Chapter XI: Part II (5)

Present authors were knocked on the head in the same heavy pavior's-hammer style of criticism. Who was Dickens, pray? only an inventory-taker! What was Bulwer? the hero of sixteen novels! James was a drug—a perfect James's powder: Sheridan Knowles a Fitzball in blank verse! And as for the ladies, they were all—poetesses, novelists, political economists, and generous Newgate visitors—the whole Fry of them, smashed indiscriminately of a heap! We wonder how so many of them have survived.

We never witnessed such cruel slaughter. It was a regular battle of great men and noble characters. Everybody, no matter how high or low in the world, was fair game for this Universal Smasher. His mouth was a Perkins' steam-gun, firing a hundred small shot every minute. Papers and periodicals were brought down by the same process of sharp-shooting. The _Times_ ought decidedly to be smashed. It only wanted three good men to do it;—he'd put his name down for one. The _Spectator_ was a block of Wenham ice—not even fit for sherry-cobblers. The _Athenæum_ was an immense _but_, that butted at everybody. The _Examiner_ bowstringed the Queen's English, and strangled common-sense. And as for _Punch_, it was a damp squib—that was fizzing, or attempting to fizz, every week; and the sooner it was smashed the better!

We felt uneasy in the presence of such a tremendous man. We longed to possess the faculty of the telescope, and slide into our selves one-sixth of our natural length. We felt confident, if we remained much longer exposed to the blows of one who hit so hard, that we should inevitably be smashed into such very small bits that if we were ever put together again we should always be pointed at afterwards as the most curious specimen of mosaic. A runaway engine in a crockery shop could not create a greater feeling of alarm amongst the cups and saucers than that infernal little smashing machine imparted to our fragile nature. We need not say, therefore, how relieved we felt when a venerable bald head in the room rose, and very quietly said, "Gentlemen, we have heard and seen a deal of smashing to-night. Everybody, great and small, has been smashed in his turn. Not a person, living or dead, has the slightest reason to complain; they have all been smashed fairly and equally together. Now, I only want to know, after our friend has smashed everybody—which he must do if he goes on at the present rapid rate— whatever will he do ultimately with himself?"

"Oh! leave him alone," we could not help exclaiming; "he'll smash himself!"

There was a general laugh, and the Universal Smasher left the room, giving us, as he passed us, such a look that we felt we were doomed. That look clearly said—it pierced us like an arrow with a message tied to it—"To be smashed in our next." We hope all benevolent souls will pray for us!

"Who is he?" we asked, as soon as we breathed again.

"Don't you know?" said our neighbour, with the greatest astonishment. "He's Brown!"

"Who's Brown?" we inquired, in a faltering voice, and a cold shiver.

"It's strange you never heard of Brown! He's the editor of the _Penny Whistle_."

"Oh, indeed!"

We have inquired everywhere—we have offered any sum of money—we have begged and prayed of newsvendors and friends, and bookstall-hunters, to buy us, at any price, the _Penny Whistle_; but we have not seen yet that fearful work of extermination. We now offer a reward of 100_l._, and our blessing, to anybody who will send us a copy of it, no matter how dirty it may be. We shall not be happy till we know positively whether we are smashed or not!

THE RESPECTABLE MAN.

A highly respectable Man
Is Iscariot Ingots, Esquire,
He's "Post Obits" on half the "Blue Book,"
And a mortgage or two in each Shire;
And having more cash than he needs,
Why he lends to the poor all he can,
And only takes sixty per cent.,
Like a highly respectable Man.

He's his house like a nobleman's furnish'd,
His sideboard, too, blazing with plate,
And half silver, half gold, you'd declare
It belong'd to some peer of the State;
So it did—till he seiz'd it in payment
Of his sixty per centum per ann.;
And now he gives dinners to show it,
Like a highly respectable Man.

His Father-in-law's an Attorney,
And his Brother a Dealer in Wine,
And his Brother-in-law's a Bum-bailiff,
And his Son in the Auctioneer line;
So first you've "half wine" for your Bills,
Then are sued, seiz'd, sold up by the Clan;
For he loves to assist his relations,
Like a highly respectable Man.

For the Assurance of Lives he's an Office,
To make his small profits the more;
If you ask him to discount, he tells you
"For security you must insure."
Adding "all honest men ought to do so—
Besides it's so easy a plan,
And with something to leave on your death-bed,
You die _such_ a respectable Man."

It is said he's a tyrant at home,
That the jewels his Wife has for show,
Were all of them salves for some wound—
That each diamond's heal'd up a blow;
That his Children, on hearing his knock,
To the top of the house always ran—
But with ten thousand pounds at his Banker's
He's _of course_ a respectable Man.

Yet he's kindness itself to young "bloods,"
And when Lordlings solicit his aid,
Why he talks like a Father, and asks
How is sixty per cent. to be paid?
Such extravagance really would ruin
The richest in all Hindostan;
But to serve them he'll do a "Post Obit"
Like a highly respectable Man.

Still some "scoundrels" declare he's hardhearted
That he curses each beggar he meets—
That for rent he unhous'd his old Father,
And of want let him die in the streets.
Pooh! pooh! he subscribes every quarter
For the Mission'ries sent to Japan,
And if that doesn't make one respectable,
Why, what _is_ a respectable Man?

Of Religion he well knows the value,
For he was the first of beginners
To run up a fashionable Chapel
For elegant "mis'rable sinners;"
And to hire a good-looking Parson
To tell Dowagers "life's but a span,"
For he loves to serve both God and Mammon,
Like a highly respectable Man.

His Daughter has married for love,
Though she'd offers from persons of Rank,
And "my Lady" at least might have been
With the money he had in the Bank;
But since she thought fit to disgrace him,
She may live in the best way she can,
So he leaves his own Daughter to starve,
Like a highly respectable Man.

Then he makes a fresh will ev'ry quarter—
Or when he's a fit of "the blues"—
Or his Wife has offended him somehow—
Or some Son will not follow his views;
And he threatens to leave them all beggars,
Whene'er they come under his ban—
He'll bequeath all his wealth to an Hospital,
Like a highly respectable Man.

EVERY-DAY RECIPES.
BY A VERY FAST MAN.

HOW TO GET A RIDE FOR NOTHING.—When you have reached your destination you must scream out in a loud voice of alarm, "Hallo! stop—I've got into the wrong omnibus," and rush out as quickly as you can, blowing up the conductor for having brought you so much out of your way.

"FULL INSIDE, SIR, BUT PLENTY OF ROOM ON THE TOP."
]

HOW TO LIVE UPON NOTHING A-YEAR.—Get elected a Member of Parliament, and you may contract as many debts as you please without paying one of them.

HOW TO GET A DOZEN OF WINE FOR NOTHING.—Go to twelve different wine-merchants, and get each of them to send you in a sample bottle. You have only to say afterwards the wine isn't exactly to your taste—you wanted a much fuller wine—and you may get another dozen by the same means free of expense.

HOW TO GET A GLASS OF WARM BRANDY AND WATER FOR NOTHING.—Fall in the ice, and you will be carried to the Royal Humane Society's establishment, and a glass of brandy and water will be given to you directly. If you are very bad a second will be administered, and you will be put to bed, and have a good "tuck in" into the bargain.

HOW TO GET A LIBRARY FOR NOTHING.—Borrow books, and, of course, keep them.

HOW TO GET A LUNCHEON FOR NOTHING.—Look in at the auctions, and patronize one where there is a sale of wine. Take a biscuit with you, and you may have as many glasses of port or sherry as you please. Just make a small bid now and then, for recollect Homer sometimes nodded.

HOW TO HAVE YOUR PORTRAIT TAKEN FOR NOTHING.—Just fight a duel, or run away with somebody's wife, and your portrait is sure to be given in one of the illustrated papers.

HOW TO DRESS FOR NOTHING.—Go to an advertising tailor, and get him to take out your clothes in poetry. The same with your hatter, bootmaker, and hosier. Your poetry must be very poor stuff if you cannot get a suit of clothes out of it, and its feet must be lame indeed if they do not afford you a pair of Wellingtons.

CURIOUS SUMS FOR THE CALCULATING MACHINE.
BY JOLLY COCKER.

Calculate the number of English ladies who understand French thoroughly; can read it, but cannot speak it.

Deduct the amount that has been lost at railways from that which has been made by them, and state what article of value the difference (if any) will purchase.

The ages of seven elderly ladies amount in their passports to 148; find out their real ages.

Ten friends of Green sit down to play at unlimited loo, and 93_l._ are lost before the morning. Everybody declares he has lost. You are to find out, if you can, which of the party has won?

The population of the earth is 800,000,000. Required to find one person who will mind his own business.

Thompson (of the Albany) pays 12_l._ annually for income-tax. His cigars cost him as much; his opera-stall four times as much; his horse six times as much; and his gloves, bouquets, bets, and tiger ten times as much. What is Thompson's real income?

A carpet-bag of an ordinary capacity will hold two coats, three pairs of trousers, one dressing-case, one pair of boots, six shirts, two night ditto, three pairs of stockings, six collars, and one dressing-gown. These articles can be put into it with perfect ease when you are going to make a week's stay in the country. How much will the same carpet-bag contain if you are going to Boulogne for an indefinite period?

Solomons buys a diamond ring for 1_l._ He sells it, and loses "thirty shillings, by Gosh, by it." He buys it again, and sells it at another loss of 2_l._ How much does Solomons make by the ring?

Your tailor applies for money; "He has a little bill to take up." There are 30,000 tailors in London. What is the sum total of all the little bills they have to take up in the course of the year?

A "Triumphant Success" averages generally from 5_l._ to 5_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._; "Crowded Houses" hold 6_l._; "Overflowing Audiences" will bring in as much as 8_l._ 12_s._ How much is a "Blaze of Triumph" worth?

The two Doves are always quarrelling. Mrs. Dove is very ill-tempered, and Mr. Dove very obstinate. He will smoke cigars at home—will stir the fire with the bright poker—will bring friends home late to supper—will whistle; all of which practices Mrs. Dove abominates. She remonstrates; Mr. Dove retaliates. A tiff ensues; and Mrs. Dove goes home to her mother. Ascertain the mean difference between them; and state the amount which Dove has to pay every year in diamonds, boxes to the opera, new velvet gowns, and trips out of town.

* * * * *

Why are the Protectionists like walnuts?
Because they are very troublesome to _Peel_.

ANECDOTES OF SCIENCE.
PERFECTLY ORIGINAL.

STAYS were first invented by a brutal butcher of the thirteenth century as a punishment for his wife. She was very loquacious; and finding nothing would cure her, he put a pair of stays on her in order to take away her breath, and so prevent, as he thought, her talking. This cruel punishment was inflicted by other husbands, till at last there was scarcely a wife in all London who was not condemned to wear stays. The punishment became so universal at last that the ladies in their own defence made a fashion of it, and so it has continued to the present day.

BERLIN GLOVES.—The custom of servants wearing Berlin gloves at dinner was introduced by Sir Jonas Bullock in 1811. He had a favourite black servant who used always to wait at dinner. The Lady Mayoress was dining with him one Sunday, and she had occasion to call for some blanc-mange. His black servant brought it to her, when his large black thumb by the side of the blanc-mange had such a shock upon her ladyship's feelings that she fainted away and was carried home to the Mansion House in a state of great danger. She never rallied. Sir Jonas was so hurt by this melancholy event that he insisted upon his servants for the future always wearing Berlin gloves when they waited at table; and from this the fashion was introduced at Devonshire House, and then at Court.

MUFFINS.—We know very little of muffins previous to Johnson's time. They are supposed to have been invented by a Scotch physician, who was attached to the _suite_ of a German Count who came over with George I. He gave the recipe for nothing to a baker, on condition of his providing him with the address of all his customers. The bargain was faithfully carried out. The physician died extremely rich, and the baker also. Crumpets and Life Pills were likewise their invention.

BONNETS were made, only fifty years ago, by a French milliner who was exceedingly ugly. The _gamins_ used to follow her, and laugh at her, calling her nose, which was very large, the most ridiculous names. This annoyed the poor milliner, and she invented the bonnet to escape their ribaldry. The disguise was so effectual that every Frenchwoman who was no prettier than herself was glad to adopt it. Those who were not ugly formed such a small minority that whenever they appeared they were sure to monopolize all the notice and gallantry of the gentlemen. This exposed them to the sarcasms and envy of their own sex, till they were compelled at last to assume the same hideous style of head-dress. The marvel is that the fashion should ever have become popular in England.

CURRANT-JELLY was first eaten with hare in 1715. There were no potatoes at table, when the Duchesse de Pentonville (then an emigrant), asked what there was. "Nothing but confitures," was the reply of the _maître d'hotel_. "Bring me the confitures, then," said the lively Duchesse; and she selected the currant-jelly, much to the amusement of all the nobles present. The king, however, hearing of this, ordered hare for dinner, purposely to try it with the currant-jelly, and he liked it so well that he continued it for six days together; and so the currant-jelly spread all over London till it became an established fashion in the best English society.

ELECTRICITY.—Franklin brought down the lightning with a kite; but this stroke, wonderful as it is, is nothing compared to the daring flight of a Mr. Prettiman in the month of September last. After various trials, a few generous friends having supplied him with rope enough, he succeeded, by some great attraction, in bringing down 154_l._ 17_s._ 2½_d._, simply by flying a little kite in the city; and this, too, was achieved at a time when there was the greatest difficulty in raising the wind, and there was scarcely a penny stirring anywhere. He has since tried the experiment, but it has failed every time, owing, it is reported, to his paper being a little too flimsy.

TRIUMPH OF MAGNETISM.—Dr. Ell—ts—n declared, that by magnetizing a person he could make him see most clearly the interior of himself. The Marquis of L—nd—nd—y called, and insisted upon a trial upon himself; no other proof, he declared, would satisfy him that mesmerism wasn't a hollow humbug. Accordingly he was put into the most beautiful state of coma. "Now look into your head," said the Doctor, "and tell me what do you see?" "See?" answered the magnetized patient; "why, stuff and nonsense! I see nothing at all." "Look again." "It's quite useless: I tell you there's nothing in it." The Marquis was quite furious when told the result of the experiment; but he consoles himself with the reflection that there is a great deal more in mesmerism than meets the eye. The talented Doctor has since favoured us with the following aphorism:—

"In ridiculing a science, a man cannot look too deeply into his own
head before he declares that there is nothing in it."

BEWARE.

Beware of a man who travels with a pair of duelling pistols.

Beware of a young lady who calls you by your Christian name the first time she meets you.

Beware of port at 30_s._ a dozen.

Beware of a lodging-house where you are "treated as one of the family."

Beware of every "cheap substitute for silver," excepting gold.

Beware of cigars that are bought of "a bold smuggler" in the street.

Beware of a wife that talks about her "dear husband," and "_that_ beautiful shawl" in her sleep.

Beware of a gentleman who is "up" to all the clever tricks, and "knows a dodge or two," at cards.

Beware of giving an order to a deaf man on the first night of a new piece. He is sure to laugh and applaud in the wrong places, and so cause a disturbance which may be fatal to the success of your farce.

Beware of entering a French shop which has the following inscription:—

"HERE THEY SPIKE THE ENGLISH,"

unless you can speak French very correctly, or are prepared to pay for the consequences.

MATRIMONIAL WEATHER TABLE;
TO BE HUNG UP IN ALL PANTRIES AND SERVANTS' HALLS.

_Constructed by a Butler of twenty-nine years' standing behind his
Master's
and Missus's chair._

───────────────────────┬───────────────────────┬───────────────────────
Causes of Change. │ Indications. │ Results and Dreadful
│ │ Consequences.
───────────────────────┼───────────────────────┼───────────────────────
Cold meat for dinner │Very Sharp and Cutting;│A visit, directly after
│ dead calm; horizon │ dinner, to the club
│ very black │
│ │
Money for the │Very Stormy; repeated │The puddings are cut
housekeeping: weekly │ thunderstorms about │ off, and the
expenses produced │ 10 a.m.; violent │ servants' beer
│ explosion at │
│ "Sundries" │
│ │
A proposal to go up the│NNNNNNNO, or │A trip to Ramsgate or
Rhine, or to Baden │NNNNNNNO │ Broadstairs, and
Baden │ │ master goes down on
│ │ Saturdays and returns
│ │ on Mondays
│ │
Hint of an evening or │Extremely Close: heavy │The old Mr. and Mrs.
dinner party │ clouds on master's │ Glumpy are asked to
│ brow; gloomy │ dinner, and the
│ depression; mistress │ Misses and young Mr.
│ and the young ladies │ Glumpy and a few
│ Rainy │ friends are asked to
│ │ drop in in the
│ │ evening
│ │
A box for the Opera │The same, with │Tickets for the
│ additional closeness │ Horticultural, or
│ │ seats taken at the
│ │ Lyceum
│ │
No one down to │Regular Storm, blowing │Missus unwell; cannot
breakfast at 10 │ up everybody, and │ come down to
o'clock to make tea │ which makes the bells│ breakfast; the young
│ ring all over the │ ladies "suddenly
│ house │ indisposed," and do
│ │ not show themselves;
│ │ master goes out, and
│ │ slams the door fit to
│ │ shake the house down
│ │
Boys home for the │Unsettled; continual │Repeated thrashings
holidays │ hurricane for six │
│ weeks │
│ │
New baby, or a new pair│Squally and changeable │Dines out; home very
of boots │ │ late. (Let him take
│ │ care to whom it falls
│ │ to pull off master's
│ │ boots on a night like
│ │ this!)
│ │
Dividend day │Fair │Theatre; oysters for
│ │ supper (perhaps); a
│ │ new bonnet
│ │
Series of │High wind; very Stormy;│Nervous headache;
contradictions │ air charged with │ mistress Nervous
│ thunder │ headache; mistress
│ │ dines in her bedroom;
│ │ no pudding for
│ │ dinner, or dessert
│ │
Taxes │Foul; every symptom of │Finding fault with
│ a Storm, but carried │ everything; cook
│ off towards the │ blown up for dinner,
│ evening by a timely │ and one or two
│ cheque │ servants discharged
│ │
Washing day │Very Rainy, pours │Master dines at club;
│ buckets from morning │ not home till late;
│ to night; up to your │ smokes a cigar in the
│ ankles in water │ evening; mistress
│ │ faints
│ │
Grand dinner party │Sharp, Frosty, and │Abusing the servants,
│ Unsettled in the │ and counting the
│ morning; very Hot │ spoons, and running
│ before dinner; │ through the guests as
│ exceedingly Fair at │ soon as they are
│ dinner; pointing to │ gone. Cold meat next
│ Wet after, and │ day, carried off with
│ frequent Storms │ pickles
│ towards 12 p.m. │
│ │
Grand evening party │Strange singing in the │Nothing but
│ ears and dancing │ barley-sugar temples
│ before the eyes all │ for breakfast, and
│ night; curious noises│ blanc-manges for
│ over head, and a │ dinner for days
│ fearful famine that │ afterwards
│ devours everything │
│ about 1 a.m.; blows │
│ dreadful │
│ cornet-a-pistons till│
│ the next morning │

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.—When it is Fair, the servants or guests in the house can move about with the greatest safety; but if it is at all Cloudy, or the weather looks in the least Unsettled, then he had better look twice at the above table before he takes the smallest step, or else he will have the matrimonial storm breaking over his head. If missus is out, then the atmosphere is generally Fair; but it is invariably Stormy when master goes out and does not come home for dinner. If master and missus are both in, look out for a change or a sudden squall; and the eyes of missus will probably point to Wet.

THE GULL.

Oh, the London Gull is a curious bird,
He'll believe of an omnibus cad the word;
And if for Brixton he is bound,
In a Chelsea _bus_ he will be found,
Oh, the rare old Gull, with a rare old quill,
For a rare old friend will accept a bill;
And, it's rather superfluous to say
That the Gull the bill will have to pay.
The Gull, to free him from human ills,
Will gulp down boxes of Holloway's pills;
And will rub his hair three times a-day
With stuff to prevent it from turning grey.
He is right; for, to give the stuff its due,
It turns the hair not grey but blue.
Oh, the Gull, in the course of his ev'ning walk,
When he sees a fellow with face of chalk,
Standing beneath a gas-light's glare,
And looking the picture of meek despair,
With a well-brush'd coat of rusty black,
A child in each hand and three at his back,
With pinafores clean, and little white caps,
Will give the scoundrel sixpence, perhaps.
For the Gull don't know that the pallid cheek
Is cleverly lin'd with the whitening's streak;
And the Gull is equally blind to the fact
That the children have all maturity's tact
In assuming the looks of want and woe—
That, in fact, their business well they know.
The Gull will often go to the play,
Where for the dress-circle he'll blandly pay,
And will credit the boxkeeper's whisper low,
That the places are taken in every row;
But he thinks one vacancy he may find
If the Gull to fee him should feel inclin'd.
When, of course, the obliging Gull is willing
To pay the myrmidon a shilling;
And finds himself, when the evening's gone,
In a front seat sitting all alone.
For, strange is the fact, that all who pay
For taking front seats remain away.
Oh, the fine old Gull, when the fact he reads
Of a tradesman who twenty sovereigns needs,
And thrice the security offers to lodge,
Is instantly caught by the rare old dodge,
And lends the sum on an—I O U,
With a pawnbroker's duplicate or two.
But the twenty pounds, when he comes to claim,
He finds how worthless the tradesman's name;
And when with the duplicates off he goes
To the pawnbroker's shop, they the fact disclose,
That the documents all are forged—odd zounds!
By the tradesman who wanted the twenty pounds.
And of everything making a similar mull,
Quite ruin'd at last is the rare old Gull.

THE DOMESTIC SERVANTS' EARLY CLOSING
MOVEMENT.

A great domestic movement is in agitation, which, it is expected, will convulse the social fabric from the area upwards, and shake our households, not only to their centres, but to the very top of our chimney-pots, our weathercocks, and our cowls. The contemplated measure is a demand on the part of our domestic servants for a general early closing of all private houses at eight o'clock, so that after that hour the cooks, housemaids, nursery-maids, and others in our establishments may go forth in search of moral and intellectual recreation in the open air. It is argued, and with a considerable show of justice, that after cooking our dinners, and washing up our tea-things, the female servant has a right to go and get her mind cultivated, and her tastes elevated, or, as it were, put in soak in the fountain of the Muses, to be rinsed, and send forth its gushings when fitting opportunity might offer.

The Domestic Early Closing Movement will entail on the masters the necessity of limiting their wants, and allowing none to extend beyond eight P.M., which it is contended will be found quite long enough for all reasonable purposes.

The moral and intellectual training will generally be commenced by the policeman on the beat, but as boldness increases, the domestic servant may venture to improve her mind at some of the harmonic meetings in the neighbourhood of her master's residence. Adjacent barracks will be particularly sought after for the culture which it is the object of the Female Servants' Early Closing Movement to obtain.

A PRIZE BAD JOKE.

A gentleman of fortune having offered a prize of 100_l._ for the best bad joke, we beg he will send the money immediately to Mr. Bogue's, as we challenge the world to produce a better worse joke than the following:—

Why is a cab-stand, the horses of which have the new Patent Inflated Horse Collars, likely to be serviceable to ballooning?

Because it is the latest improvement in _air-'os-station_!

(_Three cheers, boys! hip! hip! hurrah!_)

MATERIALS FOR AN IRISH SPEECH.

"Saxon—oppression—moral force—dagger—forefathers—revenge—first gem of the sea—trampled upon—oh!—finest peasantry—Cromwell—slaughter—Erin's daughters—blood boil—ah! cruelty—debt of 80,000,000—robbery—sacrilege for 500 years—tyranny—be Irishmen—assert yourselves—pikes—iron bars on the railways—moral force—be patient—repeal—hereditary bondsmen would you be free?—pay in your subscriptions"—(_tremendous cheering!_)

By filling in any ordinary words to make a kind of grammatical sense of the above (though that is not absolutely necessary), an excellent Conciliation Hall speech, or a Monster Meeting harangue, inculcating peace, quiet, and content, in the true Irish incendiary fashion, may be produced during any month of the year, but if it is in the depth of the winter, the effect, of course, is considerably stronger.—N.B. Patriots' materials made up in the same way on the shortest notice.

SWEET ARE THE USES OF TEARS.

A German chemist has discovered this year that there is sugar in tears. We have been told by poets that there is "sweetness in all things," but we little thought that it lurked in the corner of every squint. We always thought that crying was a sign rather of a sour disposition, but according to this new discovery it would seem that the more a lady cries the more her temper is sweetened by it. By-the-bye, hysterics must be invaluable to a cook on board wages who has to find her own sugar! What a lump of sweetness, too, Niobe must have been,—for she was "all tears." To a grocer of the present day she would have been invaluable, for she would have supplied him all the year round with "the very best moist."

COPY-BOOK TEXTS FOR YOUNG AUTHORS JUST
BEGINNING TO WRITE.

Far-fetched puns corrupt good jokes.

Hate a Scotticism as you would a Printer's Devil.

Beware of Irish mad bulls.

There's many a slip between the MS. and the tip.

Whatever is, don't write.

One purchaser is worth a dozen pressmen.

The best proof of a work is in the selling.

If you wish to know all the errors in your book, get a friend to review it.

Persons who write to see their names in print should recollect that a hundred cards only cost five shillings!

There's but one step from the publisher's to the butter-monger's.

Paternoster Row is the beginning of Amen Corner.

Never pause for a word as long as there is "Finis."

EXTRAORDINARY FLIGHT OF LADY BIRDS ON THE SEA COAST.
]

SEA-SIDE ENTOMOLOGY.

THE LADY BIRD.

An extraordinary flight of Lady Birds distinguished the annals of Margate and Ramsgate last year. They covered the coast for miles, extending all the way to Herne Bay, and even as far as Gravesend. They are supposed to have been brought from London, as the decks of the steamers were completely strewed with them. The piers at all the watering-places, the hotels, the tea-gardens, the shrimp-parlours, were immediately occupied, and it was a matter of difficulty, soon after their arrival, to find a single bed empty. The inhabitants foolishly imagine that these Lady Birds commit a deal of injury, and they do everything they can to drive them away from the place. They lay traps in the windows to catch them, consisting of a piece of pasteboard, on which is inscribed a charm, of two simple words, "TO LET;" or sometimes it is only one word, as "TOLETT." Directly the Lady Bird sees this, she knocks at the door, and flies into the house; but when once she is inside, she is subject to all the little persecutions which, since the sea-side was discovered, have been showered upon the poor race of Lady Birds. She is teased out of her life; she is not allowed to eat anything in comfort; her meals are taken away from her; till at last her whole enjoyment is poisoned, and she is glad to wing her way back again to London. Naturalists, however, have proved that the Lady Birds do incalculable good to every spot where they settle. Broadstairs has been built by their pretty exertions. Erith has been raised by them out of the sand; and Rosherville would never have been dug out of a chalk-pit if it had not been for the swarms of Lady Birds! It is true they buzz terribly, and make a great noise whenever more than two of them appear together; but this defect is more than counterbalanced by their gay colours, which resemble the richest silks and satins; and their dazzling appearance, which sparkles with all the force of diamonds when viewed by candle-light. Nothing prettier than to watch an assembly of them in the evening. They crowd at the libraries; they fill the ball-rooms, where they mimic the movements of the waltz; they throng Tivoli and St. Peter's, where the fireworks are not more brilliant than they; they sing, and dance, and laugh, and do everything like human creatures, but reason. And these are the poor little harmless creatures whom the inhabitants of the different watering-places delight in persecuting. Why, they carry gaiety and happiness wherever they appear; and as for hurting anybody, there is not a sting amongst a whole townful of them.

It is a fiction to suppose that the age of the Lady Bird can be told by the marks on her back. This provision on the part of nature would in fact be quite superfluous, for it is very curious that no Lady Bird at the sea-side is ever less than fourteen, or more than eighteen.

The Lady Bird visits the watering-places generally about June, and stops there till the winter. The first gale blows them back again to London, where they pass the foggy months in the various shops, theatres, and ball-rooms. When Tom Thumb was in town, an extraordinary flight of Lady Birds might be seen every day at the Egyptian Hall.

THE MARINE APHIS VASTATOR.

Very different to the Lady Bird is the _Aphis Vastator_, or commonly known as the _Sea-side Lodging-house keeper_. It is a most ravenous tribe, to be met with at all watering-places. It will eat through anything. It has consumed, before now, a week's provisions in a day. It is always seeking somebody to devour. These vastators, or rather devastators, live mostly on the poor Lady Birds, who suffer dreadfully from their depredations. A Lady Bird, who has taken a lodging in the morning, has repeatedly been eaten out of house and home before the evening, and been obliged to fly for safety. Nothing escapes the fangs of the Marine Lodging-house keeper. It will work its way into locked drawers, and runs through a tea-caddy with as much ease as if it had the key. It will clear a trunk in a day, and empty a work-box whilst the Lady Bird is taking a plunge in the sea. Its fangs are so constructed that they close directly on everything they touch; and their eyes are so sharp that they protrude into every letter and parcel that comes into the house. What they do not consume they hide; what they cannot hide they destroy or else give away; for the male _Devastator_ is just as nimble as the female, though he is rarely seen. He comes the last thing at night, and is off the first thing in the morning; walking off probably—for he has very long legs—with a coat, or a pair of trousers that was found lying about in your portmanteau.

The _Aphis_ has generally a large brood of little _Aphises_, which she rears in the back kitchen. They all partake of their mother's nature. They crawl about the house in search of stockings and frocks, and from their small size can creep almost into anything. Their appetites, too, are almost superhuman. They will lift the lid of a rump-steak pie, which has been left on the landing-place, and, in less time than you can drink a glass of wine, they will have abstracted every bit of meat out of it. If they settle on a leg of mutton they will not leave it before they have picked it clean to the bone. In fact, their skill in polishing a bone would fill you with wonder, if nothing else. They shrink from no pastry; and the largest tart does not appal them. Their powers of suction, too, are just as great. A bottle is no sooner put upon the table than it is empty; and if there were twenty bottles they would go through every one of them, and the stronger the contents the easier the absorbing process seems to be!

Evidence of the Marine Blight on a Leg of Mutton.
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When the winter comes round the _Aphis Devastator_ looks over her stores, and begins to count if her provisions will last her till the summer. Her coals are put away into the cellar; her wine and spirits are arranged in the different cupboards; her candles are measured out; and everything placed upon the save-all system. Woe to her young then, if she catches one of them lifting the lid of a pie, and helping himself to the solids or fluids within! The chances are she would eat him up on the spot. The husband's appetite, too, is put upon a reduced scale, and he is only allowed a glass of grog when there has been stuffing for dinner, or when another _Aphis_ drops in. The voracity of the whole family is kept under during the winter, but then it breaks out with all the greater fury afterwards. The legs and shoulders of the first lodger of the season generally feel this pretty sharply. He has not a joint which, after the first day, he can call his own. A blight invariably follows; for whatever the _Aphis Vastator_ touches is sure to go immediately.

It is difficult to describe the _Aphises_ externally, for they take up so wonderfully quick the habits of each new lodger that they are always changing.

YOUR ROOM IS PREFERRED TO YOUR COMPANY.
AN IMAGINARY CONVERSATION OVERHEARD IN BAKER STREET.

_Mrs. Armytage, the greatest woman in the world (ringing the bell at Madame Tussaud's)_—"Oh, if you please, madam, I have called to inquire if you wanted a 'magnificent addition?'"

_Madame T._—"No, thank you; we're quite full."

_Mrs. A._—"You might find a spare corner, madam."

_Madame T._—"A spare corner? Why, bless me, my good woman, you wouldn't have me turn out the 'Royal Family' to accommodate you!"

BACON'S NOVUM ORGANUM.

What is the greatest obstacle to Jews sitting in Parliament?

The extraordinary quantity of _gammon_ they must swallow.

* * * * *

ADVICE TO PERSONS TBOUT TO MARRY.—Never attempt to buy furniture at a sale, _excepting on a Saturday_, for on that day only are the sale-rooms freed from the Jews, whose countenances never appear as at an auction so particularly _forbidding_.

THE CHEMIST'S CAT.

was a chemist, not one of your ordinary men, who put their trust in huge coloured glass bottles, and drive a large trade in lozenges. No, Phipps was an experimental chemist, and he acquainted the public with the fact by means of an inscription to that effect over his door, while he confirmed the neighbours in the belief by occasional explosions more or less violent. On one occasion he went so far as to blow the roof off his house, but that, he said, "was an accident." Moreover, Phipps was a licentiate of Apothecaries' Hall, and jobbed the paupers at 1½d. a head, including pills and plasters. Mr. Phipps's establishment was evidently the home for natural philosophy. Experiments abandoned by every one else were eagerly sought after by Phipps; and he had a valuable auxiliary in his cat.

When science slumbered, the cat might be seen comfortably dozing on the door-step; but when anything new in medicine or chemistry turned up, the cat had an active life of it. The poor thing had taken poison enough to kill hundreds of rich husbands, and antidotes sufficient to restore double the number. It had a stomach-pump kept for its especial use. You might generally guess when anything extraordinary had happened, by missing the cat from its usual place, and seeing Dick, Mr. Phipps's boy, who had the job of holding it during the experiments, with slips of diachylon plaster all over his face and hands. It had become familiar with prussic acid and arsenic in all their insinuating forms, and had some slight knowledge of the smaller operations of surgery; still it went purring about, and was always at hand on an emergency, ready to have any drug tested on its person. Phipps was proud of it. "My cat, Tom, sir," he would say, "has done more for its fellow animal, man, than all the philanthropists that ever taught people to be discontented."

All went on smoothly till the introduction of ether, when Phipps determined to see if he could extract a tooth from a person under its influence. The cat, of course, was to be the especial patient. Dick was summoned, Tom caught, the ether administered, and Phipps selected one of the largest tusks. But the ether could not have taken proper effect; for, with a frightful yell, Tom freed himself from Dick's grasp, favouring him at the same time with severe marks of his esteem, which made him roar, and disappear, _à la Harlequin_, through the plate-glass window, doing immense damage to the chemicals and Galenicals displayed therein.

But Tom soon came back, for no one would have him. Science, who labels some men F.R.S.'s, or tags half the alphabet to the end of their names, had not forgotten to mark her humble follower, the cat. He had lost one ear in some acoustic experiment; one eye was closed for ever, from having the operation for squinting practically illustrated some dozen times; and he was lame in one of his hind legs, the tendon having been cut to exemplify the method of operating for club-foot; while his coat, once remarkably glossy, had such a second-hand, seedy appearance that it would not have tempted a Jew.

At last he died, a martyr to science. Phipps had invented some wonderful pulmonic lozenge, containing a great deal of morphia, which was to cure coughs at first sight. Tom had been rather asthmatic for some time, owing to inhaling noxious gases; so Phipps gave him a good dose to begin with. Next morning he was found very fast asleep, and extremely rigid in his limbs. Dick suggested that he was dead, but his master indignantly repudiated the idea; so Tom was kept, in the full expectation that he would one day start up quite lively, till at length the moth got into his coat, and Phipps was compelled to consign his furry friend to a grave in the garden. Phipps never had his usual spirits again. His experiments were at an end; for though he would sometimes furtively introduce some drug or other into Dick's tea or beer, that young gentleman soon found it out, and took his meals ever afterwards with his mother, who was the proprietress of a veal-and-ham pie depôt in an adjacent court. Phipps wanders about the College of Surgeons a melancholy man, and amuses himself dreaming over experiments he would perform if he could only get such another cat! He is not best pleased however, when he meets any young friend of Dick's, who violates private confidence by running after him and inquiring at the very top of his voice, "Who killed the cat?"

HUNTING AN HEIR.

MY DEAREST ELIZA,

Our pretty little pack of Belgrave Square Harriers had their first winter meeting on Thursday last at Lady Hurtleberry's.

It is impossible to conceive a more desirable place for the sport of their hunting than her Ladyship's. The gorgeous rose-coloured damask hangings give the finest possible tone to the complexion, the purple-flowered _tapis_ sets off the foot to the greatest advantage, whilst a grand piano by BROADWOOD, and a harp by ERARD, afford the most convenient opportunities for the display of accomplishments.

The "meet" took place at nine o'clock precisely, and a better "room" could not be desired.

As each member of the Hunt keeps her own harriers at "Walk," the first Meeting is always interesting from the number of new "drafts." In addition, therefore, to those harriers that hunted last season, with all of whom you are well acquainted, the following new entries were made:—

Lady Browbeater's Lucy Jane; "too short in the head," to my fancy.

The Hon. Mrs. Rattletrap's Julia Rose; a lively creature, and "gives tongue" beautifully.

Mrs. Major Fubbs's Clementina Louisa; very dumpy and dull—sure to be "latter'd."

Mrs. General Rowdedow's Lucidora; all that heart could wish—fine nose, capital mouth, splendid chest, and a forehand and arm of perfect symmetry.

There were one or two others introduced during the evening, but none of them possessed the necessary qualifications for the Belgrave Square Harriers. "The beaters" upon this occasion had been my brother Charles, whose Captaincy, by purchase, depends upon my being eligibly married off papa's hands; young Musparrot, similarly circumstanced; and old Major Muggs with four daughters, aged respectively twenty-six, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, and thirty.

THE HEIR-PRESUMPTIVE OF GREASE.
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They had great fears at one time that our first meet would prove "blank," as they had beat up all the clubs during September and October without "pricking" an Heir either apparent or presumptive. Major Muggs had the good fortune to hit upon a track at last, and a finer specimen I never saw during my short experience. Five feet eleven, Roman nose, D'Orsay whiskers, and said to be worth twelve thousand a year when of age in January next. He was found lying in some elegantly furnished apartments in the Albany, sitting on a beautiful form of velvet. As soon as he made his appearance in the enclosure at Lady Hurtleberry's the pack was laid on. Amelia Frog-morton "challenged" first; I, you may be sure, was not slow in answering her.

The Heir first made for a _Polka Quadrille_, closely waited on by Amelia, with myself for a _vis-à-vis_. Having got as far as _Pastorale_, he "doubled" round by the piano, Mary Warbleton having "turned him" by Jenny Lind's _Ran tan plan_, from _Il Figlia del Regimento_. He then "took away" to the card room, but being "headed" by my brother Charles, who was purposely stationed in the doorway, he made for the harp, where I pressed him very hard with _Bochsa's Fancies_. He doubled again, and ran straight to the supper-room, closely followed by the entire pack, but the champagne coming on pretty briskly, Lady Hurtleberry thought it right to "call us off" for the evening, the Heir being ultimately bagged by the Major and Musparrot, and carried to the —— Club; for what purpose I leave you to guess. The Heir has been "turned down" twice since, and already shows symptoms of distress. I have not the least doubt that in a short time longer, _I_, yes _I_, my dear Eliza, shall have the pleasure (but this is _entre nous_) of introducing you to a real juggled heir.

By-the-bye, I must send you a copy of a song written by that rattlepate Rattletraps. It is to the air of

"Bright chanticleer proclaims the morn."

Bright chandeliers the room adorn,
Each thing's arranged with care,
And gayest smiles and silks are worn
This night to catch the Heir.
With a heigho! Letty!
Hark forward, you forward Miss Betty
To-night we hunt the He-e-e-i-r—
To-night we hunt the Heir!

Poor Heir! you feel our sport a bore,
We read it in your face;
If you'll propose to one—no more,
You'll find us give you chase.
With a sigh from Letty!
Or forward, too forward Miss Betty!
No more we'll hunt the He-e-e-i-r—
No more we'll hunt the Heir!

THE LANGUAGE OF VEGETABLES.

We do not think there is in the whole history of letters anything more beautiful than the two following specimens. Any one acquainted with the vegetable vocabulary cannot fail to be touched deeply by them.

The first was addressed to Sigismond by his devoted wife Toot-sichfootsich, when he was imprisoned by Kalbskopf II. in the impregnable fortress of Dummerkerl, in the Spitzbübe mountains, in Moldavia.

The originals, and the monuments of Sigismond's wonderful escape, are still preserved, with the greatest reverence, by the proud descendants of his wife's noble family. Admirers of conjugal affection have been known to journey to the Spitzbübe Mountains purposely to look at them. The first letter was scratched with a pin on a large cabbage leaf, and sent into the castle wrapped round a pound of butter:—

"Beloved Greens!—Dry thy Onions. There is Cabbage in the horizon. Suppress thy Spinage, there's a darling Bean. Support thy Haricots with Beetroot, and never let young Radish leave thy dear Asparagus. May Pickled Gherkins watch over thee, and Early Peas strew Mashed Potatoes, with Blessed Chickweed, over thy suffering Turniptop! Where is thy boastod Sourkrout? Have a little Brocoli, my own sweet Bean; and put thy Chickweed in Parsley. There is Tomata yet for both of us, so pray hide thy Cauliflower for a few short Sprouts, and Capers must soon be ours! Confide in Mangel-würzel. I enclose thee a hundred Greens from the bottom of my Green Stuff, and remain, my fondest Beetroot,

"THY OWN DEAR MARROWFAT."

The answer, though in a humbler strain, was not less eloquent. It was rolled up in little crumbs of bread, which were made into the shape of pills, and thrown out of the prisoner's window:—

"My sweetest Marrowfat!—My Asparagus is well nigh bursting. My Salad is overflowing, and I cannot rest at night from too much Mustard seed. Send me, an thou hopest hereafter for Asparagus, a Scarlet-Runner, and a small Cow Cabbage. Trust in Sage, and throw thyself fondly on Watercress.

"THY UNFORTUNATE GREENS."

The Scarlet-Runner, which is the vegetable emblem for a file, was hidden in the heel of a boot, and the Cow Cabbage, which is the beautiful synonym for a rope, smuggled in to the poor prisoner through a large German sausage, of which he was passionately fond. He escaped that very night, and repaid with the affection of a whole life the devotion of his attached "Marrowfat," that is to say his wife; we do not give a translation of these memorable letters, as we wish our readers to refer to the Language of Vegetables itself; for we feel it is so fascinating a science that when once they go into it, they will not leave a single vegetable unturned till they have got to the root of every word.

IF,
!!!AND???

If marriages are made in heaven, what a pity the happy pair should leave the place directly, upon a mere matter of ceremony!

If thou stoodest outside the door, thy hand upon the handle, hast thou ever paused to arrange thy curls, and to pull up thy collar, and to inspect first thy wristbands, and then thy boots? If so, thou hast loved, ay, and madly too.

If a good name were purchasable, how few would avail themselves of the luxury if they had to pay ready money for it!

If there is really "luck in odd numbers," we can account for the curious fact of so many ladies stopping half of their lives at the age of thirty-nine.

If two is company, and three is none, what a very melancholy time old Cerberus must have of it!

If "distance lends enchantment to the view," then the British Drama ought to hold out to speculators the most enchanting views in the world, for never were its prospects so distant as at the present moment.

If Napoleon had won the battle of Waterloo, Gomersal must have died comparatively unknown.

If man and wife had a plate glass to their hearts, how long would they remain together?

If soda-water had only been known in the time of Alexander, it is but fair to conclude that the murder of Clytus never would have taken place.

If England were to be divided to-morrow morning equally among all its inhabitants, we should not like to be the man whose dismal lot for life turned out to be Trafalgar Square!

If Janus really had two faces, we deeply pity him, if he ever drank a tumbler of Vauxhall punch, for he must have had the following morning two headaches instead of one!

If animals could speak, we can imagine the first words a donkey would address to man would be "_Et tu brute_."

If there were no "if's" in the world, there would be no arguments; no rules of three; no political economy; no more ingenious speculations about the fate of Europe _if_ England had lost the battle of Waterloo (_if_ it had, several shareholders would never have lost their money on Waterloo Bridge, by-the-bye); no more letters from Joseph Ady about certain valuable information _if_ a sovereign is sent by return of post; no more liberal promises from fathers as to what they will do if their sons will only improve, and keep good hours; no more financial experiments (Sir Robert Peel's scheme for the income-tax was only one elongated "if," and its repeal is a still more extended one); and lastly, this clever little article upon "if's" never would have been written, _if_ there had been no such word in the language as "if."

THE LITERARY SCARCITY.
A LETTER FROM A LONDON PENNY-A-LINER TO A PROVINCIAL DITTO.

TOM, my boy, how are you? Precious slack here, I can tell you; business never was so dull. I haven't had an Atrocious Murder on my hands these three months. If this panic continues I shall be so much out of practice that I'm blessed if I shall know how to do a Murder when a good opportunity occurs. Unless some good lady has the kindness to kill her husband—(how fashions change! I can recollect the time when husbands used to kill their wives: however, it's all the same)—I must starve, without having the chance either of making a penny by my own death. By-the-bye, I have had serious ideas lately of committing an "Awful Suicide"—don't be startled, I mean only in the papers. I have reckoned it up, and find that I should make nearly a sovereign by it—a temptation, my tulip, in these times, and well worth an imaginary duck in the Thames.

See, my dear Tom, I make it out as follows:—

_s._ _d._

AWFUL SUICIDE (say from Waterloo Bridge), at three-halfpence 3 0
per line