Chapter V: Front Matter (5)

A character invented by farce-writers, and retained exclusively for their usefor such folks are seldom met with out of a farcelives in the next street. He has a lovely daughter, and a nephew momentarily expected from India, and with those persons he has, of course, not the slighest acquaintance; and a niece, by marriage, of whose relationship he is also entirely unconscious. His parlours are made with French windows; they are open, and invite the bailiff-hunted Brown into the house. What so natural as that he should find out the state of family affairs from a loquacious Abigail, and should personate the expected nephew? Mr. Tidmarsh (the property old gentleman of the farce-writers) is in ecstacics. Mrs. T. sees in the supposed Selbourne a son-in-law for her daughter, whose vision is directed to the same prospects. Happy, domestic circle! unequalled family felicity! too soon, alas! to be disturbed by a singular coincidence. Mr. Snoxall, the victim, is in love with Miss Sophia, the daughter. Ruin impends over Brown; but he is master of his art: he persuades Snoxall not to undeceive the family of Tidmarsh, and kindly undertakes to pop the question to Sophia on behalf of his friend, whose sheepishness quite equals his softness. Thus emboldened, Brown inquires after a few loose sovereigns, and Snoxall, having been already done out of his chairs, clothes, and watch, of course lends the victimiser his purse, which contains twenty.

Mr. Browns career advances prosperously; he makes love in the dark to his supposed cousin pro Snoxall, in the hearing of the supposed wife (for the real Selbourne has been married privately) and his supposed friend, both supposing him false, mightily abuse him, all being still in the dark. At length the real Selbourne enters, and all supposition ends, as does the farce, poetical justice being administered upon the captain by courtesy, by the bailiffs who arrest him. Thus he, at last, becomes really Mr. Dunne Brown.

The farce was successful, for the actors were perfect, and the audience good-humoured. We need hardly say who played the hero; and having named Wrench, as the nephew, who was much as usual, everybody will know how. Mr. David Rees is well adapted for Snoxall, being a good figure for the part, especially in the duck-and-green-peas season. The ladies, of whom there were four, performed as ladies generally do in farces on a first night.

We recommend the readers of PUNCH to cultivate the acquaintance of My Friend the Captain. They will find him at home every evening at the Haymarket. We suspect his paternity may be traced to a certain corner, from whose merit several equally successful broad-pieces have been issued.

LITERARY QUERIES AND REPLIES BY DISTINGUISHED PERSONAGES. QUESTION BY SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BART, What romance is that which outght to be most admired in the kitchen?

ANSWER BY THEODORE HOOK. Don Quixote; because it was written by Cervantes(servantes).Rather low, Sir Ned.

QUESTION BY LADY BLESSINGTON, When is a ladys neck not a neck?

ANSWER BY LADY MORGAN. For shame now!When it is a little bare (bear), I suppose.

A SPEECH FROM THE HUSTINGS. The following is a correct report of a speech made by one of the candidates at a recent election in the north of England.

THOMAS SMITH, Esq., then presented himself, and said * * * * * * * * crisis * * * * * * * * * * * * * important dreadful * * * * * industry * * * * * * enemies * * slaves * * independence * * * * * * freedom * * * * * firmly * * * * gloriously * * * * contested * * * * * * support * * * * victory, Hurrah!

Mr. Smith then sat down; but we regret that the uproar which prevailed, prevents us giving a fuller report of his very eloquent and impressive speech.

FASHIONABLE MOVEMENTS. COUNT DORSAY declares that no gentleman having the slightest pretensions to fashionable consideration can be seen out of doors except on a Sunday, as on that day bailiffs and other low people keep at home.

EPIGRAM ON A VERY LARGE WOMAN. All flesh is grass, so do the Scriptures say;

But grass, when cut and dried, is turned to hay;

Then, lo; if Death to thee his scythe should take,

God bless us! what a haycock thou wouldst make.

An author that lived somewhere has such a brilliant wit, that he contracted to light the parish with it, and did it.

Our church clock, say the editors of a down-cast paper, keeps time so well that we get a day out of every week by it.

A man in Kentucky has a horse which is so slow, that his hind legs always get first to his journeys end.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 1. [pg 25] JULY 31, 1841. POETRY ON AN IMPROVED PRINCIPLE. Let me earnestly implore you, good Mr. PUNCH, to give publicity to a new invention in the art of poetry, which I desire only to claim the merit of having discovered. I am perfectly willing to permit others to improve upon it, and to bring it to that perfection of which I am delightedly aware, it is susceptible.

It is sometimes lamented that the taste for poetry is on the declinethat it is no longer relishedthat the public will never again purchase it as a luxury. But it must be some consolation to our modern poets to know (as no doubt they do, for it is by this time notorious) that their productions really do a vast deal of servicethat they are of a value for which they were never designed. TheyI mean many of themhave found their way into the pharmacopoeia, and are constantly prescribed by physicians as soporifics of rare potency. For instance

not poppy, nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world.

Shall ever usher thee to that sweet sleep

to which a man shall be conducted by a few doses of Robert Montgomerys Devils Elixir, called Satan, or by a portion, or rather a potion, of Oxford. Apollo, we know, was the god of medicine as well as of poetry. Behold, in this our bard, his two divine functions equally mingled!

But waiving this, of which it was not my intention to speak, let me remark, that the reason why poetry will no longer go down with the public, as poetry, is, that the whole frame-work is worn out. No new rhymes can be got at. When we come to a mountain, we are tolerably sure that a fountain is not very far off; when we see sadness, it leads at once to madnessto borrow is sure to be followed by sorrow; and although it is said, when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window,a saying which seems to imply that poverty may sometimes enter at the chimney or elsewhereyet I assure you, in poetry, the poor always come in, and always go out at the door.

My new invention has closed the door, for the future, against the vulgar crew of versifiers. A man must be original. He must write common- sense toohard exactions I know, but it cannot be helped.

I transmit you a specimen. Like all great discoveries, the chief merit of my invention is its simplicity. Lest, however, the meanest capacity (which cannot, by the way, be supposed to be addicted to PUNCH) should boggle at it, it may be as well to explain that every letter of the final word of each alternate line must be pronounced as though Dilworth himself presided at the perusal; and that the last letter (or letters) placed in italics will be found to constitute the rhyme. Here, then, we have

A RENCONTRE WITH A TEA-TOTALLER. On going forth last night, a friend to see,

I met a man by trade a s-n-o-b;

Reeling along the path he held his way.

Ho! ho! quoth I, hes d-r-u-n-k.

Then thus to himWere it not better, far,

You were a little s-o-b-e-r?

Twere happier for your family, I guess,

Than playing off such rum r-i-g-s.

Besides, all drunkards, when policemen see em,

Are taken up at once by t-h-e-m.

Me drunk! the cobbler cried, the devil trouble you!

You want to kick up a blest r-o-w.

Now, may I never wish to work for Hoby,

If drain Ive had! (the lying s-n-o-b!)

Ive just returnd from a tee-total party,

Twelve on us jammd in a spring c-a-r-t.

The man as lectured, now, was drunk; why, bless ye,

Hes sent home in a c-h-a-i-s-e.

Hed taken so much lush into his belly,

Im blest if he could t-o-dd-l-e.

A pair on emhisself and his good lady;

The gin had got into her h-e-a-d.

(My eye and Betty! what weak mortals we are;

They said they took but ginger b-e-e-r!)

But as for me, Ive stuck (twas rather ropy)

All day to weak imperial p-o-p.

And now weve had this little bit osparrin,

Just stand a q-u-a-r-t-e-r-n!

A man in New-York enjoys such very excellent spirits that he has only to drink water to intoxicate himself.

TO JOBBING PATRIOTS. MR. GEORGE ROBINS. with unparalleled gratification, begs to state that he has it in

Command to announce, that in consequence of

LORD JOHN RUSSELLS LETTER to the citizens of London having satisfactorily convinced her

MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY that a change of ministry

CANNOT be productive of a corresponding transformation of measures, and that the late

POLITICO-GLADIATORIAL STRUGGLE for the guerdon of office could only have emanated from a highly commendatory desire on the part of the disinterested and patriotic belligerents

TO SERVE THEMSELVES or their country,

HIS ROYAL MISTRESS, ever solicitous to enchain the hearts of her devoted subjects, by an impartial exercise of her prerogative, has determined to submit to the

ARBITRATION OF HIS HUMBLE HAMMER, some of those desirable places, so long known as the stimuli to the

LACTANT LYCURGI of the nineteenth century.

LOT 1. FIRST LORD OF THE TREASURY, at present in possession of Lord Melbourne. This will be found a most eligible investment, as it embraces a considerable extent of female patronage, comprising the appointments of those valuable legislative adjuncts,

THE LADIES OF THE BEDCHAMBER, AND THE ROYAL NURSES, WET AND DRY; together with those household desiderata,

COALS AND CANDLES, and an unlimited

RUN OF THE ROYAL KITCHEN. LOT 2. SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE COLONIAL DEPARTMENT, at present occupied by Lord John Russell. This lot must possess considerable attraction for a gastronomical experimentalist, as its present proprietor has for a long time been engaged in the discovery of how few pinches of oatmeal and spoonsful of gruel are sufficient for a human pauper, and will be happy to transfer his data to the next fortunate proprietor. Any gentleman desirous of embarking in the manufacture of

SUGAR CANDY, MATCHES, OR CHEAP BREAD, would find this a desirable investment, more particularly should he wish to form either

A PAROCHIAL OR MATRIMONIAL UNION, as there are plans for the one, and hints for the other, which will be thrown into the bargain, being of no further use to the present noble incumbent.

LOT 3. SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE HOME DEPARTMENT, at present the property of Lord Normanby. Is admirably calculated for any one of a literary turn of mind, offering resources peculiarly adapted for a proper cultivation of the Jack Sheppard and James Hatfield men-of- elegant-crimes school of novel-writingthe archives of Newgate and Horsemonger-lane being open at all times to the inspection of the favoured purchaser.

YES OR NO will determine the sale of this desirable lot in a few days.

LOT 4. SECRETARY OF STATE FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS, now in the occupancy of Lord Palmerston. Possesses advantages rarely to be met with. From its connexion with the continental powers, Eau de Cologne, bears grease, and cosmetics of unrivalled excellence, can be procured at all times, thus insuring the favour of the divine sex,

From the rich peasant-cheek of bronze,

And large black eyes that flash on you a volley

Of rays, that say a thousand things at once,

To the high damas brow more melancholy.

The only requisite (besides money) for this desirable lot is, that the purchaser must write a bold round hand for

PROTOCOLS, understand French and Chinese, and be an

EXPERT TURNER. LOT 5. SEVERAL UNDER SECRETARYSHIPS, admirably adapted for younger sons and poor relatives.

The whole of the proceeds (by the advice of her Majestys Cabinet Council) will be devoted to the erection of a

UNION FOR DECAYED MINISTERS. Cards to view may be had at the Treasury any day after the meeting of Parliament.

Very like a whale! as the schoolmaster said when he examined the boys back after severely flogging him.

[pg 26] THE DIARY OF A LORD MAYOR. All the world is familiar with the Diary of a Physician, the Diary of an Ennuyée, the Diary of a Lady of Rank, and Heaven knows how many other diaries besides! but who has ever heard of, or saw, the Diary of a Lord Mayor,that day-book, or blotter, as it may be commercially termed, of a gigantic mind? Who has ever perused the autobiography of the Lama of Guildhall, Cham of Cripplegate, Admiral of Fleet Ditch, Great Turtle-hunter and Herod of Michaelmas geese? We will take upon ourselves to answernot one! It was reserved for PUNCH to give to his dear friends, the public, the first and only extract which has ever been made from the genuine diary of a late Lord Mayor of London, or, as that august individual was wont, when in Paris, to designate himself on his visiting tickets

Mr.

FEU LORD MAYOR DE LONDRES.

How the precious MS. came into our possession matters little to the reader; suffice it to say, it is a secret which must ever remain confined to the bosoms of PUNCH and his cheesemonger.

DIARY. Nov. 10, eight oclock.Dreamed a horrid dreamthought that I was stretched in Guildhall with the two giants sitting on my chest, and drinking rum toddy out of firemens bucketsfancied the Board of Aldermen were transformed into skittle-pins, and the police force into bottles of Harveys sauce. Tried to squeak, but couldnt. Then I imagined that I was changed into the devil, and that Alderman Harmer was St. Dunstan, tweaking my nose with a pair of red-hot tongs. This time, I think, I did shout lustily. Awoke with the fright, and found my wife pulling my nose vigorously, and calling me My Lord! Pulled off my nightcap, and began to have an idea I was somebody, but could not tell exactly who. Suddenly my eye rested upon the civic gown and chain, which lay upon a chair by my bed-side:the truth flashed upon my mindI felt I was a real Lord Mayor. I remembered clearly that yesterday I had been sworn into office. I had a perfect recollection of the glass-coach, and the sheriffs, and the men in armour, and the band playing Jim along Josey, as we passed the Fleet Prison, and the glories of the city barge at Blackfriars-bridge, and the enthusiastic delight with which the assembled multitude witnessed

A fellow falling into the water while crossing a (broken) plank into a boat THE LORD MAYOR TAKING WATER.

I could also call to mind the dinnerthe turtle, venison, and turbotand the popping of the corks from the throats of the champagne bottles. I was conscious, too, that I had made a speech; but, beyond this point, all the events of the night were lost in chaotic confusion. One thing, however, was certainI was a bonâ fide Lord Mayorand being aware of the arduous duties I had to perform, I resolved to enter upon them at once. Accordingly I arose, and as some poet says

Commenced sacrificing to the Graces,

By putting on my breeches.

Sent for a barber, and authorised him to remove the superfluous hair from my chinat the same time made him aware of the high honour I had conferred upon him by placing the head of the city under his razorthought I detected the fellows tongue in his cheek, but couldnt be certain. Mem. Never employ the rascal again.

9 oclock.Dressed in full figsword very troublesomegetting continually between my legs. Sat down to breakfasther ladyship complimented me on my appearancesaid I looked the beau ideal of a mayortook a side glance at myself in the mirrorher ladyship was perfectly right. Trotter the shoemaker announcedwalked in with as much freedom as he used to do into my shop in Coleman-streetsmelt awfully of best calf and heavy soleshook me familiarly by the hand, and actually called me Bob. The indignation of the Mayor was roused, and I hinted to him that I did not understand such liberties, upon which the fellow had the insolence to laugh in my facecouldnt stand his audacity, so quitted the room with strong marks of disgust.

10 oclock.Heard that a vagabond was singing Jim Crow on Tower- hillproceeded with a large body of the civic authorities to arrest him, but after an arduous chase of half-an-hour we unfortunately lost him in Houndsditch. Suppressed two illegal apple-stalls in the Minories, and took up a couple of young black-legs, whom I detected playing at chuck- farthing on Saffron-hill. Issued a proclamation against mad dogs, cautioning all well-disposed persons to avoid their society.

12 oclock.Waited upon by the secretary of the New River Company with a sample of the water they supply to the Cityfound that it was much improved by compounding it with an equal portion of cognacgave a certificate accordingly. Lunched, and took a short nap in my cocked hat.

1 oclock.Police-court. Disposed of several cases summarilyeverybody in court amazed at the extraordinary acuteness I displayed, and the rapidity with which I gave my decisionsthey did not know that I always privately tossed upheads, complainant wins, and tails, defendantthis is the fairest way after allno being humbugged by hard swearing or innocent looksno sifting of witnessesno weighing of evidenceno deliberatingno hesitatingthe thing is done in an instantand, if the guilty should escape, why the fault lies with fortune, and not with justice.

3 oclock.Visited the Thames Tunnelfound Brunel a devilish deep fellowhe explained to me the means by which he worked, and said he had got nearly over all his difficultiesI suppose he meant to say he had nearly got under themat all events the tunnel, when completed, will be a vast convenience to the metropolis, particularly to the lower classes. From the Tunnel went to Billingsgate-marketconfiscated a basket of suspicious shrimps, and ordered them to be conveyed to the Mansion- house. Mem. Have them for breakfast to-morrow. Return to dress for dinner, having promised to take the chair at the Grand Annual Metropolitan Anti-Hydro-without-gin-drinking Association.

Here a hiatus occurs in the MS.; but from cotemporary authorities we are enabled to state that his lordship was conveyed home at two oclock on the following morning, by some jolly companions.

Slowly and sadly they smoothed his bed, And they told his wife and daughter To give him, next day, a couple of red- Herrings and soda- water.

THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS. The gay Daffodilly, an amorous blade,

Stole out of his bed in the dark,

And calling his brother, Jon-Quil, forth he strayd

To breathe his love vows to a Violet maid

Who dwelt in a neighbouring park.

A spiteful old Nettle-aunt frownd on their love;

But Daffy, who laughd at her power,

A Shepherds-purse slippd in the nurses Fox-glove,

Then up Jacobs-ladder he crept to his love,

And stole to the young Virgins-bower.

The Maidens-blush Roseand she seemd all dismayd,

Arrayd in her white Ladys-smock,

She calld Mignonettebut the sly little jade,

That instant was hearing a sweet serenade

From the lips of a tall Hollyhock.

The Pheasants eye, always a mischievous wight,

For prying out something not good,

Avowd that he peepd through the keyhole that night;

And clearly discernd, by a glow-worms pale light,

Their Two-faces-under-a-hood.

Old Dowager Peony, deaf as a door,

Who wishd to know more of the facts,

Invited Dame Mustard and Miss Hellebore,

With Miss Periwinkle, and many friends more,

One evening to tea and to tracts.

The Butter-cups ranged, defamation ran high,

While every tongue joind the debate;

Miss Sensitive said, twixt a groan and a sigh,

Though she felt much concerndyet she thought her dear Vi

Had grown rather bulbous of late.

Thus the tale spread about through the busy parterre:

Miss Columbine turn'd up her nose,

And the prude Lady Lavender said, with a stare,

That her friend, Mary-gold, had been heard to declare,

The creature had toyd with the Rose.

Each Sage lookd severe, and each Cocks-comb lookd gay,

When Daffy to make their mind easy,

Miss Violet married one morning in May,

And, as sure as you live, before next Lady-day,

She brought him a Michaelmas-daisy.

NOTHING WONDERFUL. The Duke of Normandie accounts for the non-explosion of his percussion-shells, by the fact of having incautiously used some of MCullochs pamphlets on the corn laws. If this be the case, no person can be surprised at their not going off.

MODERN WAT TYLERS. The anxiety of the Whigs to repeal the timber duties is quite pardonable, for, with their wooden heads, they doubtlessly look upon it in the light of a poll-tax.

[pg 27] A young dark-skinned boy. Head of a Botecudo previous to disfigurement.

A young dark-skinned man with chin and ear pendants. Head of a Butecudo disfigured by chin and ear pendants.

A dark-skinned man with drooping ear lobes, wearing English clothes and a monocle. Head of a Botecudo disfigured by civilisation.

CIVILISATION. If an European, says Sir Joshua Reynolds, in one of his Discourses, when he has cut off his beard, and put false hair on his head, or bound up his own hair in formal, hard knots, as unlike nature as he can make it, and after having rendered them immoveable by the help of the fat of hogs, has covered the whole with flour, laid on by a machine with the utmost regularityif, when thus attired, he issues forth and meets a Cherokee Indian who has bestowed as much time at his toilet, and laid with equal care and attention his yellow and red ochre on such parts of his forehead and cheeks as he judges most becoming, whichever of these two despises the other for this attention to the fashion of his country, whichever first feels himself provoked to laugh, is the barbarian.

Granting this, the popular advocates of civilisation certainly are not the most civilised of individuals. They appear to consider yellow ochre and peacocks feathers the climax of barbarismmarabouts and kalydor the acme of refinement. A ring through the nose calls forth their deepest pitya diamond drop to the ear commands their highest respect. To them, nothing can show a more degraded state of nature than a New Zealand chief, with his distinctive coat of arms emblazoned on the skin of his face; nor anything of greater social elevation than an English peer, with the glittering label of his nobility tacked to his breast. To a rational mind, the one is not a whit more barbarous than the other; they being, as Sir Joshua observes, the real barbarians who, like these soi- disant civilisers, would look upon their own monstrosities as the sole standard of excellence.

The philosophy of the present age, however, is peculiarly the philosophy of outsides. Few dive deeper into the human breast than the bosom of the shirt. Who could doubt the heart that beats beneath a cambric front? or who imagine that hand accustomed to dirty work which is enveloped in white kid? What Prometheus was to the physical, Stultz is to the moral manthe one made human beings out of clay, the other cuts characters out of broad-cloth. Gentility is, with us, a thing of the goose and shears; and nobility an attributenot of the mind, but (supreme civilisation!) of a garter!

Certain modern advocates appear to be devout believers in this external philosophy. They are touchingly eloquent upon the savage state of those who indulge in yellow ochre, but conveniently mute upon the condition of those who prefer carmine. They are beautifully alive to the degradation of that race of people which crushes the feet of its children, but wonderfully dead to the barbarism of that race, nearer home, which performs a like operation upon the ribs of its females. By them, also, we are told that words would manifestly fail in portraying so low a state of morals as is pictured in the lineaments of an Australian chief,a stretch of the outside philosophy which we certainly were not prepared to meet with; for little did we dream that this noble science could ever have attained such eminence, that men of intellect would be able to discover immorality in particular noses, and crime in a certain conformation of the chin.

That an over-attention to the adornment of the person is a barbarism all must allow; but that the pride which prompts the Esquimaux to stuff bits of stone through a hole in his cheek, is a jot less refined than that which urges the dowager-duchess to thrust coloured crystals through a hole in her ear, certainly requires a peculiar kind of mental squint to perceive. Surely there is as great a want of refinement among us, in this respect, as among the natives of New Zealand. Why rush for subjects for civilisation to the back woods of America, when thousands may be found, any fine afternoon, in Regent-street? Why fly to Biddy Salamander and Bulkabra, when the Queen of Beauty and Count DOrsay have equally urgent claims on the attention and sympathies of the civiliser?

On the subject of civilisation, two questions naturally present themselvesthe one, what is civilisation?the other, have we such a superabundance of that commodity among us, that we should think about exporting it? To the former question, the journal especially devoted to the subject has, to the best of our belief, never condescended a reply; although, like the celebrated argument on the colour of the chameleon, no two persons, perhaps, have the same idea of it. In what then, does civilisation consist, and how is it to be generally promoted? Does it, as Sir E.L. B would doubtlessly assure us, does it lie in a strict adherence to the last months fashions; and is it to be propagated throughout the world only by missionaries from Nugees, and by the universal dissemination of curling-tongs and Macassarpatent leather boots and opera hatswhite cambric pocket-handkerchiefs and lavender- water? Or, does it consist, as the Countess of B would endeavour to convince us, in abstaining from partaking twice of fish, and from eating peas with the knife? and is it to be made common among mankind only by distributing silver forks and finger-glasses to barbarians, and printing the Book of Etiquette for gratuitous circulation among them? Or, is it, as the mild and humane Judge P would prove to us, a necessary result of the Statutes at Large; and can it be rendered universal only by sending out Jack Ketch as a missionaryby the introduction of rope-walks in foreign parts, and the erection of gallows all over the world? Or, is it, as the Archbishop of Canterbury contests, to be achieved solely by the dissemination of bishops, and by diffusing among the poor benighted negroes the blessings of sermons, tithes, and church rates? Christianity, it has, on the other hand, been asserted, is the only practical system of civilisation; but this is manifestly the idea of a visionary. For ourselves, we must confess we incline to the opposite opinion; and think either the bishops or Jack Ketch (we hardly know which we prefer) by far the more rational means. Indeed, when we consider the high state of civilisation which this country has attained, and imagine for an instant the awful amount of distress which would necessarily accrue from the general practice of Christianity among us, even for a week, it is clear that the idea never could be entertained by any moral or religious, mind. A weeks Christianity in England! What would become of the lawyer, and parsons? It is too terrible to contemplate.

[pg 28] NOUVEAU MANUEL DU VOYAGEUR. These are the continental-trip days. All the world will be now a-touring. But every one is not a Dr. Bowring, and it is rather convenient to be able to edge in a word now and then, when these rascally foreigners will chatter in their own beastly jargon. Ignorant pigs, not to accustom themselves to talk decent English! Il Signor Marchese Cantini, the learned and illustrious author of Hi, diddlo-diddlino! Il gutto el violino!, has just rendered immense service to the trip-loving natives of these lovely isles, by preparing a Guide to Conversation, that for utility and correctness of idiom surpasses all previous attempts of the same kind. With it in one hand, and a bagful of Napoléons or Zecchini in the other, the biggest dunce in Londonnay, even a schoolmastermay travel from Boulogne to Naples and back, with the utmost satisfaction to himself, and with substantial profit to the people of these barbarous climes. The following is a specimen of the way in which Il Signor has accomplished his undertaking. It will be seen at a glance how well he has united the classical with the utilitarian principle, clothing both in the purest dialect; ex. gr.:

THIS IS ENGLISH. THIS IS FRENCH. THIS IS ITALIAN. Does your mother know youre out? Madame, votre maman, sait-elle que vous nêtes pas chez vous? La vostra signora madre sa che siete uscito di casa? It wont do, Mr. Ferguson. Cela nese passera, Monsieur Ferguson, jamais! Questo non fara cosi, il Signore Fergusoni! Who are you? Est-ce que vous aviez jamais un père? Chi è vossignoria? All round my hat. Tout autour mon chapeau. Tutto all interno del mio capello! Go it, ye cripples! Cest ça! Battez-vous bienboiteux; cr-r-r-r-matin! Bravo! bravo, stroppiati! Ancora-ancora! Such a getting up-stairs! Diantre! comme on monte lescalier! Come si ha salito è maraviglioso! Jump, Jim Crow. Sautez, Monsiuer Jaques Corbeau! Salti, pergrazia, Signor Giamomo Corvo! It would not be fair to rob the Signor of any more of his labour. It will be seen that, on the principle of the Painter and his Cow, we have distinctly written above each sentence the language it belongs to. It is always better to obviate the possibility of mistakes.

THE OMNIBUS The horrors of an omnibus,

Indeed, Ive cause to curse;

And if I ride in one again,

I hope twill be my hearse.

If you a journey have to go,

And they make no delay,

Tis ten to one youre servd like curds,

They spill you on the WHEY.

A short time since my wife and I

A short call had to make,

And giving me a kiss, she said

A buss youd better take!

We journeyd ontwo lively cads,

Were for our custom triers;

And in a twinkling we were fixd

Fast by this pair of pliers!

My wifes arm I had lockd in mine,

But soon they forced her from it;

And she was luggd into the Sun,

And I into the Comet!

Jammd to a jelly, there I sat,

Each one against me pushing;

And my poor gouty legs seemd made

For each ones pinsa cushion!

My wife some time had gone before:

I urged the jarvey's speed,

When all at once the bus set off

At fearful pace, indeed!

I askd the coachee what caused this?

When thus his story ran:

Vy, a man shied at an oss, and so

An oss shied at a man!

Oh, fearful crash! oh, fearful smash!

At such a rate we run,

That presently the Comet came

In contact with the Sun.

At that sad time each body felt,

As parting with its soul,

We were, indeed, a little whirld,

And shook from pole to pole!

Dunn, the miller of Wimbledon, has recently given his infant the Christian name of Cardigan. If there is truth in the adage of give a dog a bad name and hang him, the poor child has little else in perspective than the gallows.

PRAY DONT TELL THE GOVERNOR. A SONG OF TON. Why, y-e-stwas rather late last night;

In fact, past six this morning.

My rascal valet, in a fright,

Awoke, and gave me warning.

But what of that?Im very young.

And youve been in the Oven, or,

Like me, youre wrongd by rumours tongue,

Sopray dont tell the Governor.1 1. The author is aware there exists a legitimate rhyme for Porringer, but believes a match for governor lies still in the terra incognita of allowable rhythm.

I dined a quarter after seven,

With Dashall of the Lancers;

Went to the opera at eleven,

To see the ballet-dancers.

From thence I saunterd to the club

Fortune to mes a slovenor,

I surely must have won one rub,

Butmind! dont tell the Governor!

I went to Ascot tother day,

Drove Kitty in a tandem;

Upset it gainst a brewers dray

Id dined, so drove at random.

I betted highan outside won

Id swear its hoofs were cloven, or

It neer the favourite horse had done,

Butdont you tell the Governor.

My cottage ornée down at Kew,

So picturesque and pretty,

Cost me of thousands not a few,

To fit it up for Kitty.

She said it charmd her fancy quite,

But (still I cant help loving her)

She bolted with the plate one night

You neednt tell the Governor.

My creditors are growing queer,

Nay, threaten to be furious;

Ill scan their paltry bills next year,

At present Im not curious.

Such fellows are a monstrous bore,

So I and Harry Grosvenor

To-morrow start for Gallias shore,

And leave dunsto the Governor.

THE EXPLOSIVE BOX. Sir Hussey Vivian was relating to Sir Robert Peel the failure of the Duke of Normandies experiment with a terrible self- explosive box, which he had buried in a mound at Woolwich, in the expectation that it would shortly blow up, but which still remains there, to the great terror of the neighbourhood, who are afraid to approach the spot where this destructive engine is interred. Sir Robert, on hearing the circumstance, declared that Lord John Russell had served him the same trick, by burying the corn-law question under the Treasury bench. No one knew at what moment it might explode, and blow them to . The question, he added, now iswho will dig it out?

EXCLUSIVE INTELLIGENCE. (From OUR West-end and The Observers Correspondent.) We have every reason to believe, unless a very respectable authority, on whom we are in the habit of relying, has grievously imposed upon us, that a very illustrious personage has consulted a certain exalted individual as to whether a certain other person, no less exalted than the latter, but not so illustrious as the former, shall be employed in a certain approaching event, which at present is involved in the greatest uncertainty. Another individual, who is more dignified than the third personage above alluded to, but not nearly so illustrious as the first, and not half so exalted as the second, has nothing whatever to do with the matter above hinted at, and it is not at all probable that he will be ever in the smallest way mixed up with it. For this purpose we have cautiously abstained from giving his name, and indeed only allude to him that there may be no misapprehension on this very delicate subject.

ANIMAL MAGNETISM. The Times gives a horrible description of some mesmeric experiments by a M. Delafontaine, by which a boy was deprived of all sensation. We suspect that some one has been operating upon the Poor Law Commissioners, for their total want of feeling is a mesmeric phenomenon.

ON SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BART., not M.P. FOR LINCOLN. That Bulwers from fair Lincoln bannd,

Doth threaten evil days;

For, having much waste time on hand,

Alas! hell scribble plays.

[pg 29] THE NEW HOUSE. This is the House that Jack (Bull) built. Once there lived, as old histories learnedly show, a

Great sailor and shipbuilder, named MISTER NOAH,

Who a hulk put together, so wondrousno doubt of it

That all sorts of creatures could creep in and out of it.

Things with heads, and without heads, things dumb, things loquacious,

Things with tails, and things tail-less, things tame, and things pugnacious;

Rats, lions, curs, geese, pigeons, toadies and donkeys,

Bears, dormice, and snakes, tigers, jackals, and monkeys:

In short, a collection so curious, that no man

Eer since could with NOAH compare as a show-man

At length, JOHNNY BULL, with that clever fat head of his,

Designd a much stranger and comical edifice,

To be calld his NEW HOUSEa queer sort of menagerie

To hold all his beastswith an eye to the Treasury.

Into this he has crammd such uncommon monstrosities,

Such animals rare, such unique curiosities,

That we wager a CROWNnot to speak it uncivil

This HOUSE of BULLS beats Noahs Ark to the devil.

Lest you think that we bouncethe great fault, we confess, of men

We proceed to detail some few things, as a specimen

Of what are to be found in this novel museum;

As it opens next month, you may all go and see em.

Five Woods, of five shades, grain, and polish, and gilding,

Are used this diversified chamber in building.

Not a nail, bolt, or screw, youll discover to lurk in it,

Though six Smiths you will find every evening at work in it.

A Forman and Master youll see there appended too,

Whose words or instructions are never attended to.

A Leader, whom nobody follows; a pair o Knights,

With courage at ninety degrees of old Fahrenheits;

Full a hundred Jim Crows, wheeling round aboutround about,

Yet only one Turners this House to be found about.

Of hogs-heads, Lord knows, there are plenty to spare of them,

But only one Cooper is kept to take care of them.

A Ryders maintaind, but hes no horse to get upon;

Theres a Packe too, and only one Pusey to set upon.

Two Palmers are kept, holy men, in this ill, grim age,

To make every night their Conservative pilgrimage.

A Fuller, for scouring old coats and redressing them;

A Taylor to fashion; and Mangles for pressing them.

Two Stewarts, two Fellowes, a Clerk, and a Baillie,

To keep order, yet each calld to order are, daily.

A Duke, without dukedoma matter uncommon

And Bowes, the delight, the enchantment of woman.

This house has a Tennent, but ask for the rent of it,

Hed laugh at, and send you to Brussels or Ghent for it.

Of the animals properly calld so, a sample

Well give to you gentlefolks now, for example:

There are bores beyond count, of all ages and sizes,

Yet only one Hogg, who both learned and wise is.

Theres a Buck and a Roebuck, the latter a wicked one,

Whom few like to play withhe makes such a kick at one.

There are Hawkes and a Heron, with wings trimmd to fly upon,

And claws to stick into what prey they set eye upon.

Theres a Fox, a smart cove, but, poor fellow, no tail he has;

And a Bruengood tusks for a feed well be bail he has.

Theres a Seale, and four Martens, with skins to our wishes;

Theres a Rae and two Roches, and all sorts of fishes;

Theres no sheep, but a Sheppardthe last of the pigtails

And a Ramsbottomchip of the old famous big tails.

Now to mention in brief a few trifles extraneous,

By connoisseurs classd, odds and ends miscellaneous:

Theres a couple of Bellsfrightsnay, Hottentots real!

A Trollope, of elegance le beau ideal.

Of Browne, Green, and Scarlett men, surely a sack or more,

Besides three whole White men, preserved with a Blakemore.

Theres a Hill, and a Hutt, and a Kirk, andastounding!

The entire of old Holland this house to be found in.

Theres a Flower, with a perfume so strong twould upset ye all;

And the beauty of Somers is here found perpetual.

Theres a Bodkin, a Patten, a Rose, and a Currie,

And a man thats still Hastie, though neer in a hurry.

There is Cole without smoke, a sou-West without danger;

And a Grey, that to place is at present a stranger.

Theres a Peel,but enough! if youre a virtuoso

Youll see for yourself, and next month you may do so;

When, if you dont say this New House is a wonder,

Were Dutchmenthats all!and at once knuckle under.

WATERFORD ELECTION. The Tories at Waterford carried the day,

And the reign of the Rads is for ever now past;

For one who was Wyse he got out of the way,

And the hopes of the other proved Barron at last.

STATE OF TRADE. We are sorry to perceive that trade was never in a more alarming state than at present. A general strike for wages has taken place amongst the smiths. The carpenters have been dreadfully cut up; and the shoemakers find, at the last, that it is impossible to make both ends meet. The bakers complain that the pressure of the times is so great, that they cannot get the bread to rise. The bricklayers swear that the monopolists ought to be brought to the scaffold. The glaziers, having taken some pains to discover the cause of the distress, declare that they can see through the whole affair. The gardeners wish to get at the root of the evil, and consequently have become radical reformers. The laundresses have washed their hands clean of the business. The dyers protest that things never looked so blue in their memory, as there is but a slow demand for

A man carrying a flag, running from soldiers with swords bared FAST COLOURS.

The butchers are reduced to their last stake. The weavers say their lives hang by a single thread. The booksellers protest we must turn over a new leaf. The ironmongers declare that the times are very hard indeed. The cabmen say business is completely at a stand. The watermen are all aground. The tailors object to the government measures;and the undertakers think that affairs are assuming a grave aspect. Public credit, too, is tottering;nobody will take doctors draughts, and it is difficult to obtain cash for the best bills (of the play). An extensive brandy-ball merchant in the neighbourhood of Oxford-street has called a meeting of his creditors; and serious apprehensions are entertained that a large manufacturer of lollypops in the Haymarket will be unable to meet his heavy liabilities. Two watchmakers in the city have stopped this morning, and what is more extraordinary, their watches have stopped too.

THE NORMANDIE NO GO. The figure, stuffed with shavings, of a French grenadier, constructed by the Duke of Normandie, and exhibited by him recently at Woolwich, which he stated would explode if fired at by bullets of his own construction, possitively objected to being blown up in such a ridiculous manner; and though several balls were discharged at the man of shavings, he showed no disposition to move. The Duke waxed exceedingly wroth at the coolness of his soldier, and swore, if he had been a true Frenchman, he would have gone off at the first fire.

A CONUNDRUM BY COL. SIBTHORP. Whats the difference between the top of a mountain and a person afflicted with any disorder?Ones a summit of a hill, and the others ill of a summut.

A CLASSICAL INSCRIPTION FOR A CIGAR CASE. ?? ßa?????? d???µa ?aß?, s? ??? F????.EURIPIDES.

FREE TRANSLATION. Accept this gift of To-Bacchacigar fellow.

FASHIONS FOR THE PRESENT WEEK. Though the dog-days have not yet commenced, muzzlin is very general, and a new sort of shally, called shilly-shally, is getting remarkably prevalent. Shots are still considered the greatest hits, for those who are anxious to make a good impression; flounces are out in the morning, and tucks in at dinner- parties, the latter being excessively full, and much sought after. At conversaziones, puffs are very usual, and sleeves are not so tight as before, to allow of their being laughed in; jewels are not now to be met with in the head, which is left au naturelthat is to say, as vacant as possible.

Why is the Gazette like a Frenchmans letter?Because it is full of broken English.

BREACH OF PRIVILEGE. In the strangers gallery in the American house of representatives, the following notice is posted up:Gentlemen will be pleased not to place their feet on the boards in front of the gallery, as the dirt from them falls down on the senators heads. In our English House of Commons, this pleasant penchant for dirt-throwing is practised by the members instead of the strangers. It is quite amusing to see with what energy OConnell and Lord Stanley are wont to bespatter and heap dirt on each others heads in their legislative squabbles!

SHOCKING WANT OF SYMPATHY. Sir Peter Laurie has made a sad complaint to the Lord Mayor, of the slippery state of the wooden pavement in the Poultry, and strongly recommended the immediate removal of the blocks. This is most barbarous conduct on the part of Sir Peter. Has he lost all natural affection for his kindred, that he should seek to injure them in public estimation? Has he no secret sympathy for the poor blocks whom he has traduced? Let him lay his hand upon his head and confess that

A fellow feeling; makes us wondrous kind.

[pg 30] PUNCH AND PEEL THE NEW CABINET. PUNCH.Well, Sir Robert, have you yet picked your men? Come, no mystery between friends. Besides, consider your obligations to your old crony, Punch. Do you forget how I stood by you on the Catholic question? Come, name, name! Who are to pluck the golden pippinswho are to smack lips at the golden fishwho are to chew the fine manchet loaves of Downing-street?

PEEL.The truth is, my dear Punch

PUNCH.Stop. You may put on that demure look, expand your right-hand fingers across the region where the courtesy of anatomy awards to politicians a heart, and talk about truth as a certain old lady with a paper lanthorn before her door may talk of chastityyou may do all this on the hustings; but this is not Tamworth: besides, you are now elected; so take one of these cigarsthey were smuggled for me by my revered friend Colonel Sibthorpfill your glass, and out with the list.

PEEL.(Rises and goes to the door, which he double locks; returns to his seat, and takes from his waistcoat pocket a small piece of asss skin.) I have jotted down a few names.

PUNCH.And, I see, on very proper material. Read, Robert, read.

PEEL.(In a mild voice and with a slight blush.)First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Robert Peel!

PUNCH.Of course. Well?

PEEL.First Lord of the AdmiraltyDuke of Buckingham.

PUNCH.An excellent man for the Admiralty. He has been at sea in politics all his life.

PEEL.Secretary for Foreign AffairsEarl of Aberdeen.

PUNCH.An admirable person for Foreign Affairs, especially if he transacted em in Sierra Leone. Proceed.

PEEL.Lord Lieutenant of IrelandLord Wharncliffe.

PUNCH.Nothing could be better. Wharncliffe in Ireland! You might as well appoint a red-hot poker to guard a powder magazine. Go on.

PEEL.Secretary for Home DepartmentGoulburn.

PUNCH.A most domestic gentleman; will take care of home, I am sure. Go on.

PEEL.Lord ChancellorSir William Follett.

PUNCH.A capital appointment: Sir William loves the law as a spider loves his spinning; and for the same reason Chancery cobwebs will be at a premium.

PEEL.Secretary for the ColoniesLord Stanley.

PUNCH.Would make a better Governor of Macquarrie Harbour; but go on.

PEEL.President of the CouncilDuke of Wellington.

PUNCH.Think twice there.The Duke will be a great check upon you. The Duke is now a little too old a mouser to enjoy Tory tricks. He has unfortunately a large amount of common sense; and how fatal must that quality be to the genius of the Wharncliffes, the Goulburns, and the Stanleys! Besides, the Duke has another grievous weaknesshe wont lie.

PEEL.Secretary for IrelandSir H. Hardinge.

PUNCH.Come, that will do. Wharncliffe, the flaming torch of Toryism, and Hardinge the small lucifer. How Ireland will be enlightened, and how oranges will go up!

PEEL.Lord ChamberlainDuke of Beaufort.

PUNCH.Capital! The very politician for a Court carpet. Besides, he knows the etiquette of every green-room from the Pavilion to the Haymarket. He is, moreover, a member of the Garrick Club; and what, if possible, speaks more for his State abilitieshe used to drive the Brighton coach!

PEEL.Ambassador at ParisLord Lyndhurst.

PUNCH.Thats something like. How the graces of the Palais Royal will rejoice! There is a peculiar fitness in this appointment; for is not his Lordship son-in-law to old Goldsmid, whilom editor of the Anti-Galliean, and for many years an honoured and withal notorious resident of Paris! Of course BEN DISRAELI, his Lordships friend, will get a slice of secretaryshipmay be allowed to nib a state quill, if he must not use one. Well, go on.

PEEL.Thats all at present. How dye think they read?

PUNCH.Very gliblylike the summary of a Newgate Calendar. But the truth is, I think we want a little new blood in the next Cabinet.

PEEL.New blood! Explain, dear Punch.

PUNCH.Why, most of your people are, unfortunately, tried men. Hence, the people, knowing them as well as they know the contents of their own breeches pockets, may not be gulled so long as if governed by those whose tricksI mean, whose capabilitieshave not been so strongly marked. With new men we have always the benefit of hope; and with hope much swindling may be perpetrated.

PEEL.But my Cabinet contains known men.

PUNCH.Thats it; knowing them, hope is out of the question. Now, with Ministers less notorious, the Cabinet farce might last a little longer. I have put down a few names; here they are on a blank leaf of Jack Sheppard.

PEEL.A presentation copy, I perceive.

PUNCH.-Why, it isnt generally known; but all the morality, the wit, and the pathos, of that work I wrote myself.

PEEL.And I must say theyre quite worthy of you.

PUNCH.I know it; but readread Punchs Cabinet.

PEEL (reads).First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor of the Exchequerthe Wizard of the North.

PUNCH.And, wizard as he is, hell have his work to do. He, however, promises that every four-pound loaf shall henceforth go as far as eight, so that no alteration of the Corn Laws shall be necessary. He furthermore promises to plant Blackheath and Government waste grounds with sugar-cane, and to raise the penny post stamp to fourpence, in so delicate a manner that nobody shall feel the extra expense. As for the opposition, what will a man care for even the speeches of a Sibthorpwho can catch any number of bullets, any weight of lead, in his teeth? Go on.

PEEL.First Lord of the AdmiraltyT.P. Cooke.

PUNCH.Is he not the very man? Who knows more about the true interests of the navy? Who has beaten so many Frenchmen? Then think of his hornpipethe very shuffling for a minister.

PEEL.Secretary for Foreign AffairsGold dust Solomons.

PUNCH.Show me a better man. Consider the many dear relations he has abroad; and then his admirable knowledge of the rates of exchange? Think of his crucible. Why, hed melt down all the crowns of Europe into a coffee service for our gracious Queen, and turn the Popes tiara into coral bells for the little Princess! And I ask you if such feats aint the practical philosophy of all foreign policy? Go on.

PEEL.Lord Lieutenant of IrelandHenry Moreton Dyer.

PUNCH.An admirable person. As Ireland is the hotbed of all crimes, do we not want a Lord Lieutenant who shall be able to assess the true value of every indiscretion, from simple murder to compound larceny? As every Irishman may in a few months be in prison, I want a Lord Lieutenant who shall be emphatically the prisoners friend. Go on.

PEEL.Secretary for Home DepartmentGeorge Robins.

PUNCH.A man so intimately connected with the domestic affairs of the influential classes of the country. Go on.

PEEL.Lord ChancellorMr. Dunn, barrister.

PUNCH.As it appears to me, the best protector of rich heiresses and orphans. Go on.

PEEL.Secretary for the ColoniesMoney Moses.

PUNCH.A man, you will allow, with a great stake, in fact, with all he has, in one of our colonial possessions. Go on.

PEEL.President of the CouncilMrs. Fry.

PUNCH.A lady whose individual respectability may give a convenient cloak to any policy. Go on.

PEEL.Secretary for IrelandHenry Moreton Dyers footman.

PUNCH.On the venerable adage of like master like man. Go on.

PEEL.Lord ChamberlainThe boy Jones.

PUNCH.As one best knowing all the intricacies, from the Royal bed- chamber to the scullery, of Buckingham Palace. Besides he will drive a donkey-cart. Go on.

PEEL.Ambassador at ParisAlfred Bunn, or any other translator of French Operas.

PUNCH.A person who will have a continual sense of the necessities of his country at home; and therefore, by his position, be enabled to send us the earliest copies of M. Scribes printed dramas; or, in cases of exigency, the manuscripts themselves. And now, Bobby, what think you of Punchs Cabinet?

PEEL.Why, really, I did not think the country contained so much state talent.

PUNCH.Thats the narrowness of your philosophy; if you were to look with an enlarged, a thinking mind, youd soon perceive that the distance was not so great from St. Jamess to St. Gilessfrom the House of Commons to the House of Correction. Well, do you accept my list?

PEEL.Excuse me, my dear Punch, I must first try my own; when if that fails

PUNCH.Youll try mine? Thats a bargain.