Chapter XVIII: Act THREE (6)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

THE FAT OF THE LAND AND LAMBETH.

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

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

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

* * * * *

EDITORIAL CANDOUR.

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

* * * * *

THE RUSSIAN BEAR AND THE TURKEY COCK.

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

* * * * *

ALARMING ACCIDENT.

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

THE POPE'S POST OBIT.

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

* * * * *

A PROVERB AT FAULT.

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

* * * * *

VESTED RIGHT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

SOLUTION OF HAUNTED HOUSES.

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

* * * * *

* * * * *

A NEW DEPARTMENT OF FLUNKEYISM.

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

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

* * * * *

GLUT OF MONEY AT THE MUSEUM.

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

* * * * *

INFALLIBLE BUBBLES.

(_To Mr. Punch._)

"SIR,

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

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

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

"PESTLE."

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

THE AGE OF COMPLIMENTS.

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

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE ORGAN BOY'S APPEAL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

PRISON DISCIPLINARIANS.

"Who shall decide when jailors disagree?"

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

CAPTAIN FONDLEPRIG'S _Examination_.

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

_A._ I have.

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

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

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

[_The Witness fainted, and was removed._

LIEUTENANT SKINNUM'S _Examination_.

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

_A._ I have.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

THE WEAPONS OF THE SLAVE.

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

* * * * *

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

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

* * * * *

THE CROWN OF HUNGARY.

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

* * * * *

A WORD FOR THE HOTEL-KEEPERS.

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

* * * * *

A LITTLE MONEY QUESTION.

"OH, DEAR PUNCH, DEAR,

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

LE GRAND OPERA ENRHUME.

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

OBSTRUCTING THE PAVEMENT.

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

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

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

* * * * *

"THE BONES OF PAGANINI."

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

* * * * *

THAT VERY SMALL (POLITICAL) PARTY.

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

* * * * *

ARMS FOR IRELAND.

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

* * * * *

"_My dearest Brother, confide in me. You are ill?_"

"_Ill, Jemima! Broken-hearted--dying! For six months I've sought her--all my money gone in advertisements and inquiries; but she is lost to me for ever!_"

"_She?_"

"_Yes! The Woman who Starched that Collar!_"]

* * * * *

THE LANDLORDS' MEETING AT THE LONDON COFFEE HOUSE.

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

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

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

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

Resolved, unanimously--

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

SHAMEFUL INTIMIDATION OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

THEOCRACY OF RUSSIA.

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

* * * * *

"FAST" LITERATURE.

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

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

OUR BEAUTIFUL FASHIONS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

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