Chapter XXVI: Letter XLIII (6)

His face is strictly all cheek: forehead and nose one grand roundabout curve; the eyes large, open, round, and expressive as a cannon's mouth; cannon that can quell an insurrection, or slaughter innocence; the mouth curved and significant as a scimitar; teeth large and prominent as chevaux-de-frise; the face altogether a national death-warrant. The mouth, like scimitar steel, sometimes glistens--the eyes never.

* * * * *

MUTUAL WRONGS.

"We have no Windsor"--says, very mournfully, the EARL OF EGLINGTON--"no Buckingham Palace, no St. James's, no Kensington, no Hampton Court."

_Mr. Punch_ begs to mingle his tears with the tears of the noble Earl, _Mr. Punch_ the while lamenting as an Englishman that--"We have no cockaleekie--no haggis--no singed sheep's-head--no bagpipes!"

* * * * *

GRUMBLING FOR FARMERS.

The late fine weather has enabled us to get the wheat into the ground, which the previous rains threatened to prevent. Agricultural prospects thus present a hopeful appearance; but then, by reason of the extent of land sown, a great many fields must be in a state of seediness.

* * * * *

LADIES' MOUTHS.--An old beau says: "A Lady's mouth never looks so beautiful as when she is pronouncing the word 'Yes.'"

* * * * *

THE LAST PROCLAMATION.

We, NICHOLAS THE FIRST, Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias, and King of all Good Fellows, proclaim:

That we have been insulted by the Turk, whose stony heart we have--on the bended knees of our Christian spirit--supplicated, but to no purpose.

We have, as becomes a Christian autocrat, submitted to have our dearly-beloved Ambassador, PRINCE MENSCHIKOFF, publicly bastinadoed in the streets of Constantinople.

We have allowed OMAR PACHA to pull the nose of our dearly-beloved General, PRINCE GORTSCHAKOFF.

We have--by a meekness and endurance unparalleled in the House of ROMANOFF--begged, suffered, entreated, wept, rolled ourselves in the dust, to appease and mollify the cannibal spirit of the Turk.

But all in vain. He is stiff-necked, and not to be turned. We, therefore, propose to march with our sacred soldiers to Constantinople, and there and then--(Grace having been duly said by the Patriarch of our Holy Church)--to eat the accursed SULTAN ABDUL-MEDJID alive, and WITHOUT SALT!

[_Here follows a pious invocation for a blessing on the Imperial
intention._]

* * * * *

CHEAP LIGHTNING-POSTAGE.

The formation of a New General Electric Telegraph Company is contemplated by _Mr. Punch_.

To supersede and cut out all existing Electric Telegraph Companies will be the object of the New General Electric Telegraph Company, of which _Mr. Punch_ meditates the establishment.

Nothing can be clearer to the reflecting mind than that a shock of electricity is, of itself, one of the cheapest commodities that can be produced.

Nothing is more notorious than the fact that an electric shock, imparted to the wire of an Electric Telegraph, is about as dear an article as any in the market.

The extent of the circuit traversed by a shock of electricity does not add to its cost. The messenger incurs no travelling expenses.

Yet nine shillings is the sum which "A Poor Man in Trouble," who wished to inquire respecting a sick relative, complains to the _Times_ that he was asked to pay for the simple message "Is he better?" with answer, to be transmitted from a station 46 miles from town to the neighbourhood of Belgrave Road, Pimlico.

If there is any one speculation peculiarly calculated to pay on the principle of large sales at low prices, it is manifestly an Electric Telegraph.

In preference, therefore, to any Austrian or Spanish loan, in which enterprising parties may be disposed to risk their capital, _Mr. Punch_ invites them to join him with their two or three millions in his proposed New Electric Telegraph Company; unless the present Companies, awakened by the fear of competition with _Punch & Co._, should reduce their prices immediately.

* * * * *

JUSTICE FOR LONDON.

One of the features in the LORD MAYOR'S Show of the other day was a figure of "JUSTICE, in a Car drawn by Six Horses." Singularly enough, the six horses showed a disposition to pull different ways, and the leaders on each side were as obstinate in trying to upset JUSTICE as a couple of Old Bailey barristers. It was rather a bold measure to introduce Justice officially into any part of the proceedings on LORD MAYOR'S Day, for if the goddess were present among the Corporation in reality rather than in effigy, the probability is, that there would be no procession on LORD MAYOR'S Day, in consequence of there being no LORD MAYOR, as a natural result of there being no Aldermen from whom to select the potentate.

It might have been remarked the other day, that the civic idea of Justice differs from all the ordinary notions of the character, for the JUSTICE of the Corporation of London as seen in the procession, instead of being blindfold, wore a bandage over the forehead in such a way as not to interfere with her sight, or prevent her from having both her eyes open to her own interest. Her scales were rather gigantic, but she did not carry them in her hand, and they seemed to be emblematical of nothing but the balance she keeps hung up, as it were, without being accounted for. Poor JUSTICE seemed to be frightfully shaken by the treatment she experienced in the City; and, after the fatigues of the day were at an end, was heard to say that she had not a leg to stand upon. If a representation of Justice for the City had really been needed for the LORD MAYOR'S Show, how much better it would have been to have mounted the Corporation Commissioners on the Car, and have displayed them to the world as the real emblems of that Justice which the City is likely to experience, when the present disclosures of civic corruption have produced their legitimate consequence.

* * * * *

SEVERE TEST OF TABLE-MOVING.

Of all Tables we should think the Tables of figures in BRADSHAW'S _Guide_ would be the most difficult to move--for we only know from our own painful experience that, whenever we wish to find out a particular spot, we never can get the Tables to move in the direction we want to go to!

* * * * *

GIOVENETTI CHE FATT'.--A simple-minded Correspondent asks us the meaning of an Alderman who has not passed the chair, and is desirous of knowing whether the Alderman so situated has been unable to get past the chair by reason of his obesity.

* * * * *

THE AGRICULTURAL INQUISITION.

Here's Government again at we wi' moor new fangled whims and fancies,
A callin' on us vor to gie a statement of our circumstances;
Now, zince we've got to undergoo this delicate investigation,
O' coorse, my friends, our best we'll do to furnish every information.

We be to zay what land we got--how many acres under tillage--
They seeks to find that out for what?--not surely with intent to
pillage.
They wants the number of our stock, which if we wonders why they axes,
At any rate we knows full well it can't be to lay on moor taxes.

We'm to put down in black-on-white, our cows, and pigs, and ship, and
hosses;
Which them as don't know how to write I s'pose must do by means o'
crosses:
Our wheat, our barley, wuts, and rye, our beans, our hay, and straw
moreover,
Our mangold-wurzel, turmuts, ay, and taters, sainfoin, too, and
clover.

P'raps we shall likewise ha' to state the number of our ploughs and
harrows,
Wheel carriages, both small and great, from carts and waggons down to
barrows,
Machines that to the farm belongs, our clod crushers and scarifiers,
And all our forks, and rakes, and prongs, according as the case
requires.

Our poultry booked they may expect--returns o' turkeys and gallanies,
Along o' lists made out correct o' Bantams, Dorkins, Cochin Chaneys,
And geese and ducks, and pigeons; nay, may be they'll want, a
inventory,
Including all the eggs they lay; a pretty joke and likely story!

How 'twas the project fust arose of sneakin in behind the curtain,
By gettin of us to expose our secrets, I consider certain;
'Tis Popery in the Government that wishes for to get possession
Of our affairs; for which intent they tries to bring us to confession.

We very soon shall find, I fear, the country in a sad condition,
'Tis the beginning, all this here, I take it, of the Inquisition,
You'll shortly see the fagots blaze, unless you stand resolved and
steady;
There's the New Forest, anyways, directed to be cut already.

* * * * *

THE AUSTRALIAN ROUTE.--This route, since the discovery of gold, must be the Root of Evil.

* * * * *

* * * * *

FLUSHING A SEWER.--A CITIZEN'S DREAM.

I snored in slumber comatose,
Soaked, stuffed, and gorged too full by far;
Across my red and bulbous nose
QUEEN MAB then drove her tiny car;
Whereon I clambered precipices,
And tumbled headlong down abysses,
And roamed among strange edifices,
Till I at last saw Temple Bar.

Yes; there was Temple Bar, no doubt,
Of that I felt completely sure;
Yet there was something strange about
The gateway--mystic and obscure--
A character and meaning double;
And from foul puddles, signs of trouble,
Whilst gas around began to bubble,
It formed the mouth of some great sewer.

Then, in the visions of the night,
Behold a Broom the kennel brushed,
And a Voice cried, "'Twill be all right
Ere long!" and then the Voice was hushed;
And then I heard a sullen mutter,
A sort of grumbling in the gutter;
And after that, the same Voice utter
These words: "THE SEWER MUST BE FLUSHED."

When, lo! a noise of dismal cries,
Grunts, groans, and squeaks of wild despair,
The anguish of a thousand sties,
With frightful discord rent the air;
And straightway, in the dreamy juggle,
Approaching waters seemed to struggle,
Gurgle, and dash, and splash, and guggle,
And through the portal burst and tear!

Ah! what a cataract of slush
And monstrous mud was there to see.
Like noisome soup appeared to gush
The sizy torrent, now set free;
And in the mess lurched figures bloated,
With fat heads, whose dull eyes still gloated
On morsels that around them floated
Of callipash and callipee.

The Sword, the Cap, the Mace, the Chain,
Regalia of the Civic Crown,
Disgorged by that enormous drain,
Tangled and hitched with robe and gown,
With acts, and deeds, and charter-scrolls
Of fees and metage, dues and tolls
On corn, fruit, oysters, salt, and coals,
Came rolling, rumbling, tumbling down.

Pie Poudre, Leet and Baron Court,
With Swanhoppers no more to hop.
Those dark and dirty billows' sport,
Together hurled, went squash, and flop:
And one who stemmed, till Hope's last glimmer,
The slab surge that did round him simmer,
The Water Bailiff--sturdy swimmer;
He too was swamped amid the slop.

With sirloins, haunches, all these things
Were mashed; with jelly, ice, and cream,
Chantilly biscuits, legs and wings
Of game and poultry, and the stream
Bore salmon, turbot, hash, and curry,
Goblet and flagon, hurry-skurry,
My brain was bursting with the worry--
And then I started from my dream!

* * *

* * * * *

THE RESULTS OF STRIKING.--It is as strange as it is lamentable that strikes should so commonly end in broken heads, since the moment the men have once struck there is a stoppage of the mill.

* * * * *

NOT FAR OUT.--A cynical old Cockney of our acquaintance says he considers the moustache movement to be only a new way the young fellows have got into of giving themselves 'airs.

* * * * *

KING LEOPOLD REPORTS PROGRESS.

The KING OF THE BELGIANS opened his Chambers last week, and it is to be regretted that KING LEOPOLD'S excellent speech has been so incorrectly translated by the London newspapers. No wonder that LORD CLARENDON complains of the inadequate way in which the journalists render his despatches. An English dramatic author, hurried in his rapine, could hardly have adapted a French speech more clumsily than it has been done for our papers. We subjoin a literal translation:

"GENTLEMEN,

"I am charmed to meet you again. When we separated, you were so kind as to express your entire satisfaction with the marriage I told you I had then in view for my son, the DUKE OF BRABANT. I need not inform you that the match has since come off, because I do not suppose you will easily forget the portentous (_effroyable_) disturbance we made about it. But you will be happy to hear that I have taken Mary HENRIETTA OF AUSTRIA and her husband over to England, and that our charming friend and relative QUEEN VICTORIA was quite pleased with the bride, and considers BRABANT a fortunate young fellow.

"It is, I hope, unnecessary for me to say that it was not merely, or chiefly, to introduce a young wife to a young matron that I endured the perilous voyage from Ostend to Portsmouth. You will do your King more justice.

"Allied with the House of Austria, I found in that marriage the strongest reason why my voice should be heard in England at a conjuncture (_crise_) when Austria needed an advocate there. But this is not all. You know how long and how sedulously I have laboured to get the EMPEROR NICHOLAS to accredit an ambassador from Russia to Belgium. His Majesty has, for years, disdained my request with Northern haughtiness (_fierte_), but, either for reasons of mine or his own, he has at last accorded the favour. Since that boon, it is well known to you that Russia has had only to ask and to have in Belgium. I was therefore doubly bound to undertake my English mission, charged as I was with the interests of Austria and of Russia.

"That the Prince Consort of England and myself retired into the shooting field together--for the Sovereign of England has a certain straightforwardness (_droiture_) which makes it difficult to urge diplomatic considerations in her hearing--you may have learned. If I alluded to the danger which might accrue to Saxe Gotha in the event of Russia, Austria, and Prussia not regarding its princes as their friends, I am sure the august sportsman to whom I addressed such a speculation will not have listened to me in vain. The friends of MARY HENRIETTA and of our newly-arrived ambassador have no reason to be dissatisfied with the effect I produced.

"I may therefore felicitate you, Gentlemen, and myself, on the perfect concord which exists between Russia, Austria, Saxe Gotha, and Belgium, and I am glad to add that the aged and accomplished prime minister of England, the good ABERDEEN, fully concurs in the sentiments of those four powers.

"Details of your own finance and other topics affecting yourselves will be supplied by my Ministers, but I could not refrain from personally informing you of the quadruple alliance which I, and our charming MARY HENRIETTA, have done so much to cement, and which I trust you will remember should we ask for any little addition to the estimates.

"That the blessing of, &c."

* * * * *

THE "GOD OF RUSSIA."

NICHOLAS is the acknowledged deity of the Muscovites. A god standing six feet four in his sacred stockings. The manner in which he recruits his army to carry on his Holy Wars is very celestial. Sometimes he causes his angelic Cossacks to surround a boys' school and carry off the scholars, promoting them from the birch to the knout. In one particular case two boys, one 12 and the other 14, were carried away, their old grandmother of 85 raising her hands, doubtless in prayer for the God of Russia. Who can doubt the Christianity of an Emperor, who is at once the heart and soul of such a system? Poor fellow! In his last proclamation he says "He has been goaded into war by the PORTE." Goaded is the word. Only think of the nasty red-wattled turkey gobbling at and goading a poor, harmless, innocent bear! We shall next have the Christian dove pecking out the eyes of the twin-headed eagle.

* * * * *

THE INNKEEPER RHYMER.

Now that every British Innkeeper clearly holds himself privileged to take as many people in continually as his house will hold, it has become a question of quite national importance how most effectually to check their chousing. In our position of Adviser-General to the Nation, we have of course been nationally consulted in the matter, and we therefore feel called upon to give our readers--we mean of course the nation--our opinion on the subject.

It being generally admitted, by everybody but themselves, that the present system of our Innkeepers has become, like a baby, quite a crying nuisance, we think it may most properly be dealt with in the cradle: and we would therefore have our rising generation early prepared for the fleecing that awaits them. We are sure that by judicious treatment a wholesome horror of hotels might be easily impressed upon the infant mind. We would have the landlord take the place of the infantine "Old Bogy," and figure in our fairytales as the terrible old Ogre, who lives upon the unsuspecting travellers who come to him: while in all the juvenile editions of our Natural History he might be represented as a species, only known in England, of the _Ornithorynchus_, or _Beast with a Bill_. Instead of the deeds of mythic "Forty Thieves," our nursemaids should recount the rogueries of an inn; and, instead of threatening a "dark room" by way of penal settlement for the fractious, they in future might condemn them to a "private" one at an hotel, lit with nominal wax candles at half-a-crown an inch. "_Reform your Landlord's Bills_" should be, of course, an early round-hand copy, and the first thing in the spelling-book a spell against extortion. In short, no means should be spared to represent an hotel as a sort of inhumane mantrap, which it is impossible to get out of without considerable bleeding.

The same wholesome warning might be given through the medium of those senseless lyrics which are known to us, collectively, as our Nursery Rhymes. We have long had a contempt for these unmeaning _Humpty-Dumptys_, and have long considered them a national disgrace. They were an insult to our cradlehood, and are still continually an annoyance to our maturer ears. The proverbial wisdom of our ancestors is but little shown, we think, in having handed them down to us. It is humiliating to think that in this era of enlightenment, this present March--or, we should rather say, November--of Intellect, such nonsense can be tolerated. Any well-regulated baby must, we are persuaded, feel itself disgraced by it.

In the position we hold as national benefactors, we have long been anxious to reform these truly "nonsense verses," and we are resolved that when our stereotyped "want of space" no longer afflicts us, we will "seriously incline" our pen to an attempt at their amendment. Meanwhile, upon a subject so suggestive as the present, we can't resist throwing a little reason in the rhymes; and we feel we shall be doing the infant state some service by printing, as a specimen, our _Innkeeper Rhymer_.

AIR.--"_Hushaby Baby._"

Chouse away, innkeeper, while you've the chance,
For you'll very soon drive all the tourists to France:
A crown for a breakfast--eight shillings for lunch--
Pay him his bill, and expose him in _Punch_.

AIR.--"_Ride a Cock-horse._"

Dine at the Cross off steak tough as horse,
And charged at the rate of a crown for a course;
With bills ever high, and bows ever low,
You shall have chousing wherever you go.

AIR.--"_Sing a Song of Sixpence._"

Sing a song of fleecing:
A pocket full of gold
In four-and-twenty hours
Will be quite cleaned out, I'm told.
Would you stay a fortnight,
A fortune you must bring,
For while they serve you like a Commoner,
They charge you like a King.

Two shillings for a cup of tea,
And sixpence more for "honey;"
And however light your dinner be,
A heavy sum of money.
Half-a-crown for wax-lights,
Tallowy in smell:
So wherever you're admitted,
You are taken in as well.

* * * * *

FOLLOWING THE FASHION.--The French start the Fashions, and the English follow them.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE ALBERT STATUE MOVEMENT.

A meeting of the principal metropolitan Statues took place yesterday morning at Exeter Hall. Time was when such an assemblage would have been looked upon as rather an extraordinary event; but recent manifestations have prepared the public mind for the phenomena of statue moving and statue talking: and this convention of sculptures created more interest than astonishment. The object of its attendants was to take into consideration the proposal for the increase of their number by the addition thereto of a monument to His Royal Highness PRINCE ALBERT.

The STATUE OF FERGUS MAC IVOR--from the shop-front of MR. SANDERSON, tobacconist--having been voted into the chair, stated the purpose of the gathering. Of course the costume of the PRINCE'S statue would be determined with reference to the associations of Balmoral; and he should hail the introduction of the illustrious new member to the clan. The only question was, where to place the Statue? For his part he should have much pleasure in affording it a site by vacating his own post at the door, and retiring into the shop.

The STATUE OF GEORGE THE THIRD would willingly resign to the new comer a position which was painfully conspicuous, and withdraw into an obscurity where a pigtail would cease to attract perpetual derision.

The STATUE OF GEORGE THE FOURTH, equally with the effigy of his Royal Parent, would be glad to abdicate in favour of the Statue of the PRINCE CONSORT. He was nervously sensible of constituting, together with his quadruped, something very unlike one of the Elgin Marbles. It would delight him to dismount, and let the PRINCE get up instead.

KING CHARLES THE FIRST'S STATUE at Charing Cross said, perhaps the taste of the Committee would determine that His ROYAL HIGHNESS should get up behind.

The DUKE OF YORK'S STATUE felt that there were peculiar reasons why, if any site were relinquished in favour of the intended testimonial, it should be his own. The country owed something, anyhow, to PRINCE ALBERT; but whatever PRINCE ALBERT owed the country, he paid his debts, and his representative would not be exposed to continual banter on that score.

The STATUE of the GREAT DUKE, from BURTON'S Arch, said that he had the honour to represent FIELD-MARSHAL THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. FIELD-MARSHAL THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON had been awarded by the country a Statue during his life. The same tribute was about to be paid to FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE ALBERT. The Statue of FIELD-MARSHAL THE DUKE had nothing to say to any estimate the country might think fit to form of the comparative necessity for a Statue of FIELD-MARSHAL THE PRINCE. But that point being settled, the proper place for the Statue would be parallel to his (the Statue of the DUKE'S) own. His own was the top of the arch on one side of the road, and PRINCE ALBERT'S might be that of the gateway on the other.

NELSON'S STATUE considered that the suggestion of the Statue of the Noble DUKE was founded on the notion that the monument to PRINCE ALBERT was intended to commemorate the Great Exhibition. In that case the gateway at Hyde Park Corner certainly would be the fittest place for it; near enough to the scene of the triumph, and alongside of the memorial to the Hero of Waterloo. But, to speak straightforwardly, the fact was, that the scheme of a Statue to the PRINCE was a device of the Corporation of London to ingratiate themselves at Court. The Statue was meant to be a propitiatory concern--to conciliate the protection of Royalty for the City--and the proper situation for it would be over Temple Bar, to serve as a Palladium to that edifice and the interests therewith connected.

GOG and MAGOG, rising together, loudly expressed their approbation of this view; the adoption of which would tend to secure themselves in their own places, which they wished to retain as long as they were able, like all others holding comfortable situations in Guildhall.

A motion embodying the concurrence of the meeting in the opinion that the Statue of PRINCE ALBERT should surmount Temple Bar was then put and carried unanimously, when, after the usual vote of thanks, the meeting broke up, and the molten and graven images departed to their respective sites.

* * * * *

SHERIFFS' OFFICERS SUPERSEDED.

We hear that an ingenious mechanic at Ipswich has invented a machine to perform perpetual motion, which is described as "self-acting after being put in motion by a screw." So is a bailiff who acts on a usurer's writ. We wonder if the Ipswich automaton would arrest an insolvent?

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.--"Between you, me, and the Post."

* * * * *

CLOWNS OF THE NEW SCHOOL.

Somebody said that it takes a wise man to make a fool. This stands to reason, like the parallel proposition, that it takes a man to make a beast of himself; for if anybody is rendered either beast or fool by his own act, he cannot have been either the one or the other previously. But, running counter to the proverb, fools now endeavour to make wise men, and the Clown on the stage combines the teacher with the tumbler; is didactic and funny; intermingles philosophy with antics, and moralizes and makes faces by turns. The play-going public may perhaps admire this conjunction of light and shade with motley; if so, its taste will be catered for by enterprising managers. In the preparation of the Pantomimes for Christmas, the Clowns should be got to rehearse their parts carefully, with a view to the correct delivery of those discourses which will constitute the serious portion of their business. When the Clown throws off his great head, and his regal vestments, or doublet and trunk hose, and rushes to the foot-lights, he utters an exclamation and propounds an interrogatory. Tradition requires thus much; but Fashion will demand more. He will have to expand and amplify the old forms of words whose brevity has hitherto been sufficiently instructive as well as amusing, so as to elucidate the fulness of their significance. For example:--Having been transformed from Emperor to Zany, MR. MERRYMAN, at the tap of the Fairy's wand, jumps out of his robes, and appears in his diversified and proper colours. He turns his toes in, and runs up to one of the stage boxes. He there stoops forwards, resting his hands on his knees, grins, squints, rolls his eyes, thrusts his tongue out, and pulling himself by the ears, draws it back again. He then composes his flake-white and vermilion countenance, and utters the following soliloquy:--

"On this spot of earth, at this moment of time, between the past and
the future, that is to say, HERE, an aggregation of human entities,
animal creatures endowed with reason and conscience, a multitude of
Objects that constitute You in relation to the One Individual
Subject, Myself: in a word, WE, exist in a state of conscious Being,
of self-cognisant perceptivity and ratiocinativity; in short, ARE!

"In what condition, mental or bodily, of suffering or enjoyment, of
weal or woe, of riches or poverty, of health or disease, of
seriousness or levity, of gravity or mirth, of appetite or satiety,
of wakefulness or somnolence, more briefly, How, in respect to the
state of conscious being, self-cognisant perceptivity and
ratiocinativity, exist, or ARE, that multitude of Objects which in
relation to my Individual Selfhood, constitute YOU?

"To condense my meaning into the fewest words by which it is capable
of being confined, I would remark that,

"Here We Are!

"And to that momentous observation, allow me to add the profound
inquiry,

"How Are You?"

So saying, the Clown flings a summerset, and proceeds to pick pockets, swallow sausages, and burn himself with the hot poker, varying these practical pleasantries with dissertations on morals and metaphysics.

* * * * *

THE POST OFFICE LONDON DIRECTORY FOR 1854.

We have perused this volume with considerable pleasure. We observe that it contains two thousand four hundred and ten pages, most of them comprising three columns of closely printed matter, and but that we found it impossible to take the book up, we have no doubt we should have found it equally impossible to lay it down. As a literary composition it is really remarkable, for the tone which the author takes up at the beginning is preserved to the very end, and the same unflaggingness, if we may be permitted the word, which on page 1 introduces us, with a PALMERSTONIAN jauntiness, to MR. ABBOTT'S coffee-house in the Whitechapel Road, conducts us, with a GLADSTONIAN tenacity of purpose, to MR. WILLIAM YOUNG, the accidental secretary of deaths, on page 2288. But do not let us be misunderstood. There is no monotony of treatment. We are successively presented with a series of _tableaux_, or rather tables, of life, of a perpetually varying character. We first find "our warmest welcome at an inn," and Green Dragons, Blue Lions, Essex Serpents, and White Horses, spit, roar, hiss, and neigh before us in all the frightful friendliness of provincial hospitality. Then we are shown official circles, and there is no mistaking the individual who is delineated, whether he lounges and reads the _Morning Post_ in the Treasury, sternly overhauls the national ledger in the Audit Office, or waits upon the tides, or overhauls the travelling baskets of returning young ladies, near the Custom House Stairs. Anon, the mysteries of the streets of London are laid open to us with a minuteness which neither ASMODEUS nor MR. PETER CUNNINGHAM has ever attempted. But our author is not confined to the _trottoir_; trades--whose followers look jealously on the census-paper, and by no means affectionately on the income-tax return--are thrown open, and to him everybody reveals his business instead of telling the prying writer to go about his own. He equally shines in his portraiture of political life, and not a senator, hereditary or accidental, spiritual or temporal, escapes his eye. The next time LORD NAAS has to hunt for MR. KEOGH, he may be spared the scandal of airing himself eleven times, in vain, upon the mosaics of the Reform Club; and the next time the nation is looking out for a Premier, it need not, for lack of an address, select LORD ABERDEEN instead of _Mr. Punch_. The voluble actuary of the assurance office, the drab-breeched and white-haired banker, the smart stockbroker and the smarting stockjobber, the parchment-visaged chamber-counsel, and the bold-eyed champion at the Old Bailey, the dowager of Mayfair, the guardsman of the club, the virtuous and self-denying author in his ANDREW MARVEL chambers, the post-office clerk, and all the men of letters (ha! ha!) of St. Martin's-le-Grand, the sour bachelor of the Albany, and the gentle Benedick of St. John's Wood, and the other myriads who help to make London, from HER GRACIOUS MAJESTY down to--no, _Punch_ is merciful--are all designated here. In short, inapplicable as is the word to the biggest as well as the best book of our acquaintance, the Post Office Directory not only contains all that we want to know, but precise information as to at least a couple of millions of people whom--except as readers, in which capacity they exist already--we sincerely hope that we never shall know.

The following extract gives a good idea of the author's style:--

"Smith John, Hairdresser, 24, Skinner Street, Clerkenwell.
Smith John, Hide and Skin Salesman, Bermondsey Skin Market.
Smith John, Lamp Glass Warehouse, 25, Stonecutter Street.
Smith John, Leatherseller, 31, Hanover Place, Clapham Road.
Smith John, Livery Stables and Van Proprietor, 20, Little Portland
Street.
Smith John, Lodging House, 41, Devonshire Street, Queen Square.
Smith John, _Luke's Head_, P. H. 25, Mercer Street, Long Acre.
Smith John, Oilman, 8, Ward's Place, Hoxton Old Town."

* * * * *

REFORM IN THE CITY.

Already, reform has been felt in Guildhall. At the LORD MAYOR'S state dinner, the eighty waiters employed to change plates and pour out for the Corporation had, every one of them, a whole half-pint of beer! This allowance was pre-arranged by way of test, and for future guidance. One Alderman is worth, at least, four waiters. Hence, at all future banquets, every Alderman will have allowed him a whole quart of beer, and beer of the bitterest into the bargain.

* * * * *

A FEARFUL STRIKE.--Talking of Strikes, we hope the EMPEROR OF RUSSIA will not take it into his head to strike the balance of Europe.

* * * * *

_Charlie._ "THIS WILL BE A STUPID AFFAIR, GEORGY."

_Georgy._ "OH, YES--ONLY A WHITE FROCK AND BLACK MITTEN PARTY--VERY SLOW!"

[_Old Nurse wonders what next._]

* * * * *

SONGS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SOCIETY.

Adapted by a Late President.

AIR.--"_O a' the Airts the Wind can blaw._"

O a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly like the west,
For there Silurian beds abound,
The beds that I lo'e best;
There's limestone blue, and sandstone too,
Wi' slate and shale between.
And deep below, the coarse grits go,
Wi' purple slates and green.

There's trilobites in Bala bed,
Product as in coal shale,
There's mony a fish in Auld, Auld Red,
Wi' heterocercal tail;
There's no a Mezozoic rock
Hauds trilobites within,
There's mony a Palaeozoic block
Whar trilobites are seen.

* * * * *

COBDEN ON EVIL SPIRITS.

MR. COBDEN has written another of those pithy letters on great principles that--some day--will make a very charming little volume of _Cobdeniana_. He is solicited to give his opinion on the best mode of "Opening the trade in spirits?"

"The best way," replies sagacious RICHARD, "of dealing with the monopoly of spirits is to abstain from drinking them, which for upwards of twenty years I have done."--Spirits make felons, lunatics, and suicides, says MR. COBDEN. Hence, the Bottle might surmount Newgate and Bedlam. MR. COBDEN does not drink spirits; but, moderately, he drinks wine--wine that cheereth the heart of man? Will he, then, do his best that the masses of his countrymen may take a glass with him? The wine-growers of France want to sell us pure, cheap, healthy wine--wine that would soon destroy burning gin, inflammatory brandy. France needs iron, England claret. Will MR. COBDEN, if only as an apostle of peace, help us, that we may exchange British metal for Gallic grape? We should like to drive the English "pig" into the French vineyard.

* * * * *

NOTHING--A NEW DEFINITION.--That portion of a lady's head on which her bonnet rests.

* * * * *

IMAGINARY CONVERSATION.

(_Without the least foundation._)

_Mr. Punch._ CAPTAIN LEICESTER VERNON, you will be good enough to answer a few questions.

_The Captain._ Sir, I shall be happy to do so.

_Mr. Punch._ You are, CAPTAIN, I believe, the adapter of the drama called _The Lancers_, performing at MR. CHARLES KEAN'S theatre?

_The Captain._ I am.

_Mr. Punch._ You are also the member for Chatham?

_The Captain._ I am.

_Mr. Punch._ You intend to take your seat in the next Parliament, and do your duty by your constituents and the nation?

_The Captain._ Such is my desire.

_Mr. Punch._ And the aspiration does you credit. Some very important questions will come before the Legislature during the approaching Session.

_The Captain._ Ah! They always say that--always.

_Mr. Punch._ And rightly, Sir. But in the next Session we are promised measures whose importance is indisputable. In the first place, CAPTAIN, there is the Reform Bill. To vote rightly--I will not say speak sensibly--upon its clauses, some information is necessary to a member of Parliament. Favour me with a sketch of the history of popular representation, of the principles on which you consider it should be based, and of the arguments for and against extension of the suffrage.

_The Captain._ Really--a--a--

_Mr. Punch._ Ah! You have not studied the subject. Well. We are to have a measure for the better distribution of the revenues of the Church of England. Pray what is the amount of those revenues, and upon what tenure are they held?

_The Captain._ Amount. Tenure. Really--a--a--

_Mr. Punch._ Ah! you have not studied the subject. _Non omma possumus omnes._ Well--we are to have a revision of the criminal law. What do you consider the principal defects of the present system, and what remedies would you adopt with regard to old, as distinct from juvenile offenders?

_The Captain._ Distinction. Come--well--why--a--if--that is--a--

_Mr. Punch._ Ah! You have not studied the subject. Well. The question of Colonial Administration is to be raised, and the comparative advantages of central and of local self-government will be discussed. Will you sketch the working of each system in our colonies, distinguishing those to which constitutions have been granted, and will you point out the defects of both the existing systems?

_The Captain._ Why--a--if you come to foreign parts--why--a--

_Mr. Punch._ Ah! You have not studied the subject. Well. We shall have to consider a most important topic, partly legal, partly social; I mean the doctrine of partnership, and of limited liability, on the wise treatment of which depends the welfare of myriads of our population. What is your theory of partnership?

_The Captain._ Really--as to topics of that head--a--a--

_Mr. Punch._ Ah! You have not studied the subject. Then, Sir, with every one of the great questions of the next Parliament unstudied by you, why do I find you wasting your time in translating French plays for MR. CHARLES KEAN. Is _he_ getting up your Parliamentary information for _you_? (THE CAPTAIN _bursts into tears_.) There, there--I only gave you a hint, and there are three months to the meeting of Parliament. If you distinguish yourself there, I shall have nothing to say to _The Lancers_; but if not--

[THE CAPTAIN _rushes off to buy_ MILL, BENTHAM, HALLAM, DE LOMME,
BLACKSTONE, _&c._ _&c._

* * * * *

CURIOUS ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.

LORD MAYOR SIDNEY never can say "Incongruous." Let him try as he will, he never can make it anything but "Incongouus." For instance, with regard to his absurd procession, he confessed it was "an in-Congouus mixture."

* * * * *

_Boy._ "YES, AND EVERY TIME YOU CROSSES, YOU ALLUS GIVES ME NOTHINK!"]

* * * * *

COURTESY AND CONTROVERSY.

In a kindly and reasonable letter to the _Times_, the REV. J. M. CAPES, a Roman Catholic clergyman, recommends controversialists, both those of his own creed, and Protestants, to conduct their discussions with moderation and decency. This excellent advice, we are sure, will be followed by all disputants of either sect who are arguing for truth. DR. CUMMING approves of it. So doubtless will DR. NEWMAN. Nay, perhaps one, or two, or even three more, on each side, will adopt the judicious and amiable suggestion of MR. CAPES.

But as the object of the great majority of polemics is not truth but triumph, the probability is that they will not confine themselves to unadorned logic, but like a sort of candidates at the theological hustings, will continue to bandy aspersions, as heretofore, and cover one another with all the ridicule they can, each with the view of bringing his adversary into contempt and odium with the British Public.

Moreover, there is a stake at issue--no offence either to Rome or Geneva; liberty of thought, speech, and writing; freedom, political and social. The question is, whether Britons shall be subjugated to a priesthood and a foreign power--and not only that, but whether, by receiving the religion of Rome, we may not engage ourselves to accept the institutions of Naples. Which question it is not likely that Britons will discuss dispassionately; and moderation may be inculcated to those who are at issue upon it with about as much hope as gentleness and forbearance may be preached to the belligerents in Moldo-Wallachia.

MR. CAPES complains of "a certain class of objects" of Roman Catholic faith and affection being "made the subjects of scorn, ridicule, and reviling." Very bad taste this on the part of Protestant buffoons. But since, if the objects alluded to are worthy of reverence, any insult that may be offered to them can hurt nobody but the scoffer, surely such bad taste ought not to annoy MR. CAPES further than by exciting in his mind a painful anxiety for the fate of those who are guilty of it.

Let MR. CAPES consider what manner of persons those are who are vexed by having their persuasions derided. They are not those who believe that two and two make four; no, but those who believe that two and two make something else. They are those who believe what MR. CAPES believes; and those who believe themselves to be Kings or Deities.

Alluding to a particular tenet, which to Protestants appears contrary to common sense, MR. CAPES says--

"Let not such a doctrine be made the subject for jesting, scoffing,
contemptuous sneers, or those still more revolting attempts at
convincing us that we are fools, which the followers of Exeter Hall
occasionally adopt."

It seems strange that the attempt to convince MR. CAPES that he is a fool should be still more revolting to him than the derision of what he esteems most holy. But, not to dwell on this point, how, we may ask, if a dogma is absurd, is it possible to convince a man that it is so without at the same time convincing him that he is a fool for believing it? To use a rather West British form of speech, we are sure that any wise man who differs from MR. CAPES would be much obliged to that reverend gentleman for proving to him that, in respect of that difference, he was a fool.

* * * * *

THE BARRISTERS OF ENGLAND!

The Barristers of England, how hungrily they stand
About the Hall of Westminster, with wig, and gown, and band;
With brief bag full of dummies and fee book full of _oughts_,
Result of the establishment of the New County Courts.

The Barristers of England, how listlessly they sit,
Expending on each other a small amount of wit;
Without the opportunity of doing something worse,
By talking nonsense at the cost of some poor client's purse.

The Barristers of England, how when they get a cause,
They (some of them) will disregard all gentlemanly laws;
And bullying the witnesses upon the adverse side,
Will do their very utmost the honest truth to hide.

The Barristers of England, how with _sang froid_ sublime,
They undertake to advocate two causes at one time;
And when they find it is a thing impossible to do,
They throw one client overboard, but take the fees of two.

The Barristers of England, how rarely they refuse,
The party they appear against with coarseness to abuse;
Feeling a noble consciousness no punishment can reach
The vulgar ribaldry they call the "privilege of speech."

The Barristers of England, how often they degrade
An honourable calling to a pettifogging trade,
And show how very slight the lines of separation are,
Between the cabman's license, and the "licence of the Bar."

The Barristers of England, how, if they owe a grudge,
They try with insolence to goad a poor Assistant-Judge;
And after having bullied him, their bold imposture clench
By talking of their high respect for the Judicial Bench.

The Barristers of England, how sad it is to feel
That rant will pass for energy, and bluster goes for zeal;
But 'tis a consolation that 'mid their ranks there are
Sufficient gentlemen to save the credit of the Bar.

* * * * *

DONE BROWN AGAIN.

"MR. PUNCH,--When will Sivilians learn to hold their _assinine_ tongs about millitary affairs, I should like to know? Just read this. It is in your preshous _Times_ this morning.

'The Indian Sepoys are very fair troops.'

"Now, Sir, I ask you, is such blazing ignoranse to be tollerated? I have served in India, Sir, and the Seapoys are all the _brownest beggars_ you ever saw. Mahoggany's a fool to them. And yet the _Times_ pretends to tell officers and gentlemen their duty. By showing wich up will oblige, _Mr. Punch_,

"Your Obedient Servant,

"_Pall Mall_." "A CAVALRY OFFICER."

* * * * *

Nesselrode Pudding.

Take as much gammon as will lie in the compass of a diplomatic circle; and mince along with butter, sugar, and pigeons' milk in equal quantities. Add olives, well bruised, in sufficient proportion to flavour; and when thoroughly incorporated, mix the whole with puff paste and flummery made into a mess. Mould in a twisted shape, and plunge into hot water, where allow it to bubble, the longer the better. Turn it out when thoroughly done, and serve cool with _Sauce a la Tartuffe_.

* * * * *

MUNICIPAL LABOURS.

That popular work, "_The Stomach and Its Difficulties_," gives the most accurate notion of the exertions which have been made by the Corporation of London.

* * * * *

OVERFLOWING WITH EXTRAVAGANCE.--A good November Fog is the cause of poor authors being extremely extravagant, for it forces them to burn "the midnight oil" at noonday.

* * * * *

THE CITY INQUISITION.

Among the numerous points which have struck _Mr. Punch_ in perusing the evidence taken before the invaluable Commission which is daily forging the hatchet destined to hew down that rotten old tree the Corporation, and scatter its owls and bats, is the remarkably miscellaneous character of the information with which the witnesses favour the Commissioners. Any gentleman who is passing and chooses to step in, is politely asked by the Chairman whether he happens to know anything about the City; to which, with equal off-handedness, he replies, "Well, yes," or "Well, no," as the case may be, and then his evidence is taken. While _Mr. Punch_ was waiting to make SHERIFF WALLIS happy by telling him that he approved of that Sheriff's conduct in refusing to contribute to the SIDNEY Spectacle, he heard something of this kind.

MR. MONTMORENCI JONES: Do I know much about the City? Well, no, not much, but I shall be happy to tell you anything that occurs to me. I have to go to the City sometimes on money matters. Live there? No, I should think not. Who lives there but porters, junior partners, and warehouse cats? I live in Regent Street. But I don't despise the City. I think there are some good points about it. The things in the shops are much better than the West End things--and so far cheaper, but as to actual price it's about the same. You're cheated in the City because ground is so dear, and at the West End because the tradesmen must pay for those gaudy, gilded, ginshop-looking fronts. But the City men are sharper, and insist on a better article--_we_ believe anything a tradesmen tells us. If you will cleanse away the LORD MAYORS and Fleet Ditches, and a few things of that kind; keep out those PICKFORD'S vans and other monster abominations, so that one's cab may not be smashed every time one passes through Temple Bar; widen the thoroughfares, and prevent people from dining at one o'clock, so that one smells dinner before one has well finished breakfast--I think that the welfare of the City would be materially promoted. I may mention, too, that I have seen some very pretty girls in St. Paul's Churchyard, and not so badly dressed as you might expect, but the poor things get jostled so dreadfully by the City fellows, who rush about like JEAMESES on an errand, that they always look frightened. I think the Police, that make the cabs go slowly past churches, might be told to keep these fellows at a decent walk when going near ladies. Take a note of that suggestion for your Report.

MR. SUFFEET DE PERISTYLE: I am an architect. O, yes. I have taken much interest in the City; and sometimes, while shaving, I have mentally sketched out plans for improving it. Will I state any? With pleasure; and as my principal plan has relation to the Corporation, it is the more desirable for you to hear it. I am for dealing boldly with the City. Let us begin at Temple Bar, which I would not remove. Take down the whole of the houses on both sides of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, and clear the space to the Thames. Embank the Thames. On the left side of Fleet Street, erect a splendid series of halls, cloisters, and habitations, reaching from Temple Bar to St. Paul's. Throw King's College, the London University, Merchant Tailor's, the Blue Coat School, and the Charterhouse into these, and re-endow them, and pay all expenses by confiscating the Corporation estates, and, if necessary, the private property of the Aldermen. Let the right hand side of Fleet Street be a beautiful meadow, with fountains and statues, to the Thames. Preserve _Mr. Punch's_, of course, but rebuild it in alabaster, and make it the feature of the scene. Take down St. Paul's and re-construct it in white marble, which will wash, and clear away in its rear an area of a quarter of a mile, to be paved with mosaic.--(_The Commission, fairly aghast and out of breath, cause the witness to be removed._)

MR. GRUBB: I keep the accounts in a City house, as my father did before me, and I hope my son will after me. I do not desire to see any alteration in the Corporation, in the City, or anywhere. I was very happy on my tall black stool for forty years, and now they've pulled a house down in their precious improvements, and the sun falls right in my eyes, and I have been obliged to move the desk at which my father took his seat in 1789. Time of the French Revolution? I dare say it was; I don't take much heed of politics, especially since BILLY PITT. You've nobody like him now. I saw his funeral in Feberwerry, 1806--yes, I saw that last year, but it was not equal to BILLY PITT'S. If you'll take my advice you'll let well alone; but of course you won't. I don't know what the world's coming to--the youngsters in our house are taking to moustarshiars, and a young radical of sixteen declares he can't exist without his shower-bath. Little enough such brats washed themselves in my times--a dip in the New River once a month, or so, satisfied them, and somehow we managed Trafalgar and Waterloo without your boards of health, and missionaries in sewers, or whatever you call them. Once more, I say, let well alone.

* * * * *

PRINCE _PUNCH_ TO PRINCE ALBERT.

Illustrious and excellent brother,
Don't consider me rude or unkind,
If, as from one Prince to another,
I give you a bit of my mind--
And I do so with all the more roundness,
As your conduct amongst us has shown
A propriety, judgment, and soundness
Of taste, not surpassed by my own.

You've respected JOHN BULL'S little oddities,
Never trod on the old fellow's corns;
Chose his pictures and statue--commodities
Wherein his own blunders he mourns.
And if you're a leetle more German
In these than I'd have you--what is't
Beyond what a critic may term an
Educational bias or twist?

On the summer-house walls, in your garden,
Of R.A.'s., fresco-painters you've made;
A demand which some of them won't pardon
Since good drawing's required for the trade.
You've roused to new life the Society
Of Arts, which had grown mighty flat;
And the Army to you, with propriety,
Attributes the famed ALBERT hat.

When the zeal for the Great Exhibition
Down to zero seemed likely to drop,
Mayors Provincial, at your requisition,
Of a sudden showed souls above shop.
Inspired up they went, like sky-rockets,
At the call of a Patriot Prince--
Nay, more, put their hands in their pockets
To a tune ne'er before known--nor since.

Foundation stones, past calculation,
Workmanlike, you have laid, true and square
And a curiously dinner-rid nation
Has still found you a saint in the chair.
Goodness knows what ineffable dinners,
What drinks deleterious you've borne,
What prosing from long-winded sinners
You've endured with a patience unworn!

You have never pressed forward unbidden;
When called on you've never shown shame
Not paraded, nor prudishly hidden
Your person, your purse, or your name;
You've lent no man occasion to call you
Intruder, intriguer, or tool;
Even I've not had often to haul you
O'er the coals, or to take you to school.

All this, my dear PRINCE, gives me boldness--
Which, _au reste_, our positions allow--
For a hint (which you'll not charge to coldness,
After all I have written just now):
Which is to put down certain flunkies,
Who by flatt'ry your favour would earn,
Pelting praise at your head, as at monkeys
Tars throw stones--to get nuts in return.

My LORD MAYOR may beplaster his liveries
With velvet and gingerbread gold;
Though all, what he'd perhaps call "diskiveries,"
Are bursting from every fold:
He may perch up a JUSTICE from Astley's
Atop of a property car,
Not less fit for the day, or less ghastly's
Her rouge, than frauds corporate are.