Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

"_Nous voyons_ [We see] _que perfide Albion_ (we don't translate _perfide Albion_, for everybody knows the meaning of that) _a donné une Jarretière_ [has given a Garter] _à Louis Philippe_ [to Louis Philippe]. _Mais, pourquoi cette Jarretière?_ [But why this Garter?] _Nous voyons dans cette Jarretière_ [We see in this Garter] _une autre chaîne_ [another chain] _pour France_ [for France]. _Oui, oui!_ [Yes, yes!] _cette Jarretière infâme_ [this infamous Garter] _tiera Louis Philippe par la jambe_ [will tie Louis Philippe by the leg] _plus que jamais_ [more than ever]. _En recevant ce Jarretière honteuse_ [In receiving this infamous Garter] _on lui a fait jurer_, [they made him swear,] _qu'il ne fera pas la guerre_ [that he will not make war] _sur le Souverain de l'Ordre_ [on the Sovereign of the Order]. _Hein, hein!_ [Alas, alas!] _notre pauvre campagne_ [our poor country] _est trahie_ [is betrayed].

"_Mais on a donné cette Jarretière déshonorante_ [But they have given this degrading Garter] _au Roi de la Prusse aussi bien_, [to the King of Prussia as well,] _et aussi à l'Empereur de Russie_ [and also to the Emperor of Russia]. _Tous ont juré la même chose_, [All have sworn the same thing,] _de ne pas faire la guerre contre le Souverain de l'Ordre_ [not to make war on the Sovereign of the Order]. _Et qui est le souverain contre qui on a juré de ne pas faire la guerre?_ [And who is the sovereign against whom they have sworn not to make war?] _Pourquoi, la Reine Victoria, pour être certain._ [Why, Queen Victoria, to be sure]. _Et qui est elle?_ [And who is she?] _Pourquoi, perfide Albion, comme une matière du courant._ [Why, perfidious Albion, as a matter of course]. _Laisser les Anglais aller se pendre_ [Let the English go and hang themselves] _dans leurs jarretières_, [in their garters,] _comme cette misérable Mademoiselle Bailey_, [like that unfortunate Miss Bailey,] _de qui on chante quelquefois_ [whom they occasionally sing about]. _Mais ne_ _laissez pas les Français_ [But do not let the French] _suivre l'exemple_ [follow the example] _de la demoiselle à qui nous avons fait allusion_ [of the young lady whom we have alluded to]. _Laissons les rappeler_ [Let them remember] _le sort horrible_ [the horrible fate] _de cette jeune dame_, [of that young lady,] _qui peut avoir été_ [who might have been] _une decoration à sa sexe_ [an ornament to her sex] _mais pour les jarretières_ [but for the garters]."

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON WASHHOUSES
FOR THE PEOPLE.

The committee appointed to select a site for a great National Washhouse, vacillated for some time between the Fleet Prison and Covent Garden Theatre; but at length, for the reasons hereinafter stated, gave the latter the preference.

Covent Garden Theatre has had cold water thrown upon it so long, that no expense need be gone to in laying on any more of the salubrious element. The genius of the place is also favourable to such an experiment as the one proposed, for in the event of water being scarce, recourse might be had to some of the old pumps, which, though rather out of use, could easily be made to act again. These pumps possess the advantage of never causing an overflow.

It is proposed to turn the pit into a drying-ground, the backs of the seats being used for hanging clothes upon.

Persons bringing their own soap cannot, on any account, be admitted into the dress circle with mottled; and a moderate quantity of starch will be expected in the private boxes. Tickets for single tubs may be had at the doors, and family coppers to admit six may be had at all the libraries.

One advantage connected with the scheme for turning the theatre into a washhouse, is the opportunity that would be afforded for employing some of the regular company of actors, who, in the mangling department, would be invaluable. The style in which they have occasionally got up and mangled some of Shakspeare's fine things ought never to be forgotten.

With reference to the Fleet Prison, it is suggested by the committee that it is scarcely adapted to ordinary washing, though for purposes of whitewashing, it has always been found to answer.

Should Covent Garden Theatre be fixed upon, due notice will be given of its being open for the season.

A NEW TABLE TO CALCULATE WAGES.

This table must depend a great deal on the sort of table kept by the master of the house in which the servant resides. As a general rule, the dripping admits of subtraction, and by calculating how many times the candle-box will go into the kitchen-stuff, a fair average may be arrived at. It must also be borne in mind, that as the water is to the milk, so is the beer-money. In families where the cupboard is left open, it follows frequently, that as the tea is to the sugar, so is the servant at both of them.

THINGS WHICH CAN BE MUCH BETTER CONCEIVED
THAN DESCRIBED.

Getting out of an omnibus, and discovering you have left all your money on the mantel-piece.

A woman discovering her first grey hair.

Putting the lighted end of a cigar into your mouth.

A person's indignation on being told "Queen Anne's dead."

Meeting a creditor, and being obliged to sit opposite to him "the whole way" in an omnibus.

Being asked, in a drawing-room of ladies, to take a few tickets in a raffle—"the ticket only a guinea!"

Breaking your strap in the _pas seul_ in _La Pastorale_.

The wine at a public dinner.

DIRECTIONS FOR BREWING.

One of the difficulties attendant on domestic brewing is the expense of the cask, but this may always be got by having a barrel of beer on trial from a regular brewer, and saying it is not quite out when the cask is applied for. By agreeing to pay for the beer, one barrel under the other, the expense becomes merely nominal.

In order to prevent the lightning from turning the beer, a lightning conductor should be fixed in the bung-hole of the cask, or a stair-rod would perhaps be an economical substitute.

Families who brew without exactly knowing how, may try the experiment of a polite note to Messrs. Barclay and Perkins, asking one of them to step round to put the parties in the right way, if they should be making a failure of the brewing.

If the beer should be flat after having been left to cool in washing-tubs, a raisin may be thrown in, and if it fails to produce any effect, another raisin may be tried; but should the second raisin prove unsuccessful, it will be waste of time—and raisins—to go on with the experiment.

COURT OF YOUNG ENGLAND.
]

YOUNG ENGLAND.
A BIOGRAPHY.

The subject of the present notice was born of very obscure parents in London, and was placed, soon after his birth, at the doors of the Treasury, under the impression that Sir Robert Peel might stumble over it, and be induced to take it in and provide for it. The Premier, however, merely moved it on one side with his foot, and Young England began to cry out very lustily; but its voice was so weak that no one paid any attention to it. Soon after, the bantling attracted the notice of the press, and its case was laid before the public, but it excited very little interest; and an appeal to Old England in favour of Young England was equally unsuccessful, the former denying the latter to be its legitimate offspring. A novel, entitled "Coningsby," was afterwards written, in the hope of doing something for Young England; but the more the book was read, the less was Young England thought of.

It is a curious fact, that while Young England never could succeed in winning popularity, a rival, in the shape of Young America, was very successful, under the name of General Tom Thumb, who was received very graciously at Buckingham Palace. Surely, if mere littleness confers a claim to admiration, Young England is almost as deserving of it as General Tom Thumb, who, on the principle that extremes often meet, frequently found himself in the presence of greatness. Young England would give its little finger to make its way at Court as little Thumb has done.

ASSESSED TAXES.

As the ordinary almanacks are, in many respects, erroneous in their information on the subject of assessed taxes, we proceed to correct a few of the most usual inaccuracies.

It is generally said that 2_l._ 8_s._ must be paid annually for armorial bearings by persons keeping a carriage. It ought to be added, that there is an exemption for persons keeping a cab by making it wait for them.

Every additional body used on a carriage is chargeable; but when any body additional is used on a carriage as an extra footman, he is regarded as no body, and he is liable to no other duty than that of getting up and down when required.

THE POLKA PLAGUE.

The year 1844 will be ever memorable in our national annals, on account of the breaking out of a great plague, on which physiologists have conferred the title of "Polkamania." This remarkable affliction first originated in the Black Forests of Bohemia, where it took the name of Polka—which is, no doubt, a corruption of Pole-ca, a word evidently derived from the pole cat, to which, as an excessive nuisance, the Polka has some kind of affinity.

The boors, or bores, of the Black Forest communicated the Polka to some Parisians, who always take quickly any malady of the kind, and it very soon spread among the people of the French capital. It was introduced into England a short time after, by a coryphèe coming over to fulfil an engagement at Her Majesty's Theatre. The poor fellow was, indeed, very bad with it, and it was thought that it would have died a natural death, for it did not seem to be very taking until Monsieur Jullien happened to catch it, and infected several places of public amusement with the severe calamity. The malady now spread with fearful rapidity, and even Mr. Baron Nathan fell a victim to it in its fiercest shape, while others of less exalted rank in the Terpsichorean world had it in a much milder form than the Baron. The symptoms of the disease are too well known to need a lengthy description. It causes a contraction of the leg, and a drawing up the heel to a considerable height, accompanied by a violent twisting of the head from side to side, and numerous contortions of the body. It gives a strange sort of motion to the arms, occasions a repeated stamping of the feet, and induces altogether a singularity of action which is not to be found in other cases of mania. It is to be expected that the malady will soon wear itself out, like other previous visitations of a somewhat similar character.

BOXING-NIGHT—A picture in the National Gallery.
]

THE NATIONAL GALLERY.
A DIALOGUE.

TOM.

Hallo! Bill Brown; how's you, and how's your
Sister Jane, and your blessed old mother?
When you loses that maternal parent, Bill,
You'll never get such another.

BILL.

Why, we're all tollolish, and to-night, as I'm a
Gentleman-at-large, owing to the depression in baked taturs,
We've all on us made up our mind to go to
The gallery of one of the National The-aturs.

TOM.

Let's see, there's Common Garden, that's a
Well wentilated the-atur just at present;
But then the doors open at _no_ time
During the evening—and that's unpleasant.

BILL.

Then there's Drury Lane—a sort of Italian
Opera, werry much diluted—
Where there's ballets in which ladies
In werry short dresses dance—who might be better suited.

TOM.

Ah! time was, a National Gallery was worth
A shilling of any man's money;
When Mister Edmund Kean used to do the
Violent pathetic, and Old Joe the excruciating funny.

BILL.

Then you couldn't get a front row without a fight,
And a row with the police no ways,
And the lady you took with you having
All her bones broken—I mean the bones in her stays.

TOM.

When penny oranges fetched tuppence, and bottled
Porter became stout by the change of situation;
And used to pay—but, lor! what
Wouldn't one pay in a wiolent perspiration!

BILL.

Boys could whistle then, and with only
Their wital part heat the steam-engine really;
I have heard that a gallery in full
Whistle once blew out the great chandelier—nearly.

TOM.

Hallo! that's six o'clock! so I must cut away,
As time's rather pressing;
And our Jane's back-hair's too short to turn
Up, and too long to hang down, so she
Takes a long time a dressing.

BILL.

No apology, Tom; I'm not one of them
Chaps as is over nice;
And if I can hold a gennelman's horse, and get
Another penny, I'll come in at half-price.

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

For the benefit of our young readers, and, indeed, for the advantage of children of a larger growth, we subjoin a few games, adapted to the meanest capacities, and the most limited pecuniary resources.

THE POSTMAN.

The game of Postman is little known by the title we have given it, but it is very frequently played at. It is a cheap amusement—if done well; but a good deal may be lost at it, if it is not skilfully managed. It can be played at by three or four at a time, or even more, and it may also be indulged in by a single individual. The game consists of giving a postman's knock at any door, and running away as fast as possible.

THE CABMAN.

This is a very amusing game, and is very easily played at. Fix your eye on any particular cabman, and he will be sure to come off his stand as rapidly as he can, thinking that you intended to hail him.

The fun of the game may be increased by looking at three or four on the same stand, when they will all rush off the rank, and you have only to explain that you "merely looked, but don't want a cab;" upon which they will very likely begin quarrelling with each other, and thus add materially to your amusement.

OUR PRIZE PROPHECY.

Some of the subscribers to this Almanack have represented to us that it is scarcely complete without a prediction, and we have, therefore, been on the look out during the year for an eligible prophecy. We were for some time in treaty with a professor of the cabalistic art; but, as one of our stipulations with the soothsayer was, that the prediction should not be paid for until it was realized, the sage, with considerable indignation, declined the engagement. We have consequently resolved on throwing open the prophetic department to public competition, and we therefore invite the attention of professional seers to the following conditions:—

Prophecies must be sent in before the end of September, written in plain English, without any mystifying allusions to the signs of the zodiac.

No prophecy to contradict itself more than once in the same sentence; and where there are two results, one of which must arise, both must not be predicted in the same paragraph.

A prophecy that Sagittarius will influence the fate of a man of rank, will not be considered as having been fulfilled by a nobleman happening to marry, or go out of town, or come to town, in the course of the month referred to in the alleged prediction.

The assertion that the town of Birmingham is under the influence of Aquarius will be considered a partially fulfilled prophecy—and paid for as such—if washing and bathing establishments should be introduced into Birmingham at about the time specified.

Prophecies consisting merely of figures, and sent in as nativities, cannot be taken into consideration, for, though they are no doubt very correct, they are, unfortunately, wholly unintelligible.

Any prophecy relating to events in Bosnia, Beretzyk in Transylvania, and other out-of-the-way places, from which a mail never comes, because it is never due, will be rejected, on account of the difficulty of testing its accuracy.

The
COMIC ALMANACK
FOR 1846.

ANOTHER RAILWAY NEWSPAPER.
THE RAILWAY BELLE ASSEMBLÉE

Every one who has observed the mass of railway papers that have shot up during the past half year, must have been astonished that none, devoted to Fashionable Railway Intelligence and Literature, have yet appeared, appealing more especially to those who have souls above the share market. We have the pleasure of announcing the immediate appearance of such a periodical. We are aware that, at present, all sympathies, interests, and affections, social and general, are absorbed by the railways; but the "Railway Belle Assemblée," whilst it never loses sight of the mighty spirit of the age, will contain such literature alone, as the member of the _beau monde_ seeks for in vain, at present, in the bewildering and endless lines of advertisements, and the single and double supplements of the daily and weekly press.

_The arrangement of amusements, &., may be looked for as follows_:—A grand race is about to take place upon the Great Western, from Paddington to Slough, between the ten o'clock down train and a shower of rain. In the event of fine weather, the meeting will be postponed until the next day.

A _déjeûner à la fingers_ is about to be given at the Wolverton station, whilst the train stops, next Saturday. The pretty young lady with the dark eyes, who makes the coffee so hot that the passengers cannot drink it, has condescended to preside. The visitors will arrive exactly ten minutes before they depart. A band will accompany the passengers the whole distance—round the hats of the guards; and a pyrotechnical display will take place off the Birmingham terminus, when the engine fires are raked out for the night.

On Wednesday next, an interesting _soirée_ of men of letters will be held, at eight o'clock, with the Post-office bags, at all the different termini. The clerk at the Kingston station is expected to get the sack five-and-twenty minutes after, but it will not reflect any discredit on him.

_Eastern Counties Railway._—An interesting lecture on steam, and the properties of the engine, was given by the engineer of the "Blazes," locomotive, on Tuesday, to the new stoker, on the tender. The proceedings concluded with a private dinner of two polonies, a small loaf, and pot of half-and-half.

IMPORTANT.—By a recent Act of Parliament every director is liable to be called upon to ride in front of the train, whenever it is necessary, as a buffer. As a great part of them are men of straw, the fitness of these buffers for the purpose is unquestionable, in addition to the chaff which they have always at command.

ABOLITION OF DUELLING.

The members of the various Clubs have come to the determination to put down this atrocious custom. In the event of not being able to form a court of honour, from the scarcity of the principal ingredient, they have decided that all future quarrels shall be adjusted by the Carrara Water, in a gallery suited for the purpose. And, moreover, that the Carrara Monument Company, shall erect a tablet, to perpetuate the social death of all who may he worsted in the meeting: anybody being corked, to be ranked, like claret in the same state, as worthless.

AQUARIUS—Jolly Young Watermen.
]

THE ZODIAC.—JANUARY
AQUARIUS.—THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN.
OUT DOOR INSTRUCTION.

The common water-plug offers a capital medium for illustrating the leading principles in hydrostatics and hydraulics. When opened, the effort of water to find its own level may be turned to account, in diverting and instructive methods by the young professors of the neighbourhood in the absence of the police, who are, generally speaking, inimical to science. To produce a jet, the water must either come up or come down. In the case of a fire-plug, it comes down from the New River; and if the rates are not paid, the company come down as well upon the delinquents _for_ the money, until the latter come down _with_ it. In the Trafalgar fountains, it comes up to the surface, but not at all to the expectations. In either case the force is the same. This increases, in an inverse ratio, to the opposition offered; and by compressing it at the orifice, it may be thrown in any direction by a little judicious management of the sole of the foot. In this manner, benevolent boys may frequently be seen distributing water gratuitously to the passing pilgrims.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN JANUARY.

Recollect, if you slip down in the street this month not to evince any pain, but rather laugh: get up smiling, and walk away with a joyous air.

Do not try rashly to cut the outside edge on the Serpentine, but practise by yourself, at midnight, with a full moon, on secluded Hampstead ponds, until you are perfect; because, it usually happens, that the instant you wish to show off before some young ladies you know, your heels will go higher than your head, and you will look contemptible.

That family parties at this time of the year are not those wonderfully lively things they are conventionally supposed to be: the presence of a few lively acquaintances being indispensable to make them go off well. Relatives don't care to exert themselves to be entertaining before one another; or if they do, all the rest know what is coming.

THE GIPSY'S PROPHECY.

"Belle of Norwood! dark-eyed gipsy, come, and let me cross thy hand, Give me knowledge of the future, if it be at thy command:

Full one thousand shares in railways, I have been let in to take; Tell me, swarthy star of Beulah, when will they my fortune make?"

"List, my pretty gentleman, with piece of silver cross my hand, I will tell you when your shares will bring you money, beeves, and land—

When the figures for the base of Nelson's column shall be made, And the throng of population chokes the Exeter Arcade.

When the leading streets of London are not closed, and altogether; And the lamps of Vauxhall Gardens are not put out by wet weather.

When the _Byron_ of Thorwaldsen in the Abbey takes its place; And the Turf shall be surprised by something like an honest race..bn 142.png

When the Income Tax is talked of, as a legend of the past; And St. Paul's is seen for nothing, gratis, unto all, at last.

When the hostess at a party says, 'You must not go away,' All the time hopes entertaining that you will no longer stay.

When all these things come to pass, in honour bright, and no mistake, Then, my pretty gentleman, the railways will your fortune make."

DIVERS INTERESTING QUESTIONS FOR MY READERS
TO CONSIDER.

What do you generally think—

1. When you ask if any one is at home, and the servant tells you he don't know, but will go and see; asking your name: and then comes back and answers in the negative?

2. When a man at an evening party says he does not waltz, "because his head won't stand it?"

3. When you find a broken dish behind the dresser, and the cook says, "the cat did it?"

4. When a friend presses you to "come and see him very soon—any day—he always dines at five;" but won't state a time?

5. When a married couple are more than usually affectionate, and use endearing terms, in public?

6. When a lady, holding out her glass for some wine at a supper, says, "Oh, really; the least drop in the world, Mr. Smith: stop, stop?"

7. When the clown, a sweep, and a milk-pail, are all on the stage together, in a pantomime?

8. When, at a small country party, the lemonade and negus get gradually weaker towards the end of the evening?

9. When you see a gentleman vandyking between the area railings and the lamp-post, addressing vague words to imaginary peeple?

PISCES—Too deep!
]

THE ZODIAC.—FEBRUARY.
PISCES.—THE FISHES.
THE SONG OF THE UNSUCCESSFUL ANGLER.

I cannot tell the reason,—it is really very odd,—
My tackle is first-rate, and I've a most expensive rod,
Bought at the _Golden Perch_, the shop that's always selling off;
And yet, with all my outlay, I've got nothing but a cough.

I think the fish are altered since old Walton wrote his book;
They shun the simple gentle, and suspect it "with a hook."
I think I mayn't be deep enough: in vain I move the quill,
For fish as deeply as I choose, the fish are deeper still.

No pike I've seen; the only one was that unpleasant wicket,
Where threepence I was forced to pay, and now I've lost the ticket;
Nor yet a single perch, for which my lucky stars to thank,
Except the perch I've taken on this damp, rheumatic bank.

I can't pick up a chub, though on the lock all day I stick;
They say it is impossible a lock of Chub to pick:
A flounder would be welcome; but unfeeling wags remark,
I shall get lots of them to-night returning in the dark.

Upon that bobbing quill, all day I have done nought but gloat,
Till I've almost become one; as the song says, _I'm a float!_
Come soles, brill, flounders, fresh or salt; however flat ye be,
Be sure you will not fail to find a greater flat in me.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN FEBRUARY.

Buy a bottle of reviver to renovate your coat and trousers for forthcoming parties. Rout up old kid gloves, and send them to be cleaned.

That, on the 14th, if there is any one you wish to insult, it can be done cheaply and anonymously by a valentine, without the chance of being tricked in return; whilst the shaft rankles the more, because it is not known who has sent it.

Do not accept an invitation to Hampshire for wild-duck shooting, unless you wish to catch a rheumatism that will last you for life. This sport consists in sitting all night up to the knees in mud, half frozen, armed with a long gun, which your fingers are too cold to let off. This, however, is your only chance of safety, as, if it did go off, the recoil would knock you backwards, and you would never get up again.

In early times the greater part of the month was dedicated to the Saxon god, _Thaw_.

FIRE ESCAPES.

The frequency of accidents from fire renders some certain method of escape desirable. The following have received medals:—

The first is founded on those ingenious machines we find in the Dutch toy-boxes, for causing soldiers, ducks, sheep, and even tea things, to march, deploy, and fall into lines, in the most orderly manner. One of these will be kept at the corner of every street, and, by the aid of four policemen, will always raise the preserver, or lower the preserved, in this manner.

The next is simply by a parachute, formed of canvas, which may be folded up, and kept in the window-seat. Should there be any wind, the inmates will be carried to the end of the street, and perhaps further, which is of course, an advantage. An ingenious architect recommends that the ceiling of every room should be a shower-bath on a large scale, always charged. This is practicable, but in the event of the bath going off when there was no fire, the results would be very inconvenient.

BALLAD:

THE LAY OF THE BLIGHTED POTATO.

AIR—"I HAD A FLOWER WITHIN MY GARDEN GROWING."

I saw a murphy in a garden growing;
I boldly prigged it—nobody was there;—
Rich in all charms familiar to the knowing;
Of size unrivalled, and of kidney rare.
At ev'ning hour I put it in my cellar,
Where never murphy had been put before:
I thought myself a very downy fellow;
I smiled upon it, and I shut the door.

Next day I took the murphy out to peel it,
Casting the peeling carelessly away;
When—horrid fact! I shudder to reveal it!—
I found it blighted—hastening to decay.
Vainly I strove the wholesome parts to cherish;
But nought remained of what is now so dear:—
Only with life shall the remembrance perish,
How bad potatoes have turned out this year!

THE RIVER.
BY COVENTRY PATMORE.

It is a venerable pier,
Though anything but sound;
So old, the _Rainbow_ shatters it,
To Hungerford when bound;
And over all the mud expanse
A river runneth round.

Upon a rise, where pewter pots
And rows of benches tall
Look pleasantly, the "Swan" beneath,
Where concert singers squall,
Resteth, in quiet dignity,
A shrimp and winkle stall.

Around it, heads, and tails, and ends,
Are scattered left and right;
Above, its long Suspension Bridge,
For railways far too slight:
And faces through its railings gleam,
A taking of a sight.

Beyond the river, bounding all,
A crowd of chimneys stand,
The Shot-concern their central point,
As sooty as a band
Of sweeps around their May-day Jack,
Extended hand in hand.

The verdant Greenwich boat is come,
The touter's lungs are strong;
The cornet bloweth lustily,
The "gents" indulge in song;
And running down, the river flows
Like black pea-soup along.

NEW LINES OF RAILWAY,
IN CONTEMPLATION FOR 1846.

Capel Court and Queen's Bench Extension, with a branch to Whitecross Street. Somerset House and Andover Direct Junction. Central African. Herne Bay and Hanwell. Liverpool and New York Suspension. Golden Square and Michaelmas Day Junction.

ARIES—Ram-pant jollities.
]

THE ZODIAC—MARCH.
ARIES.—THE RAM (IN SMITHFIELD).
SONNET TO THE RAM INN.

Shrine of the sainted Bartlemy! whose _fête_
Was kept up in thy sanctum all the night,
When for the booths the hours got too late,
And stern policemen snuffed out every light
From hoop of dips, or lamp balloon so bright,
Leaving nought else to snuff but morning air;
Fair temple! once a scene too gay to last,
In every sense the focus of the fair!—
But now thy glories all away have past!
No more thy fiddlers country dances play
(Polkas, thank goodness, were not known); no more
Thy earnest votaries danced in wild array—
Until they sent their feet right through the floor;—
No—all have gone! the blight has seized thy hops!
Unwieldy brutes block up thy very door!
Sheep, laden with long loins of mutton-chops,
And living steaks and sirloins by the score,
Hereafter sent to "Dick's," the "Cheshire Cheese,"
The "Rainbow," and a hundred taverns more,
Where waiters, frantic, ceaselessly do roar,
"Cook, single mutton,"—"Small steak, underdone!"
Or, "Chops to follow, with eschalot for one!"—
Oh, Ram! my pen can't paint such scenes as these,
The pens of Smithfield only should attest thy fun.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN MARCH.

Lady-day is the 25th. If you mean to change your residence about that time, bespeak a van in time, large enough to carry off everything at once without coming back again. But as March is a month in which the wind is generally very easily raised, hope for the best.

That Parliament gets into full swing this month; therefore, give up all notion of seeing a newspaper in a coffee-room under an hour after the sixth gentleman has applied for it.

The world of fashion is beginning to awaken. Change from the chrysalis state of the twelve shilling tweed to the butterfly transition of the guinea paletot. High-lows are, however, still to be met with on wet evenings, in damp situations. The gossamer sometimes takes flight this month to distant regions, therefore procure a piece of string.

Should you be unfortunately incarcerated for debts exceeding £20, Nicol's registered paletot will be the most suitable wear, as the advertisements say, that wearing it insures a general sense of freedom.

THE STAG
A NEW READING FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT."

SCENE.—_The Alley._ Present, TWO DIRECTORS.

_1st Dir._ Come, shall we take a look at Capel Court?
And yet I'm sorry, when I see the stags,
To think how we, being as bad ourselves,
Do call them rogues and knaves.

_2nd Dir._ Indeed, my friend,
The many-sided Brougham doth grieve at that,
And in that point swears we are more to blame
Than are the rascals that have gammoned us.
To-day, another genl'man and myself
Did sit beside him, as he took his lunch
In a steak-house, whose antique sign peeps out
Of a dark court, not far from the Exchange.
To the which place a poor sequestered stag,
That from a fall in shares had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish: and indeed, my friend,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans,
That their discharge annoyed the diners round,
Almost to cursing; and the big, round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
Into his stout; and thus the hapless stag,
Much marked of the many-sided Brougham,
Sat o'er the poor remains of a small steak,
Moistening his plate with tears.

_1st Dir._ But what said Brougham?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?

_2nd Dir._ Oh, yes! into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping in his needless stout;
"Poor stag," quoth he, "thou makest half-an-half
As tapsters do, putting more water in
To that which had too much." Then, being alone,
Cleaned out, forsaken by his moneyed friends,
"'Tis right," quoth he, "I foresaw what would come
Of joint-stock companies."—Anon, a lot,
Who'd sold in time, sat down hard by to dine,
And ne'er asked him to join 'em. "Ay," quoth Brougham,
"Dine on, ye fat and greasy citizens;
Had all their rights, you'd be in the same book
As that decayed and broken bankrupt there."
Thus most invectively he pierceth thro'
The Stock Exchange, the City, Capel Court.
Yea, and Directors; swearing that we, too,
Are men of straw, humbugs, and something worse,
To fall foul of the stags, and drive them out
Of their assigned and native dwelling-place.

TO FIND OUT WHICH WAY THE WIND BLOWS

Go into Trafalgar Square, on a breezy day, without a mackintosh or umbrella. Then stand under St. Martin's cab-stand when the fountains are playing. If you get wet through immediately, the wind is due W.; if it takes a little time to do so, it is N.W., or S.W.; but if you remain quite dry, it is N., S., or E., which can only be ascertained by standing respectively at the foot of the column, under the terrace, or before the club. It hath rarely been known to fail.

THE TRADE WIND GENERATOR.

A very civil engineer, residing in Liverpool, has favoured us with his plan for raising whatever winds may be necessary to ships, for the purpose of commerce. His idea is, to fix a colossal pair of double-action bellows, worked by steam power, at the stern of every ship, which, being put in action, will blow directly on the sails, and propel the vessel in any given direction. This entirely precludes the chance of a ship ever becoming becalmed. He candidly tells us that he cannot claim the entire credit of the invention; and he can remember the late Mr. Joseph Grimaldi working something to the same effect in a pantomime, when he was a child; but the boat being made in this instance of a washing-tub, and rigged with a mop stolen for that purpose from an itinerant vendor, no clear notion could be formed of its power.

THE ZODIAC—APRIL.
BULL IN THE PRINTING OFFICE.
BY W. WORDSWORTH, POET LAUREATE.

Oh! Bull, strong labourer, much enduring beast,
That with broad back, and sinewy shoulder strung,
Draggest the heavy wain of taxes, flung
In growing heap, from thy poor brethren fleeced.

Hadst thou a literary sense of shame,
How wouldst thou crush, and toss, and rend, and gore
The printing press, and hands that work therefore,
For the sad trash that issues from the same.

If they would print no other works than mine,
The task were nobler; but, alas, in vain,
Of audience few and _un_fit I complain,
Bull wont believe in Southey's verse and mine.

Arouse thee, John, involve in general doom
All who bid Wordsworth rise for Byron to make room.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND
IN APRIL.

BE very cautious, on the 1st, of attending to gratuitous advice given in the street, respecting your pocket-handkerchief, straps, or coat-tails. Mistrust everything and everybody until midnight, if you would escape being laughed at.

The month of April is showery, therefore get an umbrella; but remember, that whilst it is fine, a cotton one at half-a-crown looks as well in an oilskin case as a silk one at a guinea; and that when it is wet, nobody cares what you have, never stopping to look.

That you must renew your acquaintance with all sorts of editors to get orders to the Opera, and thus move in the great world at a small outlay. N.B.—Gloves worn the evening before at a party are sufficiently presentable in the pit.

Angling begins this month, and its professors become all hooks and eyes. If you wish to kill time (and nothing else) sit in a Chertsey or Hampton punt, and wait for barbel.

TAURUS—A literary Bull.
]

NOVEL CHESS PROBLEM.
NEITHER SIDE TO WIN IN ANY MOVES.

Punch takes the Press, and checks the Albert Hat.
Albert Hat retires, and Punch checks the Queen.
Times' Thunderbolt checks Railway Engine, surrounded by Stags.
Church makes a move towards O'Connell.
Corn League retires one square.
Albert Hat mates the Crown.

MISCELLANEA CURIOSA.
SELECTED FROM THE "MISCELLANIES" OF J. AUBREY, ESQ., CONTAINED IN
THE ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM, AT OXFORD.

Shoes came into Englande with Henry the Fourth his wife, Joan of Navarre. Before that time the nobles did wear dried flat fish, cunningly tied on with thongs of hide. And hence the name of _soles_ as used to this day, and by alle men.

In 1580, a shower of potatoes did fall in Lancashire, at which the husbandmen were sorelie afraid. They were sayde to have been brought from America in a whirlwind, and, being hitherto unknown, became directly common.

The Polka is a measure danced by salvage men and women in Hongrie. _Item._—Sir Francis Drake assures me he hath seen it kept up for twenty minutes and more, until the salvages were like to drop; the reason whereof is difficult to tell; but he takes it to be a religious ceremony, as the whirling dervishes in the Indies doe practise.

Tobacco is a plant growing in China on inaccessible mountains, whence it is plucked by people in balloons made of fish-skin, and preserved in red leather bottles underground. Sir Walter Raleigh did use it first. Its vapour inhaled is an admirable narcotic; and one Master Aytoun, deprived of it, did, in its stead, smoke strips of Blackwood's Magazine; but this well nigh coste him his life.

The first drinking glasse used in Englande had no foote whereon to stand (to encourage drinking), but fell alway; and was hence called a tumbler.

A Bristow man, living at Castile, did learn the art of making soap, which he set up here: and straightway upon this it became common to wash one's self twice and thrice in the week. Nay, Mrs. Gregoire, the commissioner his wife, did cleanse her hands, and eke her face each daie. Soe that it was soon the rage; and people before they went to stay with such and such a one would saie to him, "How are you off for soape?" meaning therebye that if he had not good store, they would none of him; and soe went on their way betymes.

I do remember when they did call cats _Tomassins_, which, being corrupted to Tom, is still in use with the vulgar; but the etymologie thereof I could never learn, save that the word came from Flanders. _Item._—My good friend, Mr. Marmy, assures me that he heard them shriek and cry like infants, beneath his chambers; such as could only be frighted by tossing the fire-irons and fender about their ears. But he verilie believes they were devils' imps and familiars. _Item._—Mr. Glanville gave him a charm to exorcise them, which is as follows, writ on fayre parchment:—

"Tomassin, tomassine, alabra,
Parlak vak abracadabra."

The which being pronounced, they would frantically take to their heels and scuffle off like mad, to return no more.

To preserve beer from being soured by thunder:—_Summa_, it is best to drinke it all off before the storm. They doe practise this in Kent with certainty, and other parts of England. This also on the authority of Mr. Glanville.

Men in liquor have droll conceites. 1 knew such a one, being a justice of the peace, who, when tipsie, would take off his peruke to salute the company with obeisance, and then, putting it on a bottle, would sing a song that had neither beginning nor end, but went merrilie on over again: the which he wold never stop until earned awaie to bed. And yet he was well to doe, and a clever man, but lacked prudence.

My Lord Saye his gardener tells me that during the late storm he did track a flash of lightning through a gooseberrie bush, which marvel he had often heard of, but never saw before.

* * * * *

A correspondent inquires, "Why is beer always excluded from the dinner-parties of those who drink it every day when alone?" We pause for a reply.

GEMINI—Odd-fellows.
]

THE ZODIAC—MAY.
GEMINI.—THE TWINS.

The new explanation which our artist has put forward, of the origin of the term _Gemini_, so clearly tells its own story, that any further remarks upon the subject from us are unnecessary. The situation of the twins, however, suggests that we should make some allusion to the state of the Clowns of England; on which subject we purpose bringing out a work in the same style as the Wives, Mothers, Queens, and other female facts of the said favoured country.

The progress of burlesques at the various theatres has done much to injure pantomimes; and it is feared the race of Clowns will become extinct, unless, in these days of educational enlightenment, some means are taken to train up fresh ones as the old ones drop off. To this end, we mean to establish a school for infant Clowns, who will be taught practical jokes in classes; and old ladies, shopkeepers, lodging-letters, and little boys, will be provided for them to play off their tricks upon. Proper works will be provided for them to study: and from one of the most elementary, not yet published, we make the following extract; premising that the Clown to a travelling circus is the first step on the ladder of pantomimical perfection:—

CHAPTER FROM
THE MERRYMAN'S MANUAL;
OR, CLOWN'S HANDBOOK OF POPULAR HILARITY.
CHAP. II.—HOW TO COLLECT THE CROWD IN FRONT OF THE SHOW.

[N.B.—_The Performers are to walk about as if they were noble Lords and Ladies._ _The_ Manager, _as a Venetian of high birth, with a whip in his hand, and the_ Merryman, _stand on the steps_.]

* * * * *

_Master of the Show._ Now, Mr. Merryman, be so good as to tell the company——

_Merryman._ Yes, sir. (_Counts his fingers._) Ten, twenty-eleven, fourteen, two.

_Master._ What are you doing, sir?

_Merryman._ I'm telling them, sir.

_Master._ Nonsense, Mr. Merryman. I mean you are to tell them the nature of the exhibition.

_Merryman._ That's capital good.

_Master._ What is capital good, Mr. Merryman?

_Merryman._ Eggs and bacon.

_Master._ I did not say eggs and bacon, sir. I said, exhibition. Also, the sports and pastimes—

_Merryman._ That's better still.

_Master._ What is better still, Mr. Merryman?

_Merryman._ Pork and parsnips.

_Master._ Sports and pastimes, sir (_sternly_).

_Merryman._ Now I've got it. Times and passports.

_Master_ (_whipping him_). Take that, sir!

_Merryman._ Now keep still, can't you? You'll take all the whicksters off my calves.

_Master._ Now, Mr. Merryman, inform the company the nature of the performances as exhibited before all the—

_Merryman._ Exhibited before all the—

_Master._ Potentates in Europe.

_Merryman._ Potatoes in Europe. (_Confidentially, to the crowd._) That's a lie.

_Master_ (_sharply_). What did you say, sir?

_Merryman._ I said, they'd see it all by-and-by.

_Master._ Dancing on the tight and slack rope—

_Merryman._ Prancing on the slight and tack rope—

_Master._ With a variety of ground and lofty tumbling—

_Merryman._ With a variety of round and crafty grumbling—

_Master._ Remember the price. Halloo! (_Through a speaking trumpet._) _Three_pence each is all we ask! Servants and working people _two_pence!

_Merryman._ Recollect: be in time. All in to begin! _Three_pence each is all we ask; but we'll take as much more as you like to give us. All in there! all in! [_Exeunt company, to re appear in one minute._

* * * * *

This will give a fair notion of the value of the work. In addition to a series of such helps to education, phrases, to be committed to memory, will be hung round the room. These will be principally for the pantomimists, and will consist of sentences like the following:—"Here we are again! how are you?" "Now, don't be a fool!" "Here's somebody coming!" "I saw him do it, sir!" with other similar ones.

The co-operation of all friendly to the interests of the Clowns is earnestly requested to promote the welfare of this institution.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN MAY.

That there is an ancient quaint rhyme, as follows—the old almanacks having a wrong version:—

"In April,
Grisi opes her bill;
In May,
To hear her you pay;
In June,
She's in full tune;
In July,
Her benefit is nigh;
In August,
Take a stall you must."

That the only Poles now found in May, about London, are the distressed patriots in the cheap eating-houses and copper hells in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. The sport is not extinct, as little boys may still be seen dancing round the more eccentric specimens of the class. The only reason that these poles have not fallen down, like those in the country, is, that they are supposed to be very hard up.

That although the almanacks declare that perch, ruff, bream, gudgeon, flounders, dace, minnows, trout, and eels may be taken this month, this, to say the least of it, requires confirmation. We have tried often, but never took anything, except taking ourselves off after a fruitless time.

The country here is swarmin' with the most alarmin' kind o' varmin.
]

THE ZODIAC—JUNE.
THE LAND-CRAB.

[_Extract from a forthcoming Novel, by the Author of "The Spy,"
"The Pilot," "The Red Rover," &c. &c. &c. &c._]

"It was too late. Their fearful enemy, that scourge so dreaded by the negro race of the Southern States, the terrible Land-Crab, was upon them. Copper Joe, never remarkable for heroism, lost the small remains of presence of mind which the encounter with the Comanches had left him, and, in attempting to fly, fell prostrate, injuring his abdomen severely. Andromache, with her youthful charge, after a vain effort to rouse her fat husband, Noah, to resistance, joined in the general rout. But the heroic Sambo stood his ground. His eyes glared, his white teeth shone from ear to ear, as, with right foot firmly planted in advance, he stood a sable Antinous, awaiting, with uplifted club, two onsets of the terrible enemy. It was a dreadful moment!"

THE QUEEN OF THE FÊTE.
BY ALFRED TENNYSON.

I.—THE DAY BEFORE.

[_To be read with liveliness._]

If you're waking, call me early, mother, fine, or wet, or bleak; To-morrow is the happiest day of all the Ascot week; It is the Chiswick fête, mother, of flowers and people gay, And I'll be queen, if I may, mother, I'll be queen, if I may.

There's many a bright _barége_, they say, but none so bright as mine, And whiter gloves, that have been cleaned, and smell of turpentine; But none so nice as mine, I know, and so they all will say; And I'll be queen, if I may, mother; I'll be queen, if I may.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not shout at my bedside, and give me a good shake; For I have got those gloves to trim with blonde and ribbons gay, And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may.

As I came home to-day, mother, whom think you I should meet, But Harry—looking at a cab, upset in Oxford-street; He thought of when we met, to learn the Polka of Miss Rae— But I'll be queen, if I may, mother; I'll be queen, if I may.

They say he wears moustachios, that my chosen he may be; They say he's left off raking, mother—what is that to me? I shall meet all the Fusiliers upon the Chiswick day; And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may.

The night cabs come and go, mother, with panes of mended glass, And all the things about us seem to clatter as they pass; The roads are dry and dusty; it will be a fine, fine day, And I'm to be queen, if I may, mother; I'm to be queen, if I may.

The weather-glass hung in the hall has turned to "fair" from "showers," The sea-weed crackles and feels dry, that's hanging 'midst the flowers, Vauxhall, too, is not open, so 'twill be a fine, fine day; And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may.

So call me, if you're waking; call me, mother, from my rest— The "Middle Horticultural" is sure to be the best. Of all the three this one will be the brightest, happiest day; And I will be queen, if I may, mother; I will be queen, if I may.

II.—THE DAY AFTER.

[_Slow, and with sad expression._]

If you're waking, call me early; call me early, mother dear; The soaking rain of yesterday has spoilt my dress, I fear; I've caught a shocking cold, mamma, so make a cup for me, Of what sly folks call, blackthorn, and facetious grocers, tea.

I started forth in floss and flowers to have a pleasant day, When all at once down came the wet, and hurried all away; And now there's not a flower but is washed out by the rain: I wonder if the colours, mother, will come round again.

I have been wild and wayward, but I am not wayward now, I think of my allowance, and I'm sure I don't know how I shall make both ends meet. Papa will be so very wild; He says already, mother, I'm his most expensive child.

Just say to Harry a kind word, and tell him not to fret; Perhaps I was cross, but then he knows it was so very wet; Had it been fine—I cannot tell—he might have had my arm; But the bad weather ruined all, and spoilt my toilet's charm.

I'll wear the dress again, mother; I do not care a pin,— Or, perhaps, 'twill do for Effie, but it must be taken in; But do not let her see it yet—she's not so very green, And will not take it until washed and ironed it has been.

So, if you're waking, call me, when the day begins to dawn; I dread to look at my _barége_—it must be so forlorn; We'll put it in the rough-dried box: it may come out next year; So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.

"OUGHT OLIVER CROMWELL TO HAVE A STATUE?"

This dispute may be easily settled as follows:—In the Great Hall of the Ducal Palace, at Venice, are the portraits of all the Doges, except Marino Faliero, whose place is occupied by a frame, enclosing a black curtain, inscribed, "_Hic locus est Marini Faliero decapitati pro criminibus._" In like manner, in the new Houses of Parliament, we suggest that Cromwell's place should be filled by an empty pedestal, on which might be written, "_Here Oliver Cromwell would have been, had he deserved it._" As the villains of one age are generally the heroes of the next, in another hundred years the whole nation may set up a statue to him unanimously, and then the place will be ready.

THE FARCE ASSURANCE COMPANY.

Professor Bachhoffner, of the Royal Polytechnic Institution, has submitted a plan to the managers of the different theatres, whereby the ill-effects resulting from the summary damnation of various farces may be avoided. He proposes to erect a gasometer, contiguous to each theatre, to be filled, on the first nights of comic dramas, with laughing gas, which, being distributed through various ventilators, at the last bars of the overture, will keep the audience in screams of cachinnation throughout the performance; so that the papers can conscientiously speak of "peals of laughter," and "hurricanes of applause." By the same means, the talented Professor also proposes to turn on carbonic acid gas, diluted with atmospheric air, to depress the spirits, for serious five-act legitimacy, and induce sleep.

THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN JUNE.