Chapter IX (4)

"Up at six.—Told Mrs. D. I'd got wery pressing business at Woolwich, and off to Old Fish Street, where a werry sporting breakfast, consisting of jugged hare, partridge pie, tally-ho sauce, gunpowder tea, and-cætera, vos laid out in Figgins's warehouse; as he didn't choose Mrs. F. and his young hinfant family to know he vos a-goin to hexpose himself vith fire-harms.— After a good blow-out, sallied forth vith our dogs and guns, namely Mrs. Wiggins's French poodle, Miss Selina Higgins's real Blenheim spaniel, young Hicks's ditto, Mrs. Figgins's pet bull-dog, and my little thorough-bred tarrier; all vich had been smuggled to Figgins's warehouse the night before, to perwent domestic disagreeables.—Got into a Paddington bus at the Bank.—Row with Tiger, who hobjected to take the dogs, unless paid hextra.—Hicks said we'd a rights to take 'em, and quoted the hact.—Tiger said the hact only allowed parcels carried on the lap.—Accordingly tied up the dogs in our pocket-handkerchiefs, and carried them and the guns on our knees.—Got down at Paddington; and, after glasses round, valked on till ve got into the fields, to a place vich Higgins had baited vith corn and penny rolls every day for a month past. Found a covey of birds feeding. Dogs wery eager, and barked beautiful. Birds got up, and turned out to be pigeons. Debate as to vether pigeons vos game or not. Hicks said they vos made game on by the new hact. Fired accordingly, and half killed two or three, vich half fell to the ground; but suddenly got up again and flew off. Reloaded, and pigeons came round again. Let fly a second time, and tumbled two or three more over, but didn't bag any. Tired at last, and turned in to the _Dog and Partridge_ to get a snack. Landlord laughed, and asked how ve vos hoff for tumblers. Didn't understand him, but got some waluable hinformation about loading our guns; vich he strongly recommended mixing the powder and shot well up together before putting into the barrel; and showed Figgins how to charge his percussion; vich, being Figgins's first attempt under the new system, he had made the mistake of putting a charge of copper caps into the barrel instead of sticking von of 'em atop of the touch-hole.—Left the _Dog and Partridge_, and took a north-easterly direction, so as to have the adwantage of the vind on our backs. Dogs getting wery riotous, and refusing to answer to Figgins's vhistle, vich had unfortunately got a pea in it.—Getting over an edge into a field, Hicks's gun haccidentally hexploded, and shot Wiggins behind; and my gun going off hunexpectedly at the same moment, singed avay von of my viskers and blinded von of my heyes.—Carried Wiggins back to the inn: dressed his wound, and rubbed my heye with cherry brandy and my visker vith bear's grease.—Sent poor W. home by a short stage, and resumed our sport.—Heard some pheasants crowing by the side of a plantation. Resolved to stop their cockadoodledooing, so set off at a jog-trot. Passing thro' a field of bone manure, the dogs unfortunately set to work upon the bones, and we couldn't get 'em to go a step further at no price. Got vithin gun-shot of two of the birds, vich Higgins said they vos two game cocks: but Hicks, who had often been to Vestminster Pit, said no sitch thing; as game cocks had got short square tails, and smooth necks, and long military spurs; and these had got long curly tails, and necks all over hair, and scarce any spurs at all. Shot at 'em as pheasants, and believe we killed 'em both; but, hearing some orrid screams come out of the plantation immediately hafter, ve all took to our 'eels and ran avay vithout stopping to pick either of 'em up.—After running about two miles, Hicks called out to stop, as he had hobserved a covey of wild ducks feeding on a pond by the road side. Got behind a haystack and shot at the ducks, vich svam avay hunder the trees. Figgins wolunteered to scramble down the bank, and hook out the dead uns vith the but-hend of his gun. Unfortunately bank failed, and poor F. tumbled up to his neck in the pit. Made a rope of our pocket hankerchiefs, got it round his neck, and dragged him to the _Dog and Doublet_, vere ve had him put to bed, and dried. Werry sleepy with the hair and hexercise, so after dinner took a nap a-piece.—Woke by the landlord coming in to know if ve vos the gentlemen as had shot the hunfortunate nurse-maid and child in Mr. Smithville's plantation. Swore ve knew nothing about it, and vile the landlord vas gone to deliver our message, got out of the back vindow, and ran avay across the fields. At the end of a mile, came suddenly upon a strange sort of bird, vich Hicks declared to be the cock-of-the-woods. Sneaked behind him and killed him. Turned out to be a peacock. Took to our heels again, as ve saw the lord of the manor and two of his servants vith bludgeons coming down the gravel valk towards us. Found it getting late, so agreed to shoot our vay home. Didn't know vere ve vos, but kept going on.—At last got to a sort of plantation, vere ve saw a great many birds perching about. Gave 'em a broadside, and brought down several. Loaded again, and killed another brace. Thought ve should make a good day's vork of it at last, and was preparing to charge again, ven two of the new police came and took us up in the name of the Zolorogical Society, in whose gardens it seems ve had been shooting. Handed off to the Public Hoffice, and werry heavily fined, and werry sewerely reprimanded by the sitting magistrate.—Coming away, met by the landlord of the _Dog and Doublet_, who charged us with running off without paying our shot; and Mr. Smithville, who accused us of man-slaughtering his nurse-maid and child; and, their wounds not having been declared immortal, ve vos sent to spend the night in prison—and thus ended my last First of September."

OCTOBER.—Brewing.
]

┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ OCTOBER. │ ├──┬──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │ Hail! honest Toby, who all grumbling hates, │ │ │ Who quaffs his ale, and cheerful pays his rates; │ │ │ Whose faith is fixed and firm,—in stout October,— │ │ │ Who scorns dissent,—except, from being sober; │ │ │ Who swears the cause is best upheld by drinking, │ │ │ Since he who takes to water, takes to thinking; │ │ │ Who designates small beer a public scandal, │ │ │ And knows no heresy but using the pump handle. │ ├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │_Prognosti- │ │ │ │fications._ │ ├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ 1│ DIALOGUE. │ Now │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│_Customer_: What can I have, waiter?—_Waiter_: What │ lest, │ │ │ would you like, Sir? │ │ │ │_C._ Can you give me a chop, or a steak?—_W._ No, │ │ │ │ Sir. │ │ │ 3│_C._ Any cold meat?—_W._ No. │peradventure│ │ │_C._ Crust of bread and cheese?—_W._ No. │ │ │ 4│_C._ Why, you've nothing at all in the house, then, │ ♉ ☍ ♉ ♀ │ │ │ it seems?—_W._ Oh! yes we have. │ │ │ │_C._ What?—_W._ AN EXECUTION! │ │ │ 5│ │ │ │ │ │ it should │ │ 6│ │ │ │ │ │ hereby │ │ 7│ │ │ │ │ │seem to the │ │ 8│ │ │ │ │ │undiscerning│ │ 9│A mob of _Johnnies_ lay rough hands on the Spinning │ │ │ │ _Jennies_, 1779. │ │ │ │ │ multitude, │ │10│_Spenser_ died, succeeded by _Coats_. (Query, │ │ │ │ _Romeo_?) │ │ │ │ │ │ │11│ │ ♀ ♃ ⊕ │ │ │ │ │ │12│Day _breaks_. ——Poor fellow! when, and where? │that I have │ │ │ I pity him, I do declare; │ │ │13│ Unlike the surly wight, who said, │ deserted, │ │ │ When rous'd up from his downy bed, │ │ │14│ "What is't to me, if broke or no? │ ♒ ☿ ♊ ♎ │ │ │ He owes _me_ nothing." (_Vide_ JOE.) │ │ │15│ And Mrs. Day,—his loving mate,— │ the │ │ │ 'Twill break her heart, as sure as │ │ │ │ fate. │ │ │16│ Oh, no! she treats it very _light_;— │ Celestial │ │ │ She's run away with Mr. Night. │ │ │17│ Should Mrs. Day, though, meet her │ Science, │ │ │ _sun_, │ │ │ │ Then Mr. Night will be undone; │ │ │18│ For by some magic,—strange to say,— │ ☿ ♑ │ │ │ This _sun_ will turn _Night_ into │ │ │ │ _Day._ │ │ │19│ │ and proved │ │ │ │ │ │20│ │an unworthy │ │ │ │ │ │21│ │ successor │ │ │ │ │ │22│ │ ♎ ♐ ☌ ♀ │ │ │ │ │ │23│ │ of the │ │ │ │ │ │24│ │defunct and │ │ │ │ │ │25│ST. CRISPIN. All _Soles_ Day. _Cobblers'_ Holiday. No│ doughty │ │ │ business done in Downing Street. │ │ │ │ │ │ │26│ │ MOORE, │ │ │ │ │ │27│ │ ☊ ♓ ♑ ♌ │ │ │ │ │ │28│ │ I do here │ │ │ │ present │ │29│ │ │ │ │ │ one │ │30│ │ │ │ │ │ important │ │31│Brewing ends. _Malt_-brun. Sir Matthew _Hale_. │prediction, │ └──┴─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘

ODE TO BEER.

Hail, Beer!
In all thy forms of Porter, Stingo, Stout,
Swipes, Double-X, Ale, Heavy, Out-and-out,
Most dear.
Hail! thou that mak'st man's heart as big as Jove's!
Of Ceres' gifts the best!
That furnishest
A cure for all our griefs: a barm for all our—loaves!
Oh! Sir John Barleycorn, thou glorious Knight of Malt-a
May thy fame never alter!
Great Britain's Bacchus! pardon all our failings:
And with thy ale ease all our ailings!
I've emptied many a barrel in my time: and may be
Shall empty many more
Before
O'er Styx I sail:
Ev'n when an infant I was fond of Ale:
A sort of Ale-y Baby,
And still I love it, spite the gibes and jokes
Of _wine_ing folks.
For Stout I've stoutly fought for many a year;
For Ale I'll fight till I'm laid on my _bier_.

October! oh, intoxicating name! no drink
That e'er was made on earth can match with thee!
Of best French Brandy in the Palais Royal
I've emptied many a phial;
And think
That Double-X beats O-D-V.
On thy banks, Rhine,
I've drunk such Wine
As Bacchus' self might well unsober:
But oh, Johannisberg! thy beams are shorn
By our John Barleycorn;
And Hock is not Hock-tober!
As for the rest, Cape, Claret, Calcavella,
They are but "leather and prunello,"
Stale, flat, and musty.
By thy side, Ale!
Imperial Tokay
Itself gives way;
Sherry turns pale,
And Port grows crusty.
Rum, Whiskey, Hollands, seem so much sour crout:
And Hodges' Mountain Dew turns out
A mere Hodge-
Podge.
Of _bishops_ ev'n, god wot!
I don't much like the flavour:
Politically speaking, (but then, politics are not
My trade,)
Exception should be made
In Doctor _Malt-by's_ favour.
_In vino veritas_, they say: but that's a fable—
A most egregious blunder.
I've been at many a wine-bibbing, ere now:
And vow,
For one that told the truth _across_ the table,
I've seen a dozen _lying_ under.
Besides, as old Sam Johnson said once, I've no patience
With men who never tell the sober truth
But when they're drunk: and a'n't to be believed, forsooth,
Except in their lie-bations.
Oh! do not think—you who these praises hear—
Don't think my muse be-mused with Beer!
Nor that, in speaking thus my pleasure,
I go beyond beer measure.
Would I had lived in days of good Queen Bet,
And her brave _déjeûners à la fourchette_!
No days were e'er like hers,
At whose gay board were ever seen to join
Those two surpassing Sirs,
Sir John, and famed Sir-loin.

But stay!
It's time to end this lay;
Tho' I could go on rhyming for a year
(And think it sport
In praise of Beer);
But many folks, I know, like _something short_.

SO—OH!—LOGICAL SOCIETY.

At the Annual Meeting of the So-oh!-logical Society, the Chairman, in an able speech, which was highly satisfactory to himself and all present, congratulated the members on the prosperous state of the concern. He informed them that their coffers and their dens were yet undrained; that they were still able to raise the wind, though they had very little ventilation; that the shilling orders were on the increase, though the animals were in a decline; and, admitting that some of them had galloped off in a consumption, there was a consolation in the old adage, that living asses were far better than dead lions,—a truth of which they must all feel a full conviction.

He stated that 15,073 pennyworths of apples, 10,732 gingerbread cakes, and 6,532 half-pints of nuts had been sold during the year by the old lady who sits at the bear-pit; that a Sunday school had been established in the Gardens, under the superintendence of a committee of noblemen, for the purpose of instructing the apes and monkeys in the art of smoking cigars, and other usages of fashionable life; but that the throngs of ladies who crowded round them during school-hours had greatly retarded their improvement, by staring them out of countenance.

He thought it right to mention to the Meeting that the Council, in the choice of the Society's servants, had borne in mind that mere experience is but empiricism, and they had discovered that whoever could wash a coach-wheel could water a rhinoceros; that an over-grown _Tiger_ was a proper person to feed a Lion, and the offsprings of their _darlings_ were doubtless best qualified to fodder their _deers_. He congratulated the Meeting, that while common show-men were confined by their capabilities to merely exhibiting their animals alive, this collection presented exclusively the additional advantage of a speedy opportunity of dissection. He concluded by an announcement, for which he trusted they would ever prove grateful, that his Majesty had granted to the Society permission to appear at Court with long ears and a tail, and to distinguish themselves by the appendage of any letters not exceeding three to their names, but ending with an S. At this intimation the delighted _Ear_-ers trotted away to give orders to their _tail_-ers, and to search their dictionaries. They all returned _suit_-ed before they got far into the alphabet.

The President then read an interesting letter from a member detailing new facts in the history of the domestic cat (_felis communis_). The writer's housekeeper had been making her annual brewing of elder wine, which was left in the barrel, unstopped, _secundum artem_, to ferment. Hearing an extraordinary noise in the cellar, she ventured to peep through the key-hole, and to her consternation beheld about twenty strange cats, assembled, apparently on the invitation of the Tortoise-shell of the family. They were engaged in springing in succession on the barrel, plunging their tails through the bung-hole into the delicious liquid till saturated, and then sucking them dry. The old lady distinctly heard her pet grimalkin say to a grave tabby gentleman, who seemed tasting, with an air of connoisseurship, "How! How!" to which he replied, in sounds which seemed to her very like "More brandy." The worthy dame fell down in a swoon, and was found by some of the servants in a state of insensibility, with an empty brandy bottle in her hand, and she had only sufficiently recovered to narrate the above remarkable occurrence. The letter was ordered to be published in their Annual Report, and many other _tails_ of cats formed subjects of conversation during the evening.

A learned member offered a shrewd conjecture that the common shrew was the connecting link between quadrupeds and a certain variety of woman-kind, and that the universal chain might again be traced from man to the feathered race, through the medium of the human thief, especially when he was a-robbin!

The secretary informed the society that in consequence of the discoveries of the British Association, the giraffes had been lately fed on lettuce leaves, which had so far imparted to their necks the properties of caoutchouc, that they now possessed the capability of indefinite extension. At this period of the proceedings one of the animals stretched his neck from his stable to the council room, and as the president was proceeding to offer some consolation on the head of the dead lion, by descanting on the spur in his tail, put his face into the midst of the company, and, for the first time in his life, cried out, "Bah!" which had the effect of breaking up the assembly.

┌──────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬──────────────┐ │ NOVEMBER. ││ ├──┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────┤ │ │The night comes on, when, braving civic law, │ │ │ │The little savage burns his man of straw; │ │ │ │Admires the hero as the crackers fly, │ │ │ │And _fires_, to emulate the glorious Guy. │ │ │ │With artless art he plans his victim's fall, │ │ │ │Some apple-woman dozing at her stall, │ │ │ │Who, waking, cries—half conscious of the fray— │ │ │ │"How very _odd_ my _pairs_ is blow'd away!" │ │ ├──┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────┤ │D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │ _Prognosti- │ │ │ │ fications._ │ ├──┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ │ALL SAINTS. Duke of Cumberland, Lord Lyndhurst, │ │ │ 1│ Lord Melbourne, Crockford, Joseph Hume, Dan. │ duly │ │ │ O'Connell. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│_First Day of Nervous epidemic among sundry idle │ concocted │ │ │ Term._ gents, │ │ │ │ who expect to be raised to the │ │ │ │ _Bench_, and │ │ │ 3│ who are _pressed_ to "man the │ according │ │ │ _Fleet_." │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 4│ │ to art, │ │ │ │ │ │ 5│GUNPOWDER PLOT. Guy _Vaux_ blows up the House of │ ♀ ⚹ ♏ ☽ │ │ │ Lords. │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 6│ FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. │ │ │ │ │ to the │ │ 7│What a pity 'tis this glorious fun day │ │ │ │Should chance, this year, to fall on Sunday; │ fulfilment │ │ 8│And leave us thus without the hope │ │ │ │Of burning Guy Fawkes and the Pope; │ whereof │ │ 9│Balking the little blackguard boys │ │ │ │Of all their pretty, simple joys! │ │ │10│I'm sure 'twill grieve them very sadly, │ ☿ ♊ ☽ │ │ │And _other innocents_ as badly, │ │ │11│Whose pious hate to _warm_ and cherish, │ I, │ │ │The Pope, at all events, should perish; │ │ │12│For _fires_ have always been the test │ RIGDUM │ │ │For proving orthodoxy best. │ │ │13│But stay!—perhaps, on application, │ FUNNIDOS, │ │ │His Holiness a dispensation │ │ │14│May grant, and, merely for this _one_ day, │ do │ │ │Consent to burn with Guy on _Monday_. │ │ │15│ │ hereby │ │ │ │ │ │16│ │ pledge my │ │ │ │ │ │17│ │asstrological │ │ │ │ │ │18│ │ reputation, │ │ │ │ │ │19│ │ ♃ ⊕ ♒ ☉ │ │ │ │ │ │20│ │ _viz._ │ │ │ │ │ │21│ │ The doom │ │ │ │ │ │22│ │ of _Turkey_ │ │ │ │ │ │23│ │ may be │ │ │ │ │ │24│ │ looked for │ │ │ │ │ │25│ │ ♈ ☍ │ │ │ │ │ │26│First night of Tom and Jerry. _Larks_ in season. │ as fixed │ │ │ │ │ │27│ │ │ │ │ │ ☽ ♂ ♀ ♈ │ │28│ │ │ │ │ │ at │ │29│ │ │ │ │ │ ♓ ♑ │ │30│Insurrection of the _Poles_, 1830. Ladies at the │ Christmas! │ │ │ Treadmill refuse to have their hair cropped. │ │ └──┴───────────────────────────────────────────────────┴──────────────┘

NOVEMBER.—S^t. Cecilia's Day.
]

MUSIC'S POWER.

Music hath pow'r over all the world:
By the old and young 'tis prized.
'Tis loved by the great, 'tis loved by the small,
And by the middle-sized.

Music hath pow'r o'er the warrior stern,
In days of repose or of strife.
In battle, the bagpipe is passing sweet:
In peace, the drum and fife.

Music hath pow'r over ladye fair,
When stars thro' heav'n are straying;
And under her window her own true-love
On the hurdy-gurdy's playing.

Music hath power in the morn of life:
A pow'r not unfelt by any one.
No trumpet e'er sounds, in after-days,
So sweetly as youth's penny one.

Music hath pow'r in age to recall
Sweet thoughts of youth and home.
Oh! how my heart-strings crack to hear
A boy blow thro' a comb!

Music hath pow'r over shepherd and swain,
As, at eve, when the wood-dove moans,
He softly soothes his soul to repose
With the jew's-harp's tender tones.

Music hath pow'r in the solemn aisles,
A deep and a holy charm:
When the clerk, with a pitch-pipe symphony,
Strikes up the hundredth psalm.

Music hath pow'r in the Thespian halls:
I've been where thousands sate,
And heard a thousand pæans rise
To welcome "All round my hat."

Music hath pow'r in the city's din.
How passing sweet to list,
Amid the busy hum of men,
To the barrel-organist.

Music hath pow'r in the forum's walls,
'Mid the gay and giddy throng.
Oh! is there a heart that has not beat high
At the magic sound of the gong?

Music hath pow'r on the bright, blue lake.
Oh! how on _thy_ lake, Geneva,
I've listen'd at eve to the far-off sound
Of the marrow-bone and cleaver!

Music hath pow'r on Hybla's hill,
When summer bees are humming;
And fair hands charm the insect band,
On frying-pan sweetly strumming.

Music hath pow'r when lady lips
Chant forth some simple ditty
Of blighted hope or hapless love:—
Providing the lady's pretty.

Music hath pow'r at morn's bright hour,
When the lark to heav'n's gate climbs.
And, at midnight, how sweet to hear "King Cole"
Play'd on the parish chimes!

Music hath pow'r 'neath the torrid zone,
Where love in his ardour is found;
And the heart of the Indian melts
At the tom-tom's am'rous sound.

Music hath pow'r on Greenland's ice;
When guileless hearts grow gladder,
And nimble feet rejoice at the sound
Of a dozen peas in a bladder.

Music hath pow'r over brutish hearts,
To shake them to their middle.
The nightingale dies on the poet's lute;
And a bear will dance to a fiddle.

Yes: music hath power o'er the wide, wide, world:
A power that's deep and endearing.
But music now has no power on me,
For I'm very hard of hearing.

DECEMBER.—Christmas Eve.
]

┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────┬─────────────────┐ │ DECEMBER. │ [1837.│ ├──┬────────────────────────────────────────────────┴─────────────────┤ │ │"Last scene of all," that ends the year, │ │ │And ushers in brave Christmas cheer, │ │ │Come, deckt as thou wert wont to be, │ │ │In festive smiles and revelry, │ │ │With roasted beef and minced pies, │ │ │And pudding of gigantic size! │ │ │Fit emblem of our wealth's vast sum; │ │ │I'd be contented with a _plum_. │ ├──┼────────────────────────────────────────────────┬─────────────────┤ │D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │ _Prognosti- │ │ │ │ fications._ │ ├──┼────────────────────────────────────────────────┼─────────────────┤ │ 1│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│ A RISING GENIUS. │ about │ │ │ │ │ │ 3│_Timothy Sly's own Epistle (not the Master's)._ │ which time, │ │ │ │ │ │ 4│DEAR DICK,—I copied my school letter to │ ⚹ ♒ ☿ │ │ │Father and Mother ten times before one was good │ │ │ 5│enough, and while the teacher is putting the │ many │ │ │ capitals │ │ │ │and flourishes in I shall slip this off on the │ │ │ │ sly. │ │ │ 6│Our examination was yesterday and the table was │ aldermen │ │ │covered with books and things bound in gilt and │ │ │ │ silk │ │ │ 7│for prizes but were all put away again and none │ will be │ │ │ of us │ │ │ │got none only they awarded Master Key a new │ │ │ │ fourpenny │ │ │ 8│bit for his essay on Locke because his friends │ hung in │ │ │ live │ │ │ │next door and little Coombe got the tooth-ake so│ │ │ │ they │ │ │ 9│would not let him try his experiments on vital │ chains; │ │ │ air │ │ │ │which was very scurvy. It didnt come to my turn │ │ │ │ so I │ │ │10│did not get a prize but as the company was to │ │ │ │ stop │ │ │ │tea I put the cat in the water butt which they │ ☽ ♀ ♊ ♍ │ │ │ clean │ │ │11│it out in the holidays and they will be sure to │ │ │ │ find │ │ │ │her and we were all treated with tea and I did │ a dreadful │ │ │ not │ │ │12│like to refuse as they might have suspext │ │ │ │ something. │ │ │ │Last night we had a stocking and bolster fight │ doom! │ │ │ after │ │ │13│we went to bed and I fougt a little lad with a │ │ │ │ big │ │ │ │bolster his name is Bill Barnacle and I knocked │ │ │ │ his │ │ │14│eye out with a stone in my stocking but no body │ ♂ ☽ ☌ ♏ │ │ │ knows │ │ │ │who did it because we were all in the dark so I │ │ │ │ could │ │ │15│not see no harm in it. Dear Dick send me │ │ │ │ directly │ │ │ │your Wattses Hyms to show for I burnt mine and a│ but not │ │ │ lump │ │ │16│of cobblers wax for the masters chair on │ │ │ │ breaking up │ │ │ │day and some small shot to pepper the people │ so dreadful │ │ │ with │ │ │17│my quill gun and eighteen pence in coppers to │ │ │ │ shy │ │ │ │at the windows as we ride through the villiage │ │ │ │ and │ │ │18│make it one and ninepence for there's a good │ ♏ ⚹ │ │ │ many │ │ │ │as Ive a spite against yourself and meet me at │ │ │ │ the │ │ │19│Elephant and Castle and if there's room on the │ │ │ │ coach │ │ │ │you can get up for I want to give you some │ as │ │ │ crackers │ │ │20│to let off as soon as we get home while they are│ │ │ │ all │ │ │ │a Kissing of me │ their final │ │21│ │ │ │ │ Your affectionate brother │ sentence, │ │22│ │ │ │ │ TIMOTHY SLY.│ _viz._ │ │23│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│ │ ♄ ♃ ♂ ☉ │ │ │ │ │ │25│CHRISTMAS DAY. Grand Council of _Nice_. │ │ │ │ │ to be │ │26│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │27│ │anthropophagized,│ │ │ │ │ │28│INNOCENTS. _Lamb's_ Holiday. Celebration of Lord│ │ │ │ Melbourne's acquittal. │ │ │ │ │ │ │29│ │ ♄ ♐ ♎ │ │ │ │ │ │30│ │ or │ │ │ │ │ │31│_Silvester_ (Daggerwood?) │ devoured! │ └──┴────────────────────────────────────────────────┴─────────────────┘

THE CRIER'S SONG.

Good people all,
Both great and small,
Come listen to my rhyme!
Let others sing the praise of Spring:
My theme's the Christmas time.

['Old up the lantern, vill you, Bill?]

Oh! time of joy
To man and boy;
Rich, poor; grave, gay; low, high:
When none but sounds of mirth are heard;
And only criers cry.

Come, ope your gates!
The bellman waits
To claim his annual levy.
And hopes, to lighten his old heart,
You'll stand a pot of heavy.

['Ow werry sewere the cold is, to be sure! it qvite makes von's head turn round. I might have been having a drop too much—and I'm sure I haven't: no—not a drop—too much. I only had half a pint o' beer at Mr. Simkins's—and a small glass of gin at Mr. Wiggins's—and the least drop as ever vos o' visky at Mr. Higgins's—and a pot of porter at Mr. Figgins's—and a thimbleful of brandy at Mr. Villiam Smith's—and a mug of stout at Mr. Valter Smith's—and a glass of grog at Mr. Thomas Smith's— and the share of a pint of purl at Mr. John Smith's—and a teacupful of cherry bounce at Vidow Smith's—and a draught of Dublin stout at Miss Smith's—and I'm sure that couldn't do nob'dy no harm; could it, Bill?]

There's not a stage
Of youth or age—
No spot in life's dull round,
But, like a guardian angel, there
Your faithful crier is found.

[Vell, I never vos out in sech a frost in _my_ life: I can't keep my legs the least bit as ever vos. Slippery times these is, to be sure. Hold the lantern up, vill you, Bill?]

When first a wild
And "poor lost child,"
Seduced by Punch's laughter,
You stray in tears about the streets,
Don't I go crying after?

[_Vill_ you 'old the lantern stiddy, Bill; and not keep vhirling it about in that vay. Vot lots o' rewolving lights there is in this part of the city, to be sure!]

In after-life,
When vixen wife
Goes running o'er the town;
And, what is worse, runs you in debt;
Why—don't I cry her down?

[Vell, I'm blest if ever I see such printing as this: they've let the paper slip, and printed the werses twice over.]

And when Lord Mayor,
The civic chair
With dignity you press,
For very joy, then, don't I cry—
Oh, yes! oh, yes! oh, yes!

[I vishes them there vaits vouldn't make such a nise with their 'arps and 'orns: nob'dy can't 'ear a vord as _I_ says: they're no gentlemen, I'm sure: they might vait vaiting till I've done.]

Then listen all,
Both great and small,
To what your crier declares:
Be sober [_hiccup_], true, and honest; and
You all may be Lord Mayors.

[It's no use talking—nor reading nayther—for I can't get a vord out—it's so werry cold! Werses is qvite lost sitch rhymy veather as this. Bill, I see there's music and dancing going on at the gin shop over the vay; so never mind boxing no more to-night, but let's go and jine in the "Waults."]

SCRAPS FROM THE ANNUAL REGISTER.

JAN. 9.—At a general meeting of the Governors of Christ's Hospital, Sir John Soane's splendid architectural design for a new gateway to the school was adopted, with one dissentient only, to whom it was conceded, at his special request, that his _protégé_ should be allowed to enter through a _Pipe of Port_.

FEB. 10.—An eminent apothecary in the New Road attended at Marylebone office to prosecute his errand boy, who, when sent out with medicine, being versed in Shakspeare, used to "throw physic to the dogs," and sell the empty bottles: the boy had spent the money in going to see the Bottle Imp. The doctor said his suspicions were first excited by finding his patients suddenly getting well. His worship at first threatened the culprit with the pillory and the black-hole; but afterwards changed the sentence into pills and a black draught, as more severe, and desired his master to take him home and dose him.

MARCH 10.—A young lady at the Bucks county ball was apparently seized with convulsions in the midst of a quadrille. Her mamma ran to her assistance, and matters were soon restored. It seems that, her waist having been reduced to the minimum of magnitude, she was always obliged to be unhooked behind before she could sneeze.

MAY 25.—An elderly Gentleman was charged with having kissed a Lady for a Lark, in the fields near Kentish Town. He was fined five shillings for not being a better naturalist, with an admonition from the worthy magistrate, that most of the birds in that district belonged to the order "Pass-er."

JUNE 23.—The splendid pair of yahoos, recently presented to the So-oh!-logical Society by the Duke of C——, have shown such extraordinary apt-ness, under the influence of example and good society, that on Sunday last, after having been submitted to the respective operations of Mr. Stulz and Madame Carson, they were allowed to walk out among the fashionables, when they deported themselves so well, that none but those in the secret could distinguish them from the rest of the company.

JULY 15.—The torrents which ushered in the morning led many to believe that, as this was the first day of St. Swithin's _reign_, so he had also selected it for his coronation; and in this they were confirmed by the streaming of the people along the streets, and the _wringing_ of the _Belles_.

AUG. 26.—At the meeting of the British Association, at Bristol, Professor Buckland announced, as an indisputable fact, that the antediluvians kept cows, and vended their produce as we do; for, in the plains of Bul-garia, he had recently discovered a petrified milk walk, with a fragment of a fossil pump-handle at the end of it.

SEPT. 1.—A sporting Cockney was unlucky enough to hit a cow in the calf of her leg, at Hornsey. She was no sooner in a limp than he was in a hobble, and he found to his cost that leg of beef is not always to be peppered with impunity.

SEPT. 12.—Mr. Curtis announced his intention of standing for the Borough of _Eye_, in the event of a dissolution of Parliament, and made his opening speech to the voters amidst cries of "_Ear! Ear!_"

OCT. 10.—"Found, a healthy male Infant," &c., &c. That ancient _sine quâ non_ to persons crossing the seas, a child's _caul_, is now a mere drug in the market. Instead of making it a _compagnon de voyage_, numbers cross the seas to avoid it. A child's _call_, in high preservation, may be picked up on any moonlight night, in any blind alley where you see "Rubbish to be shot here." A handbill headed "Desertion," formerly a monstrosity of un-English shape, is now a forme that the parish printer always keeps standing; and the beadles dryly observe, that they are become wet nurses to the children of half the parish. The Honourable Commissioners of the mechanical powers, Messrs. Leave-er, Wedge, and Screw, are indefatigable in fulfilling the intentions of their employers who have devised this happy state of things, to save themselves and their hopeful heirs from the unpleasant necessity of answering "A child's call."

NOV. 2.—A resolution was carried in the Common Council not to allow any more money for summer excursions on the water. The minority said they dreaded the vengeance of the ladies, and many members returned home in a very unhappy state, looking anxiously about for inscriptions of "Broken crockery mended here;" for they knew, by past experience, that man is the vessel that goes to pot when it comes to family jars.

* * * * *

_Our revels concluded, a merry farewell
To all but a few irreclaimable sinners,
Who, if they were honest, might happen to tell
That they've had their deserts, tho' we've ruin'd their dinners._

THE
COMIC ALMANACK
FOR 1838.

MANNERS MADE EASY;
OR, HOW TO COBBLE A SILK PURSE OUT OF A SOW'S EAR.

"Γαμμον ανδ Σπιναγε."

Punctuality is essential to the character of a Gentleman. Early in the New Year send peremptorily for all your bills. If they do not arrive in a day or two, send again. By this exactness, you give your tradesmen confidence, and ensure their civility for some time, in the hope of a settlement. Having thus prevented any increase of charges, you can pay at your leisure. I have heard of a gentleman whose aversion to the sight of paper ruled in money columns had been indulged in as long as was consistent with his personal safety, who thus addressed a creditor for whom the _shut sesame_ of "call again" had lost its charm. "After having for many years neglected my affairs, I have at length awakened to a sense of my error, and have resolved, by a vigorous system of economy, to retrieve them. Method, Sir, I now perceive that method is everything. From this day I set apart a certain portion of my income sacred to the payment of my debts."—"I am delighted, Sir, to hear of your noble resolution."—"I have made a schedule of all I owe, and shall begin at the top and persevere undeviatingly in regular though slow succession towards the bottom:—so that you see, my dear Mr. Figgins"—"Sir, my name is Wiggins"—"Wiggins! I had quite forgot; but I am sorry to hear it, very sorry—for my list is alphabetical. Had it been Figgins, or even Higgins, there would have been some chance for you, but the W's are so very low down.—No, I cannot say when I shall reach the W's."

If you wish to refuse the request of an old friend or a poor relation, but can hardly screw your courage to the sticking-place, put on a pair of tight shoes, and you will find it perfectly easy.

Never introduce your friends to strangers without their consent, nor permit such a liberty towards yourself, especially about November. Many have been entrapped into the hands of John Doe and Richard Roe thereby, unawares.

Choose rainy days to pay your visits on. You will thus show your sincerity, and be less likely to miss callers at home. Take your cloak and hat into the drawing-room—to leave them below would be like one of the family—but, above all, carry in your umbrella; you have no right to leave it streaming in another person's hall.

When you visit your maiden aunt, as you value your legacy expectant, preserve an amiable face, and keep you hands and feet to yourself, while her favourite tom cat reposes in you the height of his friendship by looking you full in the face and vigorously stretching himself by the aid of his ten talons hooked through your tight and tender kerseymeres.

Though you may be a Nabob, or as rich as one, be not too anxious to parade your black servants before your friends, for both your sakes; they have, in general, two bad qualities—"stealing and giving odour."— Shakspeare, hem!

Never marry a widow (unless her first husband was hanged), or she will be always drawing unpleasant comparisons.

Never refuse a pinch of snuff, but do not become a snuff-taker: it is paying through the nose for a little pleasure.

Avoid argument with Ladies. In spinning a yarn among Silks and Satins, a man is sure to be _Worsted_.

It is common to speak contemptuously of tailors and dress-makers. This is bad taste; none but a rat would run down the sewers.

When a lady sits down to the pianoforte, always volunteer to turn over the leaves. To be able to read music is of no consequence, as you will know that she is at the bottom of a page when she stops short. If you turn over two leaves at once, you will probably have the secret thanks of most of the company.

When your friend enters the room instantly rise, and, though there may be half a dozen unoccupied chairs at hand, draw him with gentle force into your own. You will thus show the warmth of your friendship; for a damp seat may be as bad as a damp bed.

In driving out never make a lady treasurer of the turnpike trusts;—or, when you want twopence for a toll, you have to wait while the reticule string is snapped in two; then, out comes a lace-edged white muslin worked pocket-handkerchief, a pair of lemon-coloured kid-gloves, a smelling-bottle, a bunch of keys, and, to crown all, a five-shilling piece to change. All this time you are stuck fast in the jaws of a turnpike gate, the Brighton Quicksilver in your rear, driver raving at your back, leaders snorting over your shoulder.

Never plan a pic-nic, on pain of skulking about the town for six months after, dreading to meet, at every turn, the infuriated looks of the bereaved parents of half a dozen little innocents in white frocks and trousers, who have been washed away by an inundation; or to encounter the menacing glances of budding heroes, fierce in the rudiments of moustaches and chin-tufts, whose Celias and Delias have dropped into a decline through sitting on the damp grass at your instigation.

Never hesitate to take a friend with you when you go out to dinner. Disappointments are so frequent that the lady of the house may perhaps be glad of a spare gentleman to fill up a gap.

In carving, remember that "'twere well it were done quickly." He must be, therefore, the best carver who soonest fills the greatest number of plates. Waste no time in asking if people like a wing or a leg, this bit or that—many do not know their minds on any subject. Besides, as they cannot all have the prime cuts, nothing but discontent can ensue from giving them the choice.

As too much of a good thing is morally impossible, fill the plates well— the delicate can leave half, and the modest are saved the unpleasantness of a second application; besides making the hostess your eternal friend, if, through your management in the outset, some of the dishes go away uncut for another day.

Always return into the dish, before it goes from table, any portion of a ragout that your friends may leave in their plates. It is ten to one if your careless servants think of doing so afterwards.

Instead of waiting for the dessert, let your children come in with the first course—they cannot be used to good society too soon. They will furnish topics for conversation, and if any present be vulgar enough to require a second supply of soup, when the tureen is at low water mark, they will probably relieve your embarrassment by upsetting it, and so dispose of the question.

Help the darlings first—they are dearer to you than mere visitors, to whom you might, otherwise, inadvertently transfer some delicate bits on which the little cherubs had set their minds.

Do not detain the toothpick long after dinner—it's unpleasant to be kept waiting for it.

If a lady request you to select an apple for her, bite a piece out. How can you recommend it without?

Always wipe the brim of a pot of porter with your sleeve, if you are about to hand it to a lady.

HIEROGLYPHICUM IN FUTURO.

The Queen of Hearts, VIRGO, a bright constellation,
(That she'll turn up a trump is the hope of the nation),
By a whole pack of outlandish knaves who are suing,
Is sorely beset, for she shrinks from their wooing.
Each holds out a circle in which to entrap her,
And ev'ry one hopes that _he_ shall kidnap her.
But occult operations behind the state curtain
Shew an _Elph_, that makes _their_ success very uncertain.
Now, look to the left, and you'll see that _Egalité_,
That awful French thing, wants to pull down _Regality_;
And, much to the horror of all Christian people,
It tugs at the Church,—or, at least, at the steeple.
A sage-looking wight, who is marking the "Movement,"
Seems to think it by no means would be an improvement;
But as prophecies often show forth strange vagaries,
And, nine times in ten, are explained by contraries,
Let us hope we shall find that a people's affection
Is the very best remedy 'gainst disaffection.
May it crush the foul traitors who love revolution,
And preserve all that's good in our wise constitution.

JANUARY.—New Year's Eve.
]

JANUARY [1838

JACK FROST.

Hail, Snow! not the white head at Snow and Paul's,
But speaking city-wise, that oddity
Which rises higher as the more it falls,
A paradoxial commodity.

The schoolboy's long expected an-nu-al;—
Abandon'd now are wicket, bat, and ball;
Gradus, degraded—manual, underfoot—
Rebate, at discount—routed, cubic-root.

The pelted village idol, by the way,
With hideous grin uplifts his hoary pate,
To make a parson swear, or poacher pray,
Or frighten some old woman passing late.

Perchance a supple New Poor-Law Commissioner,
On plans of pauper diet deep intent,
May start and think of some white-haired petitioner,
Turned out to starve by act of parliament.

But what cares he for hot, cold, wet, or dry?
Thanks to the Whigs, he gets his sal-a-ry.

12 Lavater d. 1801.

"I think I've seen your face before."
"WERRY LIKE."

26 Botany Bay colonized, 1788.

Rejoice and praise, in merry lays,
The wisdom of the wigs,
Which kindly found, on classic ground,
A paradise for prigs.

Assembled there, in talent rare,
Each knave salutes a brother,
And friendly yet, their wit they whet,
By practice on each other.

31 Young Pretender d. 1788. _N.B._ Race not extinct.

MY DANCING DAYS ARE OVER.
_By the Gentleman in the White Waistcoat._

My dancing days are over now,
My legs are just like stumps;
My fount of youth dried up, alas!
Wont answer to the pumps,
Yet who so fond of jigs as I?
Of hornpipes such a lover?
Of gallops, valses,—but, alas!
My dancing days are over.

In feats of feet, what foot like mine
(Excuse me if vain-glorious:)
Like mine for grace and dignity
No toe was more notorious.
Oh! then what joy it was to hear
_Roy's Wife_ or _Kitty Clover_!
But _Drops of Brandy_ now won't do:
My dancing days are over.

My feet seem fastened down with screws,
That were so glib before;
And my ten light fantastic toes
Seem toe'-nailed to the floor.
I cannot bear a ball room now,
Where once I lived in clover;
Terpsichore quite made me sick;
My dancing days are over.

I used to dance the New Year in,
And dance the Old Year out;
Ah! little did I then reflect
That _chacun à son_ gout,
All summer thro' I skipped and hopped,
At Margate, Ramsgate, Dover.
The year was then one spring—but now
My dancing days are over.

I'm eighteen stone and some odd pounds:
So all my neighbours say.
I'll go this moment to the scale;
But I can't _balancez_.
When in a ball room I appear,
As soon as they discover
My presence, off the girls all fly,
My dancing days are over.

I'm quite as fat as Lambert was,
Or any old maid's spaniel;
And when I walk along the street
They cry, "A second Daniel!"
And if I go into a shop
Of tailor, hatter, glover,
They always open _both_ the doors:
My dancing days are over.

My college chums oft jeer at me,
And cry, "Lord, what a porpus!
Who'd take you for a Johnian?
You seem to be of Corpus!"
The stage-coachmen all look as if
They wished me at Hanóver:
The safety cabs don't think me safe:
My dancing days are over.

My great pier glass, that used to show
My waist so fine and thin;
Now, turn whichever way I will,
Won't take my body in.
My form, that once a parasol
Would always amply cover,
A gig umbrella now requires:
My dancing days are over.

In vain my hand I offer now;
Away each damsel stalks;
Chalk'd floors no longer may I walk,
So I must walk my chalks.
For me there is no woman-kind:
None wait me now for lover.
Maid, widow, wife, all fly—they know
My dancing days are over!

FEBRUARY [1838

VALENTINE'S DAY.

It's very odd, and even so, and why I can't discover, That I should wait, at Cupid's gate, the knocking of a lover; There's old Miss Young, with wily tongue, has tickled Captain Sly; The wrinkled frump will bear his stump, to get a Leg-a-cy. There's little Brown, I set him down for sure among the shymen, He is, altho' so short a beau, drawn in the knot of _High-men_. And Corp'ral Scout, to buy him out, the Widow does not falter, It hurts her pride that he should ride so long without a _haltar_: But pert Miss Green, just turn'd sixteen, she need not use such speed, To make a hash with Count Moustache—'tis Baby-work indeed.

14 Blackstone d. 1780.

Judge of A-Size.
]

Judge Blackstone was a learned judge,
As wise as ever sat,
He wore his head within his wig,
His wig within his hat.

Judge Blackstone made a learned book
On subjects, and on kings,
And many reasons sage he gave
For many foolish things.

And many a wily way he found
For lawyers to get fat in,
And common sense, and English sound,
He smothered in dog-latin.

And simple ways made strange to see,
As clients, to their loss tell;
And many things that law may be,
Altho' they be not Gos-pel.

But since (see Job) we are but worms,
Our destiny we fill,
No doubt, in being gobbled up
By some long lawyer's bill.

28 Hare Hunting ends. "_Nemo est hæres viventis._"—BLACKSTONE.

FEBRUARY.—Frost Fair.
]

FROST FAIR:
A LAMENT. BY TOM TUG.

Vell, blow me tight, but here's a go! I can't hardly believe my eyes, It's a rig'lar Bartlemy Fair afloat, vith its stalls, and peep-shows, and t'ys, And vonderful lambs vithout niver a head, and vonderfuller pigs with three; And ships a svimmin' about in the air, instead of on the water, vere they orts to be; And chaps a selling peppermint to keep the cold out, vich is jest the vorst thing under the sun; And people a having their names printed on cards, vot can't read 'em ven they're done; And lads and lasses a dancing and singing, and up to all manner o' queer raps; And fat sheep a roasting whole, but not a bit for us poor amphibilous chaps; And fellers a playing at nine pins on the ice, vot can't stand on their own two; And ticket porters a stopping to see Punch, instead of going on their arrans, as they orts to do; And firemen a cutting about here and there, as big and grand as any lord or squire. Vith their red coats and badges—I s'pose they're afeard o' someb'dy's setting the Thames afire— And booths up and down of all sorts and sizes, till it looks like a Boothia Felix quite, Vith the moniment for the North Pole—that is, ven the fog and smoke'll let you git a sight— And the turnpike men off the warious bridges, vith nothink in the vorld to do all day But go to sleep on their rusty turnstiles, for in course people ain't sitch spoons as to pay To pass thro' their rewolving plate-warmers, ven they can go over the vater free; Vich I don't care so much for the bridge chaps, 'cause they does a good deal o' harm to we.

As for Billingsgate Market, the trade there's downright flat, ruinated and dead; The fine fresh soles can't come up to be cried, and so they cries cast-metal skates instead. I alvays thought sitch things vos regilated by act of parlyment, and proclaimed by the Lord Mayor; I knows a bit o' Burnses's Justice, I does; and my opinion is, it aint a legle fair. It's a nice look out, ain't it, for a young man vot the vater's his only bread? I'm blowed if I don't think I shall cut the river, and take to the land instead, And labour for the adwantage o' science—body-snatching, I mean—for where's the harm, ifegs! Ven their ain't no further demand for skulls, to try to do a little bisness in arms and legs? As for the vind, I think it'll never be nothink but due nor' again: I often looks up at the weathercock, but, bless your heart, it's all in _vane_! Poor fellers! as Shakespear says, our occipation's rig'lar done up, and no mistake, Vot vith von thing or another (vich von misfortin, you know, alvays brings another in its wake).

I don't like to say nothink unliberal or unvatermanlike, but this I
vill say, the ruin of us is
Them tarnation, smoking, steaming, fizzing, pothering,
unnattaral-looking water-buses.
Unnattaral, _I say_—for who ever meant wessels to go on wheels? or a
nasty, long, curly, black,
Stinking, pothery pennant o' smoke to take place o' the British Union
Jack?
And as if that vosn't enough, to spoil our trade and set all our poor
old hearts a breaking,
Mr. Brunel must come to finish us up, poor wretches! vith his horrid
_under_-taking.
Mister B. is a wery ambitious man, that's vot he is, and his work a
wery great bore:
But, thank heav'n! it'll be a long time before his tunnel (whatever his
fame may do) reaches from shore to shore.