Chapter II: A pontificating man with his arms outstretched in the shape (14)

A case of shells. The greater number of the specimens are pronounced, by competent judges, to be shells of the native oyster; a fact worthy of note, as it proves the existence, in former ages, of an oyster-bed on this spot, and oysters being a sea-fish, it appears evident that either the sea has removed from London, or London has withdrawn itself from the sea. The point is open to discussion. We hope that the Hookham-cum- Snivey Institution will undertake the solution of it at one of their early meetings.

The neck of a black bottle, with a cork in it. This is a very interesting object of art, and one which has given rise to considerable discussion amongst the literati. The cork, which is inserted in the fragment of the neck, is quite perfect; it has been impressed with a seal in reddish-coloured wax; a portion of it remains, with a partly obliterated inscription, in Roman characters, of which we have been enabled to give the accompanying fac-simile.

A partially obliterated seal, marked 'BR / PAT / BR'. With considerable difficulty we have deciphered the legend thus:The first letter B has evidently been a mistake of the engraver, who meant it for a P, the similarity of the sounds of the two letters being very likely to lead him into such an error. With this slight alteration, we have only to add the letter O to the first line, and we shall have PRO. It requires little acuteness to discover that the second word, if complete, would be PATRIA; and the letters BR, the two lowest of the inscription, only want the addition of the letters IT to make BRIT. or BRITANNIARUM. The legend would then run, PRO PATRIA BRITANNIARUM, which there is good reason to suppose was the inscription on the cellar seal of Alfred the Great, though some presumptuous and common-minded persons have asserted that the legend, if perfect, would read, BRETTS PATENT BRANDY. Every antiquarian has, however, indignantly refused to admit such a degrading supposition.

A perfect brick, and two broken tiles. The first of these articles is in a high state of preservation, and from the circumstance of portions of mortar being found adhering to it, it is supposed that it formed part of the old London Wall. We examined the fragments of the tiles carefully, but found no inscription or other data, by which to ascertain their probable antiquity: the tiles, in short, are buried in mystery.

A fossil flat-iron. This antediluvian relic was found imbedded in a Sandy deposite opposite Surrey-street, near high-water mark.

An ancient leather buskin, supposed to have belonged to one of the Saxon kings. This singular covering for the foot reaches no higher than the ancle, and is laced up the front with a leathern thong, like a modern highlow, to which it bears a very decided resemblance.

A skeleton of some unknown animal. Antiquarians cannot agree to what genus this animal belonged; ignorant people imagine it to have been a cat.

A piece of broken porcelain. This is an undoubted relic of Roman manufacture, and appears to have formed part of a plate. The blue willow pattern painted on it shows the antiquity of that popular design.

There are several other extremely rare and curious antiquities to be seen in this collection, which we have not space to notice at present, but shall take an early opportunity of returning to the valuable discoveries made by the indefatigable Mr. Bunks.

A NEW CONJURING COMPANY. A report of so extraordinary a nature has just reached us, that we hasten to be the first, as usual, to lay the outlines of it before our readers, with the same early authenticity that has characterised all our other communications. Mr. Yates is at present in Paris, arranging matters with Louis Philippe and his family, to appear at the Adelphi during the ensuing season!!

It would appear that the mania for great people wishing to strut and fret their four hours and a quarter upon the stage is on the increaseat least according to our friends the constituent members of the daily press. Despite the newspaper-death of the manager of the Surrey, by which his enemies wished to spargere voces in vulgum ambiguas to his prejudice (which means, in plain English, to tell lies of him behind his back), we have seen the report contradicted, that Mrs. Norton was about to appear there in a new equestrian spectacle, with double platforms, triple studs of Tartar hordes, and the other amphitheatrical enticers. We ourselves can declare, that there is no foundation in the announcement, no more than in the on dit that the Countess of Blessington was engaged as a counter-attraction, for a limited number of nights, at the Victoria; or her lovely niecea power in herselfhad been prevailed upon to make her début at the Lyceum, in a new piece of a peculiar and unprecedented plot, which was prevented from coming off by some disagreement as to terms between the principal parties concerned. For true theatrical intelligence, our columns alone are to be relied upon; bright as a column of sparkling water, overpowering as a column of English cavalry, overlooking all London at once, as the column of the Monument, but not so heavy as the column of the Duke of York.

Mais revenons à nos moutons: which implies (we are again compelled to translate, and this time it is for the benefit of those who have not been to Boulogne), we spoke of Louis Philippe and his family. This sagacious monarch, foreseeing that the French were in want of some new excitement, and grieving to find that the pompe funèbre of Napoleon, and the inauguration of his statue upon the monument of the victories that never took place, had not made the intense impression upon the minds of his vivacious subjects that he had intended it should produce, begins to think, that before long a fresh émeute will once more throw up the barricades and paving-stones in the Rue St. Honoré and Boulevard des Italiens. As such, with the prudent foresight which has hitherto directed all his proceedings, he is naturally looking forward to the best means of gaining an honest livelihood for himself and family, should a corrupted national guard, or an excited St. Antoine mob take it into their heads to dine in the Tuileries without being asked. Having read in the English newspapers, which he regularly peruses, of the astounding performances of the Wizard of the North at the Adelphi, more especially as regards the paralysing gun delusion, he commences to imagine that he is well qualified to undertake the same responsibility, more especially from the practice he has had in that line from pistols, rifles, fowling-pieces, and, above all, twenty-barrel infernal machines. He has therefore offered his services at the Adelphi, and Mr. Yates, with his accustomed energy, and avowed propensity for French translations, has agreed to bring him over. If we remember truly, the Wizard says in his programme, that the secret shall die with him. We beg to inform him, in all humility, that he deceives himself, for Louis Philippe and the Duke dAumale know the trick as well as he does. They would ride through two lines of sans culottes, all armed to the teeth, without the least injury. They would catch the bullets in their teeth, and take them home as curiosities.

Orleans, from his knowledge of the English language, will probably become the adapter of the pieces from the French about to be produced. The Duke de Nemours will be engaged to play the fops in the light comedies, a line which, it is anticipated, he will shine in; and the Prince de Joinville can dance a capital sailors hornpipe, which he learnt on board the Belle Poule, a name which our own sailors, with an excusable disregard for genders, converted into The Jolly Cock. Of course, from his late experience, dAumale will assist Louis Philippe, upon emergency, in the gun trick, and, with the other attractions, a profitable season is sure to result.

AN EXTENSIVE SACRIFICE. By Dr. Reids new plan for ventilating the House of Commons, a porous hair carpet will be required for the floor; to provide materials for which Mr. Muntz has, in the most handsome manner, offered to shave off his beard and whiskers. This is true magnanimityMuntz is a noble fellow! and the lasting gratitude of the House is due to him and his hairs for ever.

[pg 130] FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE. It is expected that Mr. Snooks and family will pass the winter at Battersea, as the warmth of the climate is strongly recommended for the restoration of the health of Mrs. Snooks, who is in a state of such alarming delicacy, as almost to threaten a realisation of the fears of her best friends and the hopes of the black-job master who usually serves the family.

Mr. Snivins gave a large tea-party, last week, at Greenwich, where the boiling water was supplied by the people of the house, the essentials having been brought by the visitors.

Mr. Popkins has left his attic in the New-Cut, for a tour on the Brixton tread-mill.

K 32 left his official residence at the station-house, for his beat in Leicester-square, and repaired at once to a public-house in the neighbourhood, where he had an audience of several pickpockets.

We are authorised to state, that there is no foundation whatever for the report that a certain well-known policeman is about to lead to the altar a certain unknown lady. The rumour originated in his having been seen leading her before the magistrate.

Dick Wiggins transacted business yesterday in Cold Bath-fields, and picked the appointed quantity of oakum.

Mr. Baron Nathan has left Margate for Kennington. We have not heard whether he was accompanied by the Baroness. The Honourable Miss Nathan, when we last heard of her, was dancing a hornpipe among a shillings worth of new laid eggs, at Tivoli.

A few minutes after Sir Robert Peel left Privy-Gardens, in a carriage and four, for Claremont, Sam Snoxell jumped up behind the Brighton stage, from which he descended, after having been whipped down, at Kennington.

IMPORTANT INVENTION. The celebrated savant Sir Peter Laurie, whose scientific labours to discover the cause of the variation of the weathercock on Bow Church, have astonished the Lord Mayor and the Board of Aldermen, has lately turned his attention to the subject of railroads. The result of his profound cogitations has been highly satisfactory. He has produced a plan for a railway on an entirely new principle, which will combine cheapness and security in an extraordinary degree. We have been favoured with a view of the inventors plans, and we have no hesitation in saying that, if adopted, the most timid person may, with perfect safety, take

A person sits on a fence rail. A RIDE ON THE RAIL.

THE BATTLE AND THE BREEZE. Our readers are informed that, despite the belligerent character of the correspondence between the fierce Fitz-Roy and the Gentle Shepherd, although it came to a slight blow, there is nothing to warrant an anticipation of their

A person scales a ladder to dump a basket in a cart. GETTING UP THE BREEZE.

THE FASTING PHENOMENON. The Tories have engaged Bernard Cavanagh, the Irish fasting phenomenon, to give lectures on his system of abstinence, which they think might be beneficially introduced amongst the working- classes of England. This is a truly Christian principle of government, for while the people fast, the ministers will not fail to prey.

TORY BOONS. Air.NORA CREINA The Whigs they promised every day

To cure the ills which did surround us;

It should have been, no cure, no pay!

For now were worse than when they found us.

The Tory clique at length are in,

And vow that they will save the nation,

So kindly give us, to begin

Exchequer bills and ventilation.

Oh! the artful Tories dear,

Oh! the dear, the artful Tories

They alone perceive, tis clear,

That taxes tend to Englands glories.

The Whigs declared cheap bread was good;

To satisfy the peoples cravings

They tried to take the tax off wood

Lord knows what might be done with shavings!

The Tories vow these schemes were wrong,

And adverse to good legislation;

Therefore, propose (so runs our song)

Exchequer bills and ventilation.

Oh! the artful Tories dear,

Oh! the dear and artful Tories;

They alone perceive, tis clear,

Taxes tend to Englands glories.

The Whigs became the poor mans foe,

Mixd ashes in his cup of sorrow;

Nor thought the paupers lot of woe,

Perchance might be their own to-morrow.

The Tories said they were his friend,

That they abhorrd procrastination;

So givetill next July shall end

Exchequer bills and ventilation.

Oh! the artful Tories dear,

Oh! the dear and artful Tories;

They alone perceive, tis clear,

Taxes tend to Englands glories.

RECREATION FOR THE PUBLIC. Sir Robert Peel seems impressed with the necessity of providing the citizens of London with additional parks, where they may recreate themselves, and breathe the free air of heaven. But, strange as it may seem, the people cannot live on fresh air, unaccompanied by some stomachic of a more substantial nature; yet they are forbidden to grumble at the diet, or, if they do, they are silenced according to the good old Tory plan of

Canons fire on people carrying signs reading 'THE CHARTER' OPENING A PARK FOR THE PEOPLE.

Colonel Sibthorp thinks he recollects having been Hannibal oncelong agoalthough he cannot account for his having been beaten in the Pun-ic war.

THE LIGHT OF ALL NATIONS. The public are aware that this important national undertaking, which is now about to be commenced, is to be a prodigious cast-iron light-house on the Goodwin Sands. Peter Borthwick and our Sibby are already candidates for the office of universal illuminators. Peter rests his claims chiefly on the brilliancy of his ideas, as exemplified in his plan for lighting the metropolis with bottled moonshine; while Sib. proudly refers to our columns for imperishable evidences of the intensity of his wit, conscious that these alone would entitle him to be called the light of all nations. We trust that Sir Robert Peel will exercise a sound discretion in bestowing this important situation. Highly as we esteem Peters dazzling talentsprofoundly as we admire his bottled moonshine schemewe feel there is no man in the world more worthy of being elevated to the lantern than our refulgent friend Sibthorp.

[pg 131] A SHORT TREATISE OF DRAMATIC CASUALTIES. VERY PROFITABLE TO READ. Let our Treatise of Dramatic Casualties be that which treateth of the misfortunes contingent upon the profession of dramatic authors. Now, of unfortunate dramatic authors there be two grand kindsnamely, they that be unfortunate before the production of their works, and they that be unfortunate after the production of their works.

And first, among them that be unfortunate before the production of their works may he enumerated

He that, having but one manuscript of his piece leaveth the same with the manager for inspection, and it falleth out that he seeth it no more, neither heareth thereof. He that having translated a piece from the French, and bestowed thereon much time, findeth himself forestalled. He that, having written a pantomime, carrieth it in his pocket, and straight there cometh a dishonest person, who, taking the same, selleth it for waste paper. He that presenteth his piece to all the theatres in succession, and lo! it ever returneth, accompanied with a polite note expressive of disapprobation or the like. He whose piece is approved by the manager, but, nevertheless, the same produceth it not, for divers reasons, which do vary at every interview. He that communicateth the idea of a yet unwritten drama to a friend, who, being of a fair wit, and prompt withal, useth the same to his own ends and reapeth the harvest thereof. And secondly, of them that be unfortunate after the production of their works, there be some whose pieces are successful, and there be some whose pieces are not successful.

And firstly, of unfortunate authors whose pieces are unsuccessful there be

Those who write a piece which faileth through its own demerits, which may be, as He that writeth a farce or comedy, and neglecteth to introduce jokes in the same. He that writeth a farce or comedy, and introduceth bad jokes in the same. He that writeth a farce or comedy, and introduceth old jokes in the same. He that writeth a tragedy, and introduceth matter for merriment therein. He that, in either tragedy, comedy, farce, or other entertainment, shocketh the propriety of the audience, or causeth a division in the same, by political allusions. He that writeth a piece which faileth, though not through its own demerits, which may be, as When the principal actor, not having the authors words by heart, and being of a suggestive wit and good assurance, substituteth others, which he deemeth sufficient. When the principal actor, not having the authors words by heart, and being of a dull and heavy turn, and deaf withal, substituteth nothing, but standeth aghast, yearning for the voice of the prompter. When the scene-shifter ingeniously introduceth a forest into a bed-chamber, or committeth the like incongruity, marvellous pleasant and mirthful to behold, but in no way conducive to success. When pistols or other fire-arms do miss fire; when red fire igniteth not, or igniteth the scenes; when a trap-door refuseth to open, a rope to draw, and the like. When the author intrusteth his principal part to a new actor, and it falleth out that the same doth grievously offend the audience, who straight insist that he do quit the stage, whereby the ruin of the piece is consummated. Likewise there be misfortunes that arise from the audience; as, when at a momentous point of the plot there entereth one heated with liquor, and causeth a disturbance, or a woman with a huge bonnet becometh the subject of a discussion as to her right to wear the same, and impede the view of them that be behind; also when there cometh in a ruffian, or more, in a pea-coat, who having been charged by an enemy to work the ruin of the piece, endeavoureth to do the same, by dint of hisses or other unseemly noises, all of which be highly pernicious. Secondly, of those unfortunate authors who have been successful, there be

He whose piece, albeit successful, is withdrawn to make room for the Christmas pantomine, Easter piece, or other entertainment equally cherished by the manager, who thereupon groundeth a plea of non-payment. He who being a creditor of the manager, and the same being unable to meet his obligations, by an ingenious contrivance of the law becometh cleansed thereof, an operation which hath been conceitedly termed whitewashing. He that writeth a piece with a friend, and the same claimeth the entire authorship thereof and emolument therefrom. And there be divers other calamities which we have neither space nor time to enumerate, but which be all incentives to abstain from dramatic writing.

PERDITUS.

PUNCHS THEATRE. JACK KETCH; OR, A LEAF FROM TYBURN TREE. Modern legislation is chiefly remarkable for its oppressive interference with the elegant amusements of the mob. Bartholomew-fair is abolished; bull- baiting, cock-pits, and duck-hunts are put down by act of Parliament; prize-fighting, by the New Policeeven those morally healthful exhibitions, formerly afforded opposite the Debtors Door of Newgate, for the sake of examplethat were attended by idlers in hundreds, and thieves in thousandsare fast growing into disuse. The masses see no pleasure now: even the hanging-matches are cut off.

Deeply compassionating the effects of so illiberal an innovation, Mr. G. Almar the author to, and Mr. R. Honner the proprietor of, Sadlers Wells Theatre, have produced an exhibition which in a great degree makes up for the infrequent performances at the Old Bailey. Those whose moral sensibilities are refined to the choking pointwho can relish stage strangulation in all its interesting varieties better than Shakspere, are now provided with a rich treat. They need not wait for the Recorders black cap and a black Monday morningthe Sadlers Wells people hang every night with great success; for, unless one goes early, there isas is the case wherever hanging takes placeno standing room to be had for love or money.

The play is simply the history of Jack Ketch, a gentleman who flourished at the beginning of the last century, and who, by industry and perseverance, attained to the rank of public executioner; an office he performed with such skill and effect that his successors have, as the bills inform us, inherited his soubriquet with his office. He is introduced to the audience as a ropemakers apprentice, living in the immediate neighbourhood of Execution-Dock, and loving Barbara Allen, a young spinster residing at the Cottage of Content, upon the borders of Epping Forest, supporting herself by the produce of her wheel and the cultivation of her flower-garden. He beguiles his time, while twisting the hemp, by spinning a tedious yarn about this well-to-do spinster; from which we infer Barbaras barbarity, and that he is crossed in love. The soliloquy is interrupted by an elderly man, who enters to remark that he has come out for a little relaxation after a hard mornings work: no wonder, for we soon learn that he is the Jack Ketch of his day, and has, but an hour before, tucked up two brace of pirates. With this pleasing information, and a sharp dialogue on his favourite subject with the hero, he retires.

Here the interest begins; three or four foot-stamps are heard behind; Jack startsAh, that noise, &c.and on comes the author of the piece, his first appearance here these five years. He approaches the foot- lightshe turns up his eyeshe thumps his breastand goes through this exercise three or four times, before the audience understand that they are to applaud. They do so; and the play goes on as if nothing had happened; for this is an episode expressive of a first appearance these five years. Gipsy George or Mr. G. Almar, whichever you please, having assured Jack Ketch that he is starving and in utter destitution, proceeds to give five shillings for a piece of rope, and walks away, after taking great pains to assure everybody that he is going to hang himself. Before, however, he has had time to make the first coil of a hempen collar, Jack looks off, and descries the stranger in the last agonies of strangulation, amidst the most deafening applause from the audience, whose disgust is indignantly expressed by silence when he exits to cut the man down. Their delight is only revived by the apparition of Gipsy George, pale and ghastly, with the rope round his neck, and the exclamation that he is done for. Barabbas, the hangman, who re-appears with the rest, is upbraided by Jack for coolly looking on and letting the man hang himself, without raising an alarm. Mr. B. answers, that it was no business of his. Like Sir Robert Peel and the rest of the profession, it was evidently his maxim not to interfere, unless regularly called in. The Gipsy, so far from dying, recovers sufficiently to make to Jack some important disclosures; but of that mysterious kind peculiar to melodrama, by which nobody is the wiser. They, however, bear reference to Jacks deceased father, a clasp-knife, a certain Sir Gregory of the gash, and the four gentlemen so recently suspended at Execution-Dock.

The residence of Content and Barbara Allen is a scene, the minute correctness of which it would be wicked to doubt, when the bills so solemnly guarantee that it is copied from the best authorities. Barbara opens the door, makes a curtsey, produces a purse, and after saying she is going to pay her rent, is, by an ingenious contrivance of the Sadlers Wells Shakspere, confronted with her landlord, the Sir Gregory before-mentioned. All stage-landlords are villains, who prefer seduction to rent, and he of the gash is no exception. The struggle, rescue, and duel, which follow, are got through in no time. The last would certainly have been fatal, had not the assailants servant come on to announce that a gentleman wished to speak to him at his own residence. The lover (who is of course the rescuer) deems this a sufficient excuse to let off his antagonist without a scratch; Barbara rewards him with an embrace and a rose, just as another rival intrudes himself in the person of Mr. John Ketch. The altercation which now ensues is but slight; for Jack, instead of fighting, goes off to Fairlop-fair with another young lady, who seems to come upon the stage for no other purpose than to oblige him. At the fair we find Jacks spirits considerably damped by the prediction of a gipsy, that he will marry a hangmans daughter; but, after the jumping in sacks, which forms a part of the sports, he rescues Barbara from being once more assailed by her landlord. Thereupon another component of the festive sceneour friend the hangmandeclares that she is his daughter! Horror tableau, and end of Act I.

After establishing a lapse of four years between the acts, the author takes [pg 132]high ground;we are presented with the summit of Primrose- hill, St. Pauls in the distance, and a gentleman with black clothes, and literary habits, reading in the foreground. This turns out to be The Laird Lawson, Barbaras favoured lover and benevolent duellist. Though on the top of Cockney Mount, he is suffering under a deep depression of spirits; for he has never seen Miss Allen during four years, come next Fairlop-fair. Having heard this, the audience is, of course, quite prepared for that ladys appearance; and, sure enough, on she comes, accounting for her presence with great adroitness:having left the city to go to Holloway, she is taking a short cut over Primrose-hill. The lovers go through the mode of recognition never departed from at minor theatres, with the most frantic energy, and have nearly hugged themselves out of breath, when the executioner papa interrupts the blissful scene, without so much as saying how he got there; but finishers are mysterious beings. Barabbas denounces the laird; and when his consent is asked for the hand of Miss Barbara, tells the lover he will see him hanged first!

The moon, a dark stage, and Jack Ketch in the character of a foot-pad, now add to the romance of the drama. Not to leave anything unexplained, the hero declares, that he has cut the walk of life he formerly trod in the rope ditto, and has been induced to take to the road solely by Fate, brandy and (not salt, but) Barbara! By some extraordinary accident, every character in the piece, with two exceptions, have occasion to tread this sceneHolloway and heath near the village of Holloway (painted from the best authorities), just exactly in time to be robbed by Ketch; who shows himself a perfect master of his business, and a credit to his instructor; for Gipsy George rewards Jack for saving him from hanging, by showing his friend the shortest way to the gallows.

In the following scene, the plot breaks out in a fresh place. The man with the gash, and Gipsy George are together, going over some youthful reminiscences. It seems that once upon a time there were six pirates; four were those pendents from the gibbet at Execution-Dock one hears so much about at the commencement; the fifth is the speaker, Gipsy George; and you, exclaims that person, striking an attitude, and addressing Sir Gregory, make up the half-dozen! They all formerly did business in a ship called the Morning Star, and whenever the ex-pirate number five is in pecuniary distress, he bawls out into the ear of ci-devant pirate number six, the words Morning Star! and a purse of hush-money is forked out in a trice. In this manner Gipsy George accumulates, by the end of the piece, a large property; for six or eight purses, all ready filled for each occasion, thus pass into his pockets.

The best authorities furnish us, next, with an interior; that of the Mug, a chocolate house and tavern, where a new plot is hatched against the crown and dignity of the late respected George the First, by a party of Jacobites. These consist of a half-dozen of Hanoverian Whigs, who enter, duly decorated with an equal number of hats of every variety of cock and cockade. The heroine seems to have engaged herself here as waitress, on purpose to meet her persecutor, Sir Gregory, and her late lover, Jack Ketch. What comes of this rencontre it is impossible to make out, for a general mélée ensues, caused by a discovery of the plot; which is by no means a gunpowder plot; for although a file of soldiers present their arms for several minutes full at the conspirators, not a single musket goes off. Perhaps gunpowder was expensive in the reign of George the First. Jack Ketch ends the act with a dreaman apropos finale, for we caught several of our neighbours napping. The scene in which this vision takes place is the crowning result of the painters researches amongst the best authorities; it being no less than a garret in Grub-street, in which the great Daniel De Foe composed his romance of Robinson Crusoe!!

A fishing-partywhose dulness is relieved by a suicideopens the last act: one of the anglers having finished a comic songwhich from its extreme gravity forms an appropriate dirge to the forthcoming felo-de- segoes off with his companion to leave the water clear for Barbara Allen, who enters, takes an affecting leave of her laird lover, and straightway drowns herself. Jack Ketch is now, by a rapid change of scene, discovered in limbo, and condemned to death; why, we were too stupid to make out. The fatal cartvery likely modelled after the best authoritiesnext occupies the stage, drawn by a real horse, and filled with Sir Gregory Gash (who it seems is going to be hanged) and Jack Ketch not as a prisoner, but as an officer of the crown; for we are to suppose that Mr. Barabbas, having retired from the public scaffold to private life, has seceded in favour of Jack Ketch, who is saved from the rope himself, on condition of his using it upon the person of Sir Gregory and every succeeding criminal. All the characters come on with the cart, and a dénouement evidently impends. The distracted lover demands of somebody to restore his mistress, which Gipsy George is really so polite as to do; for although the bills expressly inform us she has committed suicide, and we have actually seen her jump into the river Lea; yet there she is safe and sound!carefully preserved in an envelope formed partly by the Gipsy himself, and partly by his cloak. She, of course, embraces her lover, and leaves Jack Ketch to embrace his profession with what appetite he may; all, in fact, ends happily, and Sir Gregory goes off to be hanged.

This, then, is the state to which the founders of the Newgate school of dramatic literature, and the march of intellect, have brought us. Nothing short of actual hangingthe most revolting and repulsive of all possible subjects to enter, much less to dwell in any mind not actually savagemust now be provided to meet the refined taste of play-goers. In the present instance, nothing but the actual spiciness of the subject saved the piece from the last sentence of even Sadlers Wells critical law; for in construction and detail, it is the veriest mass of incoherent rubbish that was ever shot upon the plains of common sense. The sketch we have made is in no one instance exaggerated. Our readers may therefore easily judge whether we speak truly or not.

PUNCH AT THE NEW STRAND. When Napoleon first appeared before the grand army after his return from Elbawhen Queen Victoria made her débût at the assemblage of her first parliamentwhen Kean performed Othello at Drury Lane immediately after he had caused a certain friend of his to play the same part in the Court of Kings Benchthe public mind was terribly agitated, and the publics legs instinctively carried them, on each occasion, to behold those great performers. Whento give these circumstances their highest application,Punch, on Thursday last, came out in the regular drama, the excitement was no less intense. Boxes were besieged; the pit was choked up, and the gallery creaked with its celestial encumbrance.

As the curtain drew up, there would have been a death-like silence but for the unparalleled sales that were taking place in apples, oranges, and ginger-beer. Expectation was on tip-toe, as were the persons occupying that department of the theatre called standing-room. The looked-for moment came; the drop ascended, and the spectators beheld Mr. Dionysius Swivel, a pint of ale, and Punchs theatre!

Tragedy, saith the Aristotelian recipe for cooking up a serious drama, should have the probable, the marvellous, and the pathetic. In the tableau thus presented, the audience beheld the three conditions strictly complied with all at once. It was highly probable, as Mr. Swivel observed to the source of pipes, bacca, and maltin other words, to the landlady he was addressingthat his master, the showman, was unable to pay the score he had run up; it was marvellous that the proprietor of so popular a puppet as Punch should not have even the price of a pint of ale in his treasury; lastly, that circumstance was deeply pathetic; for what so heart-rending as the exhibition of fallen greatness, of broken-down prosperity, of affluence regularly stumped and hard-up! The fact is, that Punch, his theatre, and corps dramatique, are in pawn for eight-and-ninepence!

In the midst of this distress there appears a young gentleman, giving vent to passionate exclamations, while furiously buttoning up a tight surtout. The object of his love is the daughter of the object of his hate. Mr. Snozzle, having previously made his bow, overhears him, and being the acting manager of Punch, and having a variety of plots for rescuing injured lovers from inextricable difficulties on hand, offers one of them to the lover, considerably over cost price; namely, for the puppet-detaining eight-and-ninepence, and a glass of brandy-and-water. The bargain being struck, the scene changes.

To the happiness of being the possessor of Punch, Mr. Snozzle adds that of having a wonderful wifea lady of universal talents; who dances in spangled shoes, plays on the tamburine, and sings Whitechapel French like a native. This inestimable creature has already gone round the town on a singing, dancing, and cash-collecting expedition; accompanied by the drum, mouth-organ, and Swivel. We now find her enchanting the flinty-hearted father, Old Fellum. Having been instrumental, by means of her vocal abilities, in drawing from him a declaration of amorous attachment and half-a-crown, she retires, to bury herself in the arms of her husband, and to eradicate the score, recorded in chalk, at Mrs. Rummers hotel.

In the meantime Snozzle, having sold a plot, proceeds to fulfil the bargain by executing it. He enters with PUNCHS theatre, to treat Old Fellum with a second exhibition, and his daughter with an elopement; for in the midst of the performance the young lady detects the big drum in the act of winking at her; and she soon discovers that PUNCHS orchestra is no other than her own lover. Fellum is delighted with the show, to which he is attentive enough to allow of the lovers escaping. He pursues them when it is too late, and having been so precipitate in his exit as to remember to forget to pay for his amusement, Swivel steals a handsome cage, parrot included.

Good gracious! what a scene of confusion and confabulation next takes place! Fellums first stage in pursuit is the public-house; there he unwittingly persuades Mrs. Snozzle that her spouse is unfaithfulthat he it was who stole away the old mans daughter. Mrs. Snozzle raves, and threatens a divorce; Snozzle himself trembleshe suspects the police are after him for being the receiver of stolen goods, instead of the deceiver of unsuspecting virtue. Swivel dreads being taken up for prigging the parrot; and a frightful catastrophe is only averted by the entrance of the truant lovers, who have performed the comedy of Matrimony in a much shorter time than is allowed by the act of Parliament.

Mrs. Keeley played the tamburine, and the part of Snozzle femme. This was more than acting; it was nature enriched with humourcharacter broadly painted without a tinge of caricature. The solemnity of her countenance, while performing with her feet, was a correct copy from the expression of self-approbationof the wonder-how-I-do-it-so-wellalways observable during the dances of the fair sex; her tones when singing were unerringly brought from the street; her spangled dress was assuredly borrowed from Scowtons caravan. As a work of dramatic art, this performance is, of its kind, most complete. Keeleys Snozzle was quiet, rich, and philosophical; and Saunders made a Judy of himself with unparalleled success. Frank Finch got his deserts in the hands of a Mr. Everett; for being a lover, no matter how awkward and ungainly an actor is made to represent him.

OH! DAY AND NIGHT, BUT THIS IS WONDROUS STRANGE! We believe, from the first, Day was intended to mount, and wherefore it was made a mystery we know not.DOINGS AT DONCASTER.[Sunday Times.]

Poor Coronation well may say,

A mystery I mark;

Though jockeyd by the lightest Day

They tried to keep me dark.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 1. OCTOBER 2, 1841. [pg 133] THE TIPTOES. A SKETCH. "The Wrongheads have been a considerable family ever since England was England."

VANBRUGH.

Two women on stilts for a letter M. orning and evening, from every village within three or four miles of the metropolis, may be remarked a tide of young men wending diurnal way to and from their respective desks and counters in the city, preceded by a ripple of errand-boys, and light porters, and followed by an ebb of plethoric elderly gentlemen in drab gaiters. Now these individuals composefor the most partthat particular, yet indefinite class of people, who call themselves gentlemen, and are called by everybody else persons. They are a bodythe advanced guardof the Tiptoes; an army which invaded us some thirty years ago, and which, since that time, has been actively and perseveringly spoiling and desolating our modest, quiet, comfortable English homes, turning our parlours into boudoirs, ripping our fragrant patches of roses into fantastic parterres, covering our centre tables with albums and wax flowers, and, in short (for these details pain us), stripping our nooks and corners of the welcome warm air of pleasant homeliness, which was wont to be a charm and a privilege, to substitute for it a chilly glossan unwholesome straining after effecta something less definite in its operation than in its result, which is calledgentility.

To have done with simile. Our matrons have discovered that luxury is specifically cheaper than comfort (and they regard them as independent, if not incompatible terms); and more than this, that comfort is, after all, but an irrelevant and dispensable corollary to gentility, while luxury is its main prop and stay. Furthermore, that improvidence is a virtue of such lustre, that itself or its likeness is essential to the very existence of respectability; and, by carrying out this proposition, that in order to make the least amount of extravagance produce the utmost admiration and envy, it is desirable to be improvident as publicly as possible; the means for such expenditure being gleaned from retrenchments in the home department. Thus, by a system of domestic alchemy, the education of the children is resolved into a vehicle; a couple of maids are amalgamated into a man in livery; while to a single drudge, superintended and aided by the mistress and elder girls, is confided the economy of the pantry, from whose meagre shelves are supplied supplementary blondes and kalydors.

Now a system of economy which can induce a mother to bring up her children at home, while she regards a phaeton as absolutely necessary to convey her to church and to her tradespeople, and an annual visit to the sea-side as perfectly indispensable to restore the faded complexions of Frances and Jemima, ruined by late hours and hot cream, may be considered open to censure by the philosopher who places women (and girls, i.e. unmarried women) in the rank of responsible or even rational creatures. But in this disposition he would be clearly wrong. Before venturing to define the precise capacity of either an individual or a class, their own opinion on the subject should assuredly be consulted; and we are quite sure that there is not one of the lady Tiptoes who would not recoil with horror from the suspicion of advancing or even of entertaining an ideait having been ascertained that everything original (sin and all) is quite inconformable with the feminine characterunless indeed it be a method of finding the third side of a turned silkor of defining that zero of fortune, to stand below which constitutes a detrimental.

The Misses Tiptoe are an indefinite number of young ladies, of whom it is commonly remarked that some may have been pretty, and others may, hereafter, be pretty. But they never are so; and, consequently, they are very fearful of being eclipsed by their dependents, and take care to engage only ill-favoured governesses, and (but tis an old pun) very plain cooks. The great business of their lives is fascination, and in its pursuit they are unremitting. It is divided in distinct departments, among the sisters; each of whom is characterised at home by some laudatory epithet, strikingly illustrative of what they would like to be. There is Miss Tiptoe, such an amiable girl! that is, she has a large mouth, and a Mallan in the middle of it. There is Jemima, who enjoys such delicate health that is, she has no bust, and wears a scarf. Then there is Grace, who is all for evening rambles, and the Pilgrim of Love; and Fanny, who can not help talking; and whom, in its turn, talking certainly cannot help. They are remarkable for doing a little of everything at all times. Whether it be designing on worsted or on bachelorswhether concerting overtures musical or matrimonial; the same pretty development of the shoulder through that troublesome scarfthe same hasty confusion in drawing it on again, and referring to the watch to see what time it isdisplays the mind ever intent on the great object of their career. But they seldom marry (unless, in desperation, their cousins), for they despise the rank which they affect to have quittedand no man of sense ever loved a Tiptoe. So they continue at home until the house is broken up; and then they retire in a galaxy to some provincial Belle Vue-terrace or Prospect-place; where they endeavour to forestall the bachelors with promiscuous orange-blossoms and maidenly susceptibilities. We have characterised these heart-burning efforts after station, as originating with, and maintained by, the female branches of the family; and they are sobut, nevertheless, their influence on the young men is no less destructive than certain. It is a fact, that, the more restraint that is inflicted on these individuals in the gilded drawing-room at home, the more do they crave after the unshackled enjoyment of their animal vulgarity abroad. Their principal characteristics are a love of large plaids, and a choice vocabulary of popular idiomatic forms of speech; and these will sufficiently define them in the saloons of the theatres and in the cigar divans. But they are not ever thus. By no means. At home (which does not naturally indicate their own house), having donned their other waistcoat and their pin (emblematic of a blue hand grasping an egg, or of a butterfly poised on a wheel)pop! they are gentlemen. With the hebdomadal sovereign straggling in the extreme verge of their pocketswith the afternoon rebuke of the principal, or peradventure of some senior clerk, still echoing in their earsthey are GENTLEMEN. They are desired to be such by their mother and sisters, and so they talk about cool hundredsand the points of horsesand (on the strength of the dramatic criticisms in the Satirist) of Grisi in Norma, and Persiani in La Sonnambulaof Taglioni and Ceritoof last season and the season before that.

We know not how far the readers of PUNCH may be inclined to approve so prosy an article as this in their pet periodical; but we have ventured to appeal to them (as the most sensible people in the country) against a class of shallow empirics, who have managed to glide unchidden into our homes and our families, to chill the one and to estrange the other. Surely, surely, we were unworthy of our descent, could we see unmoved our lovely English girls, whose modesty was wont to be equalled only by their beauty, concentrating all their desires and their energies on a good match; or our reverend English matrons, the pride and honour of the land, employing themselves in the manufacture of fish-bone blanc-mange and mucilaginous tipsy-cakes; or our young Englishmen, our hope and our resource, spending themselves in the debasing contamination of cigars and alcohol.

CONDENSED PARLIAMENTARY REPORT ON THE MISCELLANEOUS ESTIMATES. Vide Examiner.

MR. WILLIAMSobjected SIR T. WILDEvindicated SIR R. PEELdoubted MR. PLUMPTREopposed MR. VILLIERSrequested MR. EWARTmoved MR. EASTCOURTthought MR. FERRANDcomplained LORD JOHN RUSSELLwished MR. AGLIONBYwas of opinion MR. STEWART WORTLEYhoped MR. WAKLEYthought MR. RICEurged MR. FIELDENregretted MR. WARDwas convinced TAKING THE HODDS. On a recent visit of Lord Waterford to the Holy Land, then to sojourn in the hostel or caravansera of the protecting Banks of that classic ground, that interesting young nobleman adopted, as the seat of his precedency, a Brobdignag hod, the private property of some descendant from one of the defunct kings of Ulster; at the close of an eloquent harangue; his lordship expressed an earnest wish that he should be able to continue

One man carries another on some sort of stick. GOING IT LIKE BRICKS

a hope instantly gratified by the stalwart proprietor, who, wildly exclaiming, Sit aisy! hoisted the lordly burden on his shoulders, and gave him the full benefit of a shilling fare in that most unusual vehicle.

Q.E.D. SIR ROBERT PEEL thinks a great deal of himself, says the British Critic. Yes, asserts PUNCH, he is just the man to trouble himself about trifles.

[pg 134] A god throws 'Leader' bolts at three men. ROEBUCK DEFYING THE THUNDERER. Roebuck was seated in his great arm chair,

Looking as senatorial and wise

As a calfs head, when taken in surprise;

A half-munchd muffin did his fingers bear

An empty egg-shell proved his meal nigh oer.

When, lo! there came a tapping at the door:

Come in! he cried,

And in another minute by his side

Stood John the footboy, with the morning paper,

Wet from the press. Oer Roebucks cheek

There passed a momentary gleam of joy,

Which spoke, as plainly as a smile could speak,

Your masters speech is in that paper, boy.

He waved his handthe footboy left the room

Roebuck pourd out a cup of Hyson bloom;

And, having sippd the tea and sniffd the vapour,

Spread out the Thunderer before his eyes

When, to his great surprise,

He saw imprinted there, in black and white,

That he, THE ROE-buckHE, whom all men knew,

Had been expressly born to set worlds right

That HE was nothing but a parvenu.

Jove! was it possible they lackd the knowledge he

Boasted a literary and scientific genealogy!

That he had had some ancestors before him

(Beside the Pa who wed the Ma who bore him)

Men whom the world had slighted, it is true,

Because it never knew

The greatness of the genius which had lain,

Like unwrought ore, within each vasty brain;

And as a prejudice exists that those

Who never do disclose

The knowledge that they boast of, seldom have any,

Each of his learned ancestors had died,

By an ungrateful world belied,

And dubbd a Zany.

That HE should be

Denied a pedigree!

Appeared so monstrous in this land of freedom,

He instantly conceived the notion

To go down to the House and make a motion,

That all men had a right to those who breed em.

Behold him in his seat, his face carnation,

Just like an ace of hearts,

Not red and white in parts,

But one complete illumination.

He rises--members blow their noses,

And cough and hem! till one supposes,

A general catarrh prevails from want of ventilation.

He speaks:

Mr. Speaker, Sir, in me you see

A member of this house (hear, hear),

With whose proud pedigree

The Thunderer has dared to interfere.

Now I implore,

That Lawson may be brought upon the floor,

And beg my pardon on his bended knees.

In whatsoever terms I please.

(Oh! oh!)

(No! no!)

I, too, propose,

To pull his nose:

No matter if the law objects or not;

And if the printers nose cannot be got,

The small proboscis of the printers devil

Shall serve my turn for language so uncivil!

The Thunderer I defy,

And its vile lie.

(As Ajax did the lightning flash of yore.)

I likewise move this House requires

No, thats too complimentarydesires,

That Mr. Lawsons brought upon the floor.

The thing was done:

The house divided, and the Ayes wereONE!

EXPRESS FROM WINDSOR. Last evening a most diabolical, and, it is to be regretted successful, attempt, was made to kiss the Princess Royal. It appears that the Royal Babe was taking an airing in the park, reclining in the arms of her principal nurse, and accompanied by several ladies of the court, who were amusing the noble infant by playing rattles, when a man of ferocious appearance emerged from behind some trees, walked deliberately up to the noble group, placed his hands on the nurse, and bent his head over the Princess. The Honourable Miss Stanley, guessing the ruffians intention, earnestly implored him to kiss her instead, in which request she was backed by all the ladies present.11. This circumstance alone must at once convince every unprejudiced person of the utter falsity of the reports (promulgated by certain interested parties) of the disloyalty of the Tory ladies, when we see several dames placed in the most imminent danger, yet possessing sufficient presence of mind to offer lip-service to their sovereign.EDITOR. Morn. Post. He was not, however, to be frustrated in the attempt, which no sooner had he accomplished, than he hurried off amidst the suppressed screams of the ladies. The Royal Infant was immediately carried to the palace, where her heart-rending cries attracted the attention of her Majesty, who, on hurrying to the child, and hearing the painful narration, would, in the burst of her maternal affection, have kissed the infant, had not Sir J. Clarke, who was fortunately present, prevented her so doing.

Dr. Locock was sent for from town, who, immediately on his arrival at Windsor, held a conference with Sir J. Clarke, and a basin of pap was prepared by them, which being administered to the Royal Infant, produced the most satisfactory results.

We are prohibited from stating the measures taken for the detection of the ruffian, lest their disclosure should frustrate the ends of justice.

A ROYAL DUCK. His Royal Highness Prince Albert, during the sojourn of the Court at Windsor Castle, became, by constant practice in the Thames, so expert a swimmer, that, with the help of a cork jacket, he could, like Jones of the celebrated firm of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, swim anywhere over the river. Her Majesty, however, with true conjugal regard for the safety of the royal duck, never permitted him to venture into the water without

A youth is plunged into a river by two women. A COMPANION OF THE BATH.

HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS. Michelly, of the Morning Post, was boasting to Westmacott of his intimate connexion with the aristocracy. The area- stocracy, more likely, replied the ex-editor of the Argus.

[pg 135] GREAT ANNUAL MICHAELMAS JUBILEE. MAGNIFICENT CELEBRATION OF GOOSE-DAY. How often are weGeorge Stephens-liketo be called upon to expend our invaluable breath in performing Eolian operations upon our own cornopean! Here have we, at an enormous expense and paralysing peril, been obliged to dispatch our most trusty and well-beloved reporter, to the fens in Lincolnshire, stuffed with brandy, swathed in flannel, and crammed with jokes; from whence he, at the cost of infinite pounds, unnumbered rheumatisms, and a couple of agues, caught, to speak vulgarly, in a brace of shakes, has forwarded us the following authentic account of the august proceedings which took place in that county on the anniversary of the great St. Michaelmas.

FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT. Tuesday night.Depths of the fensjust arrivedonly time to state all mucklive eels and festivitySibthorp in extra forcebetting 6 to 4 he cooks everybodys gooseno takersDIsraeli says its a gross want of sympathyfull account to- morrowexpect rare doingsmust concludewhrr-rh-htertian coming onpromises great shakes.

I am, sincerely and shiveringly,

YOUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.

Wednesday morning.The day dawned like a second deluge, and the various volunteer dramatis personæ seemed like the spectres of the defunct water-dogs of Sadlers Wells. An eminent tallow-chandler from the east end of Whitechapel contracted for the dripping, and report says he found it a very swimming speculation. Life-preservers, waterproof and washable hats, were on the ground, which, together with Macintoshes and corks, formed a pleasing and varied group. The grand stand was graced by several eminent and capacious geese; nor was the infantine simplicity of numerous promising young goslings wanting to complete the delightful ensemble.