Chapter IX (1)

I tried to rise, and I scream'd a scream,
The man at the gate came staggering in—
"To be sure I did, for I heard a din;
And your worship gave such a terrible snore,
While you laid on your back on the Guildhall floor,
That it woke you up from your _dream_!"

Wine in a Ferment and Spirits in Hot Water.
]

_APRIL._—Greenwich Park.
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836] │ APRIL. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │Well, neighbour, what do the papers say │ │ │ About "The Wisdom collective?" │ │ │Oh! their Honours are busied by night and day │ │ │ With a list of The Lords elective: │ │ │For like old London Bridge, they declare, for years │ │ │They've been sadly obstructed by too many _peers_. │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│Sloshy │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│squashy │ "EASTER MONDAY." │ budding │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│are │ Can poet's quill, │ ♄ ♊ ♌ ☿ ⚹ │ │ │ │ Or painter's skill, │ │ │ 4│the │ Depict the joy │ │ │ │ │ Of 'Prentice Boy, │ ☉ ♊ │ │ 5│streets, │ On that bright fun day, │ │ │ │ │ EASTER MONDAY? │reputation, │ │ 6│sloppy │ │ │ │ │ │Can rhetorician or logician │ │ │ 7│droppy │Describe with aught that's like precision │ ☉ ♄ ♊ │ │ │ │The rapture that dilates his soul, │ │ │ 8│all │Now his own master, and beyond control? │ and │ │ │ │ His fancy soars aloft, like a │ │ │ │ │ sky-rocket! │ │ │ 9│one │ Where shall he go? │ not to put │ │ │ │ He doesn't know, │ │ │10│meets; │Although "the world's before him where to │ the same │ │ │ │ choose," │ │ │ │ │And he's got on a bran new pair of shoes, │ │ │11│Haber- │ And two bright shillings in his │ │ │ │ │ trousers' pocket. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │12│dashers │ Perhaps he'll join the merry throng │ ♄ ♊ ☿ ♂ ⚹ │ │ │ │ Who love the dance and song; │ │ │13│mantua- │ Or, _drawn_ by ASTLEY'S _horses_, go, │ into │ │ │ │ And "struggling for the foremost row," │ │ │14│makers │ Enjoy the feats of fam'd Ducrow; │ jeopardy │ │ │ │ Or at the CIRCUS, as they us'd to call │ │ │ │ │ it, │ │ │15│look as │ Clamour and bawl it; │ by │ │ │ │ And, like a little savage, │ │ │16│grave as │ Shout "Bravo Davidge!" │ │ │ │ │Who, Richard-like, disdains to yield, │ ⚹ ♊ ☉ ♄ │ │17│under- │And "saddles _white Surrey_ for the │ │ │ │ │ field." │ │ │ │ │ Or else some fellow-'prentice tells │ any crude │ │18│takers, │ The joys he'd _quaff_ at Sadler's │ │ │ │ │ _Wells_. │ │ │ │ │ │ or hasty │ │19│for │While these temptations try to start him, │ │ │ │ │A sudden fancy comes athwart him,— │ │ │20│shopping │"Well, only think!—why, I declare, │ │ │ │ │I'd quite forgot there's GREENWICH FAIR! │ ☉ ♂ ☌ ☍ │ │21│ladies │And won't I have a precious lark │ │ │ │ │Down One-Tree Hill in Greenwich Park!" │ guesses or │ │22│forced │ │ │ │ │ │ │speculations│ │23│to │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│house │ │ │ │ │ │ │ ☉ ☿ ♂ │ │25│now │ │ │ │ │ │ │ thereupon, │ │26│stay │ │ │ │ │ │ │ as is the │ │27│at home │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │28│to │ │ ☉ ♂ ♃ ♄ ♊ │ │ │ │ │ │ │29│worry │ │ wont │ │ │ │ │ │ │30│spouse. │ │ of those │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

=Advertisements and Paragraphs Extraordinary.=

EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCE.—Yesterday, a shabbily-dressed, half-genteel, poetical-looking sort of man, suddenly fell down in one of the gin-palaces in St. Giles's; after having, as it was supposed, put an end to his existence, by swallowing a quartern of _Deady's_ Best. On taking him, however, to the Station House, and administering large doses of cold water (to which his stomach manifested a particular antipathy by repeatedly serving it with an ejectment), he was sufficiently recovered to give some account of himself; but the following lines, written on the back of a dirty tobacco paper, found in his pocket, will sufficiently explain the cause of the rash act. It will be seen that he was a man of _letters_, tho' (judging from his reservedness) of very few _words_.

_To Robert Short, Esq. M.P._

DEAR BOB,—I know that U'll XQQQ
The wailings of a mournful MUUU.
While U, my friend, are at your EEE,
My creditors I can't apPPP:
I'm CD,—drooping to DK,
With not a sous my debts to pay.
So lean a wight you ne'er did C,—
I look just like an F-I-G.
My purse is MT, it is true;
But don't suppose I NV you:
I O U nothing but good-will,
And that I mean 2 O U still.
But if my motive U'd descry
For writing this, I'll tell U Y:
B 4 'tis long, I hope for peace;
And when U hear of my DCCC,
I beg, to show your love for me,
U'll write your Poet's L-E-G.
I'm sure that U'll indite it well,
For in such matters you XL.
Say, "E was once a R T fellow,
"But all his 'green leaves soon turn'd yellow,'
"He didn't mind his PPP and QQQ,
"But Plutus left, to woo the MUUU:
"And tho' he courted all the IX,
"He found them far too poor to dine;
"Nay, more, the very Graces III
"Could scarce afford a cup of T.
"So here he lies, for want of pelf,
"Who'd but one NME,—himself."

AN EXTRAORDINARY TURNIP, of the Dwarf species, was lately dug out of a field on the estate of Major Longbow, who caused the inside to be scooped out, and gave a grand entertainment therein to a party of 250 persons.—_American Paper._

FALLS OF NIAGARA.—Congress has passed a resolution that a premium should be offered for a machine by which the Falls of Niagara might be rendered portable, to afford those persons who live at a distance the opportunity of viewing them at their own houses.—_American Paper._

_MAY_.—"Old May Day"
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836.] │ MAY. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │The depth of "A Winter in London," I sing:— │ │ │ For thus do the rulers of fashion declare— │ │ │That _Spring Garden_ shall yield all they know of the │ │ │ _spring_, │ │ │ And the charms of _fair May_ be supplied in _May │ │ │ Fair_. │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │M │ Season's │ "=Old May Day.=" │ WEATHER. │ │D │ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│Ah! well- │ BY A NONAGENARIAN. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│a-day! │ When I was young and in my prime, │ who │ │ │ │ Then ev'rything look'd gay; │ │ │ 3│alack! │ And nothing was so merry as │ ☌ ♓ ♑ ♌ │ │ │ │ The merry FIRST OF MAY: │ │ │ 4│alas! │ Kind Nature, who doth ever smile, │ in place │ │ │ │ Seem'd then to smile the more; │ │ │ 5│that │ And ev'ry Spring that time did bring│ of │ │ │ │ Seem'd greener than before. │ │ │ 6│such a │ The birds they sang so jocundly,— │ │ │ │ │ They fill'd the air around, │ │ │ 7│thing │ And human hearts as jocundly │ ☿ ♊ ☽ │ │ │ │ Responded to the sound. │ │ │ 8│should │ I recollect the lovely scene │ consulting │ │ │ │ As though I saw it still:— │ │ │ 9│come │ The mansion of a noble race │ the stars │ │ │ │ Was seated on a hill; │ │ │10│to pass! │ And smilingly it seem'd to look │ │ │ │ │ Upon the plain below, │ │ │11│but on │ Where groups of happy villagers │ ♎ ♐ ☍ ♋ ♉ │ │ │ │ Were sporting to and fro. │ │ │12│my word, │ The May-pole in the centre plac'd, │according to│ │ │ │ All deck'd with garlands gay. │ │ │13│I feel │ While lads and lasses danc'd around,│ art, │ │ │ │ And footed it away. │ │ │14│suspi- │ The ruddy hostess of the inn, │ │ │ │ │ Which stood within the vale, │ │ │15│cious, │ Supplied the thirsty revellers │ ♃ ⊕ ♒ ☉ │ │ │ │ With draughts of nut-brown ale; │ │ │16│unless │ While pleas'd, the neighb'ring │ │ │ │ │ gentry stood, │ │ │ │ │ And view'd the cheerful scene, │thrust forth│ │17│the stars │ Or laid aside their rank to join │ │ │ │ │ The sports upon the green. │ │ │18│prove │ │ ♓ ♑ │ │ │ │ Ah! those were times that memory │ │ │19│more │ Is happy to retrace, │ their │ │ │ │ But chang'd, alas! and sad are those│ │ │20│propi- │ Which now supply their place. │ own bald │ │ │ │ An honest healthy peasantry │ │ │21│tious, │ Then shar'd the farmer's board, │ and │ │ │ │ Who'd shrink from parish pauper pay,│ │ │22│that │ As from a thing abhorr'd; │ conceited │ │ │ │ The sons of "Merry England" now │ │ │23│I shall │ Are chang'd to Mammon's slaves, │ │ │ │ │ And "peep about to find themselves │ │ │24│nothing │ Dishonourable graves." │ ☽ ♂ ♀ │ │ │ │ The "labourer," no longer "reckon'd │ │ │25│have │ Worthy of his hire," │ │ │ │ │ No more partakes the farmer's board,│suppositions│ │26│to say │ Nor warms him at his fire— │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │27│about │ * * * * * │ ♈ ♀ ⚹ ♏ ☽ │ │ │ │ │ │ │28│this │ (RIGDUM FUNNIDOS _interrupteth_:) │ │ │ │ │ │ For these │ │29│famous │Stop, stop, old friend! I prithee, cease │ │ │ │ │ this prosing. │ │ │ │ │Egad! you'll set my gentle readers dozing.│ and other │ │30│month │The TIMES are bad, I own, and sad's the │ │ │ │ │ _change_; │ │ │ │ │But, surely, that is not so wondrous │ weighty │ │ │ │ strange; │ │ │31│of May! │And if it were, this is no place to joke │ │ │ │ │ in. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ NONAGENARIAN: │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │Enough, good RIGDUM!—I'll give over │ │ │ │ │ croaking. │ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

A DRAMATIC FACT.

"MACBETH by MR. HIGGS!"—
They sometimes used to let him play it in the country;
And then, odds wigs!
How very great he felt!
One night, while he was at it,
The pot-boy, from the public-house at which he dealt,
Being at _the wing_, quoth Higgs, aside, "Od 'rat it!
I do lack spirits,—but that sha'n't fret me,
Here, boy, take thou this coin, and go get me"—
"Some bread and cheese, and porter, innions, Sir, or what?"
"Nay, no prog!
Expend the shilling all in glorious grog!"
"With sugar, Sir?" "Ay, and very hot;
Thou knowest, lout!
I only take sixpenn'orths cold without!"

The pot-boy took the grog into the green-room,
And left it there for Higgs:—but, as it came to pass,
Lady Macbeth and Banquo having twigged it,
First _she_ took a very _leetle_ sup,—
_He_ fairly swigged it;
And so between them both, alas!
Lady Macbeth and Banquo mopped it up,
And hid the glass!

Higgs, who all this time
Had been upon the stage,—
In that great scene where Macbeth's urged to crime
By those foul witches,—
Now strutted in,—but, oh! (excuse the rhyme,)
Odds philibegs and breeches!
How he did foam and rage,
And writhe his face,
And call the potboy hog, and dog, and log,
On not perceiving his expected grog
In its accustomed place.

The potboy, being summoned, vowed
That he had duly brought it,
And, if to speak his mind he was allowed,
He thought it
Might have vanish'd,
Being partly spirits,—like the witches,
"'Tis false!" roared Higgs, "Avaunt! Be banish'd!
Visit no more this realm of milk and honey!
Base caitiff! YOU'VE ABSCONDED with the money!"

JUNE.—"Holiday at the Public Offices"
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836.] │ JUNE. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │The Midsummer nights fly swiftly by, │ │ │While Members are "catching the Speaker's eye;" │ │ │And the _Outs_ are employing their labour and wit │ │ │On those who are _In_, to serve "notice to quit." │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│Lawyers │ "HOLIDAYS AT PUBLIC OFFICES." │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│now may │I've often thought how hard the fate │ and │ │ │ │ Of those, who're destin'd, day by day, │ │ │ 3│take │To rise up early, lie down late, │ sufficient │ │ │ │ And waste, in toil, their lives away. │ │ │ 4│their │ │ reasons │ │ │ │And often have I ask'd myself, │ │ │ 5│ease, │ When musing o'er these scenes of woe, │ ♈ ☿ ♍ ♀ ♑ │ │ │ │"Couldst thou, for sake of sordid pelf, │ │ │ 6│and │ Oppress thy fellow-creatures so?" │ ♅ ☊ ♌ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 7│counsel │Then fancy would begin to paint │ │ │ │ │ The griefs of little cotton-spinners, │ instead of │ │ 8│reckon │Compell'd to labour till they faint, │ │ │ │ │ That bloated knaves may eat good │ │ │ │ │ dinners. │ │ │ 9│up their │ │ │ │ │ │I thought of poor young milliners, │ ♃ ♂ ⊕ │ │10│fees; │ Who toil all night, with matted tresses,│ │ │ │ │And faces pale, that Fashion's dames │ jumping │ │11│for │ May grace the ball in fancy dresses. │ │ │ │ │ │ at once │ │12│now │And then I thought upon the Pole, │ │ │ │ │ Condemn'd, among Siberia's snow, │into the ice│ │13│the │With shackled limbs and blighted soul, │ │ │ │ │ The joys of freedom ne'er to know. │ and snow │ │14│welcome │ │ │ │ │ │With those who work in powder mill. │ │ │15│long │ Life's value scarcely weighs a feather, │ │ │ │ │So oft exploding, 'twere no ill, │ │ │16│vacation │ Were they exploded altogether. │ ⚹ ♀ ♈ ♐ ♎ │ │ │ │ │ │ │17│gives a │But what are these? and what are those? │ ♊ ♀ │ │ │ │ Or all that thou, Oh, man! endurest? │ │ │18│rest to │Compar'd with those transcendant woes │ of January │ │ │ │ Experienced by the Sinecurist? │ │ │19│liti- │ │ and │ │ │ │Compell'd by eight o'clock to rise, │ │ │20│gation; │ By nine to get his breakfast o'er, │ commencing │ │ │ │And leave some bit that gourmands prize, │ │ │21│while │ Because the stage is at the door. │ ♄ ☌ ☽ │ │ │ │ │ │ │22│happy │And when the coachman sets him down │ as the │ │ │ │ At Treasury or Navy Pay, │ │ │23│they on │His toil begins,—but I'll explain │ learned │ │ │ │ How hard he works from day to day. │ │ │24│quarter │ │ │ │ │ │Five weary hours he stands or sits, │ │ │25│day, │ Or fidgets till he gets the vapours; │ ☍ ♈ ♀ ⚹ ♊ │ │ │ │And then to chase the _ennui_ fits, │ │ │26│who're │ He picks his teeth, or reads the papers.│ │ │ │ │ │ have it, │ │27│not │Perhaps his name full twenty times │ │ │ │ │ He writes, or writes a page of figures; │ │ │28│obliged │Until are heard the welcome chimes, │ ☌ ♈ ♒ ♄ ⚹ │ │ │ │ Which end the toil of these white │ │ │ │ │ Niggers. │ │ │29│to run │ │ ♋ ☋ ♅ │ │ │ │The fate of him who digs the mine, │ │ │30│away! │ Compar'd to this, is children's play; │_ab initio_,│ │ │ │Then, ah! how cruel 'tis to sneer, │ │ │ │ │ And call his life a holiday. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │Ah! radicals: ye little know │ │ │ │ │ 'Bout what it is ye make a clamour; │ │ │ │ │Go, thank your stars you drag a truck, │ │ │ │ │ Or only wield a blacksmith's hammer. │ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

THE SERVANT OF ALL WORK.

"He HOOD if he could."

Roaming along, the other day, in those regions of Cockney retirement, the vicinity of the Cat and Mutton Fields, about a mile from the _Ultima Thule_ of Shoreditch, I was struck by the appearance of a row of neat little houses; and my attention was so particularly arrested by one of them, that I incontinently paused to look at it. It seemed to have all the ostentatious assumption of a little man who strives to look big. It had a portico, that might have belonged to the Colosseum, with a flight of stone steps that would have graced the new palace at Pimlico; and the drawing-room windows were ambitiously overshadowed by a verandah, not unworthy of Worthing.

While I was meditating on its appearance, and admiring the extraordinary air of cleanliness which distinguished it from its neighbours, a paper parcel, tied round with thread, and sealed with a thimble, fell at my feet. I looked above and around me, but no one was visible; and conceiving it to be intended for myself, I picked it up, and walked on. At a favourable opportunity I opened it, and read as follows:—

* * * * *

"This cums Hopping that sum boddy in the Street Walking may pick me up and put me into the Square box at the Circling librey, the Place where the Post is. It is the haughty bioggrify of a unfortnit yung cretur who's in servis. Let the supperscripshun be to the Mournin Herald or the Currier or the Trew Son or the Stand Hard, or the Spekt Tatur, or any of 'em, for one's just as good as tother. I think the noospapers would take it inn, for they takes in a good many servants as wants places.

"My pappa was a Baker, and he meant I shuld be Bread up like a lady, for tho I was the least of the Batch, i was the Flour of the flock. But pappa Dying, i had to git my Living, for he didn't Roll in ritches, and his guds and chappels were Saddled with detts, witch Spurred me on to Bridel my greef, tho i seldom had a Bit in my mouth, wich was hard; and when our Blow got Wind, i lost my sweethart, wich Blow was Harder. He was sitch a nice yung man; and when i walkt past his Door, he used to prays my Gate, and tell me when we were marryd we should live in Stile. But I am Loth to say, he turned out a Willing, and wanted te tak advantidge of my citywashun. But I had 2 strings to my Beau in a yung mit-chipman, but he got prest and sent on board a Tender, witch was a grate Hard Shipp for him, and I felt it.

"But to cut a Long Tail Short,—when my dear Ben Bannister left me, miss fortin Staired me in the face, and every boddy turn'd their Backs on me, and I culd not bare such a Front, so i got a place as a servnt of all work, and my mind was maid up to be in duster house: but it was a Grate fall for me down into the Kitchen, tho when i got there i found a Grater; for my first missus was a Dresser, and often and often when I've bin all over greece she has calld me up to her Rome to help her on with her gownd, witch was very humblin to 1 as was used to have her own made to wait upon her. Butt i left her bekause we lived at a Fishmongers & itt Smelt so; and i had more than twenty Plaices in the first 12 months, wich Maid me quite Crabby, for I was going Backwards. But mississes are as proud as my lord Mare, and makes you work like an Horse; so I turned myself Out, for i culd not In-Door itt.

"I wont trubbel you with all my trubbels, but will skipp over the hole to give you my Last, wich dont Fit me at all; and its Jest no Joke, I can ashure you, for its like as if my 20 mississes was turnd into one. I've bin in the plaice almost a month, soe I have had a pritty gud experense.

"First, i Seconds all the close, & theres 13 of us in fammaly. Theres missis & master, thats 2, but misses says as how theyre 1: theres the 3 young ladys is 5; and the 3 boys from skool, where i am sure they never larnt no manners, & I dont love em at all, that's Hate; & the 2 yung babbys in harms is 10; and mr. Phipps the frunt parler loger is 11, and mr Snooks the back parler loger is 12 & i am just thirteen. So i leaves you to juge when i Hang em all out if there isnt enuff to Do for.

"Missis is what they calls a not Abel womman, & keeps 1 scrubbin & doin all day long, & is so pertickler, that when master cums home on a wet day, i has to lift him into the hous for fear he shuld dirty the steps. To be shure he's a werry littel man, but then its so shockin indillikat. Missis is verry fond of Bruin too, witch i cant Bear, and i hates Hops, xcept when i goes to a dance; besides, the Hopperation quite puts one into a fomentation, and sets one all of a Work. Then the fammaly is so verry unreglar, & we keeps a deal of cumpany, tho they dont alow any follerers, and missis is always snubbin me if the Butcher or the Baker stopps a minuet att the gait. But if i were even to liv in a garratt, i shuld be abuv sitch peepel & shuld look down uppon em. I no one of the yung ladys casts a sheeps eye on the Butcher herself, but i hop he wont giv her his Hart, for i am shure she would be a gay Liver, & i no she has plenty of Tung.

"Wile i am uppon theas yung ladys i culd pick a hole in em, but i abhor Back bitin. Howsomdever, tho they are Twins all Three of em, theres no Unity in One of em, and when a gentilman is interdeuced to the fammaly, they all fall in luv with him, wich must be verry embrasing to the party, and they try all their harts of captywashun. Miss Carryline rites a billy dux anomilously and folds it like a trew lovyers not, to puzzel him. Miss Matilda makes annoys on the harp with her bigg Fistis, and says she had her lessons from a Boxer; and miss Jimmima thumps away on the piney Forty, Fifty times a day, to git pirfict for the heavening. I often wishes thare was locks to them keys.

"But all their Harts wont do, & theyve none of them got a Deer yet, for they make themselves 2 Chepe, & they are all of em verry jellus of me, bekause the 2 gentilmen logers has a grate licking for me; & they carrys their spit so Fur that I mustnt ware a Bore, and they sets their mama Hat me if they sees a bit of lace on my Cap. They makes quite a Furze too if i incloses my Waste with a ribbon tho its so Common; & I'm shure they had better pay what they Hose than find fault with my Stockins; for they stands over me while i am Pinking em, witch shose they aint well Red in their manors, and they wont lett me Ware em no Ware. I shuld lik to no why servnts aint to doo what they likes with their hone; for Ive red theyve as big a steak in the common unity as their Betters, who're many of em nothin else but Gamblers.

"But i dont mind the Hitts of sich Misses: for its all Shear envy, becaus they wants to Cut me out with the 2 logers, & had rayther see me Hangd than Halter my condishun. But the gentilmen dont lik none of em, for theyre as tall and as pail as 2 hapenny Rushlites and a grate deal more Wicked. Mr. Snooks, the loger as walks the Horsepittels in the back parler, says theyre more like ottomies than wimmen, for they've none of em got no hannimashun; and mr. Phipps the clark as hokkipies the frunt parler says theyre quite Ciphers to me, for i am a better Figger, & more uprighter than any 1 of em. He sometimes carrys his devours to such a Pitch, that if i culd forgit my Tar, I see no resin why i shuld not marry him, & then the miss Rushlites would be very much Put Out when they'd lost one of their Flames.

"Mr. Phipps is a littery man, and nose a Grate many Tongs, and has maid a bigg book of Pottery, full of Plates. He tells me not to be jellus because he Courts the Mews, & has sent me the histry of his life & a coppy of verses on my mississes yousidge of me; and i hop you'll tell the noospaper man he mustnt take my life without takin his'n & he may have the pottery into the bargain.

"Notty Benny.—My life shall be conclooded att the first hopportunitty.

"So no more at presnt from yours humbely to comand
"MOLDYDUSTA MOGGS."

* * * * *

"Post Scripp. I forgot to tell you that i cant git enuff to heat, missis is sitch a skin Flint, unless I Steel it, & that's unpossebel, for she always takes care to lock upp the Cold Heatabels."

JULY.—"Dog Days"
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836.] │ JULY. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │Dear me! how hot the weather grows— │ │ │ There's scarce a breath to cool one's face; │ │ │Through _Air_ Street not a zephyr blows, │ │ │ Nor e'en a breeze from _Wind_-ham Place. │ │ │Down Regent Street, so lazy all one sees, │ │ │There's nobody "industrious" but "The Fleas." │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│belly │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│back │ A DOGGEREL FOR THE DOG DAYS. │ (that │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│hips │Most _doggedly_ I do maintain, │ is to say, │ │ │ │ And hold the _dogma_ true,— │ │ │ 4│reins, │That four-legg'd _dogs_ altho' we see, │ beginning │ │ │ │ We've some that walk on two. │ │ │ 5│all │ │ at the │ │ │ │Among them there are clever dogs; │ │ │ 6│full of │ A few you'd reckon mad; │ beginning) │ │ │ │While some are very jolly dogs, │ │ │ 7│aches │ And others very sad. │ ♍ ☉ ⚹ ♍ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 8│and │You've heard of Dogs, who, early taught, │ ♓ ☽ ♑ │ │ │ │ Catch halfpence in the mouth;— │ │ │ 9│pains │But we've a long-tail'd _Irish_ dog, │ │ │ │ │ With feats of larger growth. │ I do │ │10│because │ │ │ │ │ │Of Dogs who merely _halfpence_ snatch │ │ │11│I know │ The admiration ceases, │ prefer │ │ │ │For he grows saucy, sleek, and fat, │ │ │12│not │ By swallowing _penny-pieces_! │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │13│what │He's practising some other feats, │ ☉ ☽ ♑ ♀ │ │ │ │ Which time will soon reveal; │ │ │14│to do │One is, to squeeze an _Orange_ flat, │ │ │ │ │ And strip it of its _Peel_. │ jogging │ │15│the │ │ │ │ │ │The next he'll find a toughish job, │ │ │16│Season's │ For one so far in years; │ along │ │ │ │He wants to pull an old _House_ down, │ │ │17│Signs │ That's now propp'd up by _Peers_. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │18│are │I've heard of physic thrown to dogs, │ ☉ ♊ ♓ ♓ │ │ │ │ And very much incline │ │ │19│now │To think it true, for we've a pack │ slowly and │ │ │ │ Who only _bark_ and _w_(h)_ine_. │ │ │20│so few │ │ │ │ │ │The _Turnspit_ of the sad old days │cautelously;│ │21│and │ Is vain enough to boast, │ │ │ │ │Altho' his "occupation's gone," │ │ │22│all │ He still could _rule the roast_. │ ☽ △ ♓ │ │ │ │ │ │ │23│that │But turnspits now are out of date,— │ │ │ │ │ We all despise the hack, │ feeling │ │24│I have │And in the kitchen of the state │ │ │ │ │ We still prefer a _Jack_. │ my way, │ │25│got │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │26│to say │ │ │ │ │ │ │as it were, │ │27│is, take │ │ │ │ │ │ │ with │ │28│care of │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │29│Saint │ │ ♄ ♃ ♂ ☉ ⚹ │ │ │ │ │ │ │30│Swithin's │ │ my eye at │ │ │ │ │ │ │31│day! │ │ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

_STANZAS, addressed to Mrs...., of ... Terrace
Cat and Mutton Fields._

You 'cat,' that would 'worry a rat!'
You 'cow with the crumpled horn!'
I wish you were _squeez'd_,—and that's _flat_,—
For ill-using a 'Maiden forlorn.'

You're as bad as a _slave-driver_ quite,
Altho' you subscrib'd to the tracts;—
If the linen's wash'd ever so _white_,
You always complain of the _blacks_.

A servant is worthy her _hire_;
You pilfer one-fourth of her due,
For tho' she does all you desire,
She only gets _ire_ from you.

A fit she had, one afternoon,
When you set her a-cleaning the paint;
And while she was off in a _swoon_,
You said it was only a _feint_.

A party you had yesterday,—
No wonder so often she swoons,—
For as soon as the folks went away,
You began to be missing the _spoons_!

She was cleaning the windows last week
(Such savings are very small gains),
You scolded her while you could speak,
And told her she didn't take _panes_.

She cleans all the boots and the shoes;
When she's done 'em she sits down to cry:
WARREN'S JET is the blacking you choose;
But od _'rabbit_ that _Warren_! say I.

For this you can make no excuse:—
You'd a party at whist t'other day,
And you scolded away like the _deuce_,
'Cause the sandwiches dropp'd from the _tray_.

You tell her she dresses too gay
(You're afraid that she'll cut out your gals),
You strip lace and ribbons away,
And say she shan't wear such fal-lals.

'Tis in vain her attempting to speak,
For your heart is as hard as a stone;
But she means to be married next week;
Then she'll 'do what she likes with her own.'

AUGUST.——Bathing at Brighton.
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ 1836.] │ AUGUST. │ ├─────────────┴───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │Perhaps the Minister has passed the budget, and given the Houses │ │leave to trudge it;—the lawyer folds his brief, with little grief;— │ │closed are the Halls, against all calls;—John Doe and Richard Roe may│ │go;—the debtor breathes, respited from mishap; and Bailiffs, wanting │ │jobs, may keep _a Tap_. │ ├──┬──────────┬──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│In │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│Germany │ BRIGHTON. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│they │Well here, once more, on Brighton's shore,│ the end of │ │ │ │ We're safe arrived at last; │ │ │ 4│rest │So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, │ ☽ ♓ ☌ ☍ │ │ │ │ Nor look so _overcast_. │ │ │ 5│their │ │ my │ │ │ │We've not been here this many a year; │ │ │ 6│heads │ So do not look so blue, │ │ │ │ │But sport your cash, and cut a dash, │ divining │ │ 7│betwixt │ As other people do. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 8│a pair │There's Mistress Skait,-she wouldn't wait,│ rod, │ │ │ │ But off she tripp'd so gaily: │ │ │ 9│of │She struts along amid the throng: │ ⚹ ♈ ♃ ♐ ♊ │ │ │ │ _Her_ husband isn't _scaly_. │ │ │10│feather │ │ ☉ ♐ ♓ │ │ │ │There's Mistress _Wick_, and little Dick, │ │ │11│beds; │ Have come to have a _dipping_; │ and │ │ │ │And there's her niece, who's been to │ │ │ │ │ _Greece_, │ │ │12│a famous │ Is now all over _dripping_. │ │ │ │ │ │ exploring │ │13│plan, I │And oh, what fun! there's Martha Gunn │ │ │ │ │ (But no, that gun's _gone off_), │ │ │14│will be │But only look at that sea-cook │ the mazes │ │ │ │ A-sousing Mrs. Gough. │ │ │15│bound, │ │ │ │ │ │Well, I declare, there's Mrs. _Ware_ │ of │ │16│while │(She's every _where_, I think)— │ │ │ │ │Her spouse, I know, is quite her beau, │ │ │17│frost & │ And never spares the chink. │ ☉ ♃ ♐ ♂ ☍ │ │ │ │ │ │ │18│snow │And, last of all, there's Mr. Ball, │ │ │ │ │ Who promis'd Mrs. B— │ futurity, │ │19│are on │And kindly has _redeem'd_ his _pledge_,— │ │ │ │ │ That she should see the sea. │ │ │20│the │ │ with the │ │ │ │So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, │ │ │21│ground, │ Nor look so monstrous blue; │ │ │ │ │But sport your cash, and cut a dash, │heedfulness │ │22│but │ As other people do. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │23│in the │ │ ♎ ♅ ☉ ♐ │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│Dog │ │ │ │ │ │ │of one, who,│ │25│Days' │ │ │ │ │ │ │ knowing │ │26│raging │ │ │ │ │ │ │ the │ │27│heat, I │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │28│shouldn't │ │ ♃ ♉ ♒ ☽ │ │ │ │ │ │ │29│think it │ │weightiness │ │ │ │ │ │ │30│such a │ │ of the │ │ │ │ │ │ │31│treat. │ │ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

=Advertisements Extraordinary.=

THEATRE ROYAL, ENGLISH UPROAR.—The Proprietor respectfully announces that, while the cold weather lasts, he will present each visitor to the Boxes or Pit with a bucket of "thick-ribbed ICE;" and assures the Public that the temperature of the Theatre is so comfortably regulated that it is never more than 50 degrees below the freezing point.

* * * * *

THEATRE ROYAL, DREARY LANE.—This
Evening, their Majesties' Servants will perform
THE MANAGER IN DISTRESS;
To which will be added the serious Extravaganza of
THE HOT CROSS _BUNN_;
The principal Character by the Manager.
The whole to conclude with
THE DEVIL TO PAY.

On Monday next, Mr. SWING will exhibit his extraordinary performances on the Tight Rope.—_N.B._ On this occasion all persons on the Free List will be _suspended_.

WANT PLACES.

AS TOADY, an unmarried Female of an uncertain age. She is so soft in her disposition as to take any impression; says yes or no, just as she is bid; prefers Cape to Madeira, and dislikes Champagne; and has no objection to wash and walk out with the poodles.—_N.B._ Is very skilful in backbiting, and would be delighted to assist in the ruin of reputations. Can have a good character from her last place, which she left in consequence of the lady marrying her tall Irish footman.

AS DINER-OUT, an Irish Captain on half-pay, who has at his disposal a plentiful supply of small talk and table wit; does the agreeable to perfection; is a good laugher at stale jokes, and a capital retailer of new ones; never falls asleep at the repetition of a dull story, and always laughs in the right place. He has a variety of other qualifications too numerous for insertion in an advertisement.

* * * * *

NOTICE is hereby given, that a considerable portion of CIVIC DIGNITY, conjectured to be equal in quantity to a _Winchester_ Measure, has been lost since the 9th of November, 1834. This _in_-valuable appendage is supposed to have been dropped from the person of an _ill_ustrious _Mayor_, during certain squabbles which took place in spite of common sense and _common counsel_. It is hoped it will be recovered by his successor, and any information respecting the same may be communicated to a HOBBLER, at the Mare's Nest in the Poultry.

* * * * *

LOST—by NOBODY, in the neighbourhood of NOWHERE, an article more easily conceived than described, known by the name of NOTHING. The fortunate finder may keep it on paying the expenses of this Advertisement.

SEPTEMBER.—"Michaelmas Day"
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836.] │ SEPTEMBER. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │It pleased her jolly Majesty Queen Bess, │ │ │_Stuffing_, herself, a well-_stuff'd_ goose to bless, │ │ │And ever since, in _sage_ affairs of state, │ │ │The royal bird does still predominate;— │ │ │So modest merit proves of little use, │ │ │Unless at Court you "boo" to ev'ry goose. │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│Now │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│farmers │ "SHOOTING THE MOON." │ matters │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│mind │Now, Mrs. Dove, my dearest love, │ ⚹ ☉ ☋ ♂ ♄ │ │ │ │ No longer let us jar; │ │ │ 4│your │Full well you know that cash is low, │ ⚹ ♀ ⊕ │ │ │ │ And credit's under par. │ │ │ 5│geese │ │ │ │ │ │Short commons are our common fare. │ whereinto │ │ 6│and │ No _turtle_-doves are we: │ │ │ │ │Tho' once there came such lots of _game_, │ he is │ │ 7│pigs, │ Now folks _make game_ of me. │ │ │ │ │ │ inquiring, │ │ 8│for │Ah! what to do I wish I knew, │ │ │ │ │ Or where to run a score! │ │ │ 9│Cockney │For all the town I've done so brown, │ ♏ ♄ ☌ │ │ │ │ I can't _do_ any more. │ │ │10│sports- │ │ │ │ │ │We've had our fill on _Mutton Hill_; │ is fearful │ │ │ │ │ of │ │11│men │ In _Cornhill_ gain'd our _bread_; │ │ │ │ │Dress'd with an air in fam'd _Cloth Fair_;│ stumbling. │ │12│run their │ In _Grub Street_ well were _fed_. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │13│rigs, │We got our _shoes_ in _Leather Lane_; │ ♀ ☍ ♑ ♌ ☋ │ │ │ │ Our _hats_ in _Hatton Garden_; │ │ │14│and │We'd quite a catch in _Ha'penny Hatch_, │ For look, │ │ │ │ And never paid a _farden_. │ │ │15│when │ │ what dire │ │ │ │We've chalked a score on every door │ │ │16│the │ Of publican or sinner; │ mishaps │ │ │ │And now can't meet a _Newman_ Street, │ │ │17│cits │ To trust us with a dinner. │ do arise │ │ │ │ │ │ │18│are │And, lack-a day! here's Quarter Day; │ │ │ │ │ It always comes too soon; │ │ │19│taking │So we by night must take our flight, │ ☉ ♀ │ │ │ │ For we must _shoot the moon_! │ │ │20│aim, │ │ │ │ │ │ │ from false │ │21│your │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │22│poultry │ │prophecying!│ │ │ │ │ │ │23│may │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│mistake │ │ ♂ ♄ ☉ ♈ │ │ │ │ │ │ │25│for │ │ │ │ │ │ │ The farmer │ │26│game, │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │27│and │ │ ♉ ♂ │ │ │ │ │ │ │28│kill │ │reapeth his │ │ │ │ │ │ │29│or │ │ corn, and │ │ │ │ │ │ │30│lame. │ │ ♉ ♄ ☉ ♊ ☌ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

AN EPISTLE

From SIR JOHN NORTH to RIGDUM FUNNIDOS, Gent.

DEAR RIG.—Have you read my famous book,
About the wonderful route I took;
Through frost and snow, how I went so far,
To stare in vain at the polar star,
And how I sought by night and noon
To bag the beams of the arctic moon;
And how it was far beyond a joke
To think my steam should end in smoke;
With all the spiteful things I said,
As I knock'd the engine on the head;
And how I've fill'd up countless pages
With sneers at the "Useful Knowledge" sages;
And about the land of the Esquimaux,
Where I gave a squeeze to many a squaw;
But sighed to think that a time must come
To clear them off by "the force of Rum;"
And how I came to an island blest,
Which foot of man had never press'd,
And grateful to the Spinning _Gin_-ny,
That lined my purse with many a guinea,
I straightway handed down to fame
A Smithfield _Booth's_ immortal name?

I did such deeds as would make you stare;
'Twere a bore to tell how I kill'd a bear;
Or how, for want of a better meal,
I seal'd the fate of many a seal.

And have you read that, to crown the whole,
I'm almost sure I found the Pole;
('Twas twirling round, on its centre set,
Like an opera dancer's pirouette,)
And though the fog as thick did look
As a certain stupid quarto book,
One night I saw a vision fair,
Of knighthood's honours in the air;
And how, agog to reach my glory,
I hasten'd home to print my story;
And how I thought 'twould have been no blame
To have left behind the halt and lame,
Dead weights that, everybody knows,
Are only fit to feed the crows?
For if, Dear Rig., you'll only look,
All this, and more, is in my book.

* * * * *

THE COMET, which has so long been looked for, suddenly made its appearance here on the 5th inst. between the hours of four and five in the morning, and the servant maids were pretty particularly astonished when they arose, to find that its tail had lighted all their fires, and boiled all their kettles for breakfast. For this piece of service they have christened it the "tail of love."—_American Paper._

OCTOBER.—'S^t. Crispin's Day'
]

┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │1836.] │ OCTOBER. │ ├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │The sum of Summer is cast at last, │ │ │And carried to Wintry season, │ │ │And the frighten'd _leaves_ are _leaving_ us fast; │ │ │If they stayed it would be _high trees-on_. │ │ │The sheep, exposed to the rain and drift, │ │ │Are left to all sorts of _wethers_, │ │ │And the ragged young birds must _make a shift_, │ │ │Until they can get new feathers. │ ├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ 1│Now │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│heroes │ "ST CRISPIN'S DAY." │ moweth │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│bold │ AN ECLOGUE. │ his grass, │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 4│in │ CORDWAINERIUS. │ ♀ ♃ ⊕ ♎ ♐ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 5│leather │ARISE, COBBLERIUS, cast thy awl away, │ │ │ │ │The sun is up, and 'tis SAINT CRISPIN'S │ when he │ │ │ │ DAY. │ │ │ 6│breeches │Leave vulgar snobs to mend plebeian soles,│ │ │ │ │For you and I will jollify, by goles! │should leave│ │ 7│do │ │ │ │ │ │ COBBLERIUS. │ them │ │ 8│leap │ │ │ │ │ │A seedy poet, lodging next the sky, │ │ │ 9│o'er │Came yesternight, entreating me to try │ ♉ ☍ ♈ ♀ │ │ │ │And mend his _understanding_ by the noon; │ │ │10│five │When that is done, I'm yours for a blue │ │ │ │ │ moon. │ │ │ │ │ │ standing; │ │11│barred │ CORDWAINERIUS. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │12│gates │Then while you cobble, let us chaunt a │ ♒ ☿ ♊ ♍ ☽ │ │ │ │ stave: │ │ │ │ │We're "Temp'rance" folks, so let the theme│ │ │ │ │ be grave. │ │ │13│and │Let's sing yon palace to the God of Gin: │ │ │ │ │Who pipes the best, a pot of malt shall │the sick man│ │ │ │ win. │ │ │14│ditches │ │ │ │ │ │ COBBLERIUS. │throweth off│ │15│the │ │ │ │ │ │I take your challenge—to your plan agree; │ his │ │16│perils │Yon Costermonger shall our umpire be. │ │ │ │ │ │ warm │ │17│of │ COSTERMONGERIUS. │ │ │ │ │ │ clothing, │ │18│the │I'm bottle-holder for a glass of max; │ │ │ │ │So clear your pipes, my jolly cocks o' │ │ │ │ │ vax. │ │ │19│field │ │ ☌ ♒ ☿ ♊ ♎ │ │ │ │ CORDWAINERIUS. │ │ │20│to │ │ ⚹ ♏ ♀ │ │ │ │"Here, _sprightly_ folks, by _spirits_ │ │ │ │ │ turn'd to _sprites_, │ │ │21│dare │Whose _rosy_ cheeks are chang'd to _lily │ ☿ ♄ │ │ │ │ whites_, │ │ │ │ │Caught in the _snares_ of _Gin_, rue not │ │ │ │ │ their ruin, │ │ │22│and │But do their best, to do their own │ │ │ │ │ undoing!" │ │ │ │ │ │ when he │ │23│hunt │ COBBLERIUS. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│that │"_Rum_ customers, who're far more sad than│should wrap │ │ │ │ funny, │ │ │ │ │Here get no trust when they have spent │ │ │ │ │ their money: │ │ │25│furious │No pay no potion;—by this rule they stick;│ │ │ │ │The lighted _dial_, only, goes _on tick_."│ himself up │ │26│beast │ │ │ │ │ │ CORDWAINERIUS. │ │ │27│the │ │ ☊ ♓ ☋ ♌ │ │ │ │"Here, Mothers, by some devilish fiend │ │ │ │ │ possest, │ │ │28│hare! │Drive their poor infants from the port of │ closer; │ │ │ │ _Breast_; │ │ │ │ │And 'stead of mother's _milk_, whene'er │ │ │ │ │ they scream, │ │ │29│Oh, │Stop their shrill crying with a glass of │ ♀ ♏ ⚹ │ │ │ │ _cream_." │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │30│courage │ COBBLERIUS. │ the │ │ │ │ │ │ │31│rare! │"Here _compounds_ dire, which ne'er can │ ♂ ☽ ☌ ♄ │ │ │ │ _cordials_ be, │ │ │ │ │Turn _seedy fellows_ into _felos de se_."—│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ COSTERMONGERIUS. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │Just stow your magging, for you've piped │ │ │ │ │ enough, │ │ │ │ │And, blow me, if I ever heard sich stuff! │ │ │ │ │Vy, vhat's the hods, I'll be so bold to │ │ │ │ │ ax, │ │ │ │ │'Twixt swilling heavy vet, and swigging │ │ │ │ │ max? │ │ │ │ │So stow your staves, and as it's chilly │ │ │ │ │ veather, │ │ │ │ │Ve'll mix the max and heavy vet together: │ │ │ │ │And then, my lads o' leather, you shall │ │ │ │ │ see │ │ │ │ │How cosily the mixture vill agree. │ │ └──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

ANNUAL REGISTER
OF
REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES.

JAN. 13th.—_Three_ young men on the Serpentine cutting a figure of _six_, about _nine_ in the morning of _twelfth_ day, were _two_ careless, though warned be-_four_, to _weight_ the reading of the Society's "not-ice," so popped into _sixteen_ feet water. They were speedily helped out of the ice-_well_, and resolved to _cut_ away and not _come again_.

21st.—An Omnibus Cad was brought before the Lord Mayor, charged with having been guilty of civility to a passenger, by neglecting to bang the door against his _stern_, in time to throw him on his _head_. His Lordship said such conduct was unprecedented; but as the man, in extenuation, proved that he had cried "go _on_," while another gentleman was getting _off_, he thought the case did not call for interference. The culprit, however, was dismissed by the Paddington committee, lest his example should contaminate the others.

FEB. 4th.—The following horrible event occurred in a family lately arrived from India. A female of colour, one of the establishment, was sitting by the fire, with two of her dark little progeny by her side, when a black footman, remarkable for his savage disposition, suddenly entered the room, seized one of them in each hand, hurried to the water cistern, and plunging in the struggling little ones, held them till life was extinct. In vain the distracted mother implored compassion; the bystanders seemed to think there was no law against drowning kittens.

MARCH 12th.—An elderly gentleman, crossing Fleet Street, was driven _through_ by the _Perseverance_ Omnibus. He was carried into the nearest shop, and, after taking six boxes of Morison's pills, felt so little inconvenience that he expressed his determination to keep the orifice open, so as not to be an obstruction to carriages in future.

8th.—On Thursday, died Old Tom, the Leadenhall Market Gander, after having worthily supported the city dignity for thirty years. The Court of Aldermen attended his funeral, and his deeds were not forgotten by the City Remembrancer. His spirit still haunts the old spot, and nightly takes in his favourite stuffing of sage and onions, and the poulterers say they always know _the ghost_ when they see him _a-gobblin_.

26th.—Mr. Morison was elected principal of Brazen-nose College on presenting to its library a copy of his treatise on _Assurance_, with tables of the average termination of life, as deduced from the last returns of the _pills_ of mortality.

APRIL 1st.—According to annual custom, a considerable number of persons assembled this morning on Tower Hill to see the Lions washed. It was, however, officially notified that, the menagerie having been broken up, they could not be gratified, but that his Majesty, in order to prevent their entire disappointment, would, for this occasion, substitute the shaving of a Donkey; with a recommendation that each individual do perform the ceremony at his own home in future.

14th.—The Hackney Coaches of the Metropolis met at their usual resting time, which lasts from sixty minutes past twelve on Saturday night till sixty minutes before one on Sunday morning, and resolved to petition Parliament in favour of Sir Andrew's Sunday Bill. They complained that though on that day they always had more _fare_, they had no more food, for though they were never without the taste of _a bit_, they had no leisure to bite; and that though the weather might be ever so fine, for them it was always _rein_-y. They, however, did not wish to make exorbitant demands, and would be quite satisfied if Sunday, to others a day of joy, might be to them a day of "_Wo_." Earl _Grey_ was asked to present the petition, and signified "yea" by saying "neigh."