Chapter XXVIII: Letter XLIII (8)

"MR. PUNCH,--I have been, I may say from my birth--leastwise since I could stand upon a stool--a barber. I've brought up a large family (and am married again) upon shaving. To be clean shaved was the prerogative of a Briton. And now there is a movement for German beards and Cossack moustachios, which, if permitted, farewell to the British Constitution. When we look like Roossian slaves and Austrian panders, we shall feel and act like 'em. Anyways, if beards come in, barbers must go out, in which case I ask for 'demnification.

"Yours, &c."

"SIBTHORP SUDS."

"The COLONEL--(my parent was a Lincoln voter and barber)--is my godfather; which happened when the COLONEL used to go, I'm told, with as clean a face as any in the county."

* * * * *

DOCTOR WISEMAN.

On his departure from Golden Square, the subjoined notice, written in the DOCTOR'S own hand, was affixed outside his door--"Gone to Rome; will be back for mass in Westminster Abbey."

* * * * *

THE BRIGHT CITY.

The EARL OF SHAFTESBURY has volunteered an epistle eulogistic of Manchester. "Thoroughfares are opened"--says the noble lord--"courts and alleys cleansed--drains and sewers constructed," &c. &c. Nothing, according to the noble lord, will soon be wanting to Manchester to make it emphatically the Bright City; nothing but--as _Punch_ opines--a little public spirit. "The Turk may go hang so that he buys our goods." "Liberty in its highest sense, is the liberty to buy and sell." "The worst worldly evil is a bad shilling." A few of these maxims do certainly still defile the moral atmosphere of Manchester, cleansed as the air inhaled may be from the reek of cesspools. MR. BRIGHT'S hat, though covering a large, cool head, is nevertheless not big enough to extinguish the turban of Turkey. "Great spirits"--says JEAN PAUL--"are buried under golden mountains." In like manner, sympathy with a noble cause may be stifled in cotton-bags.

* * * * *

"All round my neck I vears the shirt collar,
All round the neck for a twelvemonth and a day;
And if any one should ax you the reason vy I vears it;
So, tell 'em 'cause it's now the fashionable vay."]

* * * * *

SOMETHING OUTRAGEOUS.

"MR. PUNCH, SIR,

"What next? Have you read the servile inscription on Marlborough House Gates?--

"'The public is _respectfully_ informed, that admission is to be
procured,' &c.

"'Respectfully informed,' _Mr. Punch!_ Hity-tity! Well. This is something! Respectfully! And this is by a body of officials, and stuck on a house which is the property of a Royal Prince! The brewers and bakers and candlestick-makers are respectfully informed. Tag, rag, and bobtail are respectfully informed. The swinish multitude is respectfully informed by its own servants that it may see something it has paid for. I cannot trust myself to write. Times are changed, _Mr. Punch_, or officials are strangely altered from what they were in the time of

"Yours respectfully(!)

"_Hampton Court._ AN OLD OFFICIAL."

* * * * *

TAKEN FOR GRANTED.

We doubt whether the Great Metropolis can parallel the following choice specimen of composition, which we find in the _Morning Advertiser_ of the 16th:--

As Good Housemaid, in a small Family, where a _Footman_ is kept, who
is a good _needlewoman_, who can attend _on a lady, with a good
character_. Direct A. B. &c., Brompton.

We have seen footmen who were justly proud of their "pins", but never yet saw a footman who was a good needlewoman. But we quite approve of the advertiser's caution. Being a "good" housemaid, she will serve nobody but "a lady with a good character". This is very proper, and in consideration of the virtuous principle displayed, one can forgive the author's Random Recollections of LINDLEY MURRAY.

* * * * *

FLIRTING. (_By an old Hand at it._)--Flirting is a most amusing game. It is true there is nothing gained by it, but then there is nothing staked. In fact you may call it, "playing at cards for love."

* * * * *

THE SONG OF THE CITY REMEMBRANCER.

"Sweet Remembrancer!
Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both."--_Successful Tragedy._

The City Remembrancer's post I hold.
An office that's sacred, because 'tis old;
I repel, I deny the assertion base
That there isn't no use in that 'ere place!

So you want to know what I've got to do?
And, Imperance, what odds is that to you?
But inquiry we court, as we've always done,
And I scorn all concealment, myself, for one.

I am only an image, you think, like Gog,
Whereas I the LORD MAYOR'S memory jog,
And the Aldermen also, in banquet met,
I remind of the duties which some forget.

His Lordship, for instance, perhaps I see
Is getting on slow with his callipee;
And a slight squeeze of lemon I then suggest,
With a dash of cayenne to impart a zest.

"My Lord-eh, my Lord!" says I, "why, look there!
You're a spilling your dinner, I do declare!
'Tis of haunch that you're eating; and don't you know
Currant jelly should always with venison go?

"Mr. Alderman, bless me! you faint and droop,
As if you could hardly get through your soup.
Glass of punch, Sir, of course, with the work you've got,
You have surely been absent, Sir, have you not?

"Dear me, Mr. Deputy--look, Sir, look!
Excuse me; but you I must call to book:
Allow me to push you the boat across,
You are eating that bird, Sir, without bread-sauce!

"Here's capon, mind, gentlemen; here's black cock;
This wine, recollect, is peculiar hock:--
This is peacock--that's cygnet, yon gent before,
If you think you could manage a little more.

"Not feel quite the thing, don't your Lordship, eh?
Hallo! bring the brandy, you Sir, this way.
Now, my Lord, a small glass--just a toothful. No?
Well then, come, try the least drop of Curacoa."

But I've other duties, which I discharge
In warily steering the Civic Barge
Through St. Stephen's storms, whirlpools, rocks, and shoals,
Safe and sound, with a cargo--we'll say--of coals.

That MAJOR BENLOW--what--OW--OWSKI, he
Not half a Remembrancer ain't, to me;
And I gets a small pittance for all this here,
Which is under a couple of thousand a year.

* * * * *

"LEFT-OFF CLOTHES FOR THE COLONIES."

The "old clothes" fraternity are advertising very briskly for left-off clothes for the Colonies, with a view, no doubt, to a sort of Holywell Street aristocracy that some people are desirous of establishing in Australia. Considering the many scamps that have attained to wealth at the "diggins," and knowing the slavish precedence that is always accorded to the possessors of gold, we may anticipate a peerage of regular "roughs," should an "Upper Chamber" be established at the Antipodes. The old clothes movement, in taking a colonial direction, shows a sympathy with the contemplated exportations of aristocratic distinctions to the New World, at a time when the Old World is exhibiting leniency to throw aside its old worn-out habits. Among the "left off clothes" we presume it will be a good speculation to include a few "coats of arms" for the use of the Antipodean aristocracy.

* * * * *

THE ENGLISHMAN'S CASTLE.

"The Englishman's House (says the Proverb) is his Castle;" and so it is, but then it is a castle which is subject to many attacks (such as the House Tax, Poor Tax, &c. &c.), and which requires for its defence no end of shot. The expenses of its support are fearful--so much so, that frequently is the castle swallowed up in its keep.

* * * * *

A REFLECTION (_By_ MECHI).--It is not the sharpest blades that always are the truest steel.

* * * * *

_London Merchant._ "WHY, WHAT IS THE USE OF YOUR BEING IN A RESPECTABLE HOUSE OF BUSINESS IF YOU PROCEED IN THIS ABSURD, VULGAR MANNER? NOW, TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, UNLESS YOU MEND VERY CONSIDERABLY, YOU WILL GO ON FROM BAD TO WORSE. YOU WILL BECOME A PETTY HUCKSTER; FROM THAT YOU WILL, IN ALL PROBABILITY, GET TO BE A MERE COMMON COUNCILMAN; THEN AN ALDERMAN; WHEN, AFTER A COURSE OF GLUTTONY AND TOM-FOOLERY, PAINFUL TO THINK OF, YOU WILL MAKE A RIDICULOUS TERMINATION TO YOUR CONTEMPTIBLE CAREER BY ACTUALLY BECOMING A LORD MAYOR!"]

* * * * *

A MIDDLESEX BALLAD.

AIR.--"_And shall_ TRELAWNEY _die_?"

A baize board and a crafty 'and,
And a racing print or two;
Didn't we once just understand,
The sporting gents to do?
And 'ave they fixed the where and when,
And shall the system die?
Then 'alf a thousand betting men
Will know the reason why.
And shall they scorn MEG, MATH, and "BEN,"
And shall the system die?
There's 'alf a thousand in our trade
Who'll know the reason why.

Out spake FLASH BILLY, blithe and bold.
A horse-shoe pin wore he:
"Deposits on a race to 'old
Shall we no more be free?
When we could grasp them in our 'and,
The system used to pay;
For when rum tidings reached the Strand,
'Twas--'Shutters up--away!'"
And shall they scorn MEG, MATH, and "BEN," &c.

A plague upon St. Stephen's wall,
Where not one cove stood true;
We'll make that PALMERSTON look small.
For working this 'ere screw:
The Turf you 'ave betrayed, as 'ow
You swear 'er lists shall die;
But 'alf a thousand betting men
Will know the reason why.
And shall they scorn MEG, MATH, and "BEN," &c.

* * * * *

GREAT POLITENESS TO NICHOLAS.

Our own ships have waited, whilst the Russian frigate _Aurora_ has occupied a Portsmouth dock. We have supplied NICHOLAS with the work of shipwrights and the stores of our Dockyard. This is Christianlike, and according to the ABERDEEN policy expressed by the Premier at the Mansion House. It is said the Noble Earl, in the excess of his benevolence, would--if he might--even go further: not only furnishing the EMPEROR'S frigate with English stores, but with English sailors.

* * * * *

THE CITY CORPORATION.--If this Corporation is compared to PLATO's Republic, it can only be as "a KNIFE, FORK, and PLAT(E)O" one.

* * * * *

THE ROYAL EXCHANGE CLOCK.

It is a common saying in the City and elsewhere that "Time is money," and we cannot wonder at the existence of the maxim, when we look at the cost, of the representative of time at the Royal Exchange--no less than L2605 0_s._ 8_d._ having been paid for the Exchange Clock. This sum is at the rate of about L217 per hour, taking the clock to consist of the usual number of hours, or nearly L40 per minute, if we make a calculation rather more minute.

The cost of the Clock is made up of a variety of items, which, for the enlightenment of the public, we subjoin.

L _s._ _d._
Clock 700 0 0
Alterations 224 18 6
Bells and Chimes 615 17 4
Alterations 290 0 0
Recasting 650 0 0
Refitting 124 4 10
--------------
L2605 0 8

It must be inferred from this, that after the Clocks had been purchased for L700, it resembled the donkey "what wouldn't go," and as there was nobody to cry "Gee Wo!" with the expenditure, L224 18_s._ 6_d._ was sunk in alterations. As if the Clock itself was not sufficiently costly, it was proposed to convert it into a toy by having bells and chimes attached to it, which have already caused an outlay to the tune of upwards of One Thousand Pounds--a very pretty tune, no doubt, but hitherto the only tune to which the Bells and Chimes have contributed, for they cannot be got into play anyhow. The Common Council, however, will not admit there has been anything wrong in the matter, because "PROFESSOR AIREY declares the bells and clock the most beautiful specimens of workmanship ever seen." We should have thought that bells and clocks were to be heard rather than seen; and that a clock, like the costermonger's horse, might be excused for being a "rum un to look at," if it's being a "good un to go" could be relied upon. The approval of PROFESSOR AIREY may be very satisfactory as far as it goes, but until we can look upon the loss of L2605 0_s._ 8_d._ as an airy nothing, we can hardly reconcile ourselves to the facts we have called attention to.

* * * * *

NEWS FROM THE THEATRE OF WAR.

Our latest news from the Theatre of War is from Astley's Theatre, where the War with Russia is being carried out with unflagging energy. Last night the Russians had entrenched themselves in a strong position in front of the enemy, and the Russian General, WIDDICOMB, turned the right wing--a wrong one having been turned by the negligence of a scene-shifter. The enemy were in position at nine o'clock, and a French officer made towards a standard, which he eventually carried. On Saturday afternoon a body of Russian soldiers received their pay from the treasury, which is understood to be amply supplied.

In the evening the battle was resumed with great vigour; but both parties eventually laid down their arms. The Russians were much harassed, and set fire to Moscow in several places with bits of tow steeped in spirits of wine. The city burnt with great fury for nearly an entire minute, when it was terminated by a decisive blow from the mouth of the master carpenter.

* * * * *

A POLITICAL PROBLEM SOLVED.

Why are diplomatic papers called Circular notes?--They are called _Circular_, because they frequently arrive at no definite end.

_DON'T_ TURN AGAIN, WHITTINGTON; _DON'T_ BE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.]

* * * * *

READING THE (DRAMATIC) STARS.

The other day we read an account of a few complimentary words having been spoken by the EMPEROR OF RUSSIA to a French Opera dancer, from which some _Gobemouche_ had drawn the inference that there would be no war between Russia and France. Upon a similar authority we might announce that there is no possibility of any collision between France and England. At one of the performances of "TOM" MATTHEWS, as English _Clown_, during his engagement in Paris, the Emperor LOUIS NAPOLEON was seen to applaud. It might also be inferred that the British Government stood pledged to support the Constitutional cause in Italy, because COSTA is a Sardinian, and is usually employed to preside at the piano when a concert is given at the Palace.

* * * * *

OUR TOURIST IN PARIS.--No. 11.

"Oh, I say!" says old MARTINGALE, bursting in upon the Tourist's morning meal, "I saw such a stunning play last night. Don't mind my weed, eh? I am not much of a playgoer myself, you know. You haven't got any Curacoa I suppose? Oh, yes, Kirsch will do, thank you. Especially here, they speak so quick I can't follow 'em. FRANCONI'S more my line. But I tell you what, the piece last night was a fizzer, and no mistake; and a fellow sung no end of a good song in it," continued the dramatic enthusiast, jingling half-a-dozen sovereigns in his two hands in time to the tune he hummed, "Chink chink, chink chink, toodle um tum ti, chink chink, chink chink, toodle um tum ti. Clipping, by Jove; all about women not caring for love, or hops, and that kind of thing, but only for tin. How it must have riled them. I believe it's quite true, and yet--I don't know either. Some of one sort, and some of another, I suppose."

"Oh, I can't tell you the plot. It's a young fellow who goes away from home, the reprobate, and falls into what is called "bad company", and one of the bad company pretends to be spooney on him, and it's all very jolly at first. He swells about and spends a tremendous lot of tin, in the same way that TOM HILTON and fellows of that sort are doing now. Horses, and dinners, and champagne, and jewellery; nothing is too good for him. And then, to mend matters, he takes to play, and of course is extensively legged by others of the bad company, and is ruined, in short. He tries to hold on by borrowing of old _Shixty-per-Shent_, just like fellows we know in town; and he comes to grief, and the mercenary female cuts him when she finds it out; and it's very affecting. Everybody cried all round the house; and, upon my word, I couldn't help doing a little in that way myself. Now, mind you go and see it. I intend to go every night till I know that song by heart." And he went away, warbling "Chink chink, chink chink," and smacking the sovereigns in his pocket.

More difficult critics than MARTINGALE had spoken well of the last of that chain of dramas in which _Lais_ is made the heroine, and the bad or good side of her character is the point of interest. The Tourist, therefore, willingly installed himself with his double-barrel in a _fauteuil d'orchestre_, and was forced to acknowledge the admirable constructive skill with which French dramatists ply their craft. No wonder our practical fellow-countrymen are tempted to carry off such capital ready-made articles, instead of being at the pains of hatching their own clumsy originals. Equally admirable was the acting for case, gaiety, and power. At the pathetic parts the audience wept freely, as my friend had said. There was no shame or reserve. One old fellow, with a cropped head and great grizzled beard, was quite inconsolable. He mopped his face with a red cotton handkerchief, and sobbed as if his heart would break. The severe moral of the piece seemed to displease certain ladies in beautiful bonnets, who murmured disapprobation. The satire conveyed by the piquant "chink chink" was overcharged; but the honest _bourgeoisie_ drowned all discontent with obstreperous applause. They had no doubt whatever that _Lais_ was quite as bad as she was represented.

Before the audience had well dried their tears by a promenade in the _foyer_, they were all laughing themselves into fits over a comic piece--which certainly was very funny--about the children of Albion. A party of French pleasure-seekers find themselves in the full-flavoured and highly-coloured atmosphere of London, and enter an hotel kept by a lady in a straw hat and Highland kilt. (The fashions of dear old England have, apparently, varied somewhat since the wanderer left her shores.) To every demand for victual or drink made by the famished travellers, the short-petticoated lady replies that it is impossible, _parceque c'est Sonday._ And the whole party come forward to sing in the pleasant manner of French vaudevilles, _"C'est Sonday, Sonday, Sonday"_ &c. and make everybody laugh very much. Certainly it was a perfectly good natured joke, and after they had lashed themselves in the drama we could not complain of being tickled in the farce.

A nice old gentleman who occupied the next stall to the Tourist, and availed himself of Monsieur's lorgnette, asked whether we love to ridicule Frenchmen in a like manner on our stage; and, being answered in the negative, seemed disposed to congratulate himself that his countrymen were free from ridiculous customs, follies and vices.

"Pardon, my dear Sir: behold all the difference. Your writers are spiritual and ingenious, but they want one thing--conscientiousness. They care little for truth and justice if they can only say a good thing. The piece which has diverted us both so much supposes an audience as ignorant of us and of our manners as if we were Tartars or Japanese. A sketch so coarse and unfaithful could not be presented to even the least instructed play-goers of London. Forty years ago, I confess, when we had no intercourse with your charming Paris, they would have received it with delight at the first theatre of the King. But now they know too much; and any of our writers who should set himself to laugh at the grand nation without careful and candid observation of them in their own country, would be only making _himself_ ridiculous. Now the more a traveller becomes familiar with the people amongst whom he lives, the less occasion he finds to smile at their peculiarities. He discovers good sense where at first he only saw eccentricity, and the material for mockery crumbles away when he attempts to grasp it. And hence it arises, my dear Sir, that almost the only sure way to raise a laugh in England against your witty compatriots is to carry out and improve their ignorant caricatures of us."

"Monsieur, it is impossible to say anything more true or more profound. Permit me to hope that, as the two sisters recognise each other's noble traits, they will never smile to deride, but only in admiration."

* * * * *

RUSSIAN REVOLUTIONISTS.

The Russians are not commonly supposed to be revolutionists, though the slaves of a sanguinary Autocrat are just as bad as Red Republicans. However it appears that they have embraced that revolution in naval warfare which is destined to result from the adoption of COLT'S Revolver. Armed with this instrument, these tools of absolutism are likely, in effect, to prove the most destructive levellers; flooring their antagonists left and right. Should these antagonists ever be British Tars, it will be a disgrace to the Admiralty if the QUEEN'S sailors have no better weapons than the superseded old pistol and common cutlass wherewith to encounter the crew of NICHOLAS. It is to be hoped that they will be supplied, without delay, with arms that will place them on an equality with whatsoever foe they may be called upon to conquer; so that they may defy old NICHOLAS and all his crew, and repel all other assaults of the enemy.

* * * * *

TRICKS, BUT NOT HONOURS.

LORD MAYOR SIDNEY, in presiding the other day at a meeting of those very common people, the Common Council, expressed himself excessively "anxious for the honour of the Corporation." We are delighted to have it in our power to relieve LORD SIDNEY from further solicitude, by entreating him to cease from all anxiety for "the honour" of the Corporation, as we can assure him that the alleged cause of his anxiety does not exist.

* * * * *

THE DANGERS OF INFANCY.

The two serpents that HERCULES strangled in his cradle were a couple of bottles of DAFFY'S ELIXIR and GODFREY'S CORDIAL. If he hadn't killed them, they would have killed him.

* * * * *

THE OLDEST LAWYER.

We see announced the "Death of the Oldest Lawyer." How old he was, we cannot say--but we always thought "The Oldest Lawyer" what is properly called "THE NICK OF TIME."

* * * * *

* * * * *

A DONKEY AND A MAYOR.

PLUTARCH delighted in parallels: _Punch_ takes pleasure in the like intellectual exercise. Our friend of the _Notes and Queries_ speaks of a "vast _quantity_ of donkeys" at Malvern (for at that favoured place donkeys are measured by the peck and bushel). And amongst these donkeys was, until lately, a very superior ass named, for certain achievements performed in the cause of the late QUEEN ADELAIDE, the "_Royal_ Moses." It seems that the good QUEEN was wont to be carried on the back of Moses--at the time simply Moses, and no more--to the summit of the thymy hills of Malvern; Moses, no doubt, inwardly rejoiced and comforted by a knowledge, or at least suspicion, of the preciousness of the burden (for he carried L100,000 per annum) that honoured him; for even asses have shrewd instincts in the presence of the Royal and the great. Well, HER MAJESTY being about to leave Malvern, rewards the old woman whose property Moses is: at the same time, with her wonted benevolence, inquiring if she could do any further service, likely, in this world of nice distinctions, to give--in return for the many rides on Moses--the old woman a lift. After a while, pondering the matter, the old woman said--"Please your BLESSED MAJESTY, give a name to my donkey." Now, as the animal was an ass upon four legs, there was no precedent for bestowing upon him a baronetcy or even a knighthood: he could not be called SIR MOSES ASINUS, BART.--neither dubbed simply SIR MOSES. Otherwise, in the latter case, we doubt not the good-natured QUEEN, calling for a bulrush from the ponds of Malvern, the donkey sagaciously going upon his knees, would have been melodiously commanded to "Rise, SIR MOSES." The four legs, however, stood in the way of such an honour. Therefore, QUEEN ADELAIDE, looking benevolently upon the donkey, said--"Henceforth, be known to all men as the ROYAL MOSES." A peck of beans would, probably have been quite as acceptable as the regal prefix; nevertheless, the ass--like the ass of _Peter Bell_--

"---- the ass, with motion dull,
Turn'd, on the pivot of his skull,
His long left ear!"

The dignity was thus loyally acknowledged by the ennobled donkey, and QUEEN ADELAIDE departed. And the glory of the Royal Moses grew exceeding bright. Everybody would ride him. "That roan shall be my throne," cries _Hotspur_. "For that Moses I proposes," cried every Cockney visitor. What was the result? No ass could bear to be so put upon. The ass died; but--it is said--has left several sons behind him; one and all called, even as the sire, "The Royal Moses". But this is a miserable imposture--an ignorant, wretched ambition. Asses--assuredly asses on four legs--have no hereditary titles. There can be but one Royal Moses--the sons are simply donkeys, and no more.

And London supplies a parallel with Malvern. Once upon a time there was a Mayor. Now, this Mayor would take upon himself the burden of the reputation of a Royal Prince; would carry it at public meetings; would especially insist on trotting with it into Hyde Park? And for what purpose? We--_Punch_--have written to the old woman at Malvern, the owner of the dead Royal Moses, to inquire of her--(for at a critical moment she proved herself a shrewd, worldly-wise old woman)--to inquire her opinions upon the conduct of our MAYOR, self-burthened with the crystal glory of a gracious PRINCE. We have received her answer, and duly give it:--

"TO MR. PUNCH,--The owner of the Royal Moses as was, of QUEEN ADELAIDE of blessed memory [_this is writ for me by the Parish Clerk_], presents her duty to _Mr. Punch_, and searching her own bosom for what was there when she was emboldened to ask a favour of HER MAJESTY--

"The owner of the Royal Moses as was (his sons are like him, as beans are like beans) thinks the MARE as _will_ trot about with the PRINCE, only does it that he may--copying of me--say, 'Please your Royal Highness to give a name to my donkey, or mare, as the case may be.'

"And this, _Mr. Punch_, is my belief, judging from the secrets of my own breast. And am

"Your Humble and Dutiful Servant,
"The owner of the Royal Moses,
"Her X mark."

"P.S.--Donkeys always on hand."

"Thus, the old dame of Malvern, divining aright, our CHALLIS may ask, or hint--"Please your Royal Highness, give a handle to my challice".

* * * * *

OBITUARY A LITTLE IN ADVANCE.

Died the other day, by Act of Parliament, that time-honoured old nuisance, the City of London: very sincerely execrated by all who knew it, its civic brethren alone perhaps excepted. Though sudden at last, its death, by no means, was an unexpected one: for in the public estimation it was known that the deceased had long been sinking. Among the causes which chiefly led to its dissolution, we believe especial prominence must be given to its fondness for good living. Its favourite dish perhaps was turtle soup, of which its consumption was habitually enormous. We believe it has been even known to devour as many as four hundred quarts at a single dinner.

Gluttony, however, was not its only failing. Its love of "good things" was by no means confined to those of the dinner-table: for its appetite for venison was more than equalled by its thirst for wealth. We might enumerate many acts of extortion by which its existence was rendered infamous. The blackest of these however was, we think, its coal-tax; of which its imposition was regarded as such, in more than one sense of the substantive, being justly complained of, as a burning shame, by all who suffered from it.

Another failing of the deceased was its utter want of taste--in everything but what had emanated from the kitchen. Of this the strongest instance was its strenuous upholding of Temple Bar: an ugly structure, but for the keeping up of which people had to pay pretty handsomely. Nor was its sense of smell less impaired, apparently, than that of taste: as was shown especially by the strange degree of fondness it evinced for Smithfield Market, although that place was continually in bad odour.

Throughout its existence, the deceased was extremely subject to fits--of indiscretion--which it is thought materially impaired its constitution. Perhaps the most distressing of these was that which annually recurred on the 9th of November, when it experienced for hours a congestion of its arteries, which seriously impeded its vital circulation. In some of its later paroxysms, the deceased so far forgot itself as to betray a slight attention to the Arts, to which it previously had maintained the most complete indifference--except, indeed, to that which we now see daily advertised as the "Art of Dining."

It is expected that the funeral will take place in the middle of next week, when the LORD MAYOR of course will officiate as Chief Mourner. Service will be performed by one of the Sheriffs, whose officers have long discharged that duty. We are not aware that any monument will be erected to the deceased, though a column to its memory will probably be placed in the pages of our contemporaries.

* * * * *

TEMPLE-BAR MUST BE REMOVED.

The past week affords another argument for the removal of Temple-Bar. On Tuesday last, a distinguished Alderman having to go west, was stopped by the fog at Temple-Bar. Fog and alderman were both so thick, it was impossible that both could go through together. We have not heard how the dilemma was settled.

* * * * *

THE PRESENT FASHION OF BONNETS.--A lady dresses first, and then puts on her bonnet. The bonnet is, now, completely an "after-thought."

* * * * *

GREAT THEATRICAL EVENT.--The last week has produced an entirely new--translator!

* * * * *

THE FRENCH "FUSION" AT FROHSDORF.

The papers announced the other day in "second editions," by "submarine and electric telegraph," the important fact that "the DUKE DE NEMOURS had called on the COUNT DE CHAMBORD at Frohsdorf;" and a subsequent communication brought the equally important intelligence that the PRINCE DE CHAMBORD had since returned the call. How it can signify to Europe in general, or to England in particular, to be told that these two princes are now on visiting terms is a puzzle to us, who look upon the affair with as much unconcern as we should have felt at the intimation that JONES had been to ROBINSON'S, and that ROBINSON had returned JONES'S card. We suppose, however, that the electric telegraph will speedily be put into requisition to communicate the progress of the fusion through all its stages, from the first interchange of the conventional pasteboard, to the final drawing up of a family compact. We shall expect to meet with such passages as the following in the columns of our contemporaries before the end of the month:--

"_By Submarine and Electric Telegraph._--The COUNT DE CHAMBORD asked the DUKE DE NEMOURS to breakfast this morning, and the DUKE DE NEMOURS returned the compliment by inviting the PRINCE DE CHAMBORD to tea in the afternoon."

"_By Special Courier from Vienna._--The representative of the elder branch of the House of Bourbon has offered a cigar to the representative of the Orleans family, who has acknowledged the courtesy by presenting his illustrious relative with a _fusee_ to light his Havannah.

"_Latest from Frohsdorf._--The COUNT DE CHAMBORD and the DUKE DE NEMOURS are now, at near midnight, drinking grog together. The elder branch poured in the water; the younger branch has added the spirits; each of the royal personages acted as spoon, and after a stirring interview of several seconds, the fusion may be considered to have been complete."

* * * * *

SHOCKING LOW CHURCH!

It is proposed by certain well-meaning persons, to erect ragged churches on purpose only for the poor, the wretched, and the ragged. Probably a church of this sort will be built in the district of ST. GILES; to be dedicated, however, in honour of ST. JAMES, the patron saint, whatever his square may think, of ill-dressed church-goers. We are getting on in matters of this kind. We are making a sort of railway progress. By and by we shall have churches for different sets of people; first, second, and third class churches. They will be churches of different orders, not only architectural but social. Perhaps the third class won't be covered in, and in that case it might be constructed on the simplest model of a Greek Temple; the rather, as the whole arrangement would certainly look somewhat pagan.

Matters being thus in train--rather on the broad gauge line, with an inferior terminus, some may say--the adoption of steam-organs might be suggested, together with the substitution of locomotives for clergymen, as soon as scientific improvement shall enable us to construct such engines, capable of performing their duties mechanically.

The Ragged Churches, we suppose, will be built of ragstone; the pulpit-cushion, the altar-cloth, will be all rags. The clergy will officiate in tatters; so as to preclude the possibility of any surplice controversy, by rendering it impossible to tell what kind of vestments they have on. The church will be ragged, the parson ragged, the congregation ragged--all ragged together. Perhaps, also, the doctrine ought, in a manner, to be ragged too; for, suppose the Church Triumphant to correspond to the Church Militant, and it would be requisite to preach a Ragged Heaven. And though there is one place for the poor and another for the rich in this world, it will be well for the rich if there is not one place for themselves and another for the poor in the next.

* * * * *

HOW TO PROLONG THE LIFE OF A SECRET.

If a secret is a little weak, and looks as if it was likely to die, there is nothing for recovering it equal to a cup of tea--but then the tea must be administered by the hand of a lady, rather advanced in years. After a cup or so, the secret will imbibe fresh strength, and will be good for, at least, another ten years. N.B. This remedy has never been known to fail, more especially if there happen to be two or three elderly ladies present, and they take good care, at the time the secret is recovering, to give the poor thing plenty of circulation.

* * * * *

THE AUTOCRAT'S ANTHEM.

For Law and Ruth, and Faith and Truth,
With my jackboot's heel I'll spurn 'em!
March, my Cossacks, o'er the Pruth,
_Non confundar in aeternum!_
Hot with blood-drouth from North and South,
Let my grim field-batteries thunder
Chorus from each iron mouth,
_In aeternum non confundar!_

No laurels grow in Russian snow,
Southwards I must look to earn 'em
By cheating friend and robbing foe--
_Non confundar in aeternum!_
Rich Jassy's plain I want for grain,
Bucharest I want for plunder;
I've knouts for all who dare complain--
_In aeternum non confundar!_

What treaties make for me, I take,
What against me make, I burn 'em;
I burrow where I cannot break--
_Non confundar in aeternum!_
With half the West in neutral rest,
T'other half in active blunder
('Tis hard to say which serves me best)--
_In aeternum non confundar!_

COUNT NESSELRODE my rights has showed;
Who to ridicule dares turn 'em?
I but claim debts most clearly owed--
_Non confundar in aeternum!_
A new crusade I preach to aid
Christians by vile Turks kept under,
Whom I'd convert by cannonade--
_In aeternum non confundar!_

PETER THE GREAT left words of weight
(All of ROMANZOFF race learn 'em),
Foreshadowing Russia's glorious fate;
(_Non confundar in aeternum!_)
Which is to be Suzerain in fee,
O'er all Europe's tracts, that sunder
The Baltic from the Euxine Sea.
(_In aeternum non confundar!_)

Me it doth irk, to see the Turk,
(_Abeit mox in infernum!_)
Set himself against this Holy Work--
(_Non confundar in aeternum!_)
Check with a lath a torrent's wrath,
If it sweep you off what wonder?
Such is the Turk who'd stop my path--
_In aeternum non confundar!_

Finland is ours; Denmark our powers,
Or has learnt, or soon shall learn 'em;
Poland beneath our Eagle cowers,--
(_Non confundar in aeternum!_)
The Euxine's gates are Russian straits;
(Thanks to English heads so dunder)
By us choked up the Danube waits--
_In aeturnum non confundar!_

Who checks my course? Use fraud and force--
Bribe 'em--beat 'em--brand 'em--burn 'em!
The Russian's God knows no remorse,
(_Non confundar in aeternum!_)
Forth with the sword, the knout, the cord,
Hang, and scourge, and hew asunder!
With rites like these while I'm adored--
_In aeturnum non confundar!_

* * * * *

A HOUSE MADE OF PAPER.

We read in _Household Words_ an account of a house sent over to Australia, which was made, chimney-pots and all, entirely of paper. This is not the first establishment of the kind that has been so constructed, for looking at Austria, who never has any money, and is always begging for money, may we not say that the House of Hapsburgh wouldn't be standing at the present moment, if it wasn't for paper?

* * * * *

MODERN PHILOSOPHY.--The Gammon of BACON.

* * * * *

THE FIRST SITTING. FINISHED. EXHIBITED.]

* * * * *

MRS. JANE GIMLET ON "STRIKES."

"_Yeast Lane, Grinnidge, twenteseckundnowemberhatinfiftethre._

"HONNERD MISTUR PUNCH,

"Umbly thankin u for puttin of my last in blak an wite, wich it were red in our lane an give grate satisfakshun, i make so bold as trubbel u wuns more. In coorse, Surr, the prise of coles cant be unbeknown to u, wich alone in this bitter wether is bad enuf, speshully to wan like me as takes in a litel washin wich i will be appy to get up yours at a shillin a dozzen, ceptin shirts an tabul linen, an have a good dryin ground an no washin powders, wich is a destruction to fine fronts, used, but am in consekens very subjick to goin out in the dryin ground without my bonnet, an ave the plumbago an Asiatick panes in my hips werry bad. To such as me dere coles is bad enuf, but wen they cum upon the quartern lofe at ninepenshapeny, dips at hatepens, wich may seme a lite matter, but is not, and all other things risin too for cumpany's sake, it makes me wunder how JON an me an our siks shall hever get hover our merry Krismas and appy new yere, and the frost an starvashun an all the hother complemens of the seeson. An so the hother hevenin as me an JON an our siks was all in bed afore our husiwal time, a goin to try if we could dreme of a warm fire an a bit of supper wich as dremes mostly goes by contrairies we wos werry like to do, I sez to JON sez I, Wot makes coles so dere? Is it the LORD MARE a fetherin of his nest by taxin of em, an callin it his dooty? If wun of his dooties is taxin pore peepul's coles, I wunder wot the others is, I sez, or air the Turks an Rooshans a goin to fite by steme? I sez, not that i thort so, but i wanted to cheer up JON who were terribul cast down, poor feller!

"No, sez JON, it haint. Colliers have struk work and coles is riz accordin. Then, i sez, its a burnin shame an i wont abear it. It haint no ways strange that Turks an Rooshans who air heathens born should squabbel and fite, an raise the price o' bred for they air savages an 'tis their natur so,' as DOCTOR WOTSISNAME sez in the him, but that sum of our hone pore peepul as ave shared the bred of afflikshun with hus, wen their worn't too much to share neither, an nose wot our sufferins must be, should go an raise the price of coles upon hus, is agin all natur. But, sez JON, colliers ave struk for wages an u cant blame them for that. Indede I do JON, sez I, an I spoke hup for I new JON an his mates wos thinkin of a strike. Indede I do, Wot good did strikes hever do the pore? Tisnt honely in coles JON as strikes is goin on, but in hother trades, and in hall on em tis the men and their wives an children an not the masters as suffers. If the masters wanted the men werry much as they wood if trade wos brisk they wood ave riz wages without a strike, but hoffen an hoffen a strike helps masters to get rid of men they don't want, but wouldn't like to turn hoff. Strikes makes coles dere, and likewise heverything helse as the men gives hover makin. But who gets the hextra price of the coles and the factory goods? Why the masters that larf at the pore fules of men that air takin bred hout of their famlies mouths and hout of hour mouths too, to put it hinto theirn. But the men, JON, gets nothin by a strike, but time to lounge about publicks, an spend their litel savins an spout their close an things, an drors on their club till they brakes it, and praps jines a riot an brakes the winders or the lor, an so gets theirselves into prizzen, an their families into that ouse of bondage the workus. An here I could speke no more for cryin, but woke our siks wich cried too, speshully litel TOMEE, our heldest, as ave a broken chilblane, and air frakshus, an so we cried hourselves to slepe, an I ope u will print this letter that peepul may see were a strike falls hardest, and take warnin, tho it be from ure umbel chareoman.

"JANE GIMLET."

* * * * *

"GOOD" OF THE GIBBET.

A miserable Creature stole a watch under the gibbet at the late hanging. ALDERMAN HUMPHERY, on the Bench, said--"You came out to witness the execution of a fellow-creature, but it does not appear to have done you _any good_." How odd! Certainly, no good: for the thief, with his hand upon the watch, only thought of time, the hangman vainly preaching eternity.

* * * * *

WHEN!--When a woman listens to you, she is criticising you.

* * * * *

* * * * *

SCENES AT THE JUDGES' CHAMBERS.

The "grandeur of the law," however obvious it may be when represented by ermine (at a guinea a yard) and horsehair (at fifteen shillings a pound) in Westminster Hall, is certainly not very adequately supported at the Judges' Chambers. These judicial tenements are situated in the vicinity of Clifford's Inn, and are, every afternoon, the rendezvous of much of the riff-raff of the attorneys' offices--for any seedy clerk is considered qualified to "go before the Judge" at Chambers.

Even the Judge himself appears to adapt his costume to his company, for the scarlet robe is usually superseded by the paletot, and those who see dignity in the full-bottomed wig look for it in vain in the brown scratch or the napless gossamer. The whole affair has the aspect of a crowd just rushed out of Holywell Street, or preparing to make an excursion to the Minories--an idea to which the abundance of Caucasian noses lends encouragement.

* * * * *

AN IMPORTANT NOTE AND QUERY.

According to the return moved for by MR. HUME, we find that, including Porters, and Gentlemen to Great Seal, Sealer and Deputy Sealer, Chaffwax and Deputy Chaffwax, (what on earth _is_ a Deputy Chaffwax???) Clerk of the Hanaper, and Deputy Clerk of the Hanaper, Ushers, Heralds, Garter Kings at Arms, Purse-bearers, Marshals, Lord Chancellors, Engrossing Clerks, Attorney-Generals, stamps, taxes, and other equally necessary and indispensable persons, places, and things--the making of a Baron is done for the trifling charge of L420. Thanks to MR. HUME, we are put in possession of this Hume-orous document. But the most important question to an Englishman remains unsolved; and MR. BULL requests us to make inquiries, whether it will cost him this great sum before he can make his appearance at the Royal table on Christmas Day next, as a Baron of Beef?

* * * * *

A TALLEYRANDISM.--The worst form of borrower is he who borrows with the intention of repaying, for you know he intends to borrow again.

* * * * *

VISIT OF THE THAMES AND MEDWAY

TO THE

ROYAL COMMISSIONERS OF THE CITY.

The inhabitants of Parliament Street were lately thrown into a state of great excitement by the appearance of a lady and gentleman, who came out of one of the lanes leading from the river, and asked every one whom they met to show them where the Royal Commissioners were sitting. The gentleman, who rather surlily informed the too curious crowd that he was FATHER THAMES, was attired in a quaint and singular garb. "All round his head" he wore, not merely "a green willow," but a profusion of reeds, rullies, and osiers, whilst his feet and legs were thickly coated with mud and sand, which made one of the bystanders (a Common Councilman on his way to the Commissioners) observe, that "the stranger's lower extremities were most in need of the _hosiers_." His waist was garnished by a quantity of bricks, beams, planks, and piles, strung round him without any regard to order or symmetry, and, by their bulk and weight, greatly impeding his progress. He carried his well-known urn under his arm, like an opera hat; but, on passing a window in which RANSOME'S Patent Filters were exposed for sale, he looked wistfully at them, and observed to his companion, that he should like to swop the urn against one. A Kentish farmer (one of a deputation who had been explaining to the Home Secretary the connection between the Bank Charter and the disease in the hops) recognised in the lady an old friend named MEDWAY, who is in the habit of staying on his estate for some months in every year. She had dressed her head with wild-flowers of every hue; her gown "was a blue watered silk; and from her waist hung, by way of _chatelaine_, a string of locks. A number of keys graced her companion's girdle", but we are unable to say if his quays belonged to her locks.

Upon the introduction of these illustrious characters to the Royal Commission the usual question--"Have you anything to say about the Corporation?"--was put to them, and FATHER THAMES at once gave his evidence, in his usual flowing style:

"Had for many years been committed to the care of the Corporation, but had received at their hands nothing but ill treatment. Remembered that many aquatic plants once adorned the whole course of his stream. Had been told by worthy MASTER CAMDEN that those curious botanists, DR. PLUKENET and MR. DOODY, found on the Thames at Westminster, bitter cresses, the three-cornered bulrush, the water reed grass with an oat-like pannicle, and a great pond-weed with pellucid leaves. Believed that the same locality could not now produce a reed worth a rush. Remembered that salmon, lampreys, mullet, and other fish, used to ascend his stream above Westminster, until the Corporation suffered that stream to be polluted by various abominations. Never saw any fish now, excepting those which were thrown in, dead, by the clerk of the markets. Had heard of Whitebait; but had never seen any. Believed them to be no fish--but a composition of lard, flour, and gold-beaters' skin. Had some Swans still, but they never sang now. Did not think any one would listen to them if they did, as 'The Song of the Turtle' had superior attractions. Remembered to have heard three of them singing 'Water parted from the Sea,' to MR. POPE, one evening, at Twickenham. On another occasion, had heard TAYLOR, the Water Poet, trying to teach them 'A Boat, a Boat unto the Ferry.' Believed they ceased to sing when the City gave up its poet laureate. Thought there should be Writers to the Cygnet in London, as well as in Edinburgh, but they must not write in Scotch, as the swans would sing no Scotch song, except, perhaps, "Wha'll buy Caller Herrin?" Had not seen a Naiad for many years, and thought the last had emigrated to Ball's Pond, and set up as a clear starcher. Had been much reduced in size by these and other troubles, but regretted to say the Corporation had taken advantage of his diminished channel to build upon his sides. Had been accused of shifting his bed. So would the Corporation, if their bed had been filled with mud and shingle. Thought they should have kept his bed cleaner. Would like to alter the old proverb, for their benefit, and wished that 'as they had made his bed, so they might lie in it.'"

FATHER THAMES having concluded his evidence, his sister MEDWAY was about to offer her statement of grievances, when an usher announced that the WATER BAILIFF was coming up stairs. Upon which the two rivers, with, fear and perturbation in their countenances, scuttled out of a side door in dread of meeting that terrible functionary.

* * * * *

A BAD SPEC.

News has arrived that "the Russians had invested Giurgevo, but were not strong enough to attack." We can only say that the "investment" must have been rather an unprofitable affair.

* * * * *

THE EXCHANGE CHIMES.

MR. PUNCH is happy to announce that the difficulties which have so long prevented the Royal Exchange Chimes from being completed have been removed, and that the following airs, appropriate to the present condition of City politics, will immediately be heard from the GRESHAM tower. The contractor gives hopes that the new year will be played in by them.

THE DAYS OF OTHER MAYORS.

AIR.--"_The Light of other Days._"

The days of other Mayors have faded,
And Aldermen are past;
The Cit who hopes to do as _they_ did,
Is hoping much too fast.
For London dooms the clique to ruin.
She'll mind her own affairs;
And the Mansion House see no renewing
The days of other Mayors.

* * *

THOSE GRESHAM CHIMES.

AIR.--"_Evening Bells._"

Those GRESHAM Chimes, those GRESHAM Chimes!
They take us back to TUDOR times,
When Merchant Princes felt no shame
To bear a civic magnate's name.

That name has sunk below disdain,
No GRESHAM dons the civic chain,
A Merchant Prince as soon would wear
The garb of Beadle as of Mayor.

But Mayors and such will soon be gone,
A new _regime_ is coming on;
We'll hope to hear, in better times,
Some GRESHAM hailed by GRESHAM Chimes.

* * *

THE CURFEW.

AIR.--"_The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day._"

The Curfew tolls the knell of those whose day Is done--those greedy "creatures on our lee"-- Woe to the burly phalanx so _au fait_ At hiding callipash and callipee. E'en GOG himself looks lively with affright, And MAGOG scarce his spike-stuck weapon holds; For CORNEWALL LEWIS sits, prepared to write, And PATTESON an awful scroll unfolds.

* * *

LAMENT OF LORD MAYOR'S DAY.

AIR.--"_Woodpecker._"

I knew by the smile that derisively curled
On the PATTESON lip, that my downfall was near,
When he said, "I can't see the least use in the world
Of that gew-gaw procession you mount every year."
My half-hearted advocate feebly replied,
About wantonly sapping the customs of yore--
But I said, "If there's peace to be found in Cheapside,
I shan't be disturbing it many times more."

* * *

WHAT DO THE BELLS SAY?

The people want gardens, Says the bells of St. Martin's.
Townsfolk look palely, Says the bells of Old Bailey.
Not if they're rich, Says the bells of Shoreditch.
Then they come out to me, Says the bells of Chelsea.
Or with me take a bed, Says the bells of Hampstead.
But in close London dwellins Says the bells of St. Helen's.
How _do_ they draw breath? Says the bells of St. Faith.
Bless'd if I know. Says the Great Bell of Bow.

* * * * *

PENAL DANCING FOR THE PROTECTION OF WOMEN.

In a quadrille--composed, we think, by the ingenious M. JULLIEN--a lively and diverting effect is produced by the cracking of a whip, which forms an accompaniment of the tune which the company are supposed to dance to.