Chapter VI: Introduction: Volume Xxv.----July to December, 1853 (5)

A BENEFICE IN THE MARKET.

In moving, on Wednesday, the second reading of the Simony Law Amendment Bill--deferred, to the delight no doubt of certain prelates, to that day three months--VISCOUNT GODERICH is reported to have asked:--

"What was it which the right of presentation conferred? It was a
right to select a man who, as a Minister of the Church of England,
was to be intrusted with the spiritual affairs of a certain place."

Yes, indeed, of a certain place--and, one would think, when the right of presentation is simoniacally purchased, of a certain place (not to be mentioned to ears polite) where the cure of souls would be a farce.

* * * * *

STRENGTH APPARENTLY ACCOUNTED FOR.

Notwithstanding the small size of the Aztec children, they are exceedingly strong. An incurable punster says they doubtlessly derived this strength from Gymn-aztecs, from whom it probably descended in a straight line.

* * * * *

HIBERNIAN TACTICS.

The military ability evinced by the Irish Brigade is of a peculiar kind. It is chiefly conspicuous in besieging; for almost the only talent in the whole party has been displayed in taking places.

* * * * *

MILITARY INTELLIGENCE.

The excitement caused by GENERAL PUNCH'S reviews has by no means abated. That gallant and distinguished officer seems determined that the troops in his district shall not be much, if at all, behind those who, at Chobham or elsewhere, have more favourable opportunities of attaining perfection in discipline. The Chamomile Scrubs--the scene of the reviews--are daily thronged with numerous spectators, who, though they generally arrive when there is nothing to see, and go back again in the wet, never appear to be disappointed, but, on the contrary, return in perfect good humour.

A more than usual number of persons assembled yesterday, in the expectation of seeing something grand, a rumour having got abroad that it was the intention of the GENERAL to call out the Brook Green Militia (which distinguished corps, in consequence of the recent augmentation, now numbers nearly two file and a half), and to brigade them with the Queen's Piebalds. It was said, too, that the forces thus brought together would be separated as two divisions, and occupy respectively the Scrubs and Starch Green, and that a sham fight would take place. But the idea (if ever entertained) was abandoned--for what reason we cannot say, as we do not happen to know--these things being kept in profound mystery: but we are informed that a sergeant is under arrest, and will probably be "smashed" for having said that the ground on Starch Green was too stiff for the Piebalds. Such an atrocious attempt at a joke will meet with little sympathy from our readers, and we doubt not the offender will meet with his deserts, though, after all, perhaps, the idea _was_ given up on that ground. The Piebalds, having sole possession of the Scrubs, went through their evolutions with their accustomed precision. The "brilliancy" of the movements was somewhat abated in consequence of GENERAL PUNCH having ordered "field exercise" instead of "marching order." But those who have any regard for our gallant defenders will, we are sure, willingly give up "glittering helmets," &c., for anything that may conduce to their comfort. We subjoin a letter which has come into our hands, which will show that the privates are subjected to privations and moving accidents in peace as well as war--in barracks as well as in the field:--

_To_ LIEUTENANT WHIFFIN, _Royal South-South-East-Middlesex Dun Browns_.

"DEAR WHIFFIN,--I must tell you how we have been going on. Old PUNCH has been working us up in fine style--four field days a week, and riding drill on the off days; besides practising pitching tent in the afternoon in the barrack yard. However, he is such a jolly old fellow, that we don't mind a little extra work for him. One thing he has done which we are particularly thankful for. He lets us go to his reviews in field exercise instead of marching order.

"Young GREEN of ours says he considers it a personal favour. You know he swapped helmets with CAPTAIN WIDEAWAKE when he (WIDEAWAKE) went up to the DUKE'S funeral, and has never been able to get his own back since. WIDEAWAKE is always 'so busy he can't give it him now.' The consequence is, that W.'s helmet rolls about on GREEN'S head like 'anything,' especially at a trot, and the scales are so long that he's obliged to keep his mouth open all the field day to keep it on his head. So that it's fortunate for him that he's only been a serrefile as yet. If he were to lead a troop he would have some difficulty in giving the word of command. Some recruits only recently dismissed have a similar difficulty to brave.

"I got my troop last Tuesday, which I suppose you saw in the _Gazette_; and as the GENERAL wants the captains to get up the names of all the men in the troop, and the number of all the horses, I've got the troop-roll from Sergeant-Major, and am getting it off by heart. I had a 'law-suit' the other day. PRIVATE GRUMBLE reported the bread, but as he was not supported by the other men, I put him down easily. The fact is, he's not much liked by the rest of the men in the troop. He used to be looked up to as a 'schollard,' but has lost ground lately, owing to a singular circumstance. A letter appeared in the _Ballymucky Reporter_, signed 'MILES,' and Sergeant-Major tells me that GRUMBLE wrote a letter in reply, and signed himself 'Two _miles_,' and was informed in the answers to correspondents, in the next number, that he was an ass. All the men saw it, and GRUMBLE got laughed at for his 'law.' I am very glad the men have lost faith in him, as CAPTAIN CHUM told me he was always boring about fractions and the price of shaving brushes. As the GENERAL wants us to know all about straps and buckles, and packing valise, &c., I told Sergeant-Major I would look at one yesterday. So PRIVATE MUSCLES was ordered to show; but as his highlows were at the shoemaker's, and forage cap at the tailor's, and the rest of the valise was filled with two sheets and a bolster, I didn't get much information from him. The Sergeant-Major said I had better order him a week's marching order, and make him show kit in the afternoon. Which I did, as I thought it better to do what the Sergeant-Major said. I looked at the kit in the afternoon. _Such_ a kit, WHIFFIN, you never saw. The Sergeant-Major 'shook up' everything, and found that the fellow had actually got a wisp of hay rolled up in a helmet-bag to represent a shirt, and his 'drors,' as he called them, would, I verily believe, reach from my quarters to the riding-school. Sergeant-Major says he's always late for morning stables in winter because his drawers are so full of holes he can't get into them till a candle is lighted. I hope all this 'private' information won't bore you, but I have really had no time lately to go to town and see any of our old haunts. Besides, the GENERAL says we must take an interest in this sort of thing, in order to study the 'comforts of the men.'

"Good-bye for the present, old fellow. I shall let you know how we're getting on from time to time.

"Yours truly,

"JOHN SNAFFLES, _Queen's Piebalds_.

"P.S.--I've released MUSCLES and given him a new kit, on the condition that he won't get drunk for a month. You know our match with all Hammersmith comes off in three weeks, and it wouldn't do to have him away then--he's a capital long-stop. By the bye, you must contrive to have a pain in the side, or some urgent business with your legal adviser about that time, as we can't get any one to bowl in your place.--J.S."

* * * * *

MORNINGTON'S CHALLENGE.

(_Which was an Attempt to stir up a Noble Lord with a Long Pole._)

Hail, MORNINGTON--what! venerable Peer,
Dost thou again before the Public show?
Gone to the deuce we thought thee, many a year,
As BYRON has it, "diddled," long ago.

Thus reascending on our modern stage,
As through a "trap," thou mak'st us boys again;
The ardent spirit of thy reverend age,
Of GEORGE THE FOURTH revives the splendid reign.

For well do we remember how thy fame
Accustomed was our fathers to amuse:
And what a by-word was thy complex name,
Then daily ventilated in the news.

Then ventilated:--was not that enough
That name's purification to complete?
Think'st thou that it required the sulph'rous puff
Of gunpowder, to make it wholly sweet?

Would'st thou eat fire--the fire of other days?
And SHAFTESBURY to that repast invite?
Knowing thou might'st as well propose to blaze
At any bishop, or at MR. BRIGHT.

Pah! there's a tune which, in the festive hop,
Will cause me evermore to think of thee;
"Pop goes the Weasel"--thou would'st, too, go pop;
Pop goes the WELLESLEY, let it henceforth be.

* * * * *

DIGESTIVE APPARATUS.

The best "grubber" obtained a prize at the late agricultural gathering at Gloucester: but we are not informed whether the successful competitor was a citizen, who emptied a tureen of turtle, or a ploughman, who devoured "a leg of mutton and trimmings." In such a contest Town would be likely to beat Country; at least if the grubbing-match were open to the Corporation of London.

* * * * *

RESULTS OF A WAR.

In the event of Austria and Russia joining in an European war, it is not too much to suppose that Hungary, Lombardy, and Poland, will all become members of the "EARLY RISING Association."

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE DISCOUNTER'S DIRGE.

_A Fragmentary Lament found in the Common Pleas after the recent Trial of_ "S--MM--NS _v._ P--RK--NS--N."

SUPPOSED TO BE SLIGHTLY ALTERED FROM CAMPBELL.

"And I could veep," the _Oneida Chief's_
Caucasian vendor thus begun--
"To hear them Councils, with their briefs,
Traducing of my father's son,
Vith jokes uncommon low.
And that there Judge, vich busts in wrath,
Vich takes no heed of vot he saith,
But stamps a name as sticks till death--
'A Knave.' He called me so,
And all because that Christian boy
Paid somevot dearly for a toy.

"That Hemerald brooch, the vich vas given
By Hingland's Queen to PEEL so deep,
I charged but fifty-two eleven,
As I maintains vos really cheap;
They swore the stone was glass,
The bracelet for his gentle EVE,
They called a Oundsditch make-believe,
And said I'd plotted to deceive
The fashionable ass--
Six bills at sight I swore my right.
The jury took vun extra sight.

"My art goes thump. Before me now
That Judge's countenanth appears;
I see him knit a norrid brow.
His vice is thunderin in mine ears;
He puts me in a hawful ole,
He riles me till I'm fit to bust,
He calls my case, from last to first,
About the wilest and the wust
Of vich he's ad control:
And says the union's 'past belief
Of such a Fool,' and 'such a Thief.'"

* * * * *

THE CABMAN'S BEST FRIEND.

"SIR,

"The Police cases under the New Hackney Carriage Act show that a determination to struggle against the working of that measure prevails among the members of my profession, which, though I am a legally qualified medical practitioner, is at present that of a cabman. For, Sir, I turned cabman rather than turn quack or sycophant, one of which things a man must, in general, turn, who has to get his living out of people most of whom are weakly in mind, body, and sex: particularly in these days when ladies of rank and Members of Parliament patronise clairvoyance and homoeopathy. I may add that I have less driving to do now than I had when I was in medical practice, and that I get better paid for it.

"My object in addressing you, is to beg that you will use all your influence to make the public insist on having the provisions of this Act, in regard to fares, severely carried out.

"It may be the opinion of insolent WILLIAM, and intoxicated JAMES, my brethren of the whip, that in expressing this desire I am merely uttering the sentiments of a truculent magistrate, or other odious and tyrannical member of the aristocracy, desirous of interfering between a poor fellow and the swell out of whom it is his business to get as much as he can. They may be disposed to invoke dreadful vengeance upon me for what they consider a sympathy with wealth and respectability, rather than a fellow feeling with labour and themselves. But, Sir, my beery and abusive friends are both wrong. I want the Act of Parliament enforced for the benefit of the people; which is identical with our own.

"The mistake of vituperative WILLIAM, the error of hiccuping and unsteady JAMES, is the supposition that cabs were made for none but extortionate rascals to drive, and none but opulent spendthrifts to ride in. Nature--for nature presides even over hired vehicles--intended cabs not only for the conveyance of intemperate dandies with cigars in their mouths, for travellers in hot haste regardless of expense, and reckless pleasure-hunters dashing away to Cremorne or the Opera. She meant them also for the accommodation of sober matrons of narrow circumstances and broad umbrellas, poor clerks, small tradesmen, indigent authors, and other humble persons pressed for time, troubled with corns, caught in the rain, or otherwise precluded from pedestrianism. Now, an excessive legal fare was enough to keep these kinds of people out of cabs; to say nothing of the certainty of an additional demand, accompanied by insult, and urged in derisive and revolting language.

"Let it be once understood, on all hands, that the new cab tariff is to be a serious reality, a thing as settled as the price of a pot of beer, and I am sure the increase of practice will more than compensate us for the diminution of our individual fees. I speak of those who, like myself, seek an honest livelihood by taking as many cases--that is, fares--as they can, upon reasonable terms, instead of plundering such patients or victims as they can get hold of to the most villanous possible extent.

"Pray, therefore, impress upon all friends of the working man, that working men are to be considered in the light of cab takers as well as in that of cab drivers. There are some impetuous young blades who are prone to scatter their cash about on all kinds of cads, amongst whom we have the honour to rank in their estimation.

"Accordingly they in general overpay us monstrously. Advise them to discontinue that injudicious liberality; it spoils us: it causes us to be discontented with full wages, and to laugh in the face of a customer who proposes to pay us our legal due. It has possessed us with the notion that everybody who takes a cab is infinitely rich: so that when a man does not offer us much more than we are entitled to, we are accustomed to ask him ironically whether he calls himself a gentleman. Hence it is that we dance, with menacing gestures, around those who resist our endeavours to cheat them; collect mobs about them; and pursue them with execrations as far as we dare. A stop will be put to this state of things by the strict and uniform enforcement of the much-needed Act which has been passed for the abatement of our knavery and the prevention of our insolence; I will add, on the whole, for our good: at least for the good of one member of our body, who is also a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and Licentiate of the Apothecaries Company, albeit now necessitated to cry

"HERE YOU ARE, SIR!"

"_The Stand, July, 1853._"

* * * * *

NOTICE.--Unless all the Jokes, which have been sent in about JULLIEN "cutting his _baton_," are immediately removed from the _Punch_ Office, they will be sold as waste paper, and the proceeds devoted to the benefit of the "ASYLUM FOR IDIOTS."

* * * * *

Cabman. "_I beg your pardon, Sir, but is my Fare really a Sixpence?_"]

* * * * *

OUR HONEYMOON.

SUNDAY, MAY 26, 18--.

"My dear," said FRED, this morning--"I--I don't think I can go to church. But, of course, _you_ can go, I don't feel like myself this morning."

"I don't wonder at that, love. Indeed, you don't look yourself. But I expected as much."--

"_You_, LOTTY!" and FRED opened his eyes.

"Why, I knew what would come of it. Here were you out till twelve o'clock"--

"It wanted a quarter," said FRED, as if a quarter could make any difference.

"Twelve o'clock," said I firmly, "allowing for watches, before you came home."

"I told you--I was out talking with TOM," and FRED tapped the table.

"Well, if I must say what I think, FRED; I don't like MR. TRUEPENNY. _I--do--not--like--him._"

"I don't wish you to like him, my dear. You're to like and love me; and to love one man industriously and conscientiously is as much as any woman can be expected to do. More no reasonable husband can ask of her."

But this I wouldn't seem to listen to. "Twelve o'clock," I repeated. "Well, what you could find to talk about all that time--and I sitting here at the window alone"--

"You might have gone to bed," said FREDERICK.

"Gone to bed! And _you_ out! Why, what can you think me made of?" But he only looked at me from under his eyes and laughed. "I'm not a stock or a stone."

"Certainly not, my darling. I may perhaps be permitted to observe--in your own picturesque language--quite the reverse. _Quite_ the reverse," and he again tapped the table.

"No, love"--said I; for I thought I'd at once nip _that_ notion in the bud--"of course I don't wish, in fact, I should never think of such a thing, as to desire to control you in the choice of your friends. If I don't like MR. TRUEPENNY, why I can't help it; and there's an end. But what I wish to say, my love, is this--oh, it's no laughing matter, for I'm quite in earnest, I assure you--if MR. TRUEPENNY thinks he's to keep you out till twelve at night, and I'm to go to bed; if he thinks _that_"--

"But I don't believe"--said FRED coolly--"he thinks anything of the matter. Indeed, what is it to him whether you never go to bed at all?"

"Of course; nothing. Only I'm not going to sit up and say nothing. A woman's not to be kept out of her bed as if her soul wasn't her own."--

"Why, your soul doesn't wear a nightcap, does it?" asked FRED, meaning to be aggravating.

"I don't know _that_," said I; for, as I've said, I was determined to nip the notion in the bud. "Nevertheless"--for I wasn't to be put off--"what _could_ you talk of till twelve o'clock?"

FRED said nothing, but looked up at the ceiling.

"No good, I'm sure," said I in a bit of a passion, and before I knew it.

"CHARLOTTE!" cried FREDERICK, and his eyes flashed, as I'd never seen 'em. And then in a moment he looked kind, and I thought sad; and holding out his hand, he said, looking at me and his eyes softening,--"LOTTY, love, don't let us quarrel."

My heart was in my throat, and my arm about his neck. "We shall never quarrel, FRED," said I. "But what I meant to say was--what an odd person MR. TRUEPENNY is."

"Odd? A most excellent fellow!" said FREDERICK with energy.

"Of course. You wouldn't have any other for a friend: I know that, love. But what I mean is, he's so confused--so bashful."

"Yes. A bachelor's fault. I was so myself once. But it's wonderful what confidence marriage gives a man. Kiss me, my darling."

"There, now, FRED; it's Sunday," said I, not knowing what to say. "But why should MR. TRUEPENNY be in such a twitter when he sees me? He blushes and stammers, and"--

"It's your beauty, no doubt," said FRED.

"Nonsense!"

"A solemn truth. Ah! my dear, it's a great comfort for timid men that beauty, like the elephant, doesn't know its strength. Otherwise, how it would trample on us! It's a fact, LOTTY, if you had only known half your power, you'd never have married me. Certainly not. But then women never do. Looking-glasses are thrown away upon 'em, poor things. When you consented to take me, LOTTY, I don't know that I didn't feel quite crushed by your condescension. Quite crushed. Yes: the last knowledge a woman ever acquires is a proper sense of the power of her own beauty. Otherwise, LOTTY, they'd never throw it away upon us; but live and die like the roses. Don't you think they would? Like the roses?"

I said nothing, but was just gently pulling his ear, when the church bells struck out.

"If it isn't church-time," said I; "but I'm drest. Nothing, but my bonnet."

"Well, LOTTY, you can go without me; yes, you"--and then he paused, and looked at me, I thought so strangely, and said--"no, my love: you shall not go alone. We'll go together." With this, he left the room; and a sudden shadow seemed to fall about me.

The next moment, the servant introduced "MR. TRUEPENNY." With his face the truth flashed upon me that--that--I didn't know what. But, instantly, I felt resolved to find it out; and so, in a minute, was in my very best spirits.

"FREDERICK," said I, "will be here directly. He's preparing for church."

"Church," said MR. TRUEPENNY, as if the word half stuck between his lips.

"Don't you ever go to church, MR. TRUEPENNY? I mean"--

"Always," said he. "But the fact is, when one comes to the sea-side"--

"PETER'S boat," I observed very seriously, "was at the sea-side."

"To be sure, certainly," said he; then he looked at the toe of his boot, and then at the pattern of the carpet; in fact, anywhere but at me. Then he coughed, and said--for all the world as if he was talking of prawns--"I'm told there's very good preaching about here."

"I should hope, MR. TRUEPENNY, that there is good preaching everywhere; that is, if persons are only disposed to listen to it." MR. TRUEPENNY--his eye still on his boot--bowed. "I hope," said I, "you will accompany us to church?"

"What! I?" cried the man, really alarmed.

"To be sure: why not?" said FRED, coming into the room. "And then, TOM, we'll take a walk--LOTTY isn't equal to the fatigue"--how did he know that?--"and then we'll all dine, and comfortably close the day together."

"Well, I--I--I've no objection," said MR. TRUEPENNY; as though desperately making up his mind to endure the worst.

"A most admirable preacher, I'm told. Has preached before his Gracious Majesty, when Prince Regent," said FRED.

"Indeed?" said MR. TRUEPENNY, as if he wished to be astonished.

"A great favourite at Brighton; he's so extremely mild and well-bred. Touches upon the pomps and vanities of this wicked world--and scourges the miserable sinners who keep carriages--gently, tenderly. For all the world as if with a bunch of peacock's feathers you'd dust so many images of Dresden China."

"That's lucky," said MR. TRUEPENNY.

"_Why_ lucky?" I asked--for there _was_ something in the man's manner.

"I meant to say," he stammered, "that there are times when one doesn't like--like one's sins to be--bullied--that is, not at the sea-side."

"Quite right, TOM," said FRED, who I could see was helping him out. "Very well in one's own parish church, but"--

"We shall be too late," said I, and I ran from the room; and in a minute--never in all my life did I put my bonnet on so quick--in a minute I was ready.

The church was extremely full--as we afterwards found--for the season. FREDERICK was particularly serious; and for MR. TRUEPENNY, if he'd been listening to his own condemned sermon, he couldn't have been more solemn. It was odd, too, I thought, the glances he now and then cast towards me. And particularly when the clergyman said--and he seemed, I really _did_ think for the minute, as though he was looking right into our pew, when he said--"_Thou shalt do no murder_"--at the very words, MR. TRUEPENNY let his prayer-book slip, and made such a start to catch it, that he drew all eyes upon us. I saw FREDERICK colour scarlet, and bite his lips as he glanced at his friend. At last the service was over, and we got away.

"A very nice sermon," said MR. TRUEPENNY, trying to say something.

"Very soothing," I added; for I knew he was half-asleep all the time.

"Yes; that's it," said he: "but that's what I like, when I come to a watering-place. Something quiet, something to think over."

Well we returned to the inn; and somehow we got through the day. I don't know how late MR. TRUEPENNY would have sat; but, for all FRED'S nods and winks, I was determined to sit him out. At last,--it was nearly twelve--at last he went away.

"We shall meet in the morning," said FRED to him.

"Of--of course," said MR. TRUEPENNY; and then with the awkwardest bow in the world, he left me and FRED together.

"We'd better go to bed," said FRED. "Isn't it late?"

"Very," said I; "and for my part I thought MR. TRUEPENNY was never going."

I went into my room, and--there upon my table--was a slip of paper written in JOSEPHINE'S hand, with these words:

"_If you really love master, you'll not let him get up to-morrow morning!_"

And now all the horror was plain as light! "Get up!" I thought--and all a woman's resolution came upon me--"only let me once get him well to bed, and he _doesn't get up_." I listened for his footsteps. He came. I met him with a smile; and _didn't I lock the door_?

* * * * *

MARKET AND TRADE REPORT.

CITY.--The deportation of such large numbers of shirt hands, to which we have before alluded, has caused an unparallelled rise in wages, amounting, we are assured, in some cases, to as much as a farthing per dozen on "gents' dress." It is rumoured that the "United Distressed Needle-women" contemplate striking for a reduction of the hours of labour. Twenty-one hours a day, with three intervals of two minutes each for meals, except during the busy season which comprises only about eleven months in the year, is spoken of as likely to be their stipulation.

MANCHESTER.--Policemen are in rather better demand, at a slight advance on former prices. Good stout articles are quoted at from 13_s._ to 17_s._ per week; sergeants 19_s._ to 21_s._; best blues, strong, full length, 23_s._

* * * * *

CARVING HIS WAY TO INIQUITY.

A culinary wag (not SOYER) has inserted in his Cookery Book the proclamation of EMPEROR NICHOLAS, in which he talks largely about the "orthodox faith" and "the sword," and has labelled it: "DIRECTIONS FOR CUTTING UP A TURKEY."

* * * * *

THE STAMP OF LIBERALITY AND MEANNESS.

The liberal man, when he is in doubt about the proper weight of a letter, puts on two stamps: the mean man only puts on one.

* * * * *

SAPPHICS OF THE CABSTAND.

_Friend of Self-Government._

Seedy Cab-driver, whither art thou going!
Sad is thy fate--reduced to law and order,
Local self-government yielding to the gripe of
Centralisation.

Victim of FITZROY! little think the M.P.'s,
Lording it o'er cab, 'bus, lodging-house and graveyard,
Of the good times when every Anglo-Saxon's
House was his castle.

Say, hapless sufferer, was it MR. CHADWICK--
Underground foe to the British Constitution--
Or my LORD SHAFTESBURY, put up MR. FITZROY
Thus to assail you?

Was it the growth of Continental notions,
Or was it the Metropolitan police force
Prompted this blow at _Laissez-faire_, that free and
Easiest of doctrines?

Have you not read MR. TOULMIN SMITH'S great work on
Centralisation? If you haven't, buy it;
Meanwhile I should be glad at once to hear your
View on the subject.

_Cab-driver._

View on the subjeck? jiggered if I've got one;
Only I wants no centrylisn', I don't--
Which I suppose it's a crusher standin' sentry
Hover a cabstand.

Whereby if we gives e'er a word o' cheek to
Parties as rides, they pulls us up like winkin'--
And them there blessed beaks is down upon us
Dead as an 'ammer!

As for MR. TOULMIN SMITH, can't say I knows him--
But as you talks so werry like a gem'man,
Perhaps you're a goin' in 'ansome style to stand a
Shillin' a mile, Sir?

_Friend of Self-Government._

I give a shilling? I will see thee hanged first--
Sixpence a mile--or drive me straight to Bow Street--
Idle, ill-mannered, dissipated, dirty,
Insolent rascal!

* * * * *

PEDESTRIANISM AT ST. STEPHEN'S.

Members of the House of Commons, being in the Library, or elsewhere about the House, have to run for it in order to be present at divisions, and are sometimes too late. Lightness of heels (as well as of principle) appears to be a quality necessary to a representative of the British people. An election contest might be an actual footrace. Why not? The candidate that is able to outrun his opponent is at least as fit and proper a man to represent a constituency, as he is who can outbribe him. However this may be, we expect soon to see some such arrangements as the following among the Parliamentary notices:--

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY will run JOSEPH HUME, or any other Member, on the India question; or what not.

FREDERICK LUCAS, the Scarlet Runner, will match himself with PHINN, the Bath Brick, to run any length upon the Nunneries' Bill; or as much farther as the POPE chooses.

COLONEL SIBTHORPE will run any Member of HER MAJESTY'S Government (in which he has no confidence) at any time, on any question.

We shall also have SIR J. T. TYRRELL, the Farmer's Boy, challenging LORD JOHN RUSSELL, the Bedford Pet, to a trial of speed; the ATTORNEY-GENERAL will be invited to a similar match by SIR F. THESIGER; MR. BRIGHT will be proposing to hop LORD PALMERSTON; and perhaps MR. BENJAMIN DISRAELI will want to jump MR. GLADSTONE in a budget.

* * * * *

ST. STEPHEN'S RUBBER.

To judge from the smoke in which the investigation of the Dockyard abuses has ended, it would seem that the late Government played their cards in the knowledge that knaves were trumps.

* * * * *

THE EAST INDIA HOUSE.--It has been said of the East India House, that "it is an establishment which, in patronage, and other delicate little matters, generally goes 'the whole HOGG.'"

* * * * *

* * * * *

PAX VOBISCUM.

The Irish constituencies being now completely in the hands of their spiritual advisers, it is contemplated that henceforth the Speaker's writ for a new election in Ireland shall be directed to the priests of the vacant locality. The Reverend gentlemen are to meet (whiskey toddy and tobacco to be charged to the county), and their endorsement of their tool's name on the back of the writ, without any other form of election, is to save all the riot and bloodshed which they now feel it their duty to their Church and their consciences to cause, if a layman, Catholic or Protestant, ventures to present himself to the electors without priestly sanction. Anything for peace and quietness.

* * * * *

THE FARMER'S MAGIC STROP.

The genius of MR. MECHI has sharpened many razors:--may it have a corresponding effect upon agricultural blades.

* * * * *

HINTS FOR A NEW EDITION OF THE DRAMATISTS.

We have been favoured with a glimpse of the note-book of a great dramatic critic, who evidently contemplates giving, or selling to the world, a great national treat in the form of a new edition of the dramatists. The annotator seems to combine all the acuteness of the needle with the straightforward bluntness of the railway buffer. We subjoin a few specimens:--

NOTE ON THE TRAGEDY OF DOUGLAS.

There is a passage in this play which has escaped the attention of all critics who have preceded me; a passage which shows _Glenalvon_ to have been of a social disposition. In one of the scenes with _Norval_, _Glenalvon_ says (_aside_),

"His port I love."

And, from this remarkable passage, we get three facts: first, that _Glenalvon_ liked port; secondly, that he had tasted _Norval's_ port; and, thirdly, that the port in question was of a high character.

NOTE ON JULIUS CAESAR.

The character of _Casca_ has never yet had full justice done to it by the critics; but there is one passage which may be compared to a perfect thoroughfare for finding our way to _Casca's_ real condition. He evidently belonged to the landlord or agrarian party in the State, and there can be no doubt that the terms on which his tenants held of him were exorbitant. The whole fact bursts in upon us like a thunderbolt through the roof of an out-house, or a broker through the door of an apartment with the rent in arrear, when we read the following line, spoken by _Antony_ in the course of his funeral oration over _Caesar_:

"See what a rent the envious _Casca_ made!"

Now, this allusion to the rent made by _Casca_ proves either one of two things: First, that he let lodgings at a high price; or, secondly, that he derived a considerable income from a landed tenantry. I am inclined to the latter supposition, for it is possible that had he let merely lodgings, some of the lodgers would have been introduced into the play, with that nice appreciation of the ludicrous for which SHAKSPEARE is conspicuous. This not having been done, we are driven on the other hypothesis, to which, on the whole, we give the preference.

The above specimens will suffice to show the public the addition that may be shortly expected to a department and style of literature in which the English language is already rich--excessively rich--in the opinion of some of us.

* * * * *

PHILOSOPHY TEACHING BY CONUNDRUMS.

Why are diplomatic papers called Circular Notes?--Because they go round about a subject without coming to any definite end! They are, moreover, called Circular because they are seldom on the square.

* * * * *

EXPENSIVE SPIRITS.--The estimates of the charge of the disembodied Militia are heavier than one would expect on the supposition that the Militia, disembodied, consists of the ghosts of Militiamen.

* * * * *

THE AFFAIRS OF TURKEY.--The SULTAN may "lead a life of jollity:" but his Minister for Foreign Affairs is REDSCHID.

* * * * *

BRICKS.

The natural history of Bricks is interesting.

We are enabled to trace it without difficulty from very ancient periods, both with reference to its different structures, and with reference to building purposes.

It is pleasing to observe how the bitumen was first used, how it was moulded into form, and baked into hardness, by the heat of the Persian sun. We can trace it through many of its forms until we come to the great Roman Brick of nine inches long, three inches broad, and three inches thick. We now discover, with the satisfaction and pleasure of the antiquarian, how long these Bricks have endured; but, for many years, we were not aware of any application of the Brick, other than that of strength, stability, and support of edifices--edifices which, sometimes, might really raise the question: "To what extent the architect for _Time_ meant to contend with _Eternity?_"

We think we are indebted to our Cambridge friends--it may be to our Harrow friends, we cannot tell--for the first moral or ethical application of the word Brick.

How common it has been of late years to say to a man, whose virtuous tendencies are of the first order, "My dear fellow, you are a Brick." It becomes, however, more emphatic in the usage of the third person. "Do you know MR. SO-AND-SO? Is he really a man I can trust? Is he a good fellow?" The answer in one word is, "He's a Brick." The answer is satisfactory, in all senses, to the propounder of the question--indeed, a more satisfactory reply cannot be uttered.

We have heard this kind of expression called _slang_--it really is not so. Gentlemen, take up your _Plutarch_, turn to the Life of AGESILAUS, and what do you read? You'll find, if you understand Greek--and if you don't, set about learning it immediately, for the purposes of history, as well as poetry and elevation of thought--that when the Ambassador from Epirus went to AGESILAUS, to have a diplomatic chit-chat with him, he said to him: "Where on earth are the walls of Sparta? In other States of Greece the principal towns have walls--but where are yours, dear AGESILAUS?" The SIR STRATFORD CANNING, or LORD COWLEY, from Epirus, was answered by that amiable monarch: "I'll to-morrow at morning dawn shew you the walls of Sparta. Breakfast with me, old chap; some of the best black soup that Sparta can afford shall be put on the table: and I'll shew you the walls."

They met: and AGESILAUS had drawn out his Spartan army before him, and, with exulting cheer and dignified mien, said to his friend from Epirus, "Look! _these are the Walls of Sparta, Sir; and every particular man you see is a Brick._" How classical becomes the phrase! how distinct from slang!

We do not say we have translated the great _Plutarch_ literally, but we have translated him in spirit, and if that great man had been now living, and could have seen this, he would no doubt have been delighted, and grateful to us for our application of history to the correction of vulgarisms, and to the promotion of sound and sincere classical literature.

* * * * *

SLIGHT MISTAKES.

Why is there such a fuss made about the purchase of benefices, the possession of pluralities, and the management of bishops to get more income than they ought to have? These are all merely clerical errors.

* * * * *

THE "VEXATA QUAESTIO."--"What is a mile?"

* * * * *

_Pretty Gent._ "OH! LAWK! DON'T MENTION IT!"]

* * * * *

SPIRITED CONDUCT OF MR. CHARLES KEAN.

MR. CHARLES KEAN continuing to be exposed to the nuisance of criticism, has determined, though with much regret, on a still more decided step in vindication of his personal dignity than any he has yet taken. Having already struck off the Free List of the Princess's Theatre all the critics who have insolently ventured to express unfavourable opinions of his acting, MR. KEAN had hoped that the public would have taken this warning that he is not amenable to hostile criticism. In this hope he regrets to find himself disappointed. Many persons still consider him a bad actor, and have not shrunk from audaciously expressing this detestable opinion in and out of the Princess's Theatre. Further forbearance on MR. KEAN'S part would clearly be an act of injustice to himself.

He has, therefore (though at cost of much pain to himself), resolved on a measure which he trusts will prevent any repetition of this annoyance. MR. KEAN deeply regrets that HER MAJESTY, having lately visited the Haymarket Theatre, was observed (no doubt, in an unguarded moment,) to laugh at MR. BRAID'S offensive (and most unsuccessful) imitation of MR. KEAN'S performance in the _Corsican Brothers_, which MR. BUCKSTONE has had the bad taste to sanction in a ridiculous and entirely unsuccessful burlesque or extravaganza, called the _Ascent of Mount Parnassus_. This having been brought to MR. KEAN'S ears (as most acts of the same kind are sure to be), he has, in consequence, struck HER MAJESTY'S name off the Free List of the Princess's Theatre, exclaiming, in the manner of _Richard_, and in a tone of dignity which so over-powered the prompter and stage-manager that he has not yet recovered the shock--

"Off with her name! so much for Royalty!"

* * * * *

EVANESCENT ART.

The most remarkable exhibition of Dissolving Views is that of the National Gallery, where, through various chemical processes and mechanical means, the pictures of the ancient Masters are undergoing dissolution.

* * * * *

THE PUBLIC'S ADDRESS TO HIS CABMAN.

(IMITATED FROM THE ARAB'S ADDRESS TO HIS STEED.)

My insolent; my turbulent! that stands crest-fallen by,
With the recent Cab Act in thy hand, and tear-drops in thine eye,
Try not to overcharge us now, or make our pockets bleed;
You cannot do it now again--thou'rt sold, my man, indeed.
Fret not with that impatient cough: if surlily inclined,
The nearest station is the place at which redress to find;
The magistrates have now the power to mulct thee of thy gold,
Or send thee off to jail, my friend. Thou'rt sold, my man, thou'rt sold.

'Tis well! those old and crazy wheels not many a mile can roam;
After next October you must keep that vehicle at home.
Some other cab less old and torn you shortly must prepare,
With roof not full of crevices, admitting rain and air.
Yes, it must go! the crazy cab, the old abandoned fly,
Must on thy master's premises be finally put by;
And in it there some juveniles, who cannot get a ride,
May cram themselves, by climbing up the wheels on every side.

Do they ill-use thee, Cabman? No! I'm sure it cannot be;
You that have bullied half the world, and humbugged even me.
And yet, if haply thou'rt done up, and for thee we should yearn,
Can the same law that cut thee off compel thee to return?
Return! alas! my Cabman bold, what shall the public do,
When rain is falling everywhere, wetting the public through?
I'll stand me up beneath an arch, and pause and sadly think--
'Twas at the beer-shop opposite, the Cabmen used to drink.

THE CABMEN USED TO DRINK! Away--my fevered dream is o'er;
I could not live a day and know cabs were to be no more.
They've cut thee down, exacting one; but legal power is strong:
You tempted us, my insolent! you kept it up too long.
Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wert sold?
'Tis false! 'tis false! Thou'rt better off, my Cabman, thou art told.
Thus, thus, I leap into thy cab, to ride five miles from town,
And when at Acton I alight, I'll pay thee half-a-crown.

* * * * *

* * * * *

AN APPROPRIATE AMENDMENT.

Seeing how extremely difficult it is to get a complaint listened to at almost any post-office, we think the old simile "As deaf as a Post" might very suitably be altered into "As deaf as a Post-Master."

* * * * *

"Vell, Summons me! I ain't a going to take Sixpence! You call yourself a Gentleman, I s'pose?"

AND AFTER.

"O! Don't Summons me, Sir! Consider my poor wife and children, there's a kind Gentleman."]

* * * * *

THE GREAT CHOBHAM CAMPAIGN.

We learn with pleasure that the gallant fellows assembled under canvas at Chobham have proved that they can not only stand fire, but they can stand water with astonishing bravery. No soldiers have ever gone so far "into the bowels of the land" as these highlowed heroes, who have stamped the imprint of their military heels on the mud of Chobham. Never were laurels so thoroughly watered as the laurels worn at Chobham, by what Cockneyism would call indiscriminately the veterans and the wetter-uns of our encamped soldiery. If any man lately under canvas has had a stain to get rid of, we may be sure that it has been thoroughly washed out by the showers with which he has been saturated. The only wonder is that the gallant fellows have not been all washed away by a mode of "hero wash-up" that would have been indeed deplorable.

* * * * *

THE LAST OF THE PAUPERS.

A pauper is generally imagined by foreigners to be a lantern-jawed, herring-paunched, emaciated and pallid wretch, cropped and shaven, clothed in pepper-and-salt ditto, and employed in crushing bones for manure and soup. Thanks to Free Trade and the Diggings--among second causes--this order of fellow Christians is now almost extinct. Our continental neighbours will find, on inquiry, that a wholly different appearance is for the most part presented by the remaining objects of British charity. Coats, waistcoats, and trousers--in some cases gaiters and breeches--of superfine black cloth, warm and comfortable to the feeling, sleek and glossy to the sight, envelope with liberal amplitude proportions which are plump, and perhaps corpulent. The nether extremities are encased in capacious and shiny highlows, sometimes silver-buckled. A goodly beaver hat with extensive brim shades the entire man from the rays which tend to liquefy the oleaginous part of him. This is the only badge of poverty that he bears about him; its form is suggestive of an emblem of manual labour--the Shovel.

His dietary is open to no objection in regard either to quantity or quality; except that, in both respects, it tends rather to produce plethora and engender gout. It is, in fact, discretional; for even when he enjoys an indoor maintenance, he receives a stipend in lieu of rations, and this sum is usually handsome enough to enable him to indulge in every delicacy of every season.

When he thus lives in the House--the Almshouse provided for him--he has the whole of it to himself, and is required to share it with nobody except his own family if he is blessed with one: so far, therefore, from being separated from his wife in a comfortless ward, he occupies a mansion which is the abode of domestic happiness.

His work is mostly as optional, conversely, as his victuals: so that he can eat and drink as much, and exert himself as little as he likes. The only employment obligatory upon him is light clerical duty, and the greater part of that he is permitted to delegate to somebody else. He is supposed, indeed, to be continually producing new editions of Greek Testament, biblical or patristic commentaries, confutations of Popery, apologies for Church-rates, and other works tending to the spiritual welfare of the nation; to the due performance of which tasks a necessary condition is learned leisure, accompanied by nutritious food and generous liquor.

This walking monument of beneficence--walking when he does not ride in a well-appointed carriage--is almost the only eleemosynary kind of person, except the actual mendicant, existing among HER MAJESTY'S subjects. The funds which serve for the maintenance of the order of industrious poverty to which this useful member of society belongs, are derived from freehold and personal property together with rent-charges on land, amounting on the whole to L50,000,000. That all this property was granted by our ancestors for charitable purposes--to wit hospitals and schools--attests their munificence; whilst how prosperous we are is evident from the fact, that in order to use up all their bounty, we roll several hundred paupers into one.

* * * * *

THE HEROES OF A HUNDRED SHOWERS.

The Clerk of the Weather ought certainly to be called to account for his treatment of our gallant soldiers at Chobham, who have been literally in "soak" during nearly the whole of the present campaign. The incessant wet is, in fact, a reflection upon the courage of the military, for we may well ask if they are subjected to weather that is always foul on the principle, that "none but the brave deserve the fair."

* * * * *

THE MAD CABMAN'S SONG OF SIXPENCE.

Wot's this?--wot hever is this 'ere?
Eh?--arf a suvrin!--feels like vun--
Boohoo! they won't let me have no beer
Suppose I chucks it up into the sun!--
No--that ain't right--
The yaller's turned wite!
Ha, ha, ho!--he's sold and done--
Come, I say!--I won't stand that--
'Tis all my eye and BETTY MARTIN
Over the left and all round my hat,
As the pewter pot said to the kevarten.

Who am I? HEMPRER of the FRENCH
LEWIS NAPOLEON BONYPART,
Old Spooney, to be sure--
Between you and me and the old blind oss.
And the doctor says there ain't no cure.
D'ye think I care for the blessed Bench?--
From Temple Bar to Charing Cross?
Two mile and better--arf a crown--
Talk of screwing a feller down!
As for poor BILL, it's broke his art.
Cab to the Moon, Sir? Here you are!--
That's--how much?--
A farthin' touch!
Now as we can't demand back fare.

But, guv'ner, wot can this 'ere be?--
The fare of a himperial carridge?
You don't mean all this 'ere for me!
In course you ain't heerd about my marridge--
I feels so precious keveer!
How was it I got that kick o' the ed?
I've ad a slight hindisposition,
But a Beak ain't no Physician.
Wot's this 'ere, Sir? wot's this 'ere?
You call yerself a gentleman? yer Snob!
He wasn't bled:
And I was let in for forty bob,
Or a month, instead:
And I caught the lumbago in the brain--
I've been confined--
But never you mind--
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! I ain't hinsane.

Vot his this 'ere? Can't no one tell?
It sets my ed a spinnin--
The QUEEN'S eye winks--it aint no sell--
The QUEEN'S ed keeps a grinnin:
Ha, ha! 'twas guv
By the cove I druv--
I vunders for wot e meant it!
For e sez to me,
E sez, sez e,
As I ort to be contented!
Wot did yer say, Sir, wot did yer say?
My fare!--wot, that!
Yer knocks me flat.
Hit in the vind!--I'm chokin--give us air--
My fare? Ha, ha! My fare? Ho, ho! My fare?
Call that my fare for drivin yer a mile?
I ain't hinsane--not yet--not yet avile!--
Wot makes yer smile?
My blood is bilin' in a wiolent manner!
Wot's this I've got?
Show us a light--
This ere is--wot?--
There's sunthin the matter with my sight--
It is--yes!--No!--
'Tis, raly, though--
Oh, blow! blow! blow!--
Ho, ho, ho, ho! it is, it is a Tanner!

* * * * *

Parliamentary Parallels.

"MR. SPOONER presented a petition from parishes in Wiltshire against
the opening of the Crystal Palace on Sundays."

Suppose MR. LUCAS were to present a petition from parishes in Meath, praying for the closure of butchers' shops on Fridays?

* * * * *

_Lady Mother (loquitur)._ "I shall feel obliged to you, MR. SQUILLS, if you would remove these stains from my daughter's face. I cannot persuade her to be sufficiently careful with her Photographic Chemicals, and she has had a misfortune with her Nitrate of Silver. Unless you can do something for her, she will not be fit to be seen at LADY MAYFAIR'S to-night."

[MR. SQUILLS _administers relief to the fair sufferer, in the shape of
Cyanide of Potassium_.]]

* * * * *

SONGS OF THE MENDICANTS.

No. 1.--THE SAILOR BEGGAR'S SONG.

I'm a jolly London sailor;
Gaily still I keep afloat,
With the picture of a Whaler,
And the model of a boat.
True, I ne'er was on the Ocean,
But I've travelled wide and far,
Kept by the police in motion.
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!

Shivered are my timbers, stranger;
Lame, you see, is poor JACK JUNK:
Yes, I got this, braving danger,
(Falling from a scaffold drunk).
On my forehead see depicted
Valour's honourable scar
('T was with a pint pot inflicted).
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!

Glazed my hat and blue my jacket,
White my trowsers, loose my tie;
Seaman's costume, when I lack it,
Down at Houndsditch I can buy.
Naval talk I've learnt in places
Where the British seamen are;
"Furl the main-top," "splice the braces."
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!

Nursemaids, from your upper casements
Throw the halfpence freely down;
Cooks from areas and from basements,
On the sailor do not frown.
Bring the joints out, if we ask it,
Distant is the seaman's star;
(Here's the plate! I'll prig the basket).
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!

* * * * *

TOAST AND WATER.--A Toast proposed at a Temperance Meeting.

* * * * *

GREAT JEW MEETING.

On Saturday evening last, a large and influential meeting of members of the Hebrew nation assembled in the Synagogue, Great Saint Helen's, for the purpose of taking into consideration the recent article in _Punch_, in which that illustrious individual, remarking upon the fact that Jews were somehow or other mixed up in most cases of fraud, chicanery and imposture, strongly counselled the respectable and wealthy portion of the community to take such measures, as might tend to destroy an argument especially useful to those whose bigotry resisted the admission of the Jew Englishman to the civil rights of a Christian Englishman.