Chapter XXIII: Letter XLIII (3)

There now, _Punch_! Drat this nasty stupid good-for-nothing Eastern Question. I am sick and sorry of hearing it talked of, din, din, din, bother, bother, bother, every day, and all day long. Drat the Russians and Turks both, one's barbarians and the other's savages. I wouldn't give a fig for either of 'em; the Russians are just as bad as the Turks, and the Turks every bit as bad as the Russians, there isn't a pin to choose between 'em, six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. The Turks commit double and treble bigamy, and the Russians drink train oil; the Russians are beaten with the knout, and the Turks with the bastinado, and deserve to be, both alike. Oh, I know all about it, although I am only an old woman! and what's the whole to-do about but a parcel of nonsense, ambassadors niggling with their diplomatic notes, and quibbling backwards and forwards because an i wasn't dotted on one side and a t crossed on the other. Hity tity! I've no patience with 'em. Of course, if our bounden duty is to interfere, we must; but it's a great plague, and sickness in the land, and raining cats and dogs, and bread up and meat up, and how much higher they'll go goodness knows, but it will be beyond everything if there should be a war. Drat it! we can't help pestilence and famine, but it's our own doings if we add war. Not that I'm for MR. COBDEN and your 'No Soldiers' people that want to do away with the army and navy, and leave their sisters and mothers to invasion. Drat them, too--I despise such dirty drabs. But I do think it's such annoyance to be drawn in and forced to fight when you've no heart in the quarrel. What a pity it is we can't leave 'em alone and let 'em fight it out. Neither of 'em is our fellow Christians, Turks being Mahometans, and Russians Greek, which is as bad as Latin; and what I should like would be to see them left to themselves and eat each other up, like the Irish cats--poor things! Drat the ultimatums, drat the Phosphorus--which is always causing a combustion--drat the Dardanelles which I am sure they must be some forward husseys--drat the whole business, it's altogether a bad job from beginning to end, if there is to be any end, which if the scrimmage goes on I'm afraid will be the end of everything. Drat it all I say! I wish I had a good large broom, and power to sweep both your SULTAN and your EMPEROR, and all their forces into the Red Sea, or Black Sea, or any sea deep enough to drown 'em out of the way, interfering, by their nasty trumpery tiffs and tantrums, with progress and civilisation, and arts and sciences, and the Crystal Palace at Sydenham, and the comfort and happiness of everybody, to say nothing of a poor old lady like me.

"Your affectionate,

"MOTHER GOOSE."

"_The Common, October, 1853._"

* * * * *

GREAT THEATRICAL STRIKE.

It is reported that MR. CHARLES KEAN the actor has struck for an advance of salary from MR. CHARLES KEAN the manager. MR. CHARLES KEAN refuses to advance another shilling to MR. CHARLES KEAN, actor, desiring him to act his worst. It is believed that the actor has taken the manager at his word. We deplore all strikes; especially one like the above, in which the public are the greater sufferers. When bad's the best, what must the worst be?

* * * * *

THE FASHIONABLE STRIKE AMONGST THE LOWEST CLASSES.

A BRUTE of a Husband is one who fancies, when he marries, that he is at perfect liberty to treat his wife as if she were no better than a street-door, on which there was nailed the polite request: "Please to Ring and Knock."

* * * * *

BEWARE THE BEAR.--Let ABD-UL-MEDJID and NICHOLAS make it up, if possible--but not embrace. The SULTAN must not trust himself to the hug.

* * * * *

THE FINE OLD ENGLISH INNKEEPER.

AIR--_Sufficiently Obvious._

I'll sing you a new song on a theme much stirred of late,
Of a fine old English Innkeeper, grown rather out of date,
Who keeps up his establishment in almost princely state,
And don't forget to charge you there at quite a princely rate,
Like a fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.

His house, you're told, is fitted up "regardless of expense,"
Although one half is obsolete, and t'other make-pretence;
Exploded old four-posters, built in GEORGE THE SECOND'S reign,
Mock plate to serve mock-turtle in, sham ice-pails for champagne:
At this fine old English Innkeeper's, one of the olden time.

The swipes he draws is sour enough to turn a navvy pale,
Tho' by a bitter raillery he calls it bitter ale;
And tho' perhaps you don't see half a waiter all the day,
For "attendance" quite as much as for a lawyer's you must pay
To this fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.

Then if to wine your tastes incline some home-made Cape you'll get,
Served up in a decanter like a vinegar-cruet,
As a "bottle of Madeira" this will in the bill be set,
And however nasty it may be a nice sum you're in debt
To the fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.

And if your wife be with you, you must have a private room,
And use a pair of "wax-lights" (with a muttony perfume),
For which you'll pay a crown a day, and 'tis a burning shame
That whether they be lit or not they're charged for just the same
By this rare old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.

But soon these fine old Innkeepers will find their race is run,
For men are up and doing, and no longer will be done:
And shortly we may hope to see a really good hotel,
Where we may be admitted, and not taken in as well,
As we were by our old Innkeeper, one of the fleecing time.

* * * * *

THE STARVED-OUT COMMISSION OF SEWERS.

Everybody is attacking the unfortunate Commissioners of Sewers, who are said to be standing still with their hands in their pockets, and who reply that they are obliged to stand still because they have nothing in their pockets but their hands. It is true their hands seem to get very deeply into the public pocket occasionally, but however large the sum that may be extracted, the cry of the Commissioners is "We have no funds." If a neighbourhood, thirsty for a good, wholesome fall of water, applies to the Commissioners, their answer is "We can't stand a dram." Their song is always to one tune, and that is the tune of "_I've no Money_."

I've no money! so you see
Nothing can be done by me;
I own it to my sorrow;
But if I were rich, you'd see
Wonders would be done by me;
So call again to-morrow.

The fact is that the Commissioners of Sewers have such grand ideas that execution is impossible. The imagination of the Commissioners riots in such a sea of sullage, that nothing short of an arched avalanche of refuse water presents itself to the minds of the functionaries who will not stoop to anything short of an aqueduct, and consequently have souls above the making of a common useful drain. Everything must be on such a scale of grandeur, that unless London can be altogether excavated a few serviceable pipes cannot be laid down. We are quite willing to admit the difficulties of the position of the Commissioners with all the sewage of London on their hands, and some people feel naturally tempted to throw mud upon those who are in a degree responsible for getting rid of it. The Chairman, however, seems to take the affair with a sort of philosophic good nature, as if he felt himself somewhat in the position of a glass bottle or a plaster bust perched on an eminence for everybody to take a shy at him.

* * * * *

ART IN THE CITY.

Why not--if Temple Bar must be removed--why not to mark and preserve the sacred boundary of the City, bring bodily GOG and MAGOG from Guildhall to either side of Fleet Street? They would only make two ugly statues the more: and in so large and such a city, what are two?

* * * * *

A HINT FOR THE CONSUMERS OF COAL.--The most cheerful kind of fuel:--Keeping up a constant fire--of jokes.

_Van Driver._ "I DON'T KNOW NOTHUN ABOUT NO RIGHT SIDES, NOR WRONG SIDES. YOU GET OUT OF THE WAY, IF YER DON'T WANT TO BE MADE A WAFER OF!"

[_Where are the Police?_]

* * * * *

THE FALLACY OF EXTERNALS.

In the _Times'_ report of the final meeting of the Peace Conference at Edinburgh, it is remarked that

"MESSRS. COBDEN and BRIGHT were the great lions of the evening."

Apparently it is probable that they were; although some may consider them to have been figuring as lambs rather than lions: but then the lamb is not the only creature typical of passive endurance. Appearances, however, are not realities, and the reporter, in inferring the animal from the integument, made a mistake which has occurred before. MR. BRIGHT and MR. COBDEN were going about in lions' skins; but, as those who had just heard them might have perceived, they were not exactly lions.

* * * * *

THE CRY OF THE BRITISH HUSBAND.--"Do you bruise your wife yet?"

* * * * *

THE ARMS OF ENGLAND,

As Improved by the Peace Society.

Of the poor old British Lion
The sentence has gone forth,
Since BRIGHT has lifted up his heels
Against him in the North.
Then let him vail the tufted tail
He once so proudly bore,
When coarsely vain of might and mane,
He guarded England's shore.

Be the soldier brute in council mute,
Nor more sound war's alarms;
Let him yield his place to a milder race
In Britain's coat of arms.
For the lion is a dangerous beast,
And so's the unicorn;
The one has teeth and talons,
And the other hoofs and horn.

So in a crack from Britain's back
Let's tear the coat she has on,
And in its place our 'scutcheon grace
With Peace's proper blazon:
_Gules_ we'll eschew--that bloody hue!--
With drab the field arrange;
But _or_ and _argent_ we'll retain,
As sovereigns and small change.

Nor lion for supporter,
Nor unicorn shall stand,
But a spaniel _mendiant_, and a hare
_Funkant_, on either hand;
_In the first and fourth_, where erst were charged
Lions _passant guardant_ three,
There three hares _boltant_ to the world,
Shall Britain's symbol be.

_In the second_, that was _or
In double tressure counterflowered_--
Where _gules_, in times gone by,
The Scotch lion _rampant_ towered--
In honour of great COWAN,
And his Embro' fellows true,
In a tressure of Scotch thistles,
An ass _prancant_ you shall view.

_In the third_, that once showed _azure_,
The harp of Ireland, _or_--
Since we'll not stand such vanities
As music any more,
We mean to blazon, _argent_,
A ledger, _proper_, blank--
As typical of squared accounts,
And a balance at the bank.

"_Dieu et mon Droit_," we will withdraw,
The phrase is simple gammon;--
For "_Dieu_" read _L s. d._,--since who
Should be our God but MAMMON?
And as for _Droit_, you know 'tis Might,
Not Right that wins the game--
So "_L s. d. et _NON_ Droit_" shall be
The motto we'll proclaim!

* * * * *

"I WISH THE BRITISH LION WERE DEAD OUTRIGHT."--JOHN BRIGHT _at Edinburgh_.]

* * * * *

THE SARCOPHAGUS OF ART.

It is said that LORD ONSLOW has revoked the bequest that he had made of his collection of pictures by the Old Masters to the National Gallery. His reason for taking this step, we understand, is, that the report of the Select Committee on that Institution has convinced him that he had better bequeath his pictures, together with his body, to the earth, to be buried at once.

* * * * *

POLITICAL TABLE TURNING.

Table Turning, as practised by political parties, consists in turning statistical tables to account.

* * * * *

MARRIAGE IN "MEDIOCRE" LIFE.

One of our fashionable contemporaries, of which there are now three (including the _Morning Advertiser_, which "goes in" upon the aristocratic dodge), contained the other day the account of a marriage of a Reverend Baronet with a young lady, whose name is not given, but who is said to be "related to the EARL OF ROSSE." This scientific nobleman may have numerous distant relations, who, on the strength of his title and his telescope, would like to be looked upon as near relations, and therefore the bride may or may not be a very close connection of the Earl. At all events, the persons inserting the advertisement in the fashionable paper, do not seem to have felt themselves justified in heading the paragraph with the usual words, "Marriage in High Life." It was most probably a sort of middle-class matrimonial connection; though in these days it is hard to say where high life ends and mediocrity begins. The couple seem to have been "carriage people," at all events; for as the vehicle--probably a "neat fly" with post horses--approached the bridge, the assembled multitude raised such "vociferations," says the penny-a-liner, "as to make the welkin ring." We should like to see the bell attached to the Welkin, and the Welkin itself in which the phenomenon of "ringing" was produced by the shouts of the multitude.

On reaching the village the vehicle "proceeded through a triumphal arch, ornamented with a lamp." We beg leave to say that we have the honour of passing under a triumphal arch--that which bears the Wellington Statue--twice a day, and we do so without any feeling of undue vanity, notwithstanding the fact that it is also "ornamented with a lamp,"--and indeed two--for there is one on each side of it. The penny-a-liner adds that "on reaching their residence the bride and bridegroom briefly, but feelingly, returned thanks to the inhabitants." What a pity that we have not had a full report of the speeches. Where was GURNEY, the short-hand writer; where was SHERER, and what had become of MORTON?

The next time that a marriage in "mediocre" life is celebrated we trust that a staff of stenographists will be in attendance to take down the "speeches" of the bride and bridegroom, as they pass from the neat fly, gig, or clarence to the inn or hotel they may have chosen for their mellilunar abode.

* * * * *

THE TIGHT BLOCKADE.

If that old Bear in Boots, the CZAR,
Will drag old England into war,
Our fleet shall sail to Turkey's aid,
And we'll try the operation of a tight blockade.

We'll close each port along the shore
Of this confounded Bear--and Bore--
And if we can't his realm invade,
We'll shut up all his harbours with a tight blockade.

His hides and tallow we'll confine
With sundry vessels of the line;
In corn, too, we shall stop his trade.
'Twill be under the restriction of a tight blockade.

For all his troops, for all his hordes,
For all their lances and their swords,
To change his tune he may be made,
By a steady perseverance in a tight blockade.

If out of that he tried to dash--
And oh that he may be so rash!--
We'd pound him into marmalade.
What a happy termination of the tight blockade!

No matter if old NICK we drub,
Though we debar ourselves of grub,
Which might to Britain be conveyed,
But that Russian corn will lie beneath a tight blockade.

Each blow we deal at him will fall
Upon ourselves, both great and small;
But Honour's call must be obeyed,
And alas! it only can be by a tight blockade.

Would we could with the demon close;
Like DUNSTAN, seize him by the nose;
Old NICHOLAS would soon be laid,
And there wouldn't be occasion for the tight blockade.

* * * * *

A SPORTING REGIMENT.

Some Yeomanry heroes, whose head-quarters are at the "Spotted Cow," in York, have been called together by a circular, of which the following is a copy, to have a day's hunting, on Monday the 31st.

"_Spotted Cow Inn, Walmgate Bar, York, 18th October, 1853._

"SIR,--Through the kindness of our Captain (LORD VISCOUNT DOWNE), _a
day's hunt, or coursing_, at Sessay (to the members of his Troop
only), is given, which is proposed to take place on Monday, the last
day of this month. It is also proposed _to have a little drill--each
should attend with his sword and belt_. Be so kind as _say if you
can procure a dog_. An early answer is earnestly requested. Further
particulars will be gladly given, on application to me, or CORP.
SMITH.

"I am, Sir, yours, truly,

"GEO. SMITH."

It is desirable, we admit, that the yeomanry should be indulged in a day's hunting, which may practise them in the art of pursuing an enemy, who in war-time would be fair game. We are somewhat puzzled by the proposition to mix up "a little drill" with the day's sporting, unless the "dogs of war" are to hunt in couples--two abreast. We fear there will be some difficulty in blending the huntsman and the warrior; nor can we comprehend the idea of a sporting military gent running after a fox with "his sword and belt," "taking close order" at the heels of Reynard, or practising the goose-step by way of "a little drill" previous to the starting of the game. The passage in the circular which asks every trooper to "be so kind as to say" if he "can procure a dog," is suggestive of an awful assemblage of mongrels, and destructive to all our ideas of "sport."

We can fancy the canine Babel that would be the consequence if the brutes should happen to "give tongue." If everybody is "so kind as to procure a dog," there would inevitably be a regiment of dogs as well as a regiment of soldiers; there can be no objection to a vast assemblage of dogs at any given point for a given period, but when the dogs have had their day, we would ask in a spirit of much misgiving, what is to become of these dogs when the drill is at an end? We can only say that we should be sorry to eat a sausage within five miles of the place where that troop had been assembled, until at least a month after they should be disbanded, and their dogs should have disappeared.

* * * * *

PIUS PINGUIS.

That the POPE should have been ordered to play billiards to counteract obesity, is a circumstance suggestive of certain natural remarks. A person who fasts as often as the Roman Pontiff must fast, and yet gets fat, is a wonder; and perhaps the plumpness of PIUS, attained principally on red herrings, will be cited one of these days as a miraculous circumstance. FALSTAFF lost his voice "by holloaing and singing of anthems;" but in the meanwhile he gained flesh, as his Holiness appears to have also done in a similar course of exercise. Many prelates are oily enough; but the unction of the present Bishop of Rome is peculiar. The Pontifical chair has often been said to be filled, but now it is full, and no mistake. Perfidy, the Papists say, never approached the see of PETER; however that may be, it certainly will be difficult to circumvent its existing occupant, as his bulk will baffle any attempt to get round him. Many of the Holy Father's predecessors have been deep, but he is broad also.

We should have preferred rackets to billiards as a cure for the Papal corpulence, if we thought the POPE could stand the rackets, as he will have to do, whether he can or not, as soon as the state of Europe obliges LOUIS NAPOLEON to withdraw the French troops from Rome; and that will prove the most effectual proceeding for the reduction of his greatness.

* * * * *

NEWS FOR THE PEACE CONGRESS.

The Submarine and European Telegraph pulsates with these glad tidings:--

"Six new steam-vessels, after the model of the _Napoleon_, are on
the stocks, and will be launched about the end of 1854."

Our own correspondent informs us that two of these vessels--in gratitude to the peace-makers--will be called _The Bright_ and _The Cobden_.

* * * * *

JESUIT'S BARK.--This Bark is a small, black, pirate-looking craft, that has fastened itself on, by some hook or other, to PETER'S Boat.

* * * * *

Unmitigated Effrontery of MESSRS. BROWN AND SMITH.]

* * * * *

ASTONISHING AND GENEROUS EXERTION BY CATHEDRAL CLERGYMEN.

The newspapers are continually making remarks of a painful nature on the conduct of Deans and Chapters. It is pleasing to encounter an opportunity of commenting in a more affectionate spirit on the behaviour of one of those reverend fraternities. That pleasure is afforded us by the _Morning Post_--wherein, under the heading of "Divine Service for the Militia," we read that

"The necessity of providing some means by which the Militia, in a
body, could attend Divine Service on Sunday, and the difficulty of
this being secured by the ordinary church accommodation available in
Exeter, induced, we understand, the Lord Lieutenant of the county to
make an application last week to the Cathedral authorities,
suggesting that an extra service on Sunday in that spacious building
would meet the wishes of his lordship."

Now, when we consider the average scale on which Deans and Chapters are remunerated in relation to their average services, and when, our reflections guided by the Rule of Three, we inquire how much, at that rate, an extra service of such a description is worth, we find the sum considerable. A prebend's sermon is perhaps, as to its abstract merit, inestimable: a pearl beyond any price: but even its actual cost may be computed at a high figure. Such a discourse, gratuitously addressed to a regiment of soldiers, may be regarded as a donation to them of something handsome per head.

To ask a Cathedral establishment, then, for an extra service, is asking it for not a little: to perform such a service is to do a munificent action. Therefore it is highly gratifying to peruse the statement following:--

"Notwithstanding, however, the difficulties which intervened, we
believe it was the earnest desire of the authorities at the
Cathedral to meet as far as possible the urgency of the case, a
desire which was manifested by the promptitude with which they acted
on the suggestions made by the Lord Lieutenant. An extra service was
fixed, exclusively for the Militia, at half-past eight on Sunday
morning, when the whole body of officers and men assembled within
the sacred building, the choir being densely filled from the organ
screen to the altar rails, and such as could not obtain admission
being within hearing in the side aisles. Prayers were read by the
REVEREND CHANCELLOR HARINGTON, who also preached an impressive and
appropriate sermon."

Besides, it is announced that on Sunday next, and for the two Sundays following, indeed until the Militia are dismissed, the same service will be performed at the same hour. It should be added, that the only Canons in residence were the REV. CHANCELLOR HARINGTON and the VEN. ARCHDEACON MOORE STEVENS, and that the Chancellor being also Chaplain to the troops, "had, in addition to his duties at the Cathedral, to provide extra services for both barracks." The reverend gentleman who has been performing so many extra services, might almost be supposed to be called Canon of Exeter by a mistake in pronunciation; his proper title being Canon of Extra. At all events he ought not to be styled a Canon in Ordinary, for he is an Extraordinary Canon; and in making this observation, if anybody thinks that we intend a mere play upon words, he is mistaken; for what we chiefly wish is to call attention to a fact. That a prebend should occasionally preach and read prayers of a Sunday a few more times than he is obliged to do, may hereafter come to be regarded as not so very extraordinary a sacrifice of that _otium_ which is enjoyed _cum dignitate_ by the dignified Clergy. The circumstance, at least, will perhaps not be thought so extraordinary as to constitute a special case for penny-a-lining.

* * * * *

NASAL INTELLIGENCE.

One of "our own Correspondents," speaking of the EMPEROR'S late reception at Lille, remarks, as it appears to us, a rather curious phenomenon. "At about nine o'clock," he says,

"The EMPEROR and EMPRESS drove to the theatre, where there was a
most loyal reception; and, but that the wet clothes and the soaking
umbrellas gave out the odours peculiar to wet coats, the scene would
have been splendid."

How the odours of wet clothes could possibly have prevented the splendour of the scene, we confess we are rather at a loss to imagine. For ourselves, we certainly should as soon dream of hearing a sight as of smelling one. That there exists a certain connection between the visual and olfactory organs we don't pretend to dispute. In the absence of profounder proof we do remember an "eye-snuff," which they who were up to it of course took nasally. At the same time we cannot well see how the sense of seeing can be interfered with by the nose, unless indeed it be a preternaturally long one.

* * * * *

A CHAUNT FOR THE CHOUSED.

Dine? who'd dine
At eight shillings a head, or even nine,
With the heaviest price for the lightest wine?
Ah! that house I know too well,
'Tis your "first-class" Hotel:
Sad "Tales of my Landlord" there they tell.
Far better for me
To order tea,
And go dinnerless at that hostelry.

Sleep? who'd sleep
Where a standing army their quarters keep,
And in countless legions upon you creep?
Ah! whose form is that I see,--
A flea! Sirs, a flea!
He cometh to sup off me.
Far better, say I,
On the sofa to lie;
I prefer his room to his company.

Stay? who'd stay
To be bitten and fleeced in this wholesale way,
And live at the rate of a fortune a day?
Ah! who'll expose their crimes?
The _Times_, Sirs, the _Times_,
The waiter his fee declines:
Tell the landlord from me
Him further I'll see,
Ere again I'll be fleeced at his hostelry.

* * * * *

HE CAME--SMILED--AND SAID NOTHING!--Such is _Mr. Punch's_ short-hand report of the interview granted by the EARL OF CLARENDON to the Finsbury deputation on the Eastern question.

* * * * *

JAMES'S POWDER, AND HIS SQUIB.

Some of the Virginian slaveholders, true to the kind of logic which one expects from LEGREES, have made five attempts to burn down the house of the English consul, MR. G. P. R. JAMES, as a reply to some objections urged by that gentleman to negro slavery. It appears that years ago, before MR. JAMES attained that world-wide celebrity which has irrevocably placed him at the summit of English literature (we are sure he will be the last person to contradict us), he concocted a "squib" against the slave-owning system. The missile flew so silently and harmlessly through English air that nobody seems to have listened to it, but the case appears to have alighted on American ground, and to have been treasured up by the fortunate finder as evidence against the pyrotechnician and historiographer. MR. JAMES receives his appointment and goes to Virginia, the squib is produced, and excites the fierce rage of the man-stealers, who, as has been said, make five attempts to burn down the great novelist's house. Whether, being as cowardly as MRS. STOWE has taught us to regard them, the conspirators made their efforts in the night, and being scared by the noise made by the distinguished author in snuffing his candle, the click being mistaken for the cocking of a rifle, or whether, in the frantic tipsiness which, the authoress of _Uncle Tom_ tells us, accompanies their social orgies, they endeavoured to set fire to a stone wall, or to the _Life and Times of_ LOUIS XIV., or any other impracticable mass, we are not informed--perhaps cowardice and clumsiness were united, as in every other effort in defence of slavery. Anyhow, MR. JAMES'S property had, at the last advices, escaped the vengeance of those who, brutalised by slave-owning, can hardly think much of arson. Meantime, we have been anxious to see this celebrated squib, and having applied in vain to MR. JAMES'S London publishers, we have been compelled to send over to America for it. The document arrived by the United States' Mail steamship Washington, which reached Cowes on Friday night, bringing mails to the 8th, and it was instantly forwarded to us by a special train on the South Western line. We hasten to give it.

THE SLAVE-OWNERS.

_Epigram by_ G. P. R. JAMES, _Historiographer to the Queen, author of "Darnley," "De L'Orme," "The Gipsy," "The Life and Times of Louis the Fourteenth," "Tales of the Passions," &c. &c._

Surely these men must have very _black_ hearts
To treat the poor _blacks_ in this way;
Rather than suffer such _terrible_ smarts,
I wonder _they don't run away_.

G. P. R. J.

* * * * *

PLATO, GOG, AND MAGOG.

MR. JONES told the Liverymen the other day, that if PLATO were to revisit the earth to project a new Republic, he would take the theory of the Corporation of the City of London as his model. Perhaps so. He would have seen that the theory in question leads to a practical harmony exhibited in an affection of united minds, amounting to the very love of the turtle.

* * * * *

PECCADILLOS OF BEAKS.

The unpaid magistracy, so called, have been accused of licensing public-houses on an arbitrary principle, but it is tolerably certain that they do not grant any preference without a sufficient consideration. Unpaid, perhaps these gentlemen ought not to be denominated; for everybody knows that they pay themselves by the job.

* * * * *

NOT A DOUBT OF IT.--Of all the "tricks upon travellers" which are practised at our Hotels, by all accounts decidedly the most deceitful are the Bottle-tricks.

* * * * *

YACHT SIGNALS.

MR. PUNCH has merely to acknowledge a very useful little book, prettily bound, with the Union Jack (white margin) on its cover, and entitled "_Supplementary Code of Yacht Signals_." It is not of much use to him in Fleet Street, but he intends to keep it until the yachting season begins again, when he will astonish Cowes, Ryde, and "the Island" generally, with the proficiency he displays in nautical, as in all other exercises. That the Yacht Club may appreciate the value of the book, _Mr. Punch_ subjoins a page taken at random. Loungers on shore little know what is meant by the innocent-looking flags which are perpetually being run up from the _Salmagundi_, the _Olla Podrida_, the _Amontadillo_, and the other pretty vessels about which they talk so learnedly. Perhaps this extract may enlighten them:--

Subject. Number Message.
to be
Shewn.

GIRL. 1827. This, with MRS. ST. BROWN (black eyes) has L15,000.
I'd make sail if I were you, old fellow.

---- 1828. (Same, with addition). Quick, for ALGERNON JONES is
making enormous play, and telling awful falsehoods
about his Irish estates.

JEW. 1473. The, has come down. Is at the Pier Hotel. See him,
and do the best you can. I _must_ have L300 in time
for Doncaster.

---- 1474. (Same, with addition). No pictures, mind, but a little
bad wine don't matter, as I've some country bores
coming to stay with me.

WIDOW. 1163. The, won't do. FITZCLUMBER knew her in
Devonshire--estate incumbered, and a Chancery suit.

BORE. 1928. FRANK BLOKE is a dreadful. Send out word
to him that his governor wants him on shore, and
we'll go on to Cowes.

ICE. 1623. We're out of. Rough will do, if you can't get Wenham.

WIFE. 1525. Your, has got some clue to the Tuesday business. I am
inventing all sorts of things for you, but you had
better come off, and bring her a dog, or a bracelet,
or something. I think VANE has sold you.

---- 1625. My. Is in such a bad temper. Send off some French
novels.

PUNCH. 1999. New number not come, the girls are wild, and we shall
have a mutiny. Pray see about it, and telegraph to
town if necessary.

NIECE. 2348. The parson's, is first-rate. So pretty. I have
proposed, and she has taken till tiffin-time to
consider.

---- 2349. (Same, with addition). Has been asking your Aunt about
me, and has given me a flower.

---- 2350. (Same, with addition). Fly, old fellow, and find out
for me what, in the language of flowers, is meant by
double heart's ease.

---- 2351. (Same, with addition). All up. Your Aunt let out about
FANNY MONTGOMERY, and that's what double heart's ease
meant. Order supper. I shan't stay on board.

SCREWED. 3284. Was I, last night? Signal if I did anything very
absurd. WALTER bets that I offered the bishop a
cigar.

CHURCH. 3384. We are all coming to, in the morning, including
CATHERINE, _Verbum sap_. No more signals to-night.

* * * * *

SHE WILL BE A MARTYR.

A letter from France says that MISS CUNNINGHAME on receiving the order for her release from prison, positively refused to go, until she was literally turned out. The invitations of the officials to her to "come out of that," were altogether idle; and indeed it is quite evident that the lady felt how completely her pretensions to martyrdom had been cut short by her premature release. MISS CUNNINGHAME in fact proved herself a perfect "Buffalo gal" in her indisposition to "come out," until a due amount of solicitation had been addressed to her.

For our own parts, had we been the British officials employed to negotiate for her release, and she had shown a stubborn disposition to cling to her prison bars, we should have allowed her to remain, and ride as rusty as the bars themselves. We never could see what right she had to scatter Italian BUNYANS all over the boot of Italy, and put her own foot in it. We admit the severity of the punishment and the propriety of getting her out of her prison, though as a general rule it must be laid down, that those who enter a foreign country for the purpose of disturbing its harmony, must expect now and then to have to take a few bars rest.

* * * * *

A NAUTICAL QUEEN.

The QUEEN OF SPAIN has become decidedly nautical. In honour of her own birthday she has ordered three screw frigates to be built in Spanish dockyards; regretting that the screws must be constructed abroad. Surely this is unnecessary; remembering the effect of Spanish bonds, Spain has been especially eminent for her enormous screw power.

* * * * *

MARRIAGES AS WRITTEN IN THE POLICE COURT.

Considering the way in which your brute of a husband is in the habit of treating his wife, it would be as well, for the classicalities of low life, to alter the name of HYMEN into FLORA (_Floor-her_).

* * * * *

_J'moimer Ann._ "HAS THEE FOWGHTEN, BILL?"

_Bill._ "NOOAH!"

_J'moimer Ann._ "THEN GET THEE FOWGHTEN, AND COOM WUM. DADDY GOT HIS'N DONE BY FOWER O'CLOCK!"]

* * * * *

RURAL SELF-DENIAL CLUBS.

The laudable custom adopted by agricultural societies of rewarding labourers for living and rearing families upon ten shillings a week, might be carried further out. Mutual improvement associations should be established among the rustics, for the purpose of cultivating abstinence by means of emulation. Country gentlemen would formerly encourage eating-matches among the peasantry: the reverse of this gross practice should be adopted now: and clodhopper should be pitted against clodhopper to do the greatest amount of work on the smallest quantity of bread and water in a given time. The clowns should also be stimulated to compete on holidays, particularly at those of Christmas, when the weather especially affords the requisite conditions, by trying which can continue longest sitting in the cold without any fire, and which can dispense to the greatest extent with clothes and bedding. By these wholesome exercises they will be trained to contentment with the very smallest possible participation in the fruits of that earth which they cultivate, so as to leave the larger share to the gentry who subsist by their industry, to be expended in all manner of comfort, pleasure, splendour, and magnificence. Thus, as happiness is attainable in either of two ways--one consisting in the satisfaction, the other in the conquest of our desires--they would make themselves happy by the former method, and their labourers by the latter.

* * * * *

WINCHESTER SOUP.

Pantropheon!--What does SOYER mean by that?
All-Nourisher--the Guide to Getting Fat--
But in that Book of Cookery, I'll be bound,
There's one receipt, at least, that won't be found--
Debtor's _Consomme_:--Take a bit of beef,
Or mutton to make rations for a thief.
Then boil, remove the liquor from the pot,
Neat, pure, and simple--serve it cold or hot.
On such good fare doth Winchester regale
The debtor rotting in her model jail.

* * * * *

THE HUNGARIAN DIET.

Hunger, they say, is the best sauce; and this may account perhaps for the reason why hungry people are generally so impertinent.

* * * * *

SINGING-BOYS MINUS SEVENPENCE AT ST. PAUL'S.

Parson Rook! Why Rook? What has Parson to do with Rook? a child might ask, puzzled by that nursery collocation of bird and clerical gentleman. Both black? Then why not Chimney Sweep Rook?--Undertaker Rook? The explanation is too superficial to satisfy even the infant mind.

Now, when we consider that the Dean and Canons of St. Paul's have, as we are credibly informed, stopped the sevenpence a week--the penny a day--heretofore from time immemorial allowed the little chorister children for pocket-money, we are induced to pursue some interesting inquiries:--

Who took away the poor boys' stipends? Who has taken their lollipops out of their mouths? Who robbed them of their penny tarts? Who keeps cathedral stalls and ruins apple-stalls?--may be enumerated as some of those questions which we are disposed to propound.

But we also revert to the child's interrogation--why Parson Rook?--and we find we can answer it in a highly satisfactory manner.

Be it premised, that the reason assigned for this mulct of the acolytes is that by the proceeds thereof the washing of their surplices may be paid for. They are to wear fine linen, but not to fare sumptuously every day: that mode of life is reserved for the port-vinous appropriators of their cake money. Vainly has the tax been taken off soap, seeing that the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's are so ill off for it. But the article is an important one to close shavers. Therefore the choristers are docked of their allowance, and the loud-voiced anthem will blend with the secular strain, "_I've no Money_."

We now come to inquire what has happened to render the ecclesiastical corporation of St. Paul's unable any longer to stand soap. What has necessitated the demand for the sevenpences of the children to defray their surplice-washing?--whereof the ordinary cost would be fourpence by the tariff of our laundress.

This has happened: the relinquishment, on the part of that reverend society, of the twopences formerly taken at the doors of their church; which having been extorted from them by popular indignation, they now, we suppose, indemnify themselves by a sevenpenny confiscation at the expense of the little vocalists.

And thus we arrive at a perception of the connection between Parson and Rook; for these men are Parsons: and we discover that they possess an anatomical organ in common with that bird, and with other birds that consume the fruits of the earth. The existence of that organ is revealed by its symptoms of suffering. The Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, in withdrawing the sevenpences, show that the loss of the twopences STICKS IN THEIR GIZZARDS.

* * * * *

THE POPE'S GAME.

England little suspected the game that the POPE has been playing. It turns out to be billiards.

His Holiness no doubt has his cue given him by one of the astutest Members of the College of Cardinals.

His aim, no doubt, is the old traditional one--to put the globe into his pocket.

* * * * *

GOOD OLD ENGLISH PASTIME.

The Elizabethan age delighted in bear-baiting; and it seems not improbable that the reign of VICTORIA will witness a similar amusement. A formidable Russian bear has broken loose in the Danubian Principalities, and a large number of British bulldogs have been already collected to worry him, unless he speedily retreats into his den.

* * * * *

A MISTAKEN MEASURE.

A Strike is generally supposed to be another name for a Bushel. It is, however, a Sack, which certain workmen are so infatuated as to give themselves.

* * * * *

_Frederick._ "THERE, NOW, HOW VERY PROVOKING! I'VE LEFT THE PRAYER-BOOKS AT HOME!"

_Maria._ "WELL, DEAR, NEVER MIND; BUT DO TELL ME, _IS MY BONNET STRAIGHT_?"]

* * * * *

THE LOVER'S FAREWELL TO PALE ALE.

Farewell, my bright, my brisk, my Pale,
I cannot say, my Sweet,
For thou art Bitter, oh, my Ale!
With Hops--I trust--replete.

Henceforth thou art estranged from me;
And dost thou ask me why?
Thou wilt not suit my low degree,
Since thou hast got so high.

It was not wise to raise thee so,
'Tis what thou wilt not bear:
Better, hadst thou been brought more low,
And made "not Pale but Fair."

Go, travel o'er the Ocean brine,
To grace some Nabob's cup;
Thy figure will not do for mine,
So I must give thee up.

With chamomile the goblet fill,
The cold infusion pour,
I'll quaff the dose, the draught I'll swill,
And sigh for thee no more!

* * * * *

LITERATURE AT LOW WATER MARK.

A book with the odd title of "_A History of the Fountains of Europe_" has recently appeared. The subject cannot possibly be a dry one, but (without wishing to throw cold water on the author) we are bound to say that we have no particular thirst for the knowledge he undertakes to impart. We fear that amid the fountains of Europe our own Metropolitan fountains must cut as sorry a figure in history as they do in Trafalgar Square. We feel some curiosity to know what an author can possibly say about the Charing Cross fountain, and whether he is satisfied with merely a glance at it--which is the case with every one who sees it--or whether he traces its biography from the cistern to the slop-basin, the cradle to the grave. The historian of the Fountains of Europe prefaces his work with an essay on raising the water, but we are inclined to think he would have a far more numerous body of readers if he could offer a few hints on the possibility of raising the wind.

* * * * *

SHAVING BY MACHINERY.

We have tried every kind of shave at every variety of price, from the shilling operation of the West End to that most frightful of tortures, "an easy shave for a halfpenny," in the New Cut, Lambeth. We have been shaved by a drunkard, under whose "effacing fingers" we have felt our beard bristling up with fear, "like quills upon the fretful porcupine," and we have been shaved by an aged individual with the palsy, who has made sudden darts at us with the razor, and ultimately triumphed over the difficulties that stared him in the face--that is to say, in our own face--with a "bloodless victory." We have been shaved by a woman in Scotland; by an apprentice in Shoreditch; by a sailor on board ship in a storm; by ourselves in the dark; by a schoolfellow, for fun; and by young beginners, for practice. In fact, we have shown a sort of reckless audacity in getting rid of our beard, that would have justified our enemies in saying that we have evinced a wondrous amount of bold-faced effrontery. But, notwithstanding all these perils which flesh is heir to, in having the hair removed from the flesh, we should be afraid to patronise, or give our countenance to, a certain new invention which is described in the following newspaper paragraph:--

"SHAVING BY MACHINERY.--MR. WILLIAM JOHNSON, of North Shields,
Joiner, has invented a shaving machine. This machine is of singular
construction, and contains every qualification necessary for the
process. In appearance it is not unlike an old-fashioned arm-chair.
But the most unique feature in the whole affair is the arrangement
of the razor blades, which are fixed longitudinally on cylinders,
from three to six inches in length, four on each cylinder, at an
angle of 60 degrees, with fine camel-hair brushes between; for you
are lathered and shaved at one and the same time, the lather being
slipped from the interior of the cylinders, which are hollow. The
machine is put in motion by the weight of the patient, the seat
gradually giving way beneath, and sinking with him until he reaches
the ground, when the operation is completed. The seat, rising
immediately it is released from his weight, is ready to commence
again without any preparation. A musical-box, of MR. JOHNSON'S
construction, and capable of performing a great variety of airs, is
appended to the machine, and can be attached or detached according
to the pleasure of the person undergoing the operation, so that you
may be shaved to any tune you please! Experiments (says the
_Gateshead Observer_) have been tried and found
satisfactory."--_Durham Advertiser._

We must confess, that, however ingenious this machine may be, we should feel very much in the same situation as the gentleman who was deposited in the barrel of spikes before we took our seat amidst the cylinders, with our face among a lot of razors, "four on each cylinder." As the cylinders are "fixed," there can be no allowance for an extra amount of cheek, an exuberance of lip, or protuberance of nose; but when the "patient"--as he is very properly called--is once in for the operation, he must take his chance as to the relative position of his features and the fixed razors, nor must he think of being "nice to a shaving." When the "patient" takes his seat off goes the machine, set in motion by his weight, and stoppage seems to be out of the question until "he reaches the ground, when the operation is completed." No wonder that the patient should sink under an operation of such very alarming gravity, by the law of which he comes to the floor with a degree of force commensurate to the weight of his own body. The seat, having released itself from its burden by shooting the "patient" on to the floor, is ready for another victim.

We should hardly like to be operated upon by a single razor with our chair trembling beneath us; but to find ourselves amidst a "forest of blades"--four on each cylinder--with our seat giving way under us, would be a position so frightful that it is one we hardly venture to contemplate.

A shabby attempt appears to have been made to gloss over the more alarming features of this infernal shaving machine, or guillotine, by setting it to music. We hope the airs played by the box spoken of are appropriate; and we should suggest the March in _Blue Beard_ as peculiarly fitted to a machine reminding one of beards and blood, of soap and scimitars.

* * * * *

NOT CHEAP, BUT EXTREMELY NASTY.

Considering the tremendous sums we pay every year for drainage of the metropolis, we must say that it is a luxury for the enjoyment of which we have, in every sense, but smelling most especially, to pay largely through the nose.

* * * * *

MEMORIAL TO BELLOT.

One noble heart the more hath Ocean stilled,
A heart that throbbed with brave humanity
And generous fortitude, which nothing chilled
But the grim water of the frozen sea:
Down to the deep, in doing well, went he.

No son of England--yet shall that be said,
Such kindred with the Hero as we claim?--
For we all mourn a Brother in the Dead,
Although from France he drew his birth and name;
Honour to France, increased by BELLOT'S fame.

Shall that fame have no other monument
Than pile of toppling ice-crags for a tomb,
A frostwork chantry, where, through cleft and rent,
The north wind sings his dirge, and sunless gloom
The Northern Lights are cressets to illume?

He died for England--so did one who might
Like him have perished, yet not so have died;
And when his spirit wakened into light,
NELSON, perhaps, was first that welcome cried,
Remembering what like fate his youth defied.

But had the floe ingulfed that fearless boy
Chasing the sea-bear on its faithless track;
Our more than HECTOR--for he saved our Troy--
It then had been our heavy doom to lack:
And Valour, unrenowned, had gone to wrack.

Not so with him in glorious fight who fell,
For fellow-man, with elemental foes.
They for their native land who die, die well;
But better yet, more notably than those,
Died he who sank amid the Arctic snows.

His country was his kind--in noblest strife,
Whose victors only suffer--did he fall;
Thus did this gallant Tar lay down his life:
Rest his brave soul with such good sailors all,
Beneath the flag of their HIGH ADMIRAL!

* * * * *

THE WAY OF TEMPERANCE.

"Education" (says the _Times_) "is the half-way house to Temperance." But, judging from the ignorant way in which many of our rabid advocates of Teetotalism act and talk, we should say it was a house that very few of them ever stopped at.

* * * * *

CENTRALIZATION.--The Commissioners of Sewers are decidedly in favour of this plan, for their drains are so admirably managed that every man's nose, merely by passing one, is immediately made the (s)_centre_ of it.

* * * * *

THE CLAIMS OF SCOTLAND.

_To_ HER MAIST GRACIOUS MAJESTY VICTORIA, _by descent frae the_ STUARTS, _o' North Britain, England and Ireland_, QUEEN, _Defender of the Presbyterian Faith, &c._

_The Humble Petition o' the Undersigned, Inhabitants o' the Principal Part o'_ HER MAJESTY'S _Dominions ca'd Scotland_.

HUMBLY SHEWETH,

That your Petitioners, leal subjecks o' Your MAJESTY, are muckle and sairly fasht and vexed wi' unco' grievances, o' whilk the maist considerable an' intolerable is the degradation, an' dislocation, an' deposition o' the Scottish Lion.

That forbye the wrang, an' scaith, an' indignity dune to the Scottish Lion, an' the ither indignities, an' scaiths, an' wrangs, whilk Your MAJESTY'S Petitioners hae set forth, an' enumerated, an' recited to Your MAJESTY'S Ministers, there are a wheen mair whilk they wad, wi' a' humility, skirl intill Your MAJESTY'S lug.

That, _imprimis_, an' in the first place, the mither tongue o' Great Britain, Your MAJESTY'S mither tongue, is erroneously, an' mistakenly, an' vernacularly, an' vulgarly misca'd the QUEEN'S English; whereas the English tongue is just a brogue, an' a corruption, an' a _patois_, an' a dialeck o' the Scotch. And, as Your MAJESTY kens, the hail biggin o' Your MAJESTY'S language was the wark o' LINDLEY MURRAY, o' wham the varra name, ilka gowk can tell, belangs to Scotland.

Your Petitioners, therefore, beseech Your MAJESTY that the language o' Scotland, an' the provinces thereuntill united under the sceptre o' Your MAJESTY, whilk has heretofore been, as aforesaid, misca'd Your MAJESTY'S English, may henceforth be rightly, an' truly, an' correckly denominate the QUEEN'S Scotch. An' furthermair, that Your MAJESTY will be graciously pleased to direck that the orthography an' etymology o' a' Britain be just adapted, an' accommodated, an' reconciled to Scottish institutions an' laws o' grammar; whilk dunna convene wi' thae o' England, let alane just Suntax an' Prosody.

Your MAJESTY'S Petitioners do also pray that Your MAIST GRACIOUS MAJESTY will be graciously pleased to command, an' decree, an' ordain that the term Anglo-Saxon race shall nae langer be applied to the population o' these Islands, mair especially not to emigrants from Great Britain to ither kintras, the maist o' wham are Scotch, that gang awa' and dinna come bock again. And that Your MAJESTY will, by virtue o' your Royal prerogative, settle and determine that the tribe an' race, until the noo entitled Anglo-Saxon, shall from this time forth be specified an' distinguished by the title o' Scoto-Saxon instead.

Likewise your Petitioners do entreat Your MAJESTY that the communications o' Your MAJESTY'S douce and honest liege subjecks shall nae mair be denoted by the appellation o' Plain English, but shall, wi' fit an' due regard to justice an' propriety o' diction, be designated as Braid Scotch.

Your Petitioners lastly humbly request Your MAJESTY that, gin Your MAJESTY shall be mindit to hae a decimal coinage, ye wad be sae gude as to order an' provide that there shall be ane braw bright glitterm bit chinkie amang the coppers to be ca'd a bawbee.