothers' bussums don't you see the babbies crow And down to us dear horgin boys lots of apence throw?

Don't you see the ousemaids (pooty POLLIES and MARIES) Ven ve bring our urdigurdis, smilin from the hairies? Then they come out vith a slice o' cole puddn or a bit o' bacon or so And give it us young horgin boys for lunch afore we go.

Have you ever seen the Hirish children sport When our velcome music-box brings sunshine in the Court? To these little paupers who can never pay Surely all good organ boys, for God's love, will play.

Has for those proud gentlemen, like a sorting B--k (Vich I von't be pussonal and therefore vil not speak) That flings their parler-vinders hup ven ve begin to play And cusses us and swears at us in such a wiolent way.

Instedd of their abewsing and calling hout Poleece Let em send out John to us vith sixpence or a shillin apiece. Then like good young horgin boys avay from there we'll go Blessing sweet SAINT CICILY that taught our pipes to blow.

* * * * *

PRISON DISCIPLINARIANS.

"Who shall decide when jailors disagree?"

Extract from the Evidence taken before the last Parliamentary Committee on the Subject of Prison Discipline.

CAPTAIN FONDLEPRIG'S _Examination_.

_Q. 3491._ _Chairman._ You have had considerable experience in the treatment of felons and other prisoners, and have made prison discipline the object of much consideration?

_A._ I have.

_Q. 3492._ Will you give the Committee your ideas of the mode in which prisoners should be treated.

_A._ I recommend the utmost kindness and indulgence. The criminal should excite our compassion, and we should do our utmost to alleviate his sense of the punishment which society makes it necessary to inflict. I would, on his arrival, ascertain, delicately of course, what had been his previous habits and tastes. If he could read, which I would discover by some little stratagem (such as placing a letter in his hand and asking him what _he_ made of the address, as it puzzled _me_, or some other gentle device), I would cause amusing books to be placed, during the night, in his cell, and secretly changed, so as not to put him under obligation. If he could not read, poor fellow, I, or my wife, or my daughter, should read to him whenever he chose to ring for us, and I would accord him the indulgence of a pipe, if he wished it. To civilise and lead him to the Beautiful, fresh flowers should be placed in his cell--we would, in naming it to him, call it his grot--every morning, and I would recommend the hanging his apartment with engravings from the best masters, avoiding of course any subject likely to remind him painfully of his incarceration. Music should be supplied, and I have a plan for bringing all the Italian organists where I believe most people wish they were, namely, within the walls of our gaols, to soothe the minds of our captives. The bath should be recommended to, but not forced upon him, and if he preferred a warm bath in his cell, with Eau de Cologne in the water, I should naturally order it. For his health's sake, I should advise his adhering to the regular hours of meals, but if he desired a glass of sherry and a sponge cake, or an ice and wafers, or oysters and stout, between meals it would be inhuman to refuse it. The bill of fare should be brought to him each morning, and any reasonable suggestions he might make for its alteration he should see were attended to. If, which I do not anticipate, he should, despite this treatment, be insubordinate, I would, after long, patient, and humble entreaty had been exhausted, threaten to withhold his ice, or withdraw his flowers, or, in a very bad case, I might refuse him Eau de Cologne to his bath.

_Q. 3493._ If a prisoner were very rebellious, would you whip him?

[_The Witness fainted, and was removed._

LIEUTENANT SKINNUM'S _Examination_.

_Q. 3494._ _Chairman._ You have had considerable experience in the treatment of felons and other prisoners, and have made prison discipline the object of much consideration?

_A._ I have.

_Q. 3495._ Will you give the Committee your ideas of the mode in which prisoners should be treated?

_A._ Treated! I'd treat 'em, bless 'em. Shady side of a deuced good bamboo's the place for them. Confound them! Why, if a fellow's sent to jail, stands to reason he's a scoundrel, and if he's a scoundrel treat him as such. It's an insult to an honest man to leave a rogue with a whole bone in his skin. My way's short. Thrash a rascal whenever you happen to be near him, and have a stick handy, which I take care generally to have; but a poker will do, or a crowbar, if you're in a hurry. The object of punishment is to prevent the offence being repeated, and dash my buttons but a fellow will think twice before he commits an offence that gets him under my hands a second time. Boys? Why, boys are worse than men. A man steals, perhaps, to feed his family; but what does a blessed boy steal for? To buy tarts and gin, and go to the penny theatre. I take it out of 'em, though. First I thrash 'em till there isn't a bit of their system that can be called strictly comfortable. Next, I starve 'em till they're as weak as rats. Then I give 'em work to do which they could hardly do if they were in the strongest health, and if they drop down at it I lick 'em till they get up again, and I refresh their minds with pails of cold water into the bargain. That's the right system. Ever kill them? Well, not often. Sometimes they die out of spite, for these boys are very malicious and revengeful, and will do anything to get an officer into trouble; but I find the magistrates baffle their malignity by taking no notice, and all goes on well. As for insubordination, by Jove, they don't often try it with me, but an iron collar, and a chain to hold it to the wall, a taste of the cat o' nine tails after Morning and Evening Service, a sound kick whenever a jailor happens to pass, and food placed before the rascal, but just out of his reach, for a few days, do wonders.

_Q. 3496._ If a prisoner were very rebellious, would you whip him?

_Witness, (in a dreadful rage)._ Whip him, Sir! No, Sir! Whipping's too good for him, Sir! I'd--I'd--I'd--skin him alive, Sir--that's what I'd do with him, Sir.

[_The witness, in his excitement, knocked over the short-hand writer with a violent back-hander, and rushed out._

* * * * *

THE WEAPONS OF THE SLAVE.

At Wilkesbarre, in Pennsylvania, two slave-hunters under the Fugitive Slave Law did their best and worst to recapture a mulatto, named REX. They placed handcuffs on him; but with these very handcuffs, the man--maddened by despair--beat down and marked his hunters. There is a moral in this, if America could understand it. Well will it be if emancipation be granted before slavery, with its very chains, shall knock down and mark the national slaveholders.

* * * * *

GENTLE READER!--If you have a remarkably strong constitution, you may read the following; but if not, we beg of you to pass it over:--

If a cigar makes a man ill, will a cheroot make a Man-illa?

* * * * *

THE CROWN OF HUNGARY.

It seems that the Royal Insignia of Hungary have lately been dug out of a hole in a very damaged condition. The Crown was cracked, and the cloak of ST. STEPHEN, which, if it had been "made to measure" for the Saint himself, must have been rather the worse for wear, was so injured by damp that if ST. STEPHEN'S mantle should fall on anybody else the result could only be rheumatism. The garment cannot, however, have been worth much, for if it was the cloak that the Hungarian royalty used to wear, it had long ago become transparent, and might have been seen through very easily. We have not heard how the rubbish came to be discovered; but as the cloak was very seedy it may have sprung up, as anything of a seedy nature is apt to do when buried in the ground, and thus given a clue to its own discovery. Who got the Crown into the mess in which it was found is not a question very difficult of solution; but it is clear that those who imputed its abstraction to M. KOSSUTH, were as much in the dark as many of the acts and deeds of the Austrian Government. When a Crown is dragged in the dirt and degraded, the probability is, that he whom the cap fits is the one whose head it ought to rest upon.

* * * * *

A WORD FOR THE HOTEL-KEEPERS.

Several correspondents of the _Times_ have been writing themselves into a great rage lately, about what they are pleased to call the "Iniquity of our present Hotel system." They complain, with a warmth of expression which is really very seasonable, that go where you will throughout the kingdom, you'll not find an Inn which is not inn-convenient--to your person, certainly, if not to your purse. Everywhere, they say, you'll be charged a good price for bad accommodation: and the larger the establishment, the smaller is your chance of escaping imposition. If you order a light dinner, you may be sure, nevertheless, you'll have to pay a heavy price for it. If wine be your beverage, you'll be charged three and sixpence for a glass and a half of Cape, served in a vinegar-cruet and called "a pint of Sherry:" or, if you drink beer, you will get a jug of what it were a bitter raillery to call bitter ale, and which, however nasty, you'll be charged a nice sum for. So that, in either case, the process of selling these liquids may be said invariably to include the purchaser. Your candles, too, they say, which figure so highly as "wax" in the bill, will prove in the candlestick to be as bad a composition as the fourpence in the pound of a fraudulent bankrupt: and whether lit or not, there's still the burning shame that you're to pay just the same for them. For "attendance," too, you are charged about as much as for a lawyer's: half-a-crown a day being no uncommon item for the luxury of sometimes looking at a waiter. And if you want a horse, you'll find there's not one in the stable but what's made a heavy charger.

Another of their complaints is, that in the fitting up of our hotels there is as much bad taste as in the wines you cannot drink there. For, while the second-class houses are barely half-furnished, those which are anomalously styled "first-rate" are as much over-done as the victims who frequent them, all the rooms being crammed to every corner with a lot of ugly furniture, for which nevertheless you've to pay pretty handsomely.

In short, the British Innkeeper, as these writers represent him, figures as a sort of human apteryx, who supports himself entirely by the length of his bill.

Now, the correctness of these charges we admit as readily as we dispute the landlords'. At the same time, we think there is an evident excuse for them; for the writers, in their vehemence, seem entirely to have overlooked the fact, that inasmuch as every innkeeper is bound to keep open house, he is obviously obliged to take as many people in as possible.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A LITTLE MONEY QUESTION.

"OH, DEAR PUNCH, DEAR,

"I want to ask you one little question. It is about 'defacing the coin.' I wish to ask whether my brother SEPTIMUS is liable to be taken up? The foolish boy has several waistcoats, the buttons of which are made of coins. He has one for every-day use made with fourpenny pieces. He has another, the buttons of which are made with half-sovereigns. That is for Sunday wear, whilst he has another for very grand occasions that is buttoned together with two-sovereign pieces. He is with these absurd fancies quite a 'Man made of Money', and I know a young lady who calls him a 'walking change for a ten-pound note.' It is very conceited of him to be sure, and I am only afraid he will be taken up some day--especially if he has on at the time his great driving coat that has a long row of half-crowns running down in front, and a couple of crown-pieces over the pockets behind. Now I wish you to tell me, dear _Punch_, supposing he is taken up, can they send him to prison, and cut his hair off, and make him eat gruel for defacing the coin? I am more frightened than I can tell you about him.

"Poor fellow! It would be terrible to see two big policemen lay their large hands on him, when he was out walking with his little sister, and tear him away from my side, because he happened to be wearing his grand pink shirt with the studs made out of the tiniest threepenny pieces. This talk about 'defacing the coin' is all rubbish, for it strikes me that if I give ten shillings for half-a-sovereign, I have a right to do what I like with it--to throw it in the fire even, if I choose; but I am fairly tired out of my life with such stuff!

I remain, my dearest _Punch_, Your great friend and admirer, CLARA (at No. 10).

"P.S. Supposing again I choose to wear a lucky coin round my neck that was given to me by JULIUS before he went to sea, I should like to know what they would do with me? I declare _I would die sooner_ than they should take it from me!"

* * * * *

PUBLICANS AND PARSONS.--Cathedral Chapters are compiled from leaves taken out of Hotel-keepers' Books.

* * * * *

HOW TO BREATHE THE "FREE AIR" OF AUSTRIA.--Keep your mouth shut!

* * * * *

LE GRAND OPERA ENRHUMÉ.

M. HALÉVY, weary of compelling his orchestra to imitate the tinkling of Bayadères' armlets, or the solemn tramp of an army of elephants, has, in his opera of the _Nabob_, now performing at the Opéra Comique, introduced a novel musical effect, upon which _Mr. Punch_, in anticipation of its speedy transmission to England, feels bound to offer a word of comment. In the third act of the opera, the libretto of which, be it remarked, is from the pen of M. SCRIBE, a chaise, containing two of the principal characters, is upset at the door of a tobacconist's shop in Wales. Of course, the occupants of the chaise are assisted into the shop, where they sing a duet with, as the French papers say, "A funny accompaniment of coughing and sneezing." At this we are told the whole house _"éclata de rire_", and that "_les brouhahas les plus vives accueillirent ce joli morçeau_". If _Mr. Punch_ were not entirely free from all petty national jealousy, he might, perhaps, insinuate that M. HALÉVY has taken his idea from the brilliant sternutations which the immortal tenor GRIMALDI was wont to embroider, as the _Morning Post_ would say, upon his grand scena of "_Tippetywitchet_." But he contents himself with M. HALÉVY'S indirect tribute of praise to that great _artiste_, and rejoices in the conviction that the _belle fioriture_ of _il povero Guiseppe_, now that they have received the stamp of French approval, will come into general acceptation with us.

He expects that during the ensuing winter great pains will be taken to perforate the roofs and walls of our theatres, as managers will feel that no singer can succeed properly in an air unless she stands in a draught.

He expects also that his contemporaries will criticise the _début_ of a new tenor after the following fashion--

"SIGNOR INFREDDATURA, who made his first appearance last night in the comic opera of _Il Catarro_, has all the qualifications of a great singer; viz. a fine person, a sweet and powerful voice, expressive and appropriate action, and _a bad cold_. He took all his sternutations with the greatest ease, and in correct time, and in his grand aria of '_Ah! tu traditrice_,' the audience knew not whether to admire most, the great power with which he gave the _Ahchew_--sustaining the '_Ah_' for some seconds, and then suddenly pouring forth the '_Chew_' in a volume of sound that DUPREZ might have envied--or the playful irony which he threw into his new and _spirituel_ reading of the _treechay_. He was, however, but badly seconded by MADAME TESTACHIARA, who was so nervous as to have no control over her organ whatever, so that the two pinches of snuff which the prompter administered to her before she came on exploded at the wrong time, and thus impaired the general effect of an otherwise fine performance."

One advantage _Mr. Punch_ perceives, will certainly result from the vigorous prosecution of M. HALÉVY'S idea. It is that, whereas our climate has hitherto been the bane, it will henceforth prove the antidote of foreign singers. They will flock here in crowds to perfect their education, nor will they be deterred from coming by a fear of overstocking the market, as they will always feel sure that there is plenty of rheum for them in England. And even MR. SIMS REEVES, when afflicted by the recurrence of his apparently hereditary cold, need no longer disappoint the audience by withdrawing from them altogether, and may favour them with "My lodging is on the cold ground" (a song which will naturally afford great scope for a display of the new ornaments), or with "We'll sound the gay Catarrh."

* * * * *

OBSTRUCTING THE PAVEMENT.

A poor applewoman is not allowed to loiter on the pavement. The lithographic artist, who draws the reddest salmon and setting suns on the flagstones, is instantly told by the policeman to "walk his chalks." The broken-down tradesman, with his white neckcloth, and black gloves with the fingers peeping out of the tips, is not allowed to lean against a door-post, and offer, in a melancholy attitude, his lucifer-matches for sale. The same rigour is exercised towards the hundred-bladed Jew boy, the barefooted girl with her bunch of violets, and the grinning Italian with his organ. Not one of them is allowed to monopolise the pavement, but is immediately commanded by the ferocious policeman to "move on." But there is a class of persons who are permitted to remain still, where a child who is crying her apples "three a penny" is not allowed even to loiter. This class of persons is not the most reputable class to come in contact with, nor the pleasantest even to look at. It is the betting class. Pass a betting-shop when you will, you are sure to find an immense crowd collected outside it.

There is no knowing what they talk about--and we have not the slightest wish to increase our knowledge--but there they will stand for hours, running in and out of the shop, in the most feverish state, exchanging memoranda in half-whispers, and dotting down incomprehensible figures in little clasp-books, which they hold up close to their breasts, for fear any one should see what they are inscribing in them. They seem dreadfully afraid lest any one should peep over their shoulders, and discover the wonderful "odds" they are pencilling down. We have no particular love or partiality for this numerous class of HER MAJESTY'S subjects. We do not like them, with their slangy stable coats, their sporting hats knowingly cocked on one side, and their suspicious looks that seem to say of every one on whom their sharp, calculating glances fall, "Well, I wonder how green you are, and I wonder what harvest I shall get out of your greenness." We do not like this betting _genus_, with its whips and switchy canes, and thick-ruled trowsers, into which a small five-barred gate seems to have been compressed, and its sensual thick-lipped mouths, that are invariably playing with a flower or a piece of straw, or caressing the end of a pencil.

Now, this class of persons blocks up our public pavements. Attempt to pass by the Haymarket, or Jermyn Street, or the purlieus of Leicester Square, about four or five o'clock, and you will find that the arteries of circulation are tied up by those thick coagulated knots of betting men. The thoroughfare is quite impassable, and you are compelled to go into the mud of the road to avoid being soiled by the refuse of the pavement. We wish the police would, until the entire system is abolished, sweep away the offensive nuisance, for we do not see why betting men should be allowed to carry on their trade on the flagstones any more than applewomen, or even your openly-professed beggar. The police might be worse engaged than in making them "move on." In this instance we would have them not pay the slightest respect to their "betters."

* * * * *

"THE BONES OF PAGANINI."

A paragraph with the above startling heading has been going the round of the newspapers. It seems that the bones of the great violinist have been turned into bones of contention, by the priests who have refused to bury them. Several lawsuits have taken place, and there has been one appeal to the Court of Nice, which treated the matter as a Nice question. This court refused the request of PAGANINI'S executors, who were anxious to get the bones buried; but rather than submit to the decree, without making any further bones about the matter, they appealed to Genoa, which it seems is somewhat over nice, for it superseded Nice in its decision. A further appeal has, however, been made to Turin, which reversed the judgment of Genoa, and a reference to the Holy See is now spoken of. "There the matter rests," say the papers, but where the bones will ultimately rest remains a problem.

* * * * *

THAT VERY SMALL (POLITICAL) PARTY.

LORD JOHN RUSSELL, in his recent speech at Greenock, alluded to the "absence of party" as a thing scarcely to be hoped, but greatly to be desired. The word "party" is so vague in its ordinary sense, that we should be glad to know the "party" to which LORD JOHN alludes. He may either mean "that party" over the way, on the other side of the House, or that "other party," or that "Irish party," or that "troublesome little party" that is always asking inconvenient questions, or some "party" that some other "party" is always egging on to annoy the Government. The only "party" to which we are quite sure his Lordship did not refer is the "Protectionist party," for it would have been absurd to express a wish for the absence of what has already ceased to be, and it would be even worse than crushing a butterfly on a wheel, to call for the annihilation of a nonentity.

* * * * *

ARMS FOR IRELAND.

THE QUEEN has suggested to the Irish the propriety of mending their own clothes. Hitherto, when we have sent steel to Ireland, it has been in the shape of swords and bayonets. QUEEN VICTORIA, however, a right royal housewife, presents sister HIBERNIA with a packet of needles.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE LANDLORDS' MEETING AT THE LONDON COFFEE HOUSE.

Some of our daily contemporaries have published an advertisement, headed, "THE TIMES _versus_ ENGLISH HOTELS," and consisting of six resolutions passed at a meeting of the principal Hotel-keepers of Town and Country, held at the London Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, on the 15th instant.

What end the public-house-keepers proposed to themselves in publishing those resolutions, it is not very easy to conceive. A mere resolution that a newspaper, in criticising hotel prices, has abused the liberty of the Press, will not persuade any reader of the paper to think so. The worst thing that has been, or could have been done to the landlords by a newspaper, was the publication of their bills: do they resolve this to be exceeding the bounds of just criticism?

Unnecessary wax-lights, at 2_s._ a pair; port and sherry fifty per cent. above market price; swipes calling itself ale, at 1s. per pot; these and all such items, if obviously extortionate, cannot be exhibited in any other light by the simple resolution of the extortioners, even if that be framed and glazed.

There is just one use which we may imagine these ostensible resolutions to serve. Perhaps they are put forward by way of blind to the real ones which were formed at this assembly of publicans. The following, probably, are those which the gentlemen actually concurred in:--

Resolved, unanimously--

I. That an agitation has been raised against hotel charges by the Press, which, if unchecked, will perhaps result in the reduction of them, by terrifying some of us into diminishing our prices, and necessitating the rest to follow their example.

II. That it is our interest to resist the attempt thus being made to compel us, by intimidation, to moderate our bills.

III. That such resistance can be effectually maintained only by a firm combination amongst ourselves, based upon a determination to stand by each other, in the endeavour to perpetuate those exactions which we now levy on the British Public; but that by hanging closely together, we may defy the Press, hold the public at our mercy, and safely despise and disregard popular opinion.

IV. But that, in order to preserve this happy state of independence, it is indispensably necessary to exclude most rigorously from the Hotel-keeping business the pernicious principle of competition.

V. That every effect and exertion should therefore be made to induce the Magistrates in town and country to persevere in their existing excellent system of restricting tavern-licenses to certain parties; thereby restraining that competition which would soon oblige us to adjust our prices in conformity with the clamour of common sense.

VI. That a subscription be entered into in order to raise funds for the further propitiation of the said Magistrates in our favour, by bribing them additionally to persist in refusing licenses to any other individuals than ourselves.

* * * * *

SHAMEFUL INTIMIDATION OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN.

At the Westminster Police Office, in the course of an organ-grinding nuisance case, there was read, according to the reports, a threatening letter; which, as the following copy of it will show, was of a very dangerous character. It was stated to have been addressed to "an aged invalid gentleman;" who, we presume, had disobliged the writers by growling at them and sending them away:--

"SIGNOR RUSSELL,--You are one very great vicked ole man. You are one very rechted miserable man. Why you wil hart the pore horgan man that trys to get a honnest living, for you have plenty yourself money? Why you stop the poor horgan man to get a little money? You are a very ole feeble man, and cannot life much longer. When you die where will your guilty sole go to? You have no charity for the poor horgan man; what charity will God have for you in the next world? What mercy will he have for you? He will be as hard to you in the next world as you are to the poor man in this. You will go to purgatory and stop for ever and ever, if you do not repent of your vickidnys, you brown breeched, blue coated, brite button ole scarecrow; now, in conclusion, three or four of us true sons of Italy have sworn by the HOLY VIRGIN to make of you rite over upon the top of your own dore-steps one fritefullest tomartyr.

"Sined, "ANTONIO G. "GUIDO R. "JUAN B."

The report further states that opposite the names were three daggers; but from the theological views apparent on the face of the document, we imagine that the daggers were merely the sort of index which his Eminence CARDINAL WISEMAN is in the habit of prefixing to his signature.

MR. BRODERIP, we are told, read this letter, "which created much laughter." Of that convulsive affection, however, happily nobody died; so that the communication was simply dangerous--not actually fatal to the hearers. To the original recipient, however, it seems to have been productive of consequences seriously alarming, as it, "had put him into such a state of bodily fear that he was nearly dead."

We have read of people who saw their own ghosts; which rather frightened them. SIGNOR RUSSELL, perhaps, was in some degree terrified by his own phantom, raised by the Italian organ-grinders--the apparition of himself in brown breeches, blue coat, and brass buttons. However, besides being thus exhibited as an "old scarecrow" to his own eyes, he had cause for apprehension in one of the mysterious menaces addressed to him. The threat of perpetual Purgatory, a Protestant old gentleman might despise; but that of martyrdom by being made the frightfullest tomartyr upon the top of his own door steps, is a substantial horror. It is suggestive of an idea dreadful enough to make him tremble over his bit of fish, and shudder in the enjoyment of his mutton-chop--the idea of being pounded and crushed into a pulp, and ground by Popish organ-grinders to the consistence of tomartyr sauce.

* * * * *

THEOCRACY OF RUSSIA.

The Russians have been hitherto supposed to belong to the Greek Church; but there now appears to be some doubt of this. It was lately stated, in the foreign correspondence of some of our contemporaries, that after a recent review of his troops by Prince Gortschakoff, the General issued an order of the day, in which he told the army of occupation that they were called upon to annihilate Paganism, concluding his address with "Long live the CZAR! Long live the God of the RUSSIANS!" If PRINCE GORTSCHAKOFF is to be taken as a correct exponent of Muscovite divinity, the religion of the Russians must be identical with that of the YEZIDI, inasmuch as the latter, also, are worshippers of the old gentleman denominated NICHOLAS.

* * * * *

"FAST" LITERATURE.

A sporting "gent," who has courageously entered the "lists" at several betting-houses, has lately purchased an elaborate work on "Ethnology," in consequence of his having heard that it will give him much information on the subject of "races."

* * * * *

A NEW MOTTO FOR RUSSIA.--Bear and Overbear.

* * * * *

OUR BEAUTIFUL FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

Our beautiful fashions go on improving! Like Buckingham Palace, they are constantly being altered, and never altered for the better. What the human _façade_ will be ultimately, there's no knowing. Everything has been tried in the shape of flowers, feathers, ornaments on the top, and, in some instances, paint, that could possibly disfigure it. Let these disfigurements only continue, and they may have the effect of converting the human head into a kind of MEDUSA'S, that will turn into stone all who look at it. One of the latest absurdities is the way in which ladies wear their bonnets--if it can be called wearing at all, when it is falling, like a Capuchin's hood, right down their backs. It thus forms a capital receptacle for collecting any refuse or rubbish that may be dropt, or thrown, into it. We know one lady who found her bonnet, when she got home, perfectly filled with dust. It was quite a dust-bin in a small way--and the luncheon, which was on the table at the time, had to be sent away, as everything was spoilt by the dusty shower that the lady had unconsciously shaken down upon it.

There was another lady--whose husband is not so rich as he should be, and who grumbles fearfully, poor fellow, at every new bonnet he has to pay for--who discovered her _chapeau_ to be as full as it could hold of orange-peel. Some malicious little boys must have amused themselves in walking behind her and pitching into it every piece of orange-peel they found lying about. It was an amusing game of pitch-in-the-hole to them. The consequence has been that the lady, who is extremely particular, especially when she takes a new fancy like a new bonnet into her head, has been compelled to throw away her old bonnet, and to have a new one. The poor husband, who is really to be pitied (husbands generally are), has been obliged, in order to pay for the additional expense, to walk instead of riding, to give up smoking, and to cut off his luncheons--all of which expenses came out of his own pocket and not out of the housekeeping. The last time he was seen he was so thin that it was almost a microscopical effort to see him. But this absurd fashion, coupled with the other absurdity of long dresses, has the one good effect in keeping our streets clean, for the low bonnets carry off all the superfluous dust, and the long dresses carry away all the superfluous mud.

It would be difficult to say which fashion, in point of cleanliness, ranks the lowest. A classical friend of ours humorously declares that he thinks the bonnets will soon be the lower of the two, and that the ladies, for convenience' sake, will shortly be wearing them, tied on to the end of their dresses. It will be relieving them, he funnily says, of a great _draw-back_, and will have the further advantage of keeping their dear heads cool. This classical friend also says that the ladies, as viewed at present with their bonnets hanging behind them, look like female anthropophagi, or "monsters whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders." However, we have only one hope that the fashion, which seems to be dropping lower and lower every day, will gradually drop off altogether, and then the marital cry will be "_Il n'y a plus de_ Bonnets!" and Cranbourne Street will be ruined. But after all, the eccentricities in the way of dress do not lie exclusively on the side of the ladies.

We must not throw every absurdity on their backs. The gentlemen come in, also, for a large share of the ridiculous. Look at an elegant young gent of the present day! His hat you must confess is faultless. It combines every quality within its lovely chimney-pot form. It has not only beauty of shape, but utility of purpose. The brim is admirable. A lady-bird can about settle on it, and that is all. There is just sufficient width to enable you to lift the hat with, and what more do you want? As for keeping the sun off, it is not needed for that purpose, for when is the sun ever seen in England? and as for keeping the rain off, as it is a well-known fact that no Englishman ever ventures out of doors without his umbrella, it cannot be needed for that purpose any more than for the sun. Then look at the shirt-collar! It is a high linen wall, behind which the face is securely protected from the sharp, cutting winds that are continually flying about our climate, like so many aërial guillotines. One's head would infallibly be chopped off, cleaner than any head of asparagus, if it were not for some such protection; and besides, we should not find fault with our young men if they do try to hide as much as they can of their beautiful features. You may be sure they only do it out of charity to the ladies! The small ribbon that fences in this high wall of collar is, likewise, most beautiful. It is almost an invisible fence that is planted evidently more for ornament than use. The wall would look cold and naked--a kind of workhouse wall--without it. We may say that every part of the dress bespeaks a degree of taste that would win the admiration even of a savage. In fact, get a savage--a greater savage, if you can, than one who beats his wife; then select a Young Lady and a Young Gent in the present year's costumes; let the former be as fashionable as you like--let the latter be as green as you can find him: then put them before your savage--turn them gently round for five minutes, and then ask him his candid opinion. We will wager our next week's receipts--no small wager, by the way--that he will be puzzled to say--

* * * * *

"ENOUGH'S AS GOOD AS A FEAST."

At the _déjeûner_ given the other day to MR. G. V. BROOKE, it was stated by the manager of Drury Lane that after the morning performance, which took place last week, the public-houses in the neighbourhood of the theatre were crowded with people, who, after seeing _Othello_, were refreshing themselves for the purpose of seeing _The Stranger_ in the evening. We admit that two tragedies in one day must be rather warm work for the audience, as well as for the actors, and we do not wonder at "refreshment" being found necessary to enable the public to go through with the day's labours. Some plays are drier than others, and it would be a curious fact to ascertain how much more washing down _The Stranger_ would require than _Othello_. If we were to attempt a calculation, we should say, that if SHAKSPEARE took a bottle of sparkling Moselle, nothing short of a hogshead of heavy would be needed to make KOTZEBUE go down at all glibly.

* * * * *

ANOTHER GHOST!

Of course we continue to receive reports of the appearance of other ghosts. In the playhouse world, last week, it was reported that the night watchman on duty at the Princess's was startled by the ghost of _Macbeth_. Now, as the theatre does not open until the 10th the news must be premature.

* * * * *

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.

Under the rules issued by the Treasury Commissioners with respect to the appointment of Custom House officials, it is declared that persons nominated to be searchers must be fully acquainted with vulgar fractions. There is no objection to this kind of vulgarity as one of their qualifications, but we hope no necessity exists that they should be guilty of any other, and continue to be rude and insolent. Another rule provides that no person will be admitted to the service who shall have committed an offence against the revenue laws. What then has become of the maxim "Set a thief to catch a thief?"

* * * * *

"THE PLAGUE WITHIN OUR GATES."

"The Plague is at our doors!" the watchers cried amain:-- At the shrill call England raised up her head: "Arm! arm against the Plague!" the watchers cried again: England turned round upon her lazy bed, Folding her arms in dreamy drowsihead-- "Arm! arm!" the watchers cried--the watchers cried in vain!

England not stirring slept; or if perchance one stirred, 'Twas but to vent a muttered curse on those Whose warning trumpet-call through folds of slumber heard, Broke in upon the pleasure of repose, With ugly thoughts of death and dying throes-- So Echo's voice gave back the watchers' idle word.

As when a leaguering host, under the shroud of night, Hath sapped a city's wall, and creeping in, Flashes with sword and fire upon the sleepers' sight, Who springing, drunk with fear and dazed with din, Out of their beds, to grope for arms begin-- Arms that should long ere then have been girt on for fight--

So suddenly the Plague hath crept within our gate; With even such wild yell and hideous note Of fear, we start from sleep, to find the choking weight Of those blue, bony fingers on the throat;-- To meet those stony eyes that glare and gloat On victims who, fore-armed, had struggled with their fate.

We run this way and that; we cling to all that come With nostrum or defence; and as we fall We curse the watchers too, and ask, "Why were ye dumb? Why waked ye not the sleepers with your call? Why urged ye not the warriors to the wall?" Meanwhile to the Plague's breath lives helplessly succumb.

And while he stalks abroad, on his triumphant way, We fetter his allies; his arms we hide: Allies--that till he came had unmolested sway To make within our walls these breaches wide, Through which our grim and ghastly Foe did stride; Arms--that for his right hand we have furbished many a day.

And now with bended knees, and heads bowed to the ground, In sudden piety high Heaven we sue To stay the Plague that still his mightiest strength has found In what we have done ill or failed to do-- Whose weapons we keep ever sharp and new-- Some of whose champions bold we as our chiefs have crowned.

* * * * *

A NOTED IMPOSTOR.

The Russian note is not to be judged of so much by its contents, as by its envelope--not so much by what it says, as by what it attempts to cover. If the note should prove a failure, the CZAR will have reason to regret that he did not show his usual address on the occasion.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 6.

No Englishman can visit the Picture Galleries at the Louvre without thinking of a building in London devoted to the same purpose, which is neither very beautiful nor very convenient; and it is rather tempting to enlarge on the despicable show the Trafalgar Square collection makes beside the principal Continental ones. The equitable temper, however, of your Correspondent leads him to suggest some reflections which will mitigate that censure. The National Gallery was not built by the luxurious sovereign of an impoverished people, or it might have been larger and more splendid. No curse cleaves to its stones. The pictures are not the fruit of rapine and confiscation, or the collection might have been more extensive and valuable. As it is, it contains less rubbish and more priceless gems than any gallery of its size in the world; and no pillaged aristocracy, no humbled province, claims a canvas there. Such considerations consoled him as he paced up the gilded saloon of APOLLO to the square chamber which holds the masterpieces of the collection. RAPHAEL, PAUL VERONESE, LEONARDO, and TITIAN appear in all their glory; but the star of the room and cynosure of neighbouring eyes, is MADAME SOULT'S MURILLO--the _Assumption of Mary_. A crowd of devout admirers cluster always round this great work and the artist who is employed in copying it. It has the effect of a tender strain from one of Mozart's masses, sweet and sensous, yet not low. Ladies cannot but be charmed to see that a saint can be so pretty, and turn with a shudder from dirty anchorites and unshaven martyrs to gaze again and again at those lovely eyes, and silky hair, and those elegant hands crossed so gracefully on her bosom.

Certainly nothing can be more delightful than to sit on the central ottoman (which by the way is a great deal more comfortable than those backless rout seats that we wot of), and, shifting one's position from time to time, study the various marvels of art that clothe the walls of this saloon. Your Correspondent, like every English gentleman, knows (or wishes to be thought to know) something about pictures, but he is not minded to gratify you with the slang that is usually thought necessary for the proper treatment of this subject. Wherefore he will make no allusions to breadth, or chiaro-scuro, or texture, or bits of colour. PAUL VERONESE'S _Marriage at Cana_ is before him, fresh and varied as a bouquet of flowers, and he wishes to enjoy it as he would digest his dinner, without giving technical reasons for the process. He turns to a group of RAPHAEL'S (I beg pardon, RAFAELLE'S), and would not for the world spoil the pleasure they give him by speculating on the Roman School and the artist's three manners, and the influence of PIETRO PERUGINO or MICHAEL ANGELO on his style, and so forth. These fine art critics are a cold-blooded set of fellows, and look at a picture as an attorney does at a lease, to see if they cannot pick a hole in it.

All this time the eyes of the enthusiast have been wandering to a corner of the chamber where an artist is copying a small _Rembrandt_. It is not the _Rembrandt_ he is regarding, but the artist. How excessively nice! The most charming young lady perched on a pair of steps, like a dear little bird in a tree. She bends over her work and draws her head back, and scans the effect on one side and the other with, really, the most irritating picturesqueness. She wears a blue robe just the colour of her eyes, with a little ermine tippet, and when an ancient dragon, who is reading a novel at the foot of the steps, in a cloak and ugly bonnet, speaks to her, she laughs and shakes her blond _chevelure_, and is so delightful altogether, that it is quite impossible to attend to the pictures. Let us go into the long gallery where the students are not so fascinating. Dirty, long-haired, and bearded men in blouses, and females in seedy crumpled black, look up as we pass by from their easels.

An English family runs past with the blue catalogues in their hands. A precious bore the whole affair is to them. They must be quick, there is no time to lose. "What a lot of pictures! Isn't that a funny man with a beard? How slippery the floor is! RUBENS, ah, really. Come, girls, we must get back to MEWREISE'S to lunch. There's the Bose Arts, and the Museum of Artillery, and the Bois de Bullown"--"You should say Bulloyne, Pa"--"to be done before dinner."

A long vista of pictures ordered, as all galleries should be, chronologically. As you enter, mystical compositions, or rather apparitions of draped angels and saints gaze at you with sleepy eyes from firmaments of gold. Their limbs are long and gaunt; their looks grimly devout, and their heads are set awry on their shoulders. Is it credible that there should be educated men in the present day who yearn after these barbarisms, and have no sympathy with the struggles made by subsequent artists to get free from their influence? And that clergymen should put up copies of the same in our churches, and almost anathematise as heathens those who prefer better drawing? This period is the very winter of art, and the next is the spring, all life and freshness and beauty. We cannot but here remember the young painters in England who have borrowed a name, if not a principle, from the times before RAPHAEL. Already their works have become the great point of attraction in the Royal Academy; already they have reaped the success of enthusiastic praise, and the still rarer and more precious success of rancorous abuse. What does our friend ORTOLAN say on this subject?

ORTOLAN has a lively sense of every sort of pleasure. He orders a dinner better than another man, and enjoys it more; he is a good sportsman, and well known as a first-rate wicket-keeper at LORD'S. But only his intimate friends are aware how he appreciates literature and art, and how solid his acquirements are in both. He is now quietly analysing the method employed by TITIAN in painting flesh when he is accosted by your Correspondent. "What do I think of Pre-Raphaelitism? I don't know what it means. Where are you to find out? There was a pamphlet certainly with that title which strongly recommended painting from Nature, but there is nothing very new in that. All artists paint from Nature, and very sick it makes one of the wonderful wigs, and satin, and armour, and plate-glass and china, and fruit and flowers and shiny dogs and deer. I don't speak of landscape painters, because the writer of that pamphlet has already proved that the moderns in this line are very superior, because better imitators than the old. One notion of his may perhaps pretend to novelty, that a painter should 'select nothing and reject nothing' in Nature. But I don't understand what he means by this. How can you avoid selecting and rejecting? I suppose some things are prettier than others, just as some women are prettier than others. He can hardly want a man to shut his eyes to what gives him pleasure. If he does he is wrong, and must know that he's wrong. If not, he must mean that when you are set down to paint the subject you have selected, you ought to paint it as it is. If that is all his discovery, what is the use of making such a fuss about it? Of course you ought, and so every industrious student does, to the best of his ability. But you must distinguish between studies and pictures. The first are merely exercises; the second are, or should be, poems. No one was more aware of this than the landscape painter whom he worships so devoutly, and who is generally thought to have pushed poetical treatment of landscapes to an extreme.

"But, perhaps, this writer does not tell us what we want to know, and we must look for Pre-Raphaelitism in the pictures themselves. Most of them are clever, and some of them show the very highest ability; but this, of course, is not the Pre-Raphaelite part of the work, and must be put out of sight. No new principle can produce _genius_, though genius may find out the new principles. What then remains? Is there a quaintness of form and manner which reminds one of the early Italian painters? I think there was a good deal, and still is some, but they happily seem to be working themselves free from a peculiarity which, to my mind, is neither more nor less than affectation. Is it an extraordinary fancy for ugly people that seems occasionally to possess them like an evil spirit? If this is the new principle, the sooner it is put down the better. There are quite enough frights in the world without stereotyping them for the delectation of all time. Or is it a toilsome elaboration of detail, which not one man out of a thousand could ever see without a glass? I confess, that even where the minute objects themselves form the subject of the picture, this painful execution is quite oppressive to me. I seem to be looking through an inverted telescope, which gives everything a hard outline that I never see in Nature myself, and never want to see; and further, while there is an atmosphere, I don't believe anybody else can see. But where this minute detail is merely accessory to the subject of the picture, there I hold the system to be wrong and false in the strongest sense. It is, of course, very catching to talk about imitating Nature exactly, but one simple test will show that for dramatic or poetical subjects it won't do. Dress up two models as carefully as you like, put them into appropriate attitudes, take a calotype of the group, copy it exactly on the canvas, call it _Hamlet and the Ghost_, and then ask yourself what notion it gives you of SHAKSPERE. Imitation of Nature is only an expedient. The end of Art is to please."

* * * * *

THE CROWN OF ST. STEPHEN.

The new-found crown of Hungary has been brought in great state to Vienna, and with like state returned again to Hungary. The reason for this (we impart the news to the reader as private and confidential) was--BARON LIONEL ROTHSCHILD, having examined the diadem, refused to lend a single penny upon it. The real, original stones have been taken out, but we understand the Pope has, in the handsomest manner, proposed to supply other gems of far surpassing value--namely, no other than half-a-dozen of the pebbles that stoned ST. STEPHEN himself.

* * * * *

THE SUPPORTERS OF AUSTRIA.

The arms of Austria are the eagle; the double-headed eagle. When, however, we think of the paper currency of the house of Hapsburgh--currency issued only to be dishonoured--the supporters of Austria are surely not eagles, but--as NOKES, the wag upon 'Change, says--_kites_.

* * * * *

HOW TO PAY YOUR TAXES.

"MR. PUNCH,

"Direct Taxation may be compensated for by cheapness; but it is very painful. When we are compelled to pay a lot of money at once, we feel a pang which the disbursement of twice as much distributed over a longer period, in small additions to our expenditure, does not occasion. The latter case resembles the gradual extraction of a single hair: the former is equivalent to having a whole handful torn right out. You know that you may lose a quantity of blood by frequent leeching, which, if abstracted at once from your system, would make you faint. I am still suffering from the recent payment of my assessed taxes; and shall not lose the horrible sensation for a week. As to the Income-Tax--it has the effect of a fine: a regular punishment. Couldn't these dreadful penalties be paid by instalments? I declare I am almost determined the next time I am forced to undergo one of them, to have myself put under the influence of chloroform. I have sometimes thought of brandy instead; but I have a generous weakness, which spirituous liquors are apt to stimulate, and I am afraid that if I were to pay my Income-Tax in the state I allude to, I should fling down a few guineas over the amount as a voluntary contribution, overcome with enthusiastic devotion to my QUEEN and Country.

"Yours, a severely plucked _September 29, 1853._" "MICHAELMAS GOOSE."

"P.S. If we have war, these taxes will become quite intolerable; and chloroform will be absolutely necessary."

* * * * *

OUR SHABBY CONTEMPORARIES

We have a bone to pick with our contemporaries. In reporting the speech of LORD PALMERSTON, at Perth, they recorded a passage in which the noble Lord suggested that those who saw and heard things that were going wrong, should communicate them to the public officer whose duty it is to put them right, which would be conferring a great favour on the man in office, as well as doing a benefit of magnitude to the country at large. They represent his Lordship as saying, in continuation:--

"There may be a great deal of chaff in that which is received--but if in a bushel of chaff he shall find a pint of good corn, that bushel of chaff would be worth winnowing, and he can turn that pint of corn to good purposes."

But why has that been omitted which followed of course, and by the omission of which the above extract is made to conclude with abruptness--to read, as it were, broken off, stumpy? What motive, but a mean one, was there for suppressing what LORD PALMERSTON must have gone on to say?--namely, that in communicating to Government information respecting things that go wrong, mixed up with chaff, the most essential services had been rendered to an applauding nation by a popular periodical--which modesty prevents _Punch_ from more distinctly alluding to.

* * * * *

CIVIC SIMPLICITY.

The next Lord Mayor's Day is, we are told, to be celebrated with touching simplicity. Gilt gingerbread has had its day; and Bartholomew Fair being abolished, the Lord Mayor's coach will follow the gilt chanticleers-in-trowsers and other gorgeous gingerbread. MR. ALDERMAN WIRE'S liveries are very simple, but very significant. Being a lawyer, he has put characteristic facings on his profession, clothing his coachman and footmen in suits of parchment with shoulder-knots of red tape. The effect is very handsome. The worthy Sheriff's motto, _Vincit qui patitur_, is very happy, and is beautifully engrossed upon the cuffs and collars. _Vincit qui patitur._ He conquers who suffers! How often is it illustrated in law. He who wins, _pays_!

* * * * *

SCOTCH INFLICTIONS.--"Winter"--say the papers--"has already set in with severity in Scotland." What is worse; LORD ABERDEEN has, months since, set in with severity in England.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MILITARY REWARDS IN CHINA.

The Chinese heroes who are now cutting off each other's tails and mutilating each other's limbs, appear to realise a far larger quantity of kicks than halfpence by their warlike achievements. Even a successful general seems to make but a sorry business of it, for the renowned HIANG-YUNG, after taking a bridge and a few other important positions, was rewarded for his heroic exploits by "permission to wear a yellow riding jacket." The poor fellow seems to have been regularly jockied by his Imperial master. Military rewards are evidently cheap in China, for "peacock's-feathers," "strike-lights," and "pen-knives," are enumerated as the articles of which the EMPEROR is most lavish to his successful soldiers.

We wonder what our WELLINGTON would have said to a bunch of cock's tails after Torres Vedras, by way of having so many feathers in his cap; or a box of lucifers as a light recognition of his services at Waterloo. There must be a true relish for military glory among the Chinese generals, if they are sufficiently "pleased by a feather" to risk their lives in the hope of obtaining a bit of a peacock's tail on which to plume themselves, and are prepared to carry on "war to the knife" with a pen-knife in prospect by way of acknowledgment. If a more civilised commander were, after a brilliant achievement, to be offered a pen-knife, he would probably use it to "cut his stick," and leave the service for ever.

* * * * *

"ANOTHER AND ANOTHER STILL SUCCEEDS."

BYRON has informed us that "Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains," but how are we to describe ALBERT SMITH, who seems determined to make himself the "Monarch of Mont Blanc?" It is true that he could scarcely fix upon a higher point for the summit of his ambition. If he has chosen that particular walk in life, though it is laborious and slippery, we see no reason why he should not repeat his "terrific ascent" as often as he feels disposed. If he should continue to go "up, up, up" for another year, we shall begin to look upon the ascent of Mont Blanc as ALBERT "SMITH'S work in general."

* * * * *

SIGNS MADE SYMBOLS.

A Reform of the extortionate system of British Hotels might be commenced with an alteration of their nomenclature, consisting in a judicious allotment of nicknames. The good old English signs of the Dragon, the Lion, Red or Black, and such like, should be taken as examples of the principle on which all those places of plunder should be designated. Those time-honoured appellations are recommended not only by their antiquity but by their candour, and we would have every extravagant Inn, that is, almost every Inn in the kingdom, that does not rejoice in one of them, denoted and commonly called and known by a similar kind of title; as, The Crocodile, The Boa Constrictor, The Hyena, The Condor, The Wolf, The Ogre, in order to signify that it is the den of a ravenous monster that subsists by devouring travellers.

* * * * *

CREDIT AT A DISCOUNT.

There was great consternation at the West End on the announcement being made that the rate of discount had been raised in the Back parlour--of SHADRACK AND CO.--from fifty-five to sixty per cent. Even this amount of interest was insufficient to ensure the discount of some very good paper--for though the paper itself was certainly very good, it was spoiled by some very bad names on the back of it.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE EMPEROR AT BOULOGNE

(_By our own Eye-Witness._)

BOULOGNE has for some weeks presented the miserable aspect of a sort of daylight Vauxhall, or the "behind the scenes" portion of a theatre at rehearsal time. The "EMPEROR" having been expected nearly a month ago, the "authorities" who had made him captive in 1840 determined to captivate him in 1853 by turning the town into a series of "bowers of bliss" by the aid of at least 1000 scaffolding poles and some millions of yards of evergreens. The "authorities," having formed themselves into a sort of committee of stage management, proceeded to get up the scenery and properties a month ago; and during that month, the equinoctial gales have been shifting the scenery and distributing the properties in a most vague and impartial manner. Several "triumphal arches" have been for the last three weeks staggering in a sort of drunken state in the middle of the principal thoroughfares. The festoons of "evergreens" have been helplessly hanging about in a condition which shows that the immortality of their greenness is a mere myth, for we never saw a collection of used-up tea-leaves looking so thoroughly "done brown" as the long lines of deceased box, dangling about in the blustering breath of BOREAS. The rain, as if mistaking them for real "tea-leaves," and hoping to get still some good out of them, has kept them in almost a perpetual soak, and the pavements have been strewed with the dying or dead asparagus in that feathery state it assumes when the asparagus has all gone, and the plants have taken it into their heads to put forth a rather graceful but unprofitable luxuriance of green-stuff.

We must give every credit to the "getting up" of the "EMPEROR'S" reception, for we certainly never saw so many "set scenes" employed in a single act, and when we remember that the act was a mere farce, the expense incurred seems still more remarkable.

The "properties" were also on the most elaborate scale, and the pasteboard eagles were equal to any owl we ever saw in the palmiest days of _Der Freischülz_. Immense "troops of auxiliaries" and "supernumeraries" in military uniforms were engaged expressly for the occasion, and as these had to be billeted on the inhabitants, there were instances of a quiet English family or two having to entertain a dragoon, while in one case the choice between a colonel, or two lieutenants, or four privates was offered to a quaker, who was residing at Boulogne for retirement.

There could be no objection to any amount of obsequiousness in which the Boulonnais themselves might indulge, but surely a "loyal address" from the English to any sovereign but their own was somewhat superfluous. Nevertheless such a document was got up and was actually signed by DOCTOR SOMEBODY, MRS. SOMEBODY, MISS SOMEBODY, MISS ANNA MARIA SOMEBODY, MASTER J. SOMEBODY, and a lot of little SOMEBODIES or NOBODIES, who we suppose had a family meeting with Papa or Mamma in the chair, to appoint a deputation to "go up" with the piece of flatulent flattery to the "EMPEROR." We can excuse the address of the _matelottes_, presented by a very venerable _matelotte_, who read to the sham NAPOLEON the very same address that she had read to the real NAPOLEON "forty years ago, in the maturity of her beauty" (what a beauty she must be in 1853 if she was full-blown in 1804); but we cannot understand what pretext there could be for a few English old women and children expressing their "loyalty" to the present "EMPEROR."

Their "Majesties" entered the lower town, having been "washed, just washed in a shower," which came on as they approached the Sous-Préfecture, and a vast crowd of umbrellas was all that could be seen by the assembled multitude. There was all the usual humbug of receiving the keys, which are never used, and would of course refuse to fit the lock, which in its turn would inevitably decline to act, and the Imperial couple were then dragged about in the rain, under the drippings from the festoons and through the theatrical arches, one of which was designed after the _Arc d'étoile_, being itself in reality an _arc de toile_--or arch of canvas. No sooner had their "Majesties" left the town than our old friend BOREAS began to puff and blow through all the streets, which he very rapidly cleared of all their "thousand additional lights," sending the paper lanterns through the air on all sides, and whisking away the evergreen festoons, which were instantly turned into skipping ropes by the delighted _gamins_. Thus, like everything else, the whole affair of the "EMPEROR'S" visit to Boulogne was speedily blown over.

* * * * *

FREEBOOTER OF THE CASTLE.

An Outlaw bold, I quarter hold in a goodly castle free, Which I wot the Lord, of his own accord, would scarce allow to me. And I scorn to sleep in the donjon keep; but the room of state is mine, And I work the beef of the fat old thief, and I tope the old rogue's wine.

For, sooth to say, upon his prey, I banquet as I will, And hereby ye know that my Lord also doth plunder, fleece, and pill, He spoils and takes, yet no law breaks, the statute keeps within, As a man may do the traveller who doth shear to the very skin.

The lion's feed, through his own greed, the little jackal supplies, So I make my boot of another's fruit, and feast on another's prize. My eyes flash out, and for joy I shout, the wayfarer to view, He is game, I ween, that mine Host so keen and his serfs for me pursue.

In glee I skip as I think they'll strip him of all that his poke can hold, As they hack with a will and a brandished bill and hew out the victim's gold, And screw and wring with a long long string, to squeeze out more and more: It pleases me so that I laugh Ho ho! and hurl out a demon's roar;

For I know to-night that luckless wight will at my mercy lie; I shall get the good of his sumptuous food and his red port wine so high. On him I'll creep in slumber deep when he is bound for me! Do ye know me now? Do I need avow that I am the TAVERN FLEA?

* * * * *

A CASE OF CLEAN HANDS.

"Would you like to wash your hands, Sir?" "We would." "This way if you please Sir." We follow, and are shown into a closet, and allowed to introduce ourselves to soap, water, and towel. We are about to depart for our dinner--for we are at the _Sun and Staylace_ at Richmond, or at the _Crozier_ at Greenwich--when we find, mounting guard at the closet-door (with all the calm determination of a sentinel) the chambermaid. She is upon duty there, for--at least--sixpence for water, soap, and towel. For, at least, sixpence; and you can see by the calm energy of the woman's countenance that she has resolved to have that tester, or like a true and acknowledged heroine of the domestic drama, to perish in the attempt. But she has never yet been known to perish, for she has always achieved her little sixpence!

* * * * *

HA'PORTHS OF PHILOSOPHY.

The only legitimate strike is the strike of the iron when it is hot. A coward is generally a bully, for he who is chicken-hearted may naturally be fowl-mouthed.

* * * * *

THE MOUSTACHE!--Working-men are about to adopt the moustache. Consequently, all idlers--in self-defense--must shave.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ANOTHER INSULT TO IRELAND!

(_From the Nation._)

"It is reported that the ever glorious JOHN MITCHELL has escaped from the blood-red hands of the sanguinary Saxon. And what has been the reward offered for his apprehension? Why '£2 or such _lesser sum_ as may be determined upon by the convicting magistrate!' Forty shillings for that heroic martyr! Oh, my countrymen, does not the brutal _Times_, every day of its atrocious existence, offer more for a strayed cur--a wandering puppy-dog? And forty shillings (or less) for the hope of Erin!"

It would seem that the Colonial Government has orders to treat Irish patriots, as at rural fairs and merry-makings the master of ceremonies treats pigs; namely--to grease well their tails, that they may the more easily slip out of hand.

* * * * *

THEATRICAL ACT OF GRACE.

Our theatrical readers will rejoice to know that MR. CHARLES KEAN will re-open the Princess's with an act of clemency. The play-going world lamented to learn that, MR. KEAN--in pursuance of a high, unflinching principle--had erased the QUEEN'S name from the List, for having incautiously laughed at Free MR. BRAID'S imitation of MR. KEAN. We are happy to learn, however, that HER MAJESTY'S name has been restored, intelligence to that effect having, last week, been sent from the Box-office to Balmoral.

* * * * *

MAHOGANY POSSESSED.

There is something in Table-moving--and we imagined that FARADAY had discovered what that was. At least we thought that if he had not, the Deuce was in it; and we were right--but right in the alternative. The phenomenon, according to the demonstration of two Anglican divines, is produced by "Satanic Agency." The old broker of souls is the man in possession of mahogany. The REV. N. S. GODFREY, Incumbent of Wortley, Leeds, and the REV. E. GILLSON, Curate of Lyncombe and Widcombe, Bath, have respectively printed and published evidence of this fact. They have witnessed the change of mahogany into Satan-wood. They have seen the tables talk with their legs by knocking on the floor, and they give us dialogues which they have held, personally, with these articles of furniture; questions put and genuine answers returned, with the stamp--without which none are genuine. From these answers they conclude that the leg of the table is connected with a cloven foot.

The tables, indeed, candidly confessed to both of these clergymen that they were actuated by evil spirits, one of which described itself as a lost soul, by the name of ALFRED BROWN, but appeared, by the testimony of another, to have an _alias_. This rogue of a spirit asserted that he could move the table without the hands of the experimenters; which, when tested, however, he could not do; and it certainly seems that table-moving cannot be accomplished unless somebody else, besides the devil, has a hand in it.

That personage is familiarly denominated the Old Gentleman. His table talk justifies his title to that appellation, by showing that he is in his dotage. The demons that possess the tables contradict themselves on cross examination in a way unparalleled by the stupidest liar that ever stood in a witness box. The Baronet whose case broke down the other day was a very adept in fiction, compared to the Father of it--speaking by tables. Besides it is very silly of him--not the Baronet but the other--to disclose himself at all. If his great object is to get people to come to him, he could do nothing more likely to defeat it than to go to them, and thus convince the British Public of his existence. "The Devil is an Ass" is now something more than the title of a comedy.

The tables refused to move when the Bible was placed upon them--though one did lift its leg by trying very hard "slowly and heavily," under the burden of a New Testament. But another was equally restive beneath a slip of paper whereon was written the name of "SATAN." So it was under other names, not to be repeated here. Now, all this is grossly inconsistent on the part of one who has always been considered the very Prince of Plausibility.

However, both of the reverend gentlemen denounce all doubt touching the correctness of their reference of these things to diabolical agency, as profane scepticism; and under these circumstances we have besought the advice of our venerated Rector, the REV. DR. DRYPORT; who told us that he believed in no supernatural events whatever, the acknowledgment of which was not required by the Thirty-Nine Articles. He added that if he saw a table, moving without physical agency, stopped, independently of simple weight, by the superposition of a Bible, he should be disposed to let the volume remain where it was, and apply himself to the study of its contents. If he had reason to suppose that the devil was in the table, he should let him alone, and have nothing to say to him unless he were sure he had the power to cast him out of it.

We asked the Reverend Doctor what he thought of the following extract from the pamphlet of MR. GILLSON.

"I then asked, 'Where are SATAN'S head-quarters? Are they in England?' There was a slight movement. 'Are they in France?' A violent movement. 'Are they in Spain?' Similar agitation. 'Are they at Rome?' The table literally seemed frantic.... 'Do you know the Pope?' The table was violently agitated."

DR. DRYPORT answered that he supposed the table must have been one that had been used at Exeter Hall, and probably acted under influence from that quarter--of a mechanical nature. He should think that one of the parties touching the table was a very zealous Protestant.

We inquired if there would be any harm in our trying if tables would move by the imposition of our hands? He replied that there could be no doubt that they were moved by an imposition practised by hand, but if we had any, there was no objection to our making the experiment. We, therefore, chose twelve honest men, constituting, in fact, a British jury, and got them to lay their hands on a substantial dinner-table, which presently began to move. The following dialogue ensued:

"Where are the head-quarters of despotism? Are they in England?" There was no movement. "Are they in France?" A violent movement. "Are they in Austria?" A tremendous movement. "Are they in Russia?" The table jumped and bounced, and tumbled from side to side in such a manner that one might have imagined that a quantity of brandy and water had been spilt upon it and made it furiously drunk.

"Do you know OLD NICHOLAS?" The table capsized, went right over; completely upset.

After that, what question can there be about the "agency" concerned in Table-moving? DR. DRYPORT, however, will have it that MR. GODFREY and MR. GILLSON have not been having communication with evil spirits, and that whatever those gentlemen may say for themselves, they are no conjurors.

* * * * *

"MANCHESTER is the portico of the great Temple of Peace."--_Cobden._

* * * * *

SIGNS OF THE TIMES.

Last night, an alarming riot took place in Printing-house Square. About five hundred hotel-keepers--represented by their signs--attacked the _Times'_ office.

The RED BULL swore "he'd toss the whole bilin of 'em for a pint. He ought to know something of rumpsteaks; and 5_s._ a head warn't too much for 'em."

The ANGEL wondered that any gentlemen who _was_ a gent _could_ object to wax-candles to go to bed with. The ANGEL abominated compo; hoping she knew what real light was.

The GOAT-IN-BOOTS said kids, other ways children, over nine, ought to be charged for as full-growd. Some little gals was women at eight.

The COCK-AND-BOTTLE was above trumpeting anything. But how could any gent expect a pint of port under three-and-six?

At least a dozen BEARS--growling their loudest--said, seeing the expense at which they sat, swore they couldn't afford a sandwich under a shilling.

The ADAM-AND-EVE never heard of such a thing as "a dressing-room." Wondered what next?

At this time the increased crowd of RED LIONS, WHITE BULLS, BLACK HORSES, began to roar and bellow, and snort and neigh and kick in the most appalling style. The hubbub becoming unendurable, the Editor--after due warning given by the publisher--threw up the window in the face of the mob, and fired a leading article over their heads. Upon this, the crowd quietly separated.

* * * * *

ANOTHER MONEY QUESTION.

"DEAREST PUNCHY,

"I don't feel quite safe--as I have a large money-bag, full of 'lucky pieces', _every one of which is more or less disfigured, or defaced_. Some are bent, some are chipped or cut, some have holes bored through them to enable any one to wear them round his neck, and every one has something the matter with it. Now I have been all my life collecting these lucky coins--and I am sure there must be five or six pound's worth of them altogether--at all events a great deal more than I should like to have taken from me. Besides they all represent a 'charm' against fits, against the small-pox, or some calamity or other; and it would be very hard if my 'lucky pieces,' instead of bringing me good-luck, were the cause of my lasting sorrow and ruin. Do you think they could carry me to the Tower for having them in my possession, or would they send me to New South Wales? My aunt tells me they are of no kind of value; but that I will never believe, for what was once a shilling must be always a shilling, though I should not like to be dragged off to the Police-office in the event of my buying a paper of pins in order to test its value.

"Yours, FANNY."

* * * * *

WORTHY ATTENTION.

"DEAR PUNCH,--As there is a great deal doing at present in the way of Removal of Nuisances, would it not be well to draw the attention of the parties entrusted with this duty to all inquiries into 'the authorship of JUNIUS,' than which a greater nuisance does not exist.

"TODDLES."

* * * * *

ECHO RIGHT AT LAST.

In a recent edict the Chinese Emperor asks indignantly, "Where is the LIEUTENANT-GENERAL WAN-TING?" For the reply we beg to refer his Imperial Majesty to our old friend Echo, who to the question,

"Where is WAN-TING?" will truly reply "Wanting."

* * * * *

THE PAROCHIAL MUDLARK.

A CHAUNT FOR CHURCHWARDENS AND OVERSEERS.

Set my arm-chair to the table; hand a light and bring a tumbler, O be joyful while you're able; silence each unthankful grumbler. Parish Clerk and Undertaker is my calling and vocation; Let no peace-and-quiet-breaker throw me into consternation.

What's to be will surely happen, by no pains or care prevented; All in vain is sewers trapping; we had better be contented. Wherefore vex your souls, your spirits why should you, my friend, disquiet? He that fidgets, frets, and worrits, gets no satisfaction by it.

Since we all are born to trouble, plagues, of course, must be expected. Being only grass and stubble, what of cleanliness neglected? Live an let live, that's my motto; catgut-makers are our neighbours; Knackers we no right have got to stop from following their labours.

From the premises of JONES the nose of SMITH if somewhat reaches, Caused by boiling flesh or bones, or greaves to feed the canine species, SMITH should, like a Christian, wink; put up with such a little trifle: Hold his nostrils, if he think it needful the perfume to stifle.

Churchyards also, that employ afford so many people unto, Why not let us still enjoy, thus doing as you would be done to? Hundreds prosper and grow wealthy with 'em underneath their noses, Living hearty, fat, and healthy, nearly to the age of MOSES.

Things of that sort to the senses now and then will grow unpleasant, Whensoever that commences, take and do like me at the present, Smoke a pipe, whereby you'll smother all the nuisance and objection; Better that than any other measure to prevent infection.

Don't go poking, don't go raking, into what I need not utter, All the means from parties taking out of which their bread they butter, Best to leave alone stagnation; stir it, and we know the sequel, That of all this agitation will the strongest posy equal.

'Tis presumption to depend on such precautions and defences; Who can calculate their end on any further than expenses? From the lot that Man awaits we none of us can lift the curtain; And an increase of the rates is all we can consider certain.

Water will be rather queer sometimes; the pump a churchyard handy Well, but then there's little fear, suppose you mingle it with brandy. So, here's the present state of things--and let us have no revolutions-- Upsetting Emperors, Queens, and Kings; and our Parochial Institutions.

* * * * *

TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF A KISS.

NICHOLAS and FRANCIS JOSEPH have met at Olmütz; met and affectionately fraternised. For we are told that "loud applause followed from the spectators as the Emperors publicly _kissed_ each other: and then the Court dinner followed, the two Emperors spending the evening together in undisturbed _privacy_." But this scene (_see last week's Punch_) our artist has already immortalised; he having sketched the Imperial couple--even as in an old play--"from behind the arras." The royal salute has been embalmed in the lines of the Austrian Poet Laureat, DOCTOR VON WATTZ:--

"Snakes in their little nests agree, And 'tis a pretty sight, When the Emperors of the like kid-ney, Do kiss left cheek and right."

But other, and deeper effects resulted from that Imperial smack! And such a smack! As though a red-hot poker should have kissed a barrel of gunpowder. For as cheeks were kissed--

Poland writhed and groaned afresh!--

Hungary clenched her red right hand, and renewed her silent vow!--

Turkey, with a flourish of the sabre, set her teeth, and cried "_Allah! Bismallah!_"

Naples--through KING BOMBA--cried "_Ancora_; kiss again!"

And ABERDEEN, folding pacific hands, declared, "it was a sweet sight--unco' sweet--to see sick mighty Potentates in sick _awmeety_."

_Punch_--meeting his friend BARON SHEKELS at the COUNTESS OF POLKHERLEGSOFF--asked the philanthropic Hebrew _his_ private opinion of that salute. The Baron pathetically observed "it was a sight worth a Jew's eye." And so it was; even if the Jew had been JUDAS.

* * * * *

A JOG FOR BIRMINGHAM GAOL.

A convict, perhaps, deserves to have his head shaved; but it does not follow that his treatment should be altogether barbarous.

* * * * *

* * * * *

GRAND SCENA FROM OBERON.

_Enter from a Hotel,_ SIR HUON, _without his Coat_.

RECITATIVE.

Yes, even clothes the pay must yield, No carpet bag have I; The Paper be my battle field-- I'm fleeced! my battle cry.

AIR.

O, 'tis a monstrous sight to see The charge of the British Hostelry, Its plunderings over aghast we go, With glances adding each long, long row!

One's shocked as one glances; we shiver all, Though we shiver quite in vain-- They have raised such a total, we, rampant, call On the Landlord to explain.

Charge ten shillings for breakfast and bed! Dinner reckoned at eight per head! Are things raised again, though Protection's no more? For your bills are as of yore! I say, 'I'm done! Tea, two for one? Your crumpets startle my father's son! And my senses are whirled to the winds afar, By your wax-lights, Attendance, _Et Cætera!_ Mourn, ye Knaves in the Public line, Your swindles lie stark in the broad sunshine, The guests whom you sheared ere you let them go Have made all the world your extortion know! Joy to the moderate hosts of France! Custom waits upon wise finance; Joy to your honest Yankee men! Their guests are all travelling back again. There they go--the shaved ones see, Who are grumbling at British Roguery.

Take the bill--the items pare, Fill with cheap wine the bottle fair, Strike off half--'t will still be high-- When we've won the victory!

* * * * *

THE HORSE-MARINES.--The poor horses that draw the Bathing Machines.

* * * * *

AN AFFAIR WITH THE (KNIGHTSBRIDGE) CAFFRES.

We thought we had heard enough of the rows with the Caffres at the Cape; but there have lately been some Caffres cutting the oddest capers at Hyde Park Corner. It seems that a noble Caffre chieftain has entered into an agreement for himself and a few of his tribe to howl, leap, brandish tomahawks, and indulge in other outlandish freaks, coming under the head of "native customs," for a year and a half, during which period the howlings, tomahawkings, &c., are to be the exclusive property of an individual who has speculated on the appetite of the British public for yells and wild antics. Things were going on pretty comfortably, with the exception of an occasional "outbreak"--which means the breaking-in by a Caffre of some other Caffre's, or somebody else's head--when the chief was seized with a generous desire to make a gratuitous exhibition of himself, and accordingly NKULOOCOOLO--as the chief calls himself--took a turn in the Park on Thursday last with four of his fellow countrymen.

The proprietor of the yells and native dances, fearful that the gilt would be taken off the gingerbread complexions of the Caffres if their faces were made familiar to the public in Hyde Park, sent a policeman to take the "chief" into custody. NKULOOCOOLO, however, who seems to take the thing coolly as well as cavalierly--or Caffrely--refused to walk in, but stood outside the door, rendering it hopeless that anybody would pay half-a-crown to "walk up," when the chief was to be seen "alive, alive" for nothing at the threshold. The proprietor endeavoured to push the chief inside, but the chief gave a counter-push, and there seemed a probability of a war-whoop being got up at the expense rather than for the benefit of the enterprising individual who had engaged the whoopers. Upon this the chief was taken into custody and charged with an assault, and with having desired the proprietor (in Caffre) to "look out"--an expression which, though not very alarming in English, seems to have had in Caffre a very frightful effect on the mind of the hearer. Perhaps, being familiar with the club exercise of the Caffres, he might have reason to fear that their "native customs" would make them rather awkward customers.

The complainant was, however, most properly told by the Magistrate that the Caffres cannot, by law, be restrained from going wherever they please, though they may have agreed to whoop and yell, but their whooping and yelling can only be enforced by civil process. If a Caffre chooses to take a walk in the Park, or anywhere else, he has a perfect right to do so, if he does not break the law by tomahawking the public, or any other "native" eccentricity. The "proprietor" seemed to feel himself rather aggrieved that he could not dispose of the Caffres in any way he pleased, but it would be rather too absurd, that the principle of slavery and absolute control over the person of a human being should be recognised for the benefit of an individual who has speculated in the attraction of savage yells and barbarian antics.

* * * * *

THE PARSON'S PARLIAMENT.

Every now and then we read in the papers an account of the Convocation of Prelates and Clergy, at which, by general consent, nothing seems to be done, and nobody appears to be present. If this assembly, which never assembles, and a body, which nobody troubles himself to form, is supposed to represent the Church, we must admit that the representation is--as far as sinecurism is concerned--a very faithful one. The proceedings at the last meeting consisted of a rather dull duett, between the Archbishop's commissioner and his Grace's registrar. The latter in a lengthened solo gave the whole writ of prorogation at full length, and the former chimed in at the conclusion with an announcement that the business of the day was ended. The scene of this melancholy farce is always the Jerusalem Chambers. It would perhaps give life to the scene if MR. COOK would lend from ASTLEY'S a Jerusalem pony or two by way of affording a little fit companionship to the commissioner and registrar, who must be rather sick of each other, and might be glad to welcome a little congenial society. The addition we have suggested might be sanctioned, under the plea that the Vicar of Bray would then have a representative.

* * * * *

OUR CITY ARTICLE.

The present financial crisis appears to demand from _Mr. Punch_ one of those Money Articles with which he has stepped forward in other times of difficulty, and which have instantly restored stability and confidence. Regardless, therefore, of his own personal comfort, he attended the Stock Market one day during the past week.

_Mr. Punch_ was struck by the exceeding helplessness of the gentlemen in whose hands is the political thermometer, better known as the Funds. They displayed an avidity in grasping at the slightest hint, which was only equalled by the hurry with which they sprang away to do something, before they comprehended the real bearing of the information. Indeed, if these gentlemen of the Stock Exchange waited until they understood the actual tendency of the events upon which they deal, some of them might wait long enough. _Mr. Punch_ casually remarked to a friend that "ABERDEEN was out this morning," and there was a rush of fifty men eager to buy on account of the good news. Had they paused to hear _Mr. Punch_ add, "walking in Kensington Gardens," they might have spared their trouble. Subsequently, the same gentleman was heard to say, "Not so tight as it was." Away hurried the correspondents of the papers, and told everybody that the tightness of the market was disappearing. _Mr. Punch_ merely alluded to his hat, which had been a little uncomfortable until he had his hair cut. "Will open flatly," an observation _Mr. Punch_ simply applied to the Princess's Theatre, was construed into a prophecy of the state of the Market next day, and business was done accordingly. But the greatest _coup_, and one for which MR. GLADSTONE owes _Mr. Punch_ a good turn, was the latter gentleman's saying, as he left the Exchange, "Those new Stocks are the best, because they always keep up so well." The new creations, for whose non-popularity the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has been much twitted by financiers who do not know discount from premium, immediately sprang into activity, and yet _Mr. Punch's_ remark was simply _apropos_ of his friend's wearing a rather seedy tie round his neck. He hopes that Exchequer Bill, as the RIGHT HON. WILLIAM is rather irreverently called in the City, will remember this good service next time _Mr. Punch_ hints that it is time the duty should come off paper.

While the news was favourable to Russia, the Bears were very elate, but as soon as it was known that _Punch_ had declared against ABERDEEN and for an English policy, the Bulls exulted. SHAKSPERE was quoted at random, but usually wrongly. The jobbers were scarce, owing to the Irish Brigade being out of the country. There was a rumour that a large operator had come, but it turned out to be only a fat surgical practitioner who had mistaken his way, and was, of course, exposed to the graceful jocularity of the House. A Bank Director came on and made some practical jokes, from which it was surmised that the Bank reserve was very small. Prices jumped about on every side, and so did little boys, whom the beadle chased, declaring he would have them there at no price. Some of the speculators appeared very uneasy, especially those who had a good way to go home, and thought it was going to rain. Finally, _Mr. Punch_ was informed that things closed with much firmness at four, but he believes this must apply to the gates.

Under all circumstances, _Mr. Punch_ strongly advises holders to be neither rash nor fearful, while sellers should abstain alike from temerity and timidity. All parties had better be guided by circumstances, and not attempt to lay down Medo-Persian rules for themselves. Let Prudence be their beacon, and Wisdom their chart. They will do well to watch the course of events, but not to surmise that they understand them, while at the same time taking care not to shut their eyes to contingencies. A thing may happen, or it may not, but the wise man will discern the signs of the times. By following this advice, which _Mr. Punch_ has carefully framed upon the model of what is given by all the recognised financial authorities, he has no doubt that through the shoals of the present crisis the Bark of Public Confidence may be steered into the haven of prosperity.

* * * * *

THE IMPERTINENCE OF SCIENCE.

Somebody has invented an instrument which he calls a Lunarium, and which is calculated to look so very closely into the Moon's face, that the Moon's age--exact to a quarter of an hour--may be discovered. Really this seems hardly fair towards the Moon, for it ought to be remembered that

"Luna, Luna, Luna's a lady."

and no lady--at least none of our acquaintance--could stand against the force of an instrument so powerful as to detect every furrow, wrinkle, or even crease in her countenance. It is all very well for the sons of science to be continually staring Luna in the face, through the medium of powerful telescopes; but having satisfied themselves of the "Moon's Age," they might surely be satisfied without continually publishing the fact for the gratification of an impertinent curiosity.

* * * * *

MODERN MYTHOLOGY.

One of our serious contemporaries, in recording a fashionable marriage, describes the bride as "led to the hymenæal altar." The nuptial rites were celebrated at St. George's, Hanover Square; and we are further informed that the REV. BERRY M. HUNTINGDON officiated. We did not know that the priests of Hymen were styled Reverend, nor were we aware that the divinity in question had any altar in St. George's church.

* * * * *

WHAT THE "BRITISH GRENADIER" IS INEVITABLY COMING TO.

Some talk of ALEXANDER, and some of PERICLES, Of HECTOR, and LYSANDER, and such old Guys as these; But of all the horrid objects, the "wust" I do declare, Is the Prusso-Russo-Belgo-Gallo-British Grenadier.

* * * * *

Integrity of Foreign Powers.

The preservation of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire is no doubt a very important object; but a matter of no less consequence is the restoration of the integrity of the Kingdom of Spain, which it has lost in cheating its creditors.

* * * * *

PATRIOTISM OF THE FIRST WATER.

MR. FRANCIS MAGUIRE talks of "patriots of the purest water." Pity is it that such water so seldom comes out of the Liffey.

* * * * *

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 7.

It would be a mistake for a person of taste to leave Paris without dining at PHILIPPE'S, the great artist, who dwells in the Rue Montorgueil. There is the very highest authority (an Ex-Chancellor, a Bishop or two, and my friend JOLLYBOY) for stating that this house is by far the best in the city; and so, Sir, having the interests of your paper and my country in view, I accepted the invitation of HARRY ORTOLAN, himself no bad judge, to meet a small party there. There were old MARTINGALE and SHEFFIELD HIGSON, and DE COURCY of the Embassy, a young Frenchman named MONSIEUR FRÉDÉRIC HULOT, protocol, DE FAULTER, and your Correspondent.

HULOT (a great ass) who dresses _à l'Anglais_ in a _pantalon à la gentlemens-ridéres_, and rides a grey mare with very long legs in the Champs Elysées, fastened on to MARTINGALE, and gabbled away about _le Liverpool Stipple Chase_ and MONSIEUR MASON, wanting to know how much an English horse, pure blood, would cost. He was to be showy and very quiet. MARTINGALE rather bluntly told him, he had better learn to ride, before he thought of buying a horse. DE FAULTER invited your Correspondent to come and play _écarté_ at the Cercle some evening. A very friendly nice fellow. He was in some cavalry regiment, but sold out. I forget why he left the Rag. Perhaps it was too noisy a club for him. SHEFFIELD HIGSON was holding forth, to the great disgust of DE COURCY, about the English constitution, maintaining the universal corruption of the Church and aristocracy, and looking forward to the time when MR. COBDEN should be at the head of Foreign Affairs, and MR. BRIGHT at the War Office; the revenues of the Church of England being divided _pro ratâ_ among the schools of various denominations. To confess the truth, HIGSON spoils the effect of his excellent political principles by the grossest toad-eating. He never can speak without mentioning some lord as his intimate friend. DE COURCY listened to his speculations in horror, and was quite unable to profess his own simple faith--that the House of Peers and the country gentlemen had an exclusive right to the government, and that the devil was the first Whig. He could only turn away, and mutter something about "an infernal snob." PROTOCOL was boring our host with his views on the Zollverein. Altogether we were uncomfortable together, and were all delighted when dinner was announced.

The _huîtres de Marenne_, those genuine treasures of the deep, had disappeared when ORTOLAN, filling a glass of old Grave, said, "Do you know I hate a fellow who says he doesn't like a good dinner. It's generally humbug, and when it isn't that, it's something worse. It shows a want of humanity: he might just as well not like virtue, or be indifferent about cleanliness. A good dinner is better than a bad dinner, exactly as a good man is better than a bad man; and to be without a taste, is as much a defect as to be without a heart. An ancient philosopher" (ORTOLAN is literary, and has read ATHENÆS) "has defined man as a cooking animal, with great justice. Advance in cookery accompanies advance in civilisation, and they doubtless will both reach perfection at the same time. The culinary art has a direct effect in refining mankind; in the beautiful words of the _Latin Grammar_, it is emollient to the manners; nor does it allow them to be rough." (HIGSON, who has no Latin, here sneered visibly.) "After this _potage bisque aux écrévisses_, we feel our hearts expand in universal philanthropy. Who would grovel amid lower dirt when he can nourish his essence with stuff so ambrosial?"

"Well, for my part," said honest MARTINGALE, "I don't care about your French flummery--it's all to hide the taste of the meat. Give me a steak of good English beef, you know what you're eating then. Who knows what this patty has inside it?" "You old heathen," exclaimed the epicure with pity, "eat therefore without inquiry; you should never work your intellect at the same time with your digestion, or you will spoil the operation of both. Eat in silence, for it is good, and thank the happy age and country which puts such delicate things before its sons."

MARTINGALE grumbled about fellows worshipping a certain portion of their physical constitution, but devoted himself nevertheless to the suspicious _paté_ with great success. The enthusiasm of the less prejudiced part of the guests, amongst whom is of course to be reckoned your open-minded Correspondent, was quickened by some _foie gras_, and rose to the highest pitch over a _salmi_ of woodcocks, which even Martingale admitted to be no end of good, although the best woodcocks in the world were to be shot on the governor's manors in Lincolnshire. Protocol here drank the health of the _chef_ in a glass of CLIQUOT'S champagne amid general applause.

Your Correspondent is aware of the painful effect that would be produced on your readers, condemned to drag on a miserable existence on the indigestible products of an English kitchen, if he were to enumerate and describe the dishes that completed the repast--all light, savoury, succulent, and nourishing. But why, he begs to ask, is it, that with confessedly inferior materials a French artist can make up a dinner, and a good one, where an Anglo Saxon cook only furnishes instruments of stomachic torture? The fact is certain and the answer plain. A Frenchman considers his occupation as an art and throws his soul into it. Success is his ambition and, when achieved, his pride, and he pleases himself when he pleases you. Compare his enlightened enthusiasm with the view MARIAR or SOOSAN takes of her _métier_. Think of the impenetrable stupidity, the indolent unconscientiousness, the complacent conceit, and the obstinacy which hardens the hearts towards us of that matron and that maid, and by their hands infuses death into the pot. O MARIAR! O SOOSAN! be wise in time, learn your business, and be not slothful therein; listen to a voice of warning from a foreign strand, lest the day arrive when Missus is compelled to descend into the kitchen as Missuses used to do in times gone by, and your empire over your employers be broken up once and for ever.

The generous produce of a Burgundian autumn flamed in our glasses, loosening the tongue and not blunting the wit. The effect was varied and delightful. Old MARTINGALE, who had been very hard on the Lancers of the Guard, admitted that in a campaign the French cavalry might be awkward customers. DE FAULTER ceased his allusions to the card-playing at the Cercle, and his coups at NORRIS'S. ORTOLAN showed that he could talk on other subjects than gastronomy, and DE COURCY was civil to SHEFFIELD HIGSON, who, on the other hand, abstained from enumerating his acquaintances among that aristocracy with whose utter worthlessness and degradation he was so much impressed. Your Correspondent, who is always pleasant and equable, was, if possible, more so than usual, and in the intervals of his brilliant sallies, added by acute observation to those stores of limpid wisdom, whence he periodically dispenses to your readers.

* * * * *

SOMETHING IN A NAME AFTER ALL.

We see by the French papers, that an umbrella called _The Mushroom_ has been lately patented in Paris. We are not aware what new peculiarity of construction its inventor has discovered, but we think the name he has selected is a highly appropriate one, and might with exceeding fitness be applied, not to his alone, but to umbrellas generally. For as mushrooms naturally belong to that class of things which are "here to-day and gone to-morrow," we think their name may very properly be used to designate so fugitive a possession as an umbrella.

* * * * *

CRANKS AND CROTCHETS.--The introduction of crank labour into gaols has tended to corroborate the opinion, which is widely prevalent, that prison disciplinarians are apt to be what is vulgarly called "cranky."

* * * * *

GRAND DRAMATIC APRÈS DÉJEÛNER.

Since the practice of giving entertainments to those who entertain the public has been adopted by those who got up the recent _déjeûner_ to MR. G. V. BROOKE, it was determined by the friends of MR. STENTOR--the great interpreter of FITZBALL--to invite that gentleman to a grand Spanish onion feast, which came off at the Cinder Cellars and Dust-hole of harmony, near the New Cut, Lambeth.

The room was hung with some of the best specimens from the theatrical gallery of MARKS, and a magnificent portrait of HICKS, as _Ivanhoe_, picked out with tinfoil, and filled in with real red satin, occupied the centre of the wall over the seat of the Chairman. This masterly work of art was appropriately supported on its right by the well-known engraving of MR. G. ALMAR, as the _Knight of the Cross_; and on its left by the highly finished etching of MR. CROWTHER, as the _Fiend of the Sepulchre_. A group of Pantomime characters faced the door; and an equestrian piece representing "MISS WOOLFORD in her favourite act of _The Reaper_," formed a pendant over the chimney-piece.

The supper was of the choicest kind, and embraced all the delicacies of the season that could be procured at the figure per head, which was fixed at the moderate tariff of ninepence, in order to embrace as many lovers of art--and onions--as possible. The _pièce de résistance_ was a bit of the roast beef of old England, to which Ireland contributed her national potato, while Scotland sent her broth, and Wales was represented by a magnificent Welch rabbit. Nor was the Continent behind-hand in doing honour to the feast, for in peaceful proximity to the onion of Spain, stood the roll of France, the sausage of Germany, a flask of Lucca's luscious oil, and a few of the world-renowned sprouts of Brussels. After the cloth--and the crumbs--had been removed, the Chairman proposed the health of MR. STENTOR, who had made the voice of the drama heard in the midst of the hoots of a threepenny gallery, and who had fought more combats, assisted more defenceless females, unmasked more villains, and danced more hornpipes than any man in Europe.

When the applause had subsided, MR. STENTOR rose and modestly alluded to his own proud position. He expressed the highest reverence for his art, and declared that he felt almost awe-stricken when he trod the same boards that had been indented by the honoured heels of HICKS, and looked upon the same sky-borders that had been shaken by the screams of CARTLITCH. He, MR. STENTOR, had had the honour of acting in the same company with those great men, and he must say that he felt his bosom swell when he remembered that the great CROWTHER had hung upon it when, as the tortured _Khan_, he lamented his "lost child;" and when he, MR. STENTOR, remembered that that "child" was no other than the illustrious HICKS, he, MR. STENTOR, felt that he had indeed, in the words of the immortal AMHERST (J. H.), been "in goodly company." He, MR. STENTOR, would not hope to equal these great men, nor would he ask that the mantle of any of them should fall upon him; but if either of them should have an old coat to spare, he did humbly ask that he might be allowed to aspire to wear it.

MR. STENTOR'S speech was received with the most enthusiastic clatter of pint pots, which lasted for several minutes.

The Chairman then pronounced a most impressive eulogium on WIDDICOMB, which was received in solemn silence.

This was responded to by a SHAKSPERIAN jester and clown to the ring, the friend and adviser of WIDDICOMB, who, among other advice, advised him to sit still and say nothing.

The Chairman, in the course of the evening, observed that "the drama could never be in a decline while it had the support of such lungs as those of his friend STENTOR."

After the health of MR. BIDDLES, of the Bower Saloon, who acknowledged the compliment with a neat nod, the party broke up at a late hour.

* * * * *

FURTHER PARTICULARS.

"A Medical Breakfast has come to be almost a part of the regular proceedings of the British Association--and the last meeting at Hull offered no exception."--_Athenæum._

We understand that the bill of fare included Senna Tea, Cream of Tartar, Sugar of Lead, Butter of Antimony, Saffron Cake, Rhubarb Tart, and Antimony Wine. Spatulæ were laid for forty.--_Punch._

* * * * *

PROSPECTS OF A HAPPY PATH OF EMPERORS.

A Duet.

NICHOLAS--FRANCIS.

_Both._ {Europe's little Farm we'll keep {And our little girls and boys, {Like little pigs or sheep, {Serve, dare they make a noise!

_Nich._ The trials I'll conduct;

_Fran._ The gaols I'll construct.

_Nich._ {In curbing bard and sage {My lash will prove efficient;

_Fran._ {My halter, I'll engage, {Will quell the ill-conditioned.

_Nich._ Now, slave, for back the knout!

_Fran._ Now, dog, the rope for neck;

_Both._ {And that's the way, no doubt, {To keep mankind in check.

_Nich._ K with an N, N with an O, O with a U, U with a T;

_Fran._ And a R and an O and a P and an E;

_Nich._ K. N. O. U. T.;

_Fran._ R. O. P. and E.;

_Both._ {When we've trampled down the Free, {Oh what jolly, glorious fun 'twill be!

[_Da Capo as lib._

* * * * *

THE LORD MAYOR'S SHOW FOR 1853!

We perfectly agree with MR. ALDERMAN SIDNEY--the Lord Mayor elect--that the great civic show of the Ninth of November is a vital element in our social and commercial life. WHITTINGTON'S cat still purrs encouragingly down generations. WALWORTH'S dagger is a bright and keen realty; and not the air-drawn blade that the utility-mongers would make of it. The influence of the Lord Mayor's Show is no doubt felt in the remotest parts of this island. The rumbling of the wheels of the state coach is heard in the dreams of youthful sleepers a-bed, it may be, in garrets at the Land's End. ALDERMAN SIDNEY feels all the poetry of this; therefore the City of London is safe in his enthusiastic keeping.

But MR. ALDERMAN SIDNEY--if we may believe a very general report--proposes to endow the Show with a purpose of instruction. He will inform outward bravery with an inward teaching. Thus, as a prosperous tea-merchant, the new Lord Mayor will have a new state coach built and ornamented as a magnificent tea-chest upon wheels; and will further have his coachman and footmen drest after the approved fashion of TIEN-TE, in remote but no less sincere compliment to Young China, _vice_ Old China chipped, cracked, and falling to pieces.

* * * * *

WHO IS THE MISCREANT THAT SENT US THE FOLLOWING?

As we know that the Russians require oleaginous food, is it not possible that, after devouring Turkey, the Czar may take a fancy to "Greece?" Should he do so, is it not probable that "GENUINE RUSSIAN BEAR'S GREECE" will no longer be a fiction?

* * * * *

RUSSIA IN LONDON.

It is said that the agitation for the constitution of a Greek empire is the politic work of Russia. That if others supply the eloquence, the Greek fire of talk--it is Russia that stands the shot.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE TRUMPET OF BATTLE.

WHEN the trumpet's call to arms shall in Turkey's quarrel sound, On the field of Europe's war shall JOHN BULL be backward found? No, by GEORGE! to the fray like a war-steed let him bound, Prepared to fall or conquer, with expensive laurels crowned.

Our heroes like water their blood abroad shall pour; Our money shall also be scattered as of yore: We have done it oftentimes, and we'll do it yet once more, Even though we get worse off than we ever got before.

Should the nations draw the sword, it will be a grand affair, With "Now or Never Liberty!" for a cry to rend the air: Sore loss, whichever way it goes, ourselves will have to bear, But that we've made our minds up to, and therefore need not care.

'Tis hard in others' quarrels to be forced to interpose, But point me out the craven base that hesitation shows, And I'll punch his wretched head and wring his despicable nose, Forward! no matter how we swell the debt the nation owes.

Let the sword leap from the scabbard while the frantic bugles bray, Draw, England, draw the purse as well that must be flung away, Charge! and in charging never think how much you'll have to pay; To the Brave there will be time to talk of that another day!

* * * * *

THE DREAM OF A BAGPIPE.

The EARL OF ABERDEEN, at the late Privy Council, looked very much pressed and flattened. It is said that, for some weeks past, the noble Earl has suffered a nightly dream, in which he believes himself turned to a bagpipe, with the EMPEROR OF RUSSIA, horned and tailed, playing upon him.

* * * * *

QUESTIONABLE ADVERTISEMENTS.

The present mode of advertising seems to be by asking a question and, from the general use of the process, we presume that the questioning is found to answer. Somebody asks us every day, "Who would be without a dressing case?" and another attempts to tickle our vanity by addressing to us the inquiry, "Do you keep livery servants?" and suggesting to us the _éclat_ of an imaginary retinue. Another wants to know, "Why pay more than sixteen shillings for your trowsers?"--a question we hardly like to dwell upon, for it presents to our mind the still more interesting question, "Why pay anything at all, and why not victimise your tailor?"

Talking of advertisements reminds us of one which daily offers to dye our hair, including the whole head for a crown, and our whiskers for "a shilling upwards." It would be important to know how far "upwards" we could have our whiskers dyed for that moderate sum, as it would be awkward to have them a rich Prussian blue about the jaw, a piebald in the middle, and a good old natural grey on the cheek-bone. The same accommodating person, who promises to dye us permanently for five shillings, offers, if we don't like the look of ourselves when we've been regularly done, to give us our money back again. This would be but a sorry compensation for one who had exchanged the simplicity of nature for the variegated hues of art, and who, in the hope of becoming once more the youthful beau, had qualified himself for the part of the rainbow. Before, standing the "hazard of the dye," we, like RICHARD THE THIRD, had rather see "HASTINGS'S head," or anybody else's head, a month after the operation.

* * * * *

PRESENT TO MR. GLADSTONE.

A few days ago MR. GLADSTONE received, carefully packed in an oaken box, and nicely enveloped in many folds of tissue paper, a massive handsome silver poker. It bore on the squared end this inscription:--"Presented to stir the Minister to stir himself to enable the country to stir a cheaper coal."

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE INN-FLUENZA.

We have had our attention called to a complaint which, it seems, has long been prevalent throughout the kingdom, although but little notice hitherto has publicly been taken of it. It threatens now, however, to become as prolific a source of correspondence as the Cholera; and scarcely a _Times_ passes, without at least a column of "Constant Readers" on the subject.

We are not aware if a specific name has as yet been found for it; but we think it may be best described, perhaps, as a sort of Inn-fluenza, although it certainly in some degree resembles also a remittent fever, seeing that the sufferers cannot generally make progress without a remittance. And it partakes still further of a febrile character, since it usually is attended with irritation in the patient.

Of the symptoms which lead to it, perhaps the most painful is a species of opthalmia, which commonly afflicts the patient with the most distressing ocular delusions. He has been even known, under its influence, to declare that he can see only a pint of wine in a decanter, which his attendants have assured him contains a bottle; and candles, which he similarly has been told are wax, he has frequently been found unable to distinguish from composite. The sense of taste, too, it seems, is similarly affected. When offered pale ale, the patient not unfrequently will pronounce it to be swipes; and in some cases he has actually mistaken that for Cape, which is warranted, and even charged for, as Madeira.

We trust that the urgency of this complaint being now admitted, efficient means will be at once devised to stop it. There is little doubt, we think, that the sufferers hitherto have been bled too freely, and another course of treatment should be certainly adopted. We do not generally advocate the use of the knife, but in this complaint decidedly, wherever any person is attacked by the symptoms which may lead to it, we do not know if we can well prescribe a surer remedy than cutting.

* * * * *

RANDOM RECORDS OF A RUN THROUGH CERTAIN CONTINENTAL COUNTRIES.

(_By the Author of "All the Great Metropolises"._)

[We rather think the following letter has reached us by mistake, and must have been intended for one of our morning contemporaries. However, we print it.--ED.]