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diff --git a/14923-h/14923-h.htm b/14923-h/14923-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0032b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/14923-h/14923-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2601 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<title>Punch, or the London Charivari. August 14, 1841.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + +<!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 15%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + ul {list-style-type:none;} + .note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left:4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left:5em;} + p.cen {text-align:center;} + +.figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} +.figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img {border: none;} +.figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} +.figcenter>p {text-align:center;} +.figcenter {margin: auto;} +.figright {float: right; width:25%;} +.figleft, .dropcap {float: left;width:25%;} + span.sidenote {position: absolute; right: 1%; left: 87%; font-size: .7em;text-align:left;text-indent:0em;} + sup{font-size:.7em;} + a:link{text-decoration:none;} +.hide {display: none;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, +August 14, 1841, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, August 14, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14923] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Syamanta Saikia, Jon Ingram, Barbara Tozier and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>VOL. 1.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page49" name="page49"></a>[pg +49]</span> +<h2>AUGUST 14, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE WIFE CATCHERS.</h2> +<h3>A LEGEND OF MY UNCLE’S BOOTS.</h3> +<h4><em>In Four Chapters.</em></h4> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/005-01.png"><img src= +"images/005-01.png" alt= +"Two slender men are shaking hands. Their bodies form the letter H." +id="img005-01" name="img005-01" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">H</span>aberdashers, continued my friend the +boot, are wonderful people; they make the greatest show out of the +smallest stock—whether of brains or ribbons—of any men +in the world. A stranger could not pass through the village of +Ballybreesthawn without being attracted by a shop which occupied +the corner of the Market-square and the main street, with a window +looking both ways for custom. In these windows were displayed +sundry articles of use and ornament—toys, stationery, +perfumery, ribbons, laces, hardware, spectacles, and Dutch +dolls.</p> +<p>In a glass-case on the counter were exhibited patent medicines, +Birmingham jewellery, court-plaister, and side-combs. Behind the +counter might be seen Mr. Matthew Tibbins, quite a precedent for +country shop-keepers, with uncommonly fair hair and slender +fingers, a profusion of visible linen, and a most engaging lisp. In +addition to his personal attractions, Tibbins possessed a large +stock of accomplishments, which, like his goods, “might +safely challenge competition.” He was an acknowledged wit, +and retailed compliments and cotton balls to the young ladies who +visited his emporium. As a poet, too, his merits were universally +known; for he had once contributed a poetic charade to the +<em>Ladies’ Almanack</em>. He, moreover, played delightfully +on the Jews’-harp, knew several mysterious tricks in cards, +and was an adept in the science of bread and butter-cutting, which +made him a prodigious favourite with maiden aunts and side-table +cousins. This was the individual whom fate had ordained to cross +and thwart Terence in his designs upon the heart of Miss Biddy +O’Brannigan, and upon whom that young lady, in sport or +caprice, bestowed a large dividend of those smiles which Terence +imagined should be devoted solely to himself.</p> +<p>The man of small wares was, in truth, a dangerous rival, from +his very insignificance. Had he been a man of spirit or corporal +consideration, Terence would have pistolled or thrashed him out of +his audacious notions; but the creature was so smiling and +submissive that he could not, for the life of him, dirty his +fingers with such a contemptible wretch. Thus Tibbins continued +flattering and wriggling himself into Miss Biddy’s good +graces, while Terence was fighting and kissing the way to her +heart, till the poor girl was fairly bothered between them.</p> +<p>Miss Biddy O’Brannigan, I should have told you, sir, was +an heiress, valued at one thousand pounds in hard cash, living with +an old aunt at Rookawn Lodge, about six miles from Ballybreesthawn; +and to this retreat of the loves and graces might the rival lovers +be seen directing their course, after mass, every Sunday;—the +haberdasher in a green gig with red wheels, and your uncle mounted +on a bit of blood, taking the coal off Tibbins’s pipe with +the impudence of his air, and the elegant polish of your humble +servants.</p> +<p>Matters went on in this way for some time—Miss +O’Brannigan not having declared in favour of either of her +suitors—when one bitter cold evening, I remember it was in +the middle of January, we were whipped off our peg in the hall, and +in company with our fellow-labourers, the buckskin continuations, +were carried up to your uncle, whom we found busily preparing for a +ball, which was to be given that night by the heiress of Rookawn +Lodge. I confess that my brother and myself felt a strong +presentiment that something unfortunate would occur, and our +forebodings were shared by the buckskins, who, like ourselves, felt +considerable reluctance to join in the expedition. Remonstrance, +however, would have been idle; we therefore submitted with the best +grace we could, and in a few minutes were bestriding +Terence’s favourite hunter, and crossing the country over +ditch, dyke, and drain, as if we were tallying at the tail of a +fox. The night was dark, and a recent fall of rain had so swollen a +mountain stream which lay in our road, that when we reached the +ford, which was generally passable by foot passengers, Terence was +obliged to swim his horse across, and to dismount on the opposite +side, in order to assist the animal up a steep clayey bank which +had been formed by the torrent undermining and cutting away the old +banks.</p> +<p>Although we had received no material damage, you may suppose +that our appearance was not much improved by the water and yellow +clay into which we had been plunged; and had it been possible, we +would have blushed with vexation, on finding ourselves introduced +by Terence in a very unseemly state, amidst the titters of a number +of young people, into the ball-room at Rookawn Lodge. However, we +became somewhat reassured, when we heard the droll manner in which +he related his swim, with such ornamental flourishes and romantic +embellishments as made him an object of general interest during the +night.</p> +<p>Matthew Tibbins had already taken the field in a blue satin +waistcoat and nankeen trousers. At the instant we entered the +dancing-room, he had commenced lisping to Miss Biddy, in a tender +love-subdued tone, a couplet which he had committed to memory for +the occasion, when a glance of terrible meaning from +Terence’s eye met his—the unfinished stanza died in his +throat, and without waiting the nearer encounter of his dreaded +rival, he retreated to a distant corner of the apartment, leaving +to Terence the post of honour beside the heiress.</p> +<p>“Mr. Duffy,” said she, accompanying her words with +the blandest smile you can conceive, as he approached, “what +a wonderful escape you have had. Dear me! I declare you are +dripping wet. Will you not change your—clothes?” and +Miss Biddy glanced furtively at the buckskins, which, like +ourselves, had got thoroughly soaked. “Oh! by no means, my +dear Miss Biddy,” replied Terence, gaily; “’tis +only a thrifle of water—that won’t hurt +them”—and then added, in a confidential tone, +“don’t you know I’d go through fire as well as +water for one kind look from those deludin’ eyes.”</p> +<p>“Shame, Mr. Duffy! how can you!” responded Miss +Biddy, putting her handkerchief to her face to make believe she +blushed.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it the blessed truth—and don’t +you know it is, you darling?—Oh! Miss Biddy, I’m +wasting away like a farthing candle in the dog-days—I’m +going down to my snug grave through your cruelty. The daisies will +be growing over me afore next +Easther—Ugh—ugh—ugh. I’ve a murderin’ +cough too, and nothing can give me ase but yourself, Miss +Biddy,” cried Terence eagerly.</p> +<p>“Hush! they’ll hear you,” said the +heiress.</p> +<p>“I don’t care who hears me,” replied Terence +desperately; “I can’t stand dying by inches this way. +I’ll destroy myself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Terence!” murmured Miss O’Brannigan.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he continued: “I loaded my pistols this +morning, and I told Barney M’Guire, the dog-feeder, to come +over and shoot me the first thing he does in the +morning.”</p> +<p>“Terence, <em>dear</em>, what do you want? What am I to +say?” inquired the trembling girl.</p> +<p>“Say,” cried Terence, who was resolved to clinch the +business at a word; “say that you love me.”</p> +<p>The handkerchief was again applied to Miss +O’Brannigan’s face, and a faint affirmative issued from +the depths of the cambric. Terence’s heart hopped like a +racket-ball in his breast.</p> +<p>“Give me your hand upon it,” he whispered.</p> +<p>Miss Biddy placed the envied <em>palm</em>, not on his brows, +but in his hand, and was led by him to the top of a set which was +forming for a country dance, from whence they started off at the +rate of one of our modern steam-engines, to the spirit-stirring +tune of “Haste to the Wedding.” There was none of the +pirouetting, and chassez-ing, and balancez-ing, of your slip-shod +quadrilles in vogue then—it was all life and action: swing +corners in a hand gallop, turn your partner in a whirlwind, and +down the middle like a flash of lightning.</p> +<p>Terence had never acquitted himself so well; he cut, capered, +and set to his partner with unusual agility; <em>we</em> naturally +participated in the admiration he excited, and in the fullness of +our triumph, while brushing past the flimsy nankeens worn by +Tibbins, I could not refrain from bestowing a smart kick upon his +shins, that brought the tears to his eyes with pain and +vexation.</p> +<p>After the dance had concluded, Terence led his glowing partner +to a cool quiet corner, where leaving her, he flew to the side +table, and in less time than he would take to bring down a snipe, +he was again beside her with a large mugful of hot negus, into +which he had put, by way of stiffener, a copious dash of mountain +dew.</p> +<p>“How do you like it, my darling?” asked Terence, +after Miss Biddy had read the maker’s name in the bottom of +the mug.</p> +<p>“Too strong, I’m afraid,” replied the +heiress.</p> +<p>“Strong! Wake as <em>tay</em>, upon my honour! Miss +Biddy,” cried Mr. Duffy.</p> +<p>(The result of Terence Duffy’s courtship will be given in +the next chapter).</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.</h3> +<h4>No. IV.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O Dinna paint her charms to me,</p> +<p class="i2">I ken that she is fair;</p> +<p>I ken her lips might tempt the bee—</p> +<p class="i2">Her een with stars compare,</p> +<p>Such transient gifts I ne’er did prize,</p> +<p class="i2">My heart they couldna win;</p> +<p>I dinna scorn my Jeannie’s eyes—</p> +<p class="i2">But has she ony tin?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The fairest cheek, alas! may fade</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath the touch of years;</p> +<p>The een where light and gladness play’d</p> +<p class="i2">May soon graw dim wi’ tears.</p> +<p>I would love’s fires should, to the last,</p> +<p class="i2">Still burn as they begin;</p> +<p>And beauty’s reign too soon is past,</p> +<p class="i2">So—has she ony tin?</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>LADY MORGAN’S LITTLE ONE.</h3> +<p>Her ladyship, at her last <em>conversazione</em>, propounded to +PUNCH the following classical poser:—“How would you +translate the Latin words, <em>puella</em>, <em>defectus</em>, +<em>puteus</em>, <em>dies</em>, into four English +interjections?” Our wooden Roscius hammered his pate for full +five minutes, and then exclaimed—“A-lass! a-lack! +a-well a-day!” Her ladyship protested that the answer would +have done honour to the professor of languages at the London +University.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page50" name="page50"></a>[pg +50]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-02.png"><img src= +"images/005-02.png" alt= +"A Lion and a Unicorn sit with a tankard by a table with legs marked 'Queen,' 'Commons' and 'Lords.'" +id="img005-02" name="img005-02" width="100%" /></a></div> +<h2>THE ROYAL LION AND UNICORN.</h2> +<h3>A DIALOGUE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“GROUND ARMS!”—<em>Birdcage Walk.</em></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>LION.—So! how do you feel now?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Considerably relieved. Though you can’t +imagine the stiffness of my neck and legs. Let me see, how long is +it since we relieved the griffins?</p> +<p>LION.—An odd century or two, but never mind that. For the +first time, we have laid down our charge—have got out of our +state attitudes, and may sit over our pot and pipe at ease.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—What a fate is ours! Here have we, in our time, +been compelled to give the patronage of our countenance to all +sorts of rascality—have been forced to support robbery, +swindling, extortion—but it won’t do to think +of—give me the pot. Oh! dear, it had suited better with my +conscience, had I been doomed to draw a sand-cart!</p> +<p>LION.—Come, come, no unseemly affectation. <em>You</em>, +at the best, are only a fiction—a quadruped lie.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—I know naturalists dispute my existence, but if, +as you unkindly say, I am only a fiction, why should I have been +selected as a supporter of the royal arms?</p> +<p>LION.—Why, you fool, for that very reason. Have you been +where you are for so many years, and yet don’t know that +often, in state matters, the greater the lie the greater the +support?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Right. When I reflect—I have greater doubts +of my truth, seeing where I am.</p> +<p>LION.—But here am I, in myself a positive majesty, +degraded into a petty-larceny scoundrel; yes, all my inherent +attributes compromised by my position. Oh, Hercules! when I +remember my native Africa—when I reflect on the sweet +intoxication of my former liberty—the excitement of the +chase—the mad triumph of my spring, cracking the back of a +bison with one fillip of my paw—when I think of these +things—of my tawny wife with her smile sweetly ferocious, her +breath balmy with new blood—of my playful little ones, with +eyes of topaz and claws of pearl—when I think of all this, +and feel that here I am, a damned rabbit-sucker—</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Don’t swear.</p> +<p>LION.—Why not? God knows, we’ve heard swearing +enough of all sorts in our time. It isn’t the fault of our +position, if we’re not first-rate perjurers.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—That’s true: still, though we are compelled +to witness all these things in the courts of law, let us be above +the influence of bad example.</p> +<p>LION.—Give me the pot. Courts of law? Oh, Lord! what +places they put us into! And there they expect +me—<em>me</em>, the king of the animal world, to stand +quietly upon my two hind-legs, looking as mildly contemptible as an +apoplectic dancing-master,—whilst iniquities, and meannesses, +and tyranny, and—give me the pot.</p> +<p>UNICORN:—Brother, you’re getting warm. Really, you +ought to have seen enough of state and justice to take everything +coolly. I certainly must confess that—looking at much of the +policy of the country, considering much of the legal wickedness of +law-scourged England—it does appear to me a studied insult to +both of us to make us supporters of the national quarterings. +Surely, considering the things that have been done under our noses, +animals more significant of the state and social policy might have +been promoted to our places. Instead of the majestic lion and the +graceful unicorn, might they not have had the—the—</p> +<p>LION.—The vulture and the magpie.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Excellent! The vulture would have capitally +typified many of the wars of the state, their sole purpose being so +many carcases—whilst, for the courts of law, the magpie would +have been the very bird of legal justice and legal wisdom.</p> +<p>LION.—Yes, but then the very rascality of their faces +would at once have declared their purpose. The vulture is a filthy, +unclean wretch—the bird of Mars—preying upon the eyes, +the hearts, the entrails of the victims of that +scoundrel-mountebank, Glory; whilst the magpie is a petty-larceny +vagabond, existing upon social theft. To use a vulgar +phrase—and considering the magistrates we are compelled to +keep company with, ’tis wonderful that we talk so purely as +we do—’twould have let the cat too much out of the bag +to have put the birds where we stand. Whereas, there is a fine +hypocrisy about us. Consider—am not I the type of heroism, of +magnanimity? Well, compelling me, the heroic, the magnanimous, now +to stand here upon my hind-legs, and now to crouch quietly down, +like a pet kitten over-fed with new milk,—any state roguery +is passed off as the greatest piece of single-minded honesty upon +the mere strength of my character—if I may so say it, upon my +legendary reputation. Now, as for you, though you <em>are</em> a +lie, you are nevertheless not a bad-looking lie. You have a nice +head, clean legs, and—though I think it a little impertinent +that you should wear that tuft at the end of your tail—are +altogether a very decent mixture of the quadrupeds. Besides, lie or +not, you have helped to support the national arms so long, that +depend upon it there are tens of thousands who believe you to be a +true thing.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—I have often flattered myself with that +consolation.</p> +<p>LION.—A poor comfort: for if you are a true beast, and +really have the attributes you are painted with, the greater the +insult that you should be placed here. If, on the contrary, you are +a lie, still greater the insult to leonine majesty, in forcing me +for so many, many years to keep such bad company.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—But I have a great belief in my reality: besides, +if the head, body, legs, tail, I bear, never really met in one +animal, they all exist in several: hence, if I am not true +altogether, I am true in parts; and what would you have of a +thick-and-thin supporter of the crown?</p> +<p>LION.—Blush, brother, blush; such sophistry is only worthy +of the Common Pleas, where I know you picked it up. To be sure, if +both of us were the most abandoned of beasts, we surely should have +some excuse for our wickedness in the profligate company we are +obliged to keep.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Well, well, don’t weep. <em>Take</em> the +pot.</p> +<p>LION.—Have we not been, ay, for hundreds of years, in both +Houses of Parliament?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—It can’t be denied.</p> +<p>LION—And there, what have we not seen—what have we +not heard! What brazen, unblushing faces! What cringing, and +bowing, and fawning! What scoundrel smiles, what ruffian frowns! +what polished lying! What hypocrisy of patriotism! What philippics, +levelled in the very name of liberty, against her sacred self! What +orations on the benefit of starvation—on the comeliness of +rags! Have we not heard selfishness speaking with a syren voice? +Have we not seen the haggard face of state-craft rouged up into a +look of pleasantness and innocence? Have we not, night after night, +seen the national Jonathan Wilds meet to plan a robbery, +and—the purse taken—have they not rolled in their +carriages home, with their fingers smelling of the people’s +pockets?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—It’s true—true as an Act of +Parliament.</p> +<p>LION.—Then are we not obliged to be in the Courts of Law? +In Chancery—to see the golden wheat of the honest man locked +in the granaries of equity—granaries where deepest rats do +most abound—whilst the slow fire of famine shall eat the +vitals of the despoiled; and it may be the man of rightful +thousands shall be carried to churchyard clay in parish deals? Then +in the Bench, in the Pleas—there we are too. And there, see +we not justice weighing cobwebs against truth, making too often +truth herself kick the beam?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—It has made me mad to see it.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page51" name="page51"></a>[pg +51]</span> +<p>LION.—Turn we to the Police-offices—there we are +again. And there—good God!—to see the arrogance of +ignorance! To listen to the vapid joke of his worship on the crime +of beggary! To see the punishment of the poor—to mark the +sweet impunity of the rich! And then are we not in the Old +Bailey—in all the criminal courts! Have we not seen trials +<em>after dinner</em>—have we not heard sentences in which +the bottle spoke more than the judge?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Come, come, no libel on the ermine.</p> +<p>LION.—The ermine! In such cases, the fox—the +pole-cat. Have we not seen how the state makes felons, and then +punishes them for evil-doing?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—We certainly have seen a good deal that way.</p> +<p>LION.—And then the motto we are obliged to look grave +over!</p> +<p>UNICORN.—What <em>Dieu et mon droit!</em> Yes, that does +sometimes come awkwardly in—“God and my right!” +Seeing what is sometimes done under our noses, now and then, I can +hardly hold my countenance.</p> +<p>LION.—“God and my right!” What atrocity has +that legend sanctified! and yet with demure faces they try men for +blasphemy. Give me the pot.</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Come, be cool—be philosophic. I tell you we +shall have as much need as ever of our stoicism?</p> +<p>LION.—What’s the matter now?</p> +<p>UNICORN.—The matter! Why, the Tories are to be in, and +Peel’s to be minister.</p> +<p>LION.—Then he may send for Mr. Cross for the oran-outan to +take my place, for never again do I support <em>him</em>. Peel +minister, and Goulburn, I suppose—</p> +<p>UNICORN.—Goulburn! Goulburn in the cabinet! If it be so, I +shall certainly vacate my place in favour of a jackass.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>UNIVERSITY OF LONDON.</h2> +<h3>BACHELOR OF MEDICINE—FIRST EXAMINATION, 1841.</h3> +<p>The first examination for the degree of bachelor of medicine has +taken place at the London University, and has raised itself to the +level of Oxford and Cambridge.</p> +<p>Without doubt, it will soon acquire all the other attributes of +the colleges. Town and gown rows will cause perpetual confusion to +the steady-going inhabitants of Euston-square: steeple-chases will +be run, for the express delight of the members, on the waste +grounds in the vicinity of the tall chimneys on the Birmingham +railroad; and in all probability, the whole of Gower-street, from +Bedford-square to the New-road, will, at a period not far distant, +be turfed and formed into a T.Y.C.; the property securing its +title-deeds under the arms of the university for the benefit of its +legs—the bar opposite the hospital presenting a fine leap to +finish the contest over, with the uncommon advantage of immediate +medical assistance at hand.</p> +<p>The public press of the last week has duly blazoned forth the +names of the successful candidates, and great must have been the +rejoicings of their friends in the country at the event. But we +have to quarrel with these journals for not more explicitly +defining the questions proposed for the examinations—the +answers to which were to be considered the tests of proficiency. By +means of the ubiquity which Punch is allowed to possess, we were +stationed in the examination room, at the same time that our double +was delighting a crowded and highly respectable audience upon +Tower-hill; and we have the unbounded gratification of offering an +exact copy of the questions to our readers, that they may see with +delight how high a position medical knowledge has attained in our +country:—</p> +<h3>SELECTIONS FROM THE EXAMINATION PAPERS.</h3> +<h4>ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY.</h4> +<ol> +<li> +<p>State the principal variations found in the kidneys procured at +Evans’s and the Coal Hole; and likewise name the proportion +of animal fibre in the rump-steaks of the above resorts. Mention, +likewise, the change produced in the <em>albumen</em>, or white of +an egg, by poaching it upon toast.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Describe the comparative circulation of blood in the body, and +of the <em>Lancet, Medical Gazette</em>, and <em>Bell’s Life +in London</em>, in the hospitals; and mention if Sir Charles Bell, +the author of the “Bridgewater Treatise on the Hand,” +is the editor of the last-named paper.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<h4>MEDICINE.</h4> +<ol> +<li> +<p>You are called to a fellow-student taken suddenly ill. You find +him lying on his back in the fender; his eyes open, his pulse full, +and his breathing stertorous. His mind appears hysterically +wandering, prompting various windmill-like motions of his arms, and +an accompanying lyrical intimation that he, and certain imaginary +friends, have no intention of going home until the appearance of +day-break. State the probable disease; and also what pathological +change would be likely to be effected by putting his head under the +cock of the cistern.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Was the Mount Hecla at the Surrey Zoological Gardens classed by +Bateman in his work upon skin diseases—if so, what kind of +eruption did it come under? Where was the greatest irritation +produced—in the scaffold-work of the erection, or the bosom +of the gentleman who lived next to the gardens, and had a private +exhibition of rockets every night, as they fell through his +skylight, and burst upon the stairs?</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Which is the most powerful narcotic—opium, henbane, or a +lecture upon practice of physic; and will a moderate dose of +antimonial wine sweat a man as much as an examination at +Apothecaries’ Hall?</p> +</li> +</ol> +<h4>CHEMISTRY AND NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.</h4> +<ol> +<li> +<p>Does any chemical combination take place between the porter and +ale in a pot of half-and-half upon mixture? Is there a galvanic +current set up between the pewter and the beer capable of +destroying the equilibrium of living bodies.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Explain the philosophical meaning of the +sentence—“He cut away from the crushers as quick as a +flash of lightning through a gooseberry-bush.”</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>There are two kinds of electricity, positive and negative; and +these have a pugnacious tendency. <em>A</em>, a student, goes up to +the College <em>positive</em> he shall pass; <em>B</em>, an +examiner, thinks his abilities <em>negative</em>, and flummuxes him +accordingly. <em>A</em> afterwards meets <em>B</em> alone, in a +retired spot, where there is no policeman, and, to use his own +expression, “takes out the change” upon <em>B</em>. In +this case, which receives the greatest +shock—<em>A</em>’s “grinder,” at hearing +his pupil was plucked, or <em>B</em> for doing it?</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>The more crowded an assembly is, the greater quantity of +carbonic acid is evolved by its component members. State, upon +actual experience, the <em>per centage</em> of this gas in the +atmosphere of the following places:—The Concerts +d’Eté, the Swan in Hungerford Market, the pit of the +Adelphi, Hunt’s Billiard Rooms, and the Colosseum during the +period of its balls.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-03.png"><img src= +"images/005-03.png" alt= +"A silhouette of a group of people riding in an open carriage." id= +"img005-03" name="img005-03" width="50%" /></a></div> +<h4>ANIMAL ECONOMY.</h4> +<ol> +<li> +<p>Mention the most liberal pawnbrokers in the neighbourhood of +Guy’s and Bartholomew’s; and state under what head of +diseases you class the spring outbreak of dissecting cases and +tooth-drawing instruments in their windows.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Mention the cheapest tailors in the metropolis, and especially +name those who charge you three pounds for dress coats (“best +Saxony, any other colour than blue or black”), and write down +five in the bills to send to your governor. Describe the anatomical +difference between a peacoat, a spencer, and a Taglioni, and also +state who gave the best “prish” for old ones.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<hr /> +<h3>HARVEST PROSPECTS.</h3> +<p>Public attention being at this particular season anxiously +directed to the prospects of the approaching harvest, we are +enabled to lay before our readers some authentic information on the +subject. Notwithstanding the fears which the late unfavourable +weather induced, we have ascertained that reaping is proceeding +vigorously at all the barbers’ establishments in the kingdom. +Several extensive chins were cut on Saturday last, and the returns +proved most abundant.</p> +<p>Sugar-barley is a comparative failure; but that description of +oats, called wild oats, promises well in the neighbourhood of +Oxford. <em>Turn-ups</em> have had a favourable season at the +écarté tables of several dowagers in the West-end +district. Beans are looking poorly—particularly the +<em>have-beens</em>—whom we meet with seedy frocks and +napless hats, gliding about late in the evenings. Clover, we are +informed by some luxurious old codgers, who are living in the midst +of it, was never in better condition. The best description of hops, +it is thought, will fetch high prices in the Haymarket. The +vegetation of wheat has been considerably retarded by the cold +weather. Sportsmen, however, began to shoot vigorously on the 12th +of this month.</p> +<p>All things considered, though we cannot anticipate a rich +harvest, we think that the speculators have exaggerated the</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-04.png"><img src= +"images/005-04.png" alt= +"Two farmers looking very surprised--eyes wide and hair standing on end." +id="img005-04" name="img005-04" width="50%" /></a> +<p>ALARMING STATE OF THE CROPS.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page52" name="page52"></a>[pg +52]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS.</h2> +<h5>(IN HUMBLE IMITATION OF THE AUTHOR OF “THE GREAT +METROPOLIS.”)</h5> +<h3>No. I.—THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.</h3> +<p>Before entering on this series of papers, I have only one +request to make of the reader, which is this: that, however absurd +or incredible my statements may appear, he will take them all for +<em>Grant</em>-ed.</p> +<p>It will hardly be necessary to apologise for making the hero of +Waterloo the subject of this article; for, having had always free +access to the parlour of the Duke of Wellington, I flatter myself +that I am peculiarly fitted for the task I have undertaken.</p> +<p>My acquaintance with the duke commenced in a very singular +manner. During the discussions on the Reform Bill, his grace was +often the object of popular pelting; and I was, on one occasion, +among a crowd of free-born Englishmen who, disliking his political +opinions, were exercising the constitutional privilege of hooting +him. Fired by the true spirit of British patriotism, and roused to +a pitch of enthusiasm by observing that the crowd were all of one +opinion, decidedly against the duke, worked up, too, with momentary +boldness by perceiving that there was not a policeman in sight, I +seized a cabbage-leaf, with which I caught his nose, when, turning +round suddenly to look whence the blow proceeded, I caught his eye. +It was a single glance; but there was something in it which said +more than, perhaps, if I had attempted to lead him into +conversation, he would at that moment have been inclined to say to +me. The recognition was brief, lasting scarcely an instant; for a +policeman coming round the corner, the great constitutional party +with whom I had been acting retired in haste, rather than bring on +a collision with a force which was at that time particularly +obnoxious to all the true friends of excessive liberty.</p> +<p>It will, perhaps, surprise my readers, when I inform them that +this is the only personal interview I ever enjoyed with the +illustrious duke; but accustomed as I am to take in character at a +glance, and to form my conclusions at a wink, I gained, perhaps, as +much, or more, information with regard to the illustrious hero, as +I have been enabled to do with regard to many of those members of +the House of Lords whom, in the course of my “Random +Recollections,” it is my intention to treat of.</p> +<p>I never, positively, dined with the Duke of Wellington; but on +one occasion I was very near doing so. Whether the duke himself is +aware of the circumstances that prevented our meeting at the same +table I never knew, and have no wish to inquire; but when his grace +peruses these pages, he will perceive that our political views are +not so opposite as the <em>dastardly enemies</em> of both would +have made the world suppose them to have been. The story of the +dinner is simply this:—there was to be a meeting for the +purpose of some charity at the Freemasons’-hall, and the Duke +of Wellington was to take the chair. I was offered a ticket by a +friend connected with the press. My friend broke his word. I did +not attend the dinner. But those virulent liars much malign me who +say I stopped away because the duke was in the chair; and much more +do they libel me who would hint that my absence was caused by a +difference with the duke on the subject of politics. Whether +Wellington observed that I did not attend I never knew, nor shall I +stop to inquire; but when I say that his grace spoke several times, +and never once mentioned my name, it will be seen that whatever may +have been his <em>thoughts</em> on the occasion, he had the +delicacy and good taste to make no allusion whatever to the +subject, which, but for its intrinsic importance, I should not so +long have dwelt upon,</p> +<p>Looking over some papers the other day in my drawer, with the +intention of selecting any correspondence that might have passed +between myself and the duke, I found that his grace had never +written to me more than once; but the single communication I had +received from him was so truly characteristic of the man, that I +cannot refrain from giving the whole of it. Having heard it +reported that the duke answered with his own hand every letter that +he received, I, who generally prefer judging in all things for +myself, determined to put his grace’s epistolary punctuality +to the test of experience. With this view I took up my pen, and +dashed off a few lines, in which I made no allusion, either to my +first interview, or the affair of the dinner; but simply putting +forward a few general observations on the state of the country, +signed with my own name, and dated from Whetstone-park, which was, +at that time, my residence. The following was the reply I received +from the duke, which I print <em>verbatim</em>, as an +index—short, but comprehensive, as an index ought to +be—to the noble duke’s character.</p> +<blockquote> +<p style="text-align:right;">“Apsley-house.</p> +<p>“The Duke of Wellington begs to return the enclosed +letter, as he neither knows the person who wrote it, nor the reason +of sending it.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This, as I said before, is perhaps one of the most graphic +<em>traits</em> on record of the peculiar disposition of the hero +of Waterloo. It bespeaks at once the soldier and the politician. He +answers the letter with military precision, but with political +astuteness—he pretends to be ignorant of the object I had in +sending it. His ready reply was the first impulse of the man; his +crafty and guarded mode of expression was the cautious act of the +minister. Had I been disposed to have written a second time to my +illustrious correspondent, I now had a fine opportunity of doing +so; but I preferred letting the matter drop, and from that day to +this, all communication between myself and the duke has ceased. +<em>I</em> shall not be the first to take any step for the purpose +of resuming it. The duke must, by this time, know me too well to +suppose that I have any desire to keep up a correspondence which +could lead to no practical result, and might only tear open afresh +wounds that the healing hand of time has long ago restored to their +former salubrity.</p> +<p>It may be expected I should say a few words of the duke’s +person. He generally wears a frock coat, and rides frequently on +horseback. His nose is slightly curved; but there is nothing +peculiar in his hat or boots, the latter of which are, of course, +Wellington’s. His habits are still those of a soldier, for he +gets up and goes to bed again much as he was accustomed to do in +the days of the Peninsula. His speeches in Parliament I have never +heard; but I have read some of them in the newspapers. He is now +getting old; but I cannot tell his exact age: and he has a son who, +if he should survive his father, will undoubtedly attain to the +title of Duke of Wellington.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EXTRAORDINARY OPERATION.</h3> +<h4><em>Royal Dispensary for Diseases of the Ear</em>.</h4> +<p>Our esteemed friend and staunch supporter Colonel Sibthorp has +lately, in the most heroic manner, submitted to an unprecedented +and wonderfully successful operation. Our gallant friend was +suffering from a severe elongation of the auricular organs; +amputation was proposed, and submitted to with most heroic +patience. We are happy to state the only inconvenience resulting +from the operation is the establishment of a new hat block, and a +slight difficulty of recognition on the part of some of his oldest +friends.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EXTRAORDINARY ASSIZE INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p>One of the morning papers gave its readers last week a piece of +extraordinary assize intelligence, headed—“<em>Cutting +a wife’s throat—before Mr. Serjeant Taddy</em>” +We advise the learned Serjeant to look to this: ’tis a too +serious joke to be set down as an accessary to the cutting of a +wife’s throat.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A SPOKE IN S—Y’S WHEEL!</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“For Ireland’s weal!” hear turncoat +S—y rave,</p> +<p>Who’d trust the <em>wheel</em> that own’d so sad a +<em>knave</em>?</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>ALARMING DESTITUTION.</h3> +<p>In the parish of Llanelly, Breconshire, the males exceed the +females by more than one thousand. At Worcester, says the +<em>Examiner</em>, the same majority is in favour of the ladies. We +should propose a conference and a general swap of the sexes next +market-day, as we understand there is not a window in Worcester +without a notice of “Lodgings to let for single men,” +whilst at Llanelly the gentlemen declare sweethearts can’t be +had for “love nor money.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A NATURAL INFERENCE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“There’ll soon be rare work (cry the journals in +fear),</p> +<p class="i2">When Peel is call’d in in <em>his</em> regular +way;”</p> +<p>True—for when we’ve to pay all the Tories, +’tis clear,</p> +<p class="i2">It is much the same thing as the <em>devil to +pay</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE TORY TABLE D’HOTE—BILLY HOLMES +(<em>loquitur</em>)</h3> +<p>“Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen, feeding is going +to commence Wellington and Peel are now giving their opening +dinners to their friends and admirers. All who want <em>places</em> +must come early. Walk up! walk up!—This is the real +constitutional tavern. Here we are! gratis feeding for the greedy! +Make way there for those hungry-looking gentlemen—walk up, +sir—leave your vote at the bar, and take a ticket for your +hat.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>BLACK AND WHITE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Tories vow the Whigs are black as night,</p> +<p>And boast that they are only blessed with light.</p> +<p>Peel’s politics to both sides so incline,</p> +<p>His may be called the <em>equinoctial line</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LEGAL ECCALOBEION.</h3> +<p>Baron Campbell, who has sat altogether about 20 hours in the +Irish Court of Chancery, will receive 4,000<em>l</em>. a-year, on +the death of either Lord Manners or Lord Plunkett, (both +octogenarians;) which, says the <em>Dublin Monitor</em>, +“taking the average of human life, he will enjoy thirty +years;” and adds, “20 hours contain 1,200 minutes; and +4,000<em>l</em>. a-year for thirty years gives 120,000<em>l</em>. +So that he will receive for the term of his natural life just one +hundred pounds for every minute that he sat as Lord +Chancellor.” Pleasant incubation this! Sitting 20 hours, and +hatching a fortune. If there be any truth in metempsychosis, Jocky +Campbell must be the <em>goose that laid golden eggs</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>IRISH PARTICULAR.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>SHEIL’S oratory’s like bottled Dublin stout;</p> +<p>For, draw the cork, and only froth comes out.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CALUMNY REFUTED.</h3> +<p>We can state on the most positive authority that the recent fire +at the Army and Navy Club did not originate from a spark of Colonel +Sibthorp’s wit falling amongst some loose jokes which Captain +Marryatt had been scribbling on the backs of some unedited +purser’s bills.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>HITTING THE RIGHT NAIL ON THE HEAD.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Whigs resemble nails—How so, my master?</p> +<p>Because, like nails, when <em>beat</em> they <em>hold the +faster</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A MATTER OF TASTE.</h3> +<p>“Do you admire Campbell’s ‘Pleasures of +Hope’?” said Croker to Hook. “Which do you mean, +the Scotch poet’s or the Irish Chancellor’s? the real +or the ideal—Tommy’s four thousand lines or +Jocky’s four thousand pounds a-year?” inquired +Theodore. Croker has been in a brown study ever since.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page53" name="page53"></a>[pg +53]</span> +<h3>CHARLES KEAN’S “CHEEK.”</h3> +<p>MR. PUNCH,—Myself and a few other old Etonians have read +with inexpressible scorn, disgust, and indignation, the heartless +and malignant attempts, in your scoundrel journal, to blast the +full-blown fame of that most transcendant actor, and most +unexceptionable son, Mr. Charles Kean. Now, PUNCH, fair play is +beyond any of the crown jewels. I will advance only one proof, +amongst a thousand others that cart-horses sha’n’t draw +from me, to show that Charles Kean makes more—mind, I say, +makes <em>more</em>—of Shakspere, than every other actor +living or dead. Last night I went to the Haymarket—Lady +Georgiana L—— and other fine girls were of the party. +The play was “Romeo and Juliet,” and there are in that +tragedy two slap-up lines; they are, to the best of my +recollection, as follow:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“<em>Oh!</em> that I were a glove upon that hand,</p> +<p>That I might touch that <em>cheek</em>.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Now, ninety-nine actors out of a hundred make nothing of +this—not so Charles Kean. Here’s my proof. Feeling +devilish hungry, I thought I’d step out for a snack, and left +the box, just as Charles Kean, my old schoolfellow, was +beginning—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Oh!—”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Well, I crossed the way, stepped into Dubourg’s, swallowed +two dozen oysters, took a bottom of brandy, and booked a small bet +with Jack Spavin for the St. Leger, returned to the theatre, and +was comfortably seated in my box, as Charles Kean, my old +school-fellow, had arrived at</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“———cheek!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Now, PUNCH, if this isn’t making much of Shakspere, what +is?</p> +<p>Yours (you scoundrel),<br /> +ETONIAN.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>AN AN-TEA ANACREONTIC—No. 4.</h3> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>The following ode is somewhat freely translated from the +original of a Chinese emigrant named CA-TA-NA-CH, or the +“illustrious minstrel.”</p> +<p>We have given a short specimen of the original, merely +substituting the Roman for the Chinese characters.</p> +</blockquote> +<h4>ORIGINAL.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As-ye-Te-i-anp-o-et-sli-re</p> +<p>Y-oun-g-li-ae-us-di-din-spi-re</p> +<p>Wen-ye-ba-r-da-wo-Ke-i-sla-is</p> +<p>Lo-ve-et-wi-nea-li-ket-op-ra-is</p> +<p>So-i-lus-tri-ou-spi-din-th-o-u</p> +<p>In-s-pi-re-thi-Te-ur-nv-ot-a-rin-ow</p> +<p>&c. &c.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h4>TRANSLATION.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As the Teian poet’s lyre</p> +<p>Young Lyæus did inspire;</p> +<p>When the bard awoke his lays,</p> +<p>Love and wine alike to praise.</p> +<p>So, illustrious Pidding, thou</p> +<p>Inspire thy <em>tea</em>-urn votary now,</p> +<p>Whilst the tea-pot circles round—</p> +<p>Whilst the toast is being brown’d—</p> +<p>Let me, ere I quaff my tea,</p> +<p>Sing a paean unto thee,</p> +<p>IO PIDDING! who foretold,</p> +<p>Chinamen would keep their gold;</p> +<p>Who foresaw our ships would be</p> +<p>Homeward bound, yet wanting tea;</p> +<p>Who, to cheer the mourning land,</p> +<p>Said, “I’ve Howqua still on hand!”</p> +<p>Who, my Pidding, who but thee?</p> +<p>Io Pidding! Evoe!</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE STATE DOCTOR.</h3> +<h4>A BIT OF A FARCE.</h4> +<h5><em>Dramatis Personæ.</em></h5> +<ul> +<li>RHUBARB PILL (a travelling doctor), by SIR ROBERT PEEL.</li> +<li>BALAAM (his Man), by COLONEL SIBTHORP.</li> +<li>COUNTRYMAN, by MR. BULL.</li> +</ul> +<p>SCENE. <em>Tamworth.</em></p> +<blockquote> +<p><em>The Doctor and his Man are discovered in a large waggon, +surrounded by a crowd of people.</em></p> +</blockquote> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—Balaam, blow the trumpet.</p> +<p>BALAAM (<em>blows</em>).—Too-too-tooit! Silence for the +doctor!</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—Now, friends and neighbours, now’s +your time for getting rid of all your complaints, whether of the +pocket or the person, for I, Rhubarb Pill, professor of sophistry +and doctorer of laws, have now come amongst you with my old and +infallible remedies and restoratives, which, although they have not +already worked wonders, I promise shall do so, and render the +constitution sound and vigorous, however it may have been injured +by poor-law-bill-ious pills, cheap bread, and <em>black</em> sugar, +prescribed by wooden-headed quacks. (<em>Aside</em>.) Balaam, blow +the trumpet.</p> +<p>BALAAM (<em>blows</em>).—Too-too-tooit! Hurrah for the +doctor!</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—These infallible remedies have been in my +possession since the years 1835 and 1837, but owing to the +opposition of the Cabinet of Physicians, I have not been able to +use them for the benefit of the public—and myself. +(<em>Bows</em>.) These invaluable remedies—</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—What be they?</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—That’s not a fair +question—<em>wait till I’m regularly called +in</em><sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. Sir Robert Peel at +Tamworth.</span>. It’s not that I care about the +fee—mine is a liberal profession, and though I have a large +family, and as many relations as most people, I really think I +should refuse a guinea if it was offered to me.</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—Then why doant’ee tell us?</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—It’s not professional. Besides, +it’s quite requisite that I should “<em>feel the +patient’s pulse</em>,” or I might make the dose too +powerful, and so—</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—Get the sack, Mr. Doctor.</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL (<em>aside</em>).—Blow the trumpet, +Balaam.</p> +<p>BALAAM.—Too-too-tooit—tooit-too-too!</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—And so do more harm than good. Besides, I +should require to have the “<em>necessary +consultations</em>” over the dinner-table. Diet does a great +deal—not that I care about the “loaves and +fishes”—but patients are always more tractable after a +good dinner. Now there’s an old lady in these +parts—</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—What, my old missus?</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—The same. She’s in a desperate +way.</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—Ees. Dr. Russell says it’s all owing to +your nasty nosdrums.</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—Doctor Russell’s a—never mind. I +say she <em>is</em> very bad, and I AM the only man that can cure +her.</p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN—Then out wi’it, doctor—what +will?</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—<em>Wait till I’m regularly called +in.</em></p> +<p>COUNTRYMAN.—But suppose she dies in the meantime?</p> +<p>RHUBARB PILL.—That’s her fault. I won’t do +anything by proxy. I must direct my own <em>administration</em>, +appoint my own nurses for the bed-chamber, have my own herbalists +and assistants, and see Doctor Russell’s +“<em>purge</em>” thrown out of the window. In short, +<em>I must be regularly called in</em>. Balaam, blow the +trumpet.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>[<em>Balaam blows the trumpet, the crowd shout, and the Doctor +bows gracefully, with one hand on his heart and the other in his +breeches pocket. At the end of the applause he commences +singing</em>].</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I am called Doctor Pill, the political quack,</p> +<p class="i2">And a quack of considerable standing and note;</p> +<p>I’ve clapp’d many a blister on many a back,</p> +<p class="i2">And cramm’d many a bolus down many a +throat,</p> +<p>I have always stuck close, like the rest of my tribe,</p> +<p class="i2">And physick’d my patient as long as he’d +pay;</p> +<p>And I say, when I’m ask’d to advise or +prescribe,</p> +<p class="i2">“<em>You must wait till I’m call’d +in a regular way</em>.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Old England has grown rather sickly of late,</p> +<p class="i2">For Russell’s <em>reduced</em> her almost to a +shade;</p> +<p>And I’ve honestly told him, for nights in debate,</p> +<p class="i2">He’s a quack that should never have +follow’d the trade.</p> +<p>And, Lord! how he fumes, and exultingly cries,</p> +<p class="i2">“Were you in my place, Pill, pray what would +<em>you</em> say?”</p> +<p>But I only reply, “If I am to advise,</p> +<p class="i2"><em>I shall wait till I’m call’d in a +regular way</em>.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It’s rather “too bad,” if an ignorant elf,</p> +<p class="i2">Who has caught a rich patient ’twere madness to +kill,</p> +<p>Should have all the credit, and pocket the pelf,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst you are requested to furnish the skill.</p> +<p>No! no! <em>amor patriæ</em>’s a phrase I +admire,</p> +<p class="i2">But I own to an <em>amor</em> that stands in its +way;</p> +<p>And if England should e’er my assistance require,</p> +<p class="i2"><em>She must</em>—</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-05.png"><img src= +"images/005-05.png" alt= +"A man thumbs his nose at another man who is pointing towards a building on fire." +id="img005-05" name="img005-05" width="50%" /></a> +<p>“WAIT TILL I’M CALL’D IN A REGULAR +WAY.”</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>ON DITS OF THE CLUBS.</h3> +<p>Peter Borthwich has expressed his determination—not to +accept of the speakership of the House of Commons.</p> +<p>C.M. Westmacott has announced his intention of <em>not</em> +joining the new administration; in consequence of which serious +defection, he asserts that Sir Robert Peel will be unable to form a +cabinet.</p> +<p>“You have heard,” said his Grace of Buckingham, to +Lord Abinger, a few evenings ago, “how scandalously Peel and +his crew have treated me—they have actually thrown me +overboard. A man of my weight, too!” “That was the very +objection, my Lord,” replied the rubicund functionary. +“Their rotten craft could not carry a statesman of your +ponderous abilities. Your dead weight would have brought them to +the bottom in five minutes.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page54" name="page54"></a>[pg +54]</span> +<h2>THE REJECTED ADDRESS OF THE MELANCHOLY WHIGS.</h2> +<p>Alas! that poor old Whiggery should have been so silly as to go +a-wooing. Infirm and tottering as he is, it was the height of +insanity. Down he dropped on his bended knees before the object of +his love; out he poured his touching addresses, lisped in the +blandest, most persuasive tones; and what was his answer? Scoffs, +laughs, kicks, rejection! Even Johnny Russell’s muse availed +not, though it deserved a better fate. It gained him a wife, but +could not win the electors. Our readers will discover the genius of +the witty author of “Don Carlos” in the address, which, +though rejected, we in pity immortalise in PUNCH.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Loved friends—kind electors, once more we are here</p> +<p class="i2">To beg your sweet voices—to tell you our +deeds.</p> +<p>Though our Budget is empty, we’ve got—never +fear—</p> +<p class="i2">A long full privy purse, to stand bribing and +feeds.</p> +<p>For, oh! we are out-and-out Whigs—thorough Whigs!</p> +<p class="i2">Then, shout till your throttles, good people, ye +crack;</p> +<p>Hurrah! for the troop of sublime “Thimble-rigs!”</p> +<p class="i2">Hurrah! for the jolly old Downing-street pack.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What we’ve done, and will do for you, haply you’ll +ask:</p> +<p class="i2">All, all, gentle folks, you shall presently see.</p> +<p>Off your sugar we’ll take just <em>one penny a +cask!</em></p> +<p class="i2">Only adding a shilling a pound on your tea.</p> +<p>That’s the style for your Whigs—your +<em>reforming</em> old Whigs!</p> +<p class="i10">Then, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Off your broad—think of this!—we will take—(if +we can)—</p> +<p class="i2">A whole farthing a loaf; then, when wages +decline,</p> +<p>By one-half—as they must—and you’re starving, +each man</p> +<p class="i2">In our New Poor Law Bastiles may go lodge, and go +dine.</p> +<p>That’s the plan of your Whigs—your kind-hearted, +true Whigs!</p> +<p class="i10">Then, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Off the fine Memel timber, we’d take—if we +could—</p> +<p class="i2">All tax, ’cause ’tis used in the palace +and hall;</p> +<p>On the cottager’s, tradesman’s coarse Canada +wood,</p> +<p class="i2">We will clap such a tax as shall pay us for all.</p> +<p>That’s the “dodge” for your Whigs—your +poor-loving, true Whigs!</p> +<p class="i10">Then, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To free our dear brothers, the niggers, you know</p> +<p class="i2">Twenty millions and more we have fix’d on your +backs.</p> +<p>’Twas gammon—’twas humbug—’twas +swindle! for, lo!</p> +<p class="i2">We <em>undo</em> all we’ve done—we go +trade in the blacks.</p> +<p>Your <em>humanity</em> Whigs!—<em>anti-slavery</em> +Whigs!</p> +<p class="i10">Then, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When to Office we came, full <em>two millions</em> in store</p> +<p class="i2">We found safe and snug. Now, that surplus +instead,</p> +<p>Besides having spent <em>it</em>, and <em>six</em> millions +more,</p> +<p class="i2">Lo! we’re short, <em>on the year, only two +millions dead</em>.</p> +<p>That’s the “<em>go</em>” for your +Whigs—your <em>retrenching</em> old Whigs</p> +<p class="i10">Then, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In a word, round the throne we’ve stuck sisters and +wives,</p> +<p class="i2">Our brothers and cousins fill bench, church, and +steeple;</p> +<p>Assist us to stick in, at least for <em>our</em> lives,</p> +<p class="i2">And nicely “we’ll sarve out” Queen, +Lords, ay, and People.</p> +<p>That’s the fun for your Whigs—your bed-chamber old +Whigs!</p> +<p class="i10">Shout, shout, &c.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>What was the reply to this pathetic, this generous appeal? Name +it not at Woburn-abbey—whisper it not at +Panshanger—breathe it not in the epicurean retreat of +Brocket-hall! Tears, big tears, roll down our sympathetic checks as +we write it. It was +simply—“Cock-a-doodle-do!”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LORD JOHNNY “LICKING THE BIRSE.”</h3> +<p>Lord John Russell, on his arrival with his bride at Selkirk the +other day, was invested with the burghship of that ancient town. In +this ceremony, “licking the birse,” that is, dipping a +bunch of shoemaker’s bristles in a glass of wine and drawing +them across the mouth, was performed with all due solemnity by his +lordship. The circumstance has given rise to the following <em>jeu +d’esprit</em>, which the author, Young Ben D’Israeli, +has kindly dropped into PUNCH’S mouth:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Lord Johnny, that comical dog,</p> +<p class="i2">At trifles in politics whistles;</p> +<p>In London he went <em>the whole hog</em>,</p> +<p class="i2">At Selkirk he’s <em>going the +bristles</em>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>“Why are Sir Robert Peel and Sir James Graham like two +persons with only one intellect?”—“Because there +is an understanding between them.”</p> +<p>“Why is Sir Robert Peel like a confounded and detected +malefactor?”—“Because he has nothing at all to +say for himself.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A QUERY.</h3> +<p>The <em>Salisbury Herald</em> says, that Sir John Pollen stated, +in reference to his defeat at the Andover election, “that +from the bribery and corruption resorted to for that purpose, they +(the electors) would have returned a jackass to parliament.” +Indeed! How is it that he tried and failed?</p> +<hr /> +<p>LORD HOWICK, it is said, has gone abroad for the benefit of his +health; he feels that he has not been properly treated at home.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>NURSERY EDUCATION REPORT.</h2> +<p>As much anxiety necessarily exists for the future well-being of +our beloved infant Princess, we have determined to take upon +ourselves the onerous duties of her education. In accordance with +the taste of her Royal mother for that soft language which</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“—sounds as if it should be writ on +satin,”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>we have commenced by translating the old nursery song of +“Ride a cock-horse” into most choice Italian, and have +had it set to music by Rossini; who, we are happy to state, has +performed his task entirely to the satisfaction of Mrs. Ratsey, the +nurse of her Royal Highness; a lady equally anxious with ourselves +to instil into the infant mind an utter contempt for everything +English, except those effigies of her illustrious mother which +emanate from the Mint. The original of this exquisite and simple +ballad is too well known to need a transcript; the Italian version, +we doubt not, will become equally popular with aristocratic mamas +and fashionable nurses.</p> +<h2 style="font-family:fantasy">SU GALLO-CABALLO,</h2> +<h3>AN ITALIAN CAVATINA,</h3> +<h5>SUNG WITH UNBOUNDED APPLAUSE BY</h5> +<h4>MRS. RATSEY,</h4> +<h4>AT THE PRIVATE CONCERTS</h4> +<h6>OF THE</h6> +<h5>INFANT PRINCESS.</h5> +<h6>TO WHOM IT IS DEDICATED BY HER ROYAL HIGHNESS’S ESPECIAL +PERMISSION.</h6> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-06.png"><img src= +"images/005-06.png" alt= +"Several lines of music, with many trills and fancy notes. The text reads:Su gàl - lo ca - vàl - - - lo A / Ban - bu - ri crò - ce, An - dia - mo a / mi-rar La - - vec chia - a trot - tar. / Ai dìta ha gli anelli Ai piè i campanelli, E musica avra Do- / vùnque sen va - - - - - - - -" +id="img005-06" name="img005-06" width="100%" /></a></div> +<hr /> +<h3>INJURED INNOCENCE.</h3> +<p>We have seen, with deep regret, a paragraph going the round of +the papers headed, “THE LADY THIEF AT LINCOLN,” as if a +<em>lady</em> could commit larceny! “Her disorder,” +says the newspapers, “is ascribed to a morbid or +irrrepressible propensity, or monomania;” in proof of which +we beg to subjoin the following prescriptions of her family +physician, which have been politely forwarded to us.</p> +<blockquote> +<h4>FOR A JEWELLERY AFFECTION.</h4> +<table summary="Prescription for a jewellery affection" style= +"margin-left:15%;"> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:right;">R.—</td> +<td>Spoons—silv.</td> +<td>vi</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Rings—pearls</td> +<td>ii</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Ditto—diamond</td> +<td>j</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Brooches—emer. et turq.</td> +<td>ii</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Combs—tortois. et dia.</td> +<td>ii</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3">Fiat sumendum bis hodie cum magno reticulo aut +muffo,</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align:right;">J.K.</p> +<h4>FOR A DETERMINATION OF HABERDASHERY TO THE HANDS.</h4> +<table summary= +"Prescription for a determination of haberdashery to the hands" +style="margin-left:15%;"> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:right;">R.—</td> +<td colspan="2">Balls—worsted</td> +<td>xxiv</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td rowspan="2">veils {</td> +<td>Chantilly</td> +<td rowspan="2">} j</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Mec. et Bruss.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td colspan="2">Hose—Chi. rib. et cot. tops cum toe</td> +<td>vj prs.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td colspan="2">Ribbons—sat. gau. et sarse. (pieces)</td> +<td>iv</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="4">Fiat sumendum cum cloko capace pocteque +maneque.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p style="text-align:right;">J.K.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page55" name="page55"></a>[pg +55]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS.—No. V.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-07.png"><img src= +"images/005-07.png" alt= +"A gentleman taking snuff from a box marked 'Treasury', surrounded by pamphlets and books, one of which says 'Natural History of the Sponge by Lord Melb'" +id="img005-07" name="img005-07" width="100%" /></a> +<p>THE LAST PINCH.</p> +</div> +<span class="hide">[pg 56]</span> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page57" name="page57"></a>[pg +57]</span> +<h2>PUBLIC AFFAIRS ON PHRENOLOGICAL PRINCIPLES.</h2> +<p>Mr. Combe, the great phrenologist, or, as some call him, Mr. +<em>Comb</em>—perhaps on account of his being so busy about +the head—has given it as his opinion, that in less than a +hundred years public affairs will be (in America at least) carried +on by the rules of phrenology. By postponing the proof of his +assertion for a century, he seems determined that no one shall ever +give him the lie while living, and when dead it will, of course, be +of no consequence. We are inclined to think there may be some truth +in the anticipation, and we therefore throw out a few hints as to +how the science ought to be applied, if posterity should ever agree +on making practical use of it. Ministers of state must undoubtedly +be chosen according to their bumps, and of course, therefore, no +chancellor or any other legal functionary will be selected who has +the smallest symptom of the bump of <em>benevolence</em>. The +judges must possess <em>causality</em> in a very high degree; and +<em>time</em>, which gives rise to <em>the perception of +duration</em> (which they could apply to Chancery suits), would be +a great qualification for a Master of the Rolls or a +Vice-chancellor. The framers of royal speeches should be picked out +from the number of those who have the largest bumps of +<em>secretiveness</em>; and those possessing +<em>inhabitiveness</em>, producing the desire of <em>permanence in +place</em>, should be shunned as much as possible. No bishop should +be appointed whose bump of <em>veneration</em> would not require +him to wear a hat constructed like that of PUNCH, to allow his +<em>organ</em> full <em>play</em>; and the development of +<em>number</em>, if large, might ensure a Chancellor of the +Exchequer whose calculations could at least be relied upon.</p> +<p>Our great objection to the plan is this—that it might be +abused by parties bumping their own heads, and raising tumours for +the sake of obtaining credit for different qualities. Thus a +terrific crack at the back of the ear might produce so great an +elevation of the organ of <em>combativeness</em> as might obtain +for the greatest coward a reputation for the greatest courage; and +a thundering rap on the centre of the head might raise on the skull +of the veriest brute a bump of, and name for, +<em>benevolence</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>“IT WAS BEFORE I MARRIED.”</h3> +<h4>A BENEDICTINE LYRIC.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Well, come my dear, I will confess—</p> +<p class="i2">(Though really you too hard are)</p> +<p>So dry these tears and smooth each tress—</p> +<p class="i2">Let Betty search the larder;</p> +<p>Then o’er a chop and genial glass,</p> +<p class="i2">Though I so late have tarried,</p> +<p>I will recount what came to pass</p> +<p class="i2">I’ the days before I married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then, every place where fashion hies,</p> +<p class="i2">Wealth, health, and youth to squander,</p> +<p>I sought—shot folly as it flies,</p> +<p class="i2">’Till I could shoot no longer.</p> +<p>Still at the opera, playhouse, clubs,</p> +<p class="i2">’Till midnight’s hour I tarried;</p> +<p>Mixed in each scene that fashion dubs</p> +<p class="i2">“The Cheese”—before I married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Soon grown familiar with the town,</p> +<p class="i2">Through Pleasure’s haze I hurried;</p> +<p>(Don’t feel alarmed—suppress that frown—</p> +<p class="i2">Another glass—you’re flurried)</p> +<p>Subscribed to Crockford’s, betted high—</p> +<p class="i2">Such specs too oft miscarried;</p> +<p>My purse was full (nay, check that sigh)—</p> +<p class="i2">It was before I married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>At Ascot I was quite the thing,</p> +<p class="i2">Where all admired my tandem;</p> +<p>I sparkled in the stand and ring,</p> +<p class="i2">Talked, betted (though at random);</p> +<p>At Epsom, and at Goodwood too,</p> +<p class="i2">I flying colours carried.</p> +<p>Flatterers and followers not a few</p> +<p class="i2">Were mine—before I married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My cash I lent to every one,</p> +<p class="i2">And gay crowds thronged around me;</p> +<p>My credit, when my cash was gone,</p> +<p class="i2">’Till bills and bailiffs bound me.</p> +<p>With honeyed promises so sweet,</p> +<p class="i2">Each friend his object carried,</p> +<p>Till I was marshalled to the Fleet;</p> +<p class="i2">But—’twas before I married.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then sober thoughts of wedlock came,</p> +<p class="i2">Suggested by the papers;</p> +<p>The <em>Sunday Times</em> soon raised a flame,</p> +<p class="i2">The <em>Post</em> cured all my vapours;</p> +<p>And spite of what Romance may say</p> +<p class="i2">’Gainst courtship so on carried,</p> +<p>Thanks to the fates and fair “Z.A.”</p> +<p class="i2">I now am blest and—married.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>JOCKY JASON.</h3> +<p>Jockey Campbell, who has secured 4,000<em>l</em>. a-year by +crossing the water and occupying for 20 hours the Irish +<em>Woolsack</em>, strongly reminds us of Jason’s Argonautic +expedition, after the <em>golden fleece</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>NEW CODE OF SIGNALS.</h2> +<p>The immense importance of the signals now used in the royal +navy, by facilitating the communication between ships at sea; has +suggested to an ingenious member of the Scientific Association, the +introduction of a telegraphic code of signals to be employed in +society generally, where the <em>viva voce</em> mode of +communication might be either inconvenient or embarrassing. The +inventor has specially devoted his attention to the topics +peculiarly interesting to both sexes, and proposes by his system to +remove all those impediments to a free and unreserved interchange +of sentiment between a lady and gentleman, which feminine timidity +on the one side—natural <em>gaucherie</em> on the +other—dread of committing one’s self, or fear of +transgressing the rules of good breeding, now throw in the way of +many well-disposed young persons. He explains his system, by +supposing that an unmarried lady and gentleman meet for the first +time at a public ball: <em>he</em> is enchanted with the sylph-like +grace of the lady in a waltz—<em>she</em>, fascinated with +the superb black moustaches of the gentleman. Mutual interest is +created in their bosoms, and the gentleman signalizes:—</p> +<p>“Do you perceive how much I am struck by your +beauty?”—by twisting the tip of his right moustache +with the finger and thumb of the corresponding hand. If the +gentleman be unprovided with these foreign appendages, the right +ear must be substituted.</p> +<p>The lady replies by an affirmative signal, or the +contrary:—<em>e.g.</em> “Yes,” the lady arranges +her bouquet with the left hand. “No,” a similar +operation with the right hand. Assuming the answer to have been +favourable, the gentleman, by slowly throwing back his head, and +gently drawing up his stock with the left hand, signals—</p> +<p>“How do you like <em>this</em> style of person?”</p> +<p>The lady must instantly lower her eyelids, and appear to count +the sticks of her fan, which will +express—“Immensely.”</p> +<p>The gentleman then thrusts the thumb of his left-hand into the +arm-hole of his waistcoat, taps three times carelessly with his +fingers upon his chest. By this signal he means to say—</p> +<p>“How is your little heart?”</p> +<p>The lady plucks a leaf out of her bouquet, and flings it +playfully over her left shoulder, meaning thereby to intimate that +her vital organ is “as free as <em>that</em>.”</p> +<p>The gentleman, encouraged by the last signal, clasps his hands, +and by placing both his thumbs together, protests that +“Heaven has formed them for each other.”</p> +<p>Whereupon the lady must, unhesitatingly, touch the fourth finger +of her left hand with the index finger of the right; by which +emphatic signal she means to say—“No nonsense, +though?”</p> +<p>The gentleman instantly repels the idea, by expanding the palms +of both hands, and elevating his eyebrows. This is the point at +which he should make the most important signal in the code. It is +done by inserting the finger and thumb of the right hand into the +waistcoat pocket, and expresses, “What metal do you +carry?” or, more popularly, “What is the amount of your +banker’s account?”</p> +<p>The lady replies by tapping her fan on the back of her left +hand; <em>one</em> distinct tap for every thousand pounds she +possesses. If the number of taps be satisfactory to the gentleman, +he must, by a deep inspiration, inflate his lungs so as to cause a +visible heaving of his chest, and then, fixing his eyes upon the +chandelier, slap his forehead with an expression of suicidal +determination. This is a very difficult signal, which will require +some practice to execute properly. It means—</p> +<p>“Pity my sad state! If you refuse to love me, I’ll +blow my miserable brains out.” The lady may, by shaking her +head incredulously, express a reasonable doubt that the gentleman +possesses any brains.</p> +<p>After a few more preliminary signals, the lover comes to the +point by dropping his gloves on the floor, thereby beseeching the +lady to allow him to offer her his hand and fortune.</p> +<p>To which she, by letting fall her handkerchief, +replies—</p> +<p>“Ask papa and mamma.”</p> +<p>This is only an imperfect outline of the code which the inventor +asserts may be introduced with wonderful advantage in the streets, +the theatres, at churches, and dissenting chapels; and, in short, +everywhere that the language of the lips cannot be used.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LABOURS OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF +SCIENCE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A day on the water, by way of excursion,</p> +<p>A night at the play-house, by way of diversion,</p> +<p>A morning assemblage of elegant ladies,</p> +<p>A chemical lecture on lemon and kalis,</p> +<p>A magnificent dinner—the venison <em>so</em> +tender—</p> +<p>Lots of wine, broken glasses—that’s all I +remember.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>FITZROY FIPPS, F.R.G.S., MEM. ASS. ADVT. SCIENCE, F.A.S.<br /> +Plymouth, August 5.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A GOOD REASON.</h3> +<p>We have much pleasure in announcing to the liverymen and our +fellow-citizens, the important fact, that for the future, the lord +mayor’s day will be the <em>fifth</em> instead of the ninth +of November. The reason for this change is extremely obvious, as +that is the principal day of the “Guy season.”</p> +<hr /> +<p>The members of the Carlton Club have been taking lessons in +bell-ringing. They can already perform some pleasing +<em>changes</em>. Colonel Sibthorpe is quite <em>au fait</em> at a +<em>Bob</em> major, and Horace Twiss hopes, by ringing a +<em>Peal</em>, to be appointed collector of <em>tolls</em>—at +Waterloo Bridge.</p> +<hr /> +<p>We recommend Lord Cardigan to follow the example of the officers +of Ghent, who have introduced umbrellas into the army, even on +parade. Some men should gladly avail themselves of any opportunity +<em>of hiding their heads</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page58" name="page58"></a>[pg +58]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-08.png"><img src= +"images/005-08.png" alt="PUNCH holds a copy of PUNCH" id= +"img005-08" name="img005-08" width="80%" /></a></div> +<h2>PUNCH’S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.—No. 2.</h2> +<h3>THE THERMOMETER.</h3> +<p><em>General Description</em>.—The thermometer is an +instrument for showing the <em>temperature</em>; for by it we can +either see how fast a man’s blood boils when he is in a +passion, or, according as the seasons have occurred this year, how +cold it is in summer, and how hot in winter. It is mostly cased in +tin, all the brass being used up by certain lecturers, who are +faced with the latter metal. It has also a glass tube, with a bulb +at the end, exactly like a tobacco-pipe, with the bowl closed up; +except that, instead of tobacco, they put mercury into it. As the +heat increases, the mercury expands, precisely as the smoke would +in a pipe, if it were confined to the tube. A register is placed +behind the tube, crossed by a series of horizontal lines, the whole +resembling a wooden milk-score when the customer is several weeks +in arrear.</p> +<p><em>Derivation of Name</em>.—The thermometer derives its +name from two Greek words, signifying “measure of +heat;” a designation which has caused much warm discussion, +for the instrument is also employed to tell when it freezes, by +those persons who are too scientific to find out by the tips of +their fingers and the blueness of their noses.</p> +<p><em>History and Literature of the Thermometer</em>.—The +origin of the instrument is involved in a depth of obscurity +considerably below <em>zero</em>; Pliny mentions its use by a +celebrated brewer of Bœotia; we have succeeded, after several +years’ painful research, in tracing the invention of the +instrument to Mercury, who, being the god of thieves, very likely +stole it from somebody else. Of ancient writers, there are few +except Hannibal (who used it on crossing the Alps) and Julius +Cæsar, that notice it. Bacon treats of the instrument in his +“Novum Organum;” from which Newton cabbaged his ideas +in his “Principia,” in the most unprincipled manner. +The thermometer remained stationary till the time of Robinson +Crusoe, who clearly suggested, if he did not invent the register, +now universally adopted, which so nearly resembles his mode of +measuring time by means of notched sticks. Fahrenheit next took it +in hand, and because his calculations were founded on a mistake, +his scale is always adopted in England. Raumur altered the system, +and instead of giving the thermometer mercury, administered to it +‘cold without,’ or spirits of wine diluted with water. +Celsius followed, and advised a medium fluid, so that his +thermometer is known as the centigrade. De Lisle made such +important improvements, that they have never been attended to; and +Mr. Sex’s differential thermometer has given rise to +considerably more than a half-dozen different opinions. All these +persons have written learnedly on the subject, blowing respectively +hot or cold, as their tastes vary. The most recent work is that by +Professor Thompson—a splendid octavo, hot-pressed, and just +warm from the printer’s. Though this writer disagrees with +Raumur’s temperance principles, and uses the strongest spirit +he can get, instead of mercury, we are assured that he is no +relation whatever to Messrs. Thompson and Fearon of +Holborn-hill.</p> +<p><em>Concluding Remarks and Description of Punch’s +Thermometer</em>.—It must be candidly acknowledged by every +unprejudiced mind, that the thermometer question has been most +shamefully handled by the scientific world. It is made an exclusive +matter; they keep it all to themselves; they talk about +Fahren<em>heit</em> with the utmost coolness; of Raumur in +un-understandable jargon, and fire whole volleys of words +concerning the centigrade scale, till one’s head spins round +with their inexplicable dissertations. What is the use of these +interminable technicalities to the world at large? Do they +enlighten the rheumatic as to how many coats they may put on, for +the Midsummer days of this variable climate? Do their barometers +tell us when to take an umbrella, or when to leave it at home? No. +Who, we further ask, knows <em>how</em> hot it is when the mercury +stands at 120°, or how cold it is when opposite 32° of +Fahrenheit? Only the initiated, a class of persons that can +generally stand fire like salamanders, or make themselves +comfortable in an ice-house.</p> +<p>Deeply impressed with the importance of the subject, PUNCH has +invented a new thermometer, which <em>may</em> be understood by the +“people” whom he addresses—the unlearned in +caloric—the ignorant of the principles of expansion and +dilatation. Everybody can tell, without a thermometer, if it be a +coat colder or a cotton waistcoat warmer than usual when he is +<em>out</em>. But at home! Ah, there’s the rub! There it has +been impossible to ascertain how to face the storm, or to turn +one’s back upon the sunshine, till to-day. PUNCH’S +thermometer decides the question, and here we give a diagram of it. +Owing a stern and solemn duty to the public, PUNCH has indignantly +spurned the offers of the British Association to join in their +mummeries at Plymouth—to appear at their dinners for the +debasement of science. No; here in his own pages, and in them only, +doth he propound his invention. But he is not exclusive; having +published his wonderful invention, he invites the makers to copy +his plan. Mr. Murphy is already busily arranging his Almanac for +1842, by means of a PUNCH thermometer, made by Carey and Co.</p> +<h4>PUNCH’S THERMOMETER.</h4> +<h5>THE SCALE ARRANGED ACCORDING TO FAHRENHEIT.</h5> +<table summary="Punch's Thermometer" style="margin-left:5%;"> +<tr> +<td>Iced bath</td> +<td>110</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Cold bath</td> +<td>98</td> +<td>Blood heat.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span style="font-variant:small-caps;">Coat Off</span></td> +<td>90</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Stock loosened</td> +<td>88</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Cuffs turned up</td> +<td>85</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>One waistcoat</td> +<td>80</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Morning coat all day</td> +<td>75</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span style="font-variant:small-caps;">One Coat</span></td> +<td>65</td> +<td>Summer heat.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Spencer</td> +<td>55</td> +<td>Temperate.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, and “Comfortable”</td> +<td>52</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><strong>GREAT COAT</strong></td> +<td>50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, and Macintosh</td> +<td>45</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, ditto, and worsted stockings</td> +<td>43</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, ditto, ditto, and double boxcoat and Guernseys</td> +<td>35</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, and bear-skin coat</td> +<td>32</td> +<td>Freezing.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto, ditto and between two +feather beds all day</td> +<td>0</td> +<td>Zero.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr /> +<h3>THE SPEAKERSHIP.</h3> +<p>The Parliamentary <em>lucus a non lucendo</em>—the Speaker +who never speaks—the gentleman who always holds his own +tongue, except when he wants others to hold theirs—the man +who fills the chair, which is about three times too big for +him—is not, after all, to be changed. But the incoming +tenants of office have resolved to take him as a fixture, though +not at a fair valuation; for they do nothing but find fault all the +time they are agreeing to let him remain on the premises. For our +own part, we see no objection to the arrangement; for Mr. Lefevre, +we believe, shakes his head as slowly and majestically as his +predecessors, and rattles his teeth over the <em>r</em> in +<em>o</em>R-<em>der</em>, with as much dignity as Sutton, who was +the very perfection of <em>Manners</em>, was accustomed to throw +into it. The fatigues of the office are enough to kill a horse, but +asses are not easily exterminated. It is thought that Lefevre has +not been sufficiently worked, and before giving him a pension, +“the receiver must,” as the chemist say, “be +quite exhausted.” Tiring him out will not be enough; but he +must be <em>tired</em> again, to entitled him to a +<em>re-tiring</em> allowance.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>AN INQUIRY FROM DEAF BURKE, ESQ.</h3> +<p>DEER SIR,—As I taks in your PUNCH (bein’ in the line +meself, mind yes), will you tell me wot is the meeinigs of +beein’ “konvelessent.” A chap kalled me that name +the other days, and I sined him as I does this.</p> +<p>Yours truly,<br /> +DEAF BURKE—</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-09.png"><img src= +"images/005-09.png" alt="A man with a very bad black eye." id= +"img005-09" name="img005-09" width="25%" /></a> +<p>HIS MARK.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE MANSION-HOUSE PARROT.</h3> +<p>There is something very amusing in witnessing the manner in +which the little Jacks in office imitate the great ones. Sir Peter +Laurie has been doing the ludicrous by imitating his political +idol, Sir Robert. “I shan’t prescribe till I am +state-doctor,” says the baronet. “I shan’t +decide; wait for the Lord Mayor,” echoes the knight.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page59" name="page59"></a>[pg +59]</span> +<h3>MATRIMONIAL AGENCY.</h3> +<p>Lord John Russell begs respectfully to inform the +connubially-disposed portion of the community, that being about to +retire from the establishment in Downing-street, of which he has so +long been a member, he has resolved (at the suggestion of several +single ladies <em>about</em> thirty, and of numerous juvenile +gentlemen who have just attained their majority a <em>second +time</em>) to open a</p> +<h4>MATRIMONIAL AGENCY OFFICE,</h4> +<p>where (from his long and successful experience) he trusts to be +honoured by the confidence of the single, and the generous +acknowledgments of the married.</p> +<p>Lord J.R. intends to transact business upon the most liberal +scale, and instead of charging a per centage on the amount of +property concerned in each union, he will take every lady and +gentleman’s valuation of themselves, and consider one +thousandth part thereof as an adequate compensation for his +services.</p> +<p>Ladies who have <em>lost</em> the registries of their birth can +be supplied with new ones, for any year they please, and the +greatest care will be taken to make them accord with the early +recollections of the lady’s schoolfellows and cousins of the +same age.</p> +<p>Gentlemen who wear wigs, false calves, or artificial teeth, or +use hair-dye, &c., will be required to state the same, as no +deception can be countenanced by Lord J.R.</p> +<p>Ladies are only required to certify as to the originality of +their teeth; and as Lady Russell will attend exclusively to this +department, no disclosure will take place until all other +preliminaries are satisfactorily arranged.</p> +<p>Young gentlemen with large mustachios and small incomes will +find the MATRIMONIAL AGENCY OFFICE well worthy their attention; and +young ladies who play the piano, speak French, and measure only +eighteen inches round the waist, cannot better consult their own +interests than by making an early application.</p> +<p>N.B. None with red hair need apply, unless with a mother’s +certificate that it was always considered to be auburn.</p> +<p>Wanted several buxom widows for the commencement. If in weeds, +will be preferred.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>“MATTERS IN FACT,” AND “MATTERS IN +LAW.”</h2> +<p>“Law is the perfection of reason!” said, some sixty +years ago, an old powder-wigged priest of Themis, in his +“enthusymusy” for the venerable lady; and what one of +her learned adorers, from handsome Jock Campbell down to plain +Counsellor Dunn, would dare question the maxim? A generous soul, +who, like the fabled lady of the Arabian tale, drops gold at every +word she utters, varying in value from one guinea to five thousand, +according to the quality of the hand that is stretched forth to +receive it, cannot possibly be other than reason herself. But to +appreciate this dear creature justly, it is absolutely necessary to +be in her service. No ordinary lay person can judge her according +to her deserts. You must be initiated into her mysteries before you +can detect her beauties; but once admitted to her august +presence—once enrolled as her sworn slave—your eyes +become opened and clear, and you see her as she is, the marvel of +the world. Yet, though so difficult of comprehension, no man, nor +woman, nor child, must plead ignorance of her excellencies. To be +ignorant of any one of them is an impossibility as palpable as that +“the Queen can do no wrong,” or any other admirable +fiction which the genius of our ancestors has bequeathed us. We all +must know the law, or be continually whipped! A hard rule, though +an inflexible one. But the schoolmaster is abroad—PUNCH, that +teaches all, must teach the law; and, as a preliminary +indispensable, he now proceeds to give a few definitions of the +principal matters contained in that science, which bear a different +meaning from what they would in ordinary language. The admiring +neophyte will perceive with delight the vast superiority apparent +in all cases of “matters of law,” or “matters of +fact.”</p> +<p>To illustrate:—When a lovely girl, all warmth and +confidence, steals on tiptoe from her lonely chamber, and, lighted +by the moon, when “pa’s” asleep, drops from the +balcony into the arms of some soft youth, as warm as she, who has +been waiting to whisk her off to Hymen’s altar—that is +generally understood as</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-10.png"><img src= +"images/005-10.png" alt= +"A young woman kisses her beau from a window so hard it knocks his hat off." +id="img005-10" name="img005-10" width="50%" /></a> +<p>AN ATTACHMENT IN FACT.</p> +</div> +<p>When an ugly “bum,” well up to trap, creeps like a +rascal from the sheriff’s-office, and with his +<em>capias</em> armed, ere you are half-dressed, gives you the +chase, and, as you “leg” away for the bare life, his +knuckles dig into the seat of your unmentionables, gripping you +like a tiger—that indeed is <em>une autre chose</em>, that +is</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-11.png"><img src= +"images/005-11.png" alt= +"An official-looking man grabs a running-away man by the pants." +id="img005-11" name="img005-11" width="50%" /></a> +<p>AN ATTACHMENT IN LAW.</p> +</div> +<p>When you remark a round, rosy, jolly fellow, shining from top to +toe, “philandering” down Regent-street, with a +self-satisfied grin, that seems to say, “Match me that, +demme!” and casting looks of pity—mellowed through his +eye-glass—on all passers, you may fairly conclude that that +happy dog has just slipped into</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-12.png"><img src= +"images/005-12.png" alt="A dapper, fashionable fellow." id= +"img005-12" name="img005-12" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A BOND-STREET SUIT.</p> +</div> +<p>But when you perceive a gaunt, yellow spectre of a man, reduced +to his last <em>chemise</em>, and that a sad spectacle of ancient +purity, starting from Lincoln’s-Inn, and making all haste for +Waterloo-bridge, the inference is rather natural, that he is +blessed with</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-13.png"><img src= +"images/005-13.png" alt= +"A bedraggled, nearly unclothed, man running." id="img005-13" name= +"img005-13" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A SUIT IN CHANCERY.</p> +</div> +<p>It being dangerous to take too great a meal at a time, and PUNCH +knowing well the difficulty of digesting properly over-large +quantities of mental food, he concludes his first lecture on +L—A—W. Whether he will continue here his definitions of +legal terms, or not, time and his humour shall determine.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A DRESS REHEARSAL.</h3> +<p>Lord Melbourne, imitating the example of the ancient +philosophers, is employing the last days of his political existence +in composing a learned discourse “On the Shortness of +Ministerial Life.” To try the effect of it, his lordship +gives a <em>full dress</em> dinner-party, immediately after the +meeting of Parliament, to several of his friends. On the removal of +the cloth, he will read the essay, and then the Queen’s +intended speech, in which she civilly gives his lordship leave to +provide himself with another <em>place</em>. Where, in the whole +range of history, could we meet with a similar instance of +magnanimity? Where, with such a noble picture—of a great soul +rising superior to adversity? Seneca in the bath, uttering moral +apophthegms with his dying breath—Socrates jesting over his +bowl of hemlock juice—were great creatures—immense +minds; but Lord Melbourne reading his own dismissal to his +friends—after dinner, too!—over his first glass of +wine—leaves them at an immeasurable distance. Oh! that we had +the power of poor Wilkie! what a picture we could make of such a +subject.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page60" name="page60"></a>[pg +60]</span> +<h2>THE DRAMA.</h2> +<h3>VAUXHALL GARDENS.</h3> +<p>Some of the melancholy duties of this life afford a more +subdued, and, therefore, a more satisfactory pleasure than scores +with which duty has nothing to do, or those of mere enjoyment. If, +for instance, the friend, whose feeds we have helped to eat, whose +cellars we have done our part to empty for the last quarter of a +century, should happen to fall ill; if the doctors shake their +heads, and warn us to make haste to his bedside, there is always a +large proportion of honey to be extracted, in obeying the summons, +out of the sting of parting, recounting old reminiscences, and +gossipping about old times, never, alas! to return. But should we +neglect the summons, where would the stings of conscience end?</p> +<p>Impelled by such a sense of duty, we wended our way to the +“royal property,” to take a last look at the +long-expiring gardens. It was a wet night—the lamps burnt +dimly—the military band played in the minor key—the +waiters stalked about with so silent, melancholy a tread, that we +took their towels for pocket-handkerchiefs; the concert in the open +<em>rain</em> went off tamely—dirge-like, in spite of the +“Siege of Acre,” which was described in a set of +quadrilles, embellished with blue fire and maroons, and adorned +with a dozen double drums, thumped at intervals, like death notes, +in various parts of the doomed gardens. The <em>divertissement</em> +was anything but diverting, when we reflect upon the impending fate +of the “Rotunda,” in which it was performed.</p> +<p>No such damp was, however, thrown over the evolutions of +“Ducrow’s beautiful horses and equestrian +<em>artistes</em>,” including “the new grand +entrée, and cavalcade of Amazons.” They had no +sympathy with the decline and fall of the <em>Simpsonian</em> +empire. They were strangers, interlopers, called in like mutes and +feathers, to grace the “funeral show,” to give a more +graceful flourish to the final exit. The horses pawed the sawdust, +evidently unconscious that the earth it covered would soon +“be let on lease for building ground;” the riders +seemed in the hey-day of their equestrian triumph. Let them, +however, derive from the fate of Vauxhall, a deep, a fearful +lesson!—though we shudder as we write, it shall not be said +that destruction came upon them unawares—that no warning +voice had been raised—that even the squeak of PUNCH was +silent! Let them not sneer, and call us superstitious—we do +<em>not</em> give credence to supernatural agency as a fixed and +general principle; but we did believe in Simpson, and stake our +professional reputation upon Widdicomb.</p> +<p>That Vauxhall gardens were under the especial protection of, +that they drew the very breath of their attractiveness from, the +ceremonial Simpson, who can deny? When he flitted from walk to +walk, from box to box, and welcomed everybody to the “royal +property,” right royally did things go on! Who would +<em>then</em> have dreamt that the illustrious George—he of +the Piazza—would ever be “honoured with instructions to +sell;” that his eulogistic pen would be employed in giving +the puff superlative to the Elysian haunts of quondam +fashion—in other words, in painting the lily, gilding refined +gold? But, alas! Simpson, the tutelar deity, has departed +(“died,” some say, but we don’t believe it), and +at the moment he made his last bow, Vauxhall ought to have closed; +it was madness—the madness which will call us, peradventure, +superstitious—which kept the gates open when Simpson’s +career closed—it was an anomaly, for like Love and Heaven, +Simpson was Vauxhall, and Vauxhall was Simpson!</p> +<p>Let Ducrow reflect upon these things—we dare not speak +out—but a tutelar being watches over, and giveth vitality to +his arena—his ring is, he may rely upon it, a fairy +one—while <em>that</em> mysterious being dances and prances +in it, all will go well; his horses will not stumble, never will +his clowns forget a syllable of their antiquated jokes. O! let him +then, while seriously reflecting upon Simpson and the fate of +Vauxhall, give good heed unto the Methuselah, who hath already +passed his second centenary in the circle!</p> +<p>These were our awful reflections while viewing the scenes in the +circle, very properly constructed in the Rotunda. They overpowered +us—we dared not stay to see the fireworks, “in the +midst of which Signora Rossini was to make her terrific ascent and +descent on a rope three hundred feet high.” She +<em>might</em> have been the sprite of Madame Saqui; in fact, the +“Vauxhall Papers” published in the gardens, put forth a +legend, which favours such a dreadful supposition! We refer our +readers to them—they are only sixpence a-piece.</p> +<p>Of course the gardens were full in spite of the weather; for +what must be the callousness of that man who could let <em>the</em> +gardens pass under the hammer of George Robins, without bidding +them an affecting farewell? Good gracious! We can hardly believe +such insensibility does exist. Hasten then, dear readers, as you +would fly to catch the expiring sigh of a fine old boon +companion—hasten to take your parting slice of ham, your last +bowl of arrack, even now while the great auctioneer says +“Going.”</p> +<p>For your sake, and yours only, Alfred Bunn (whose +disinterestedness has passed into a theatrical proverb), arrests +the arm of his friend of the Auction Mart in its descent. Attend to +<em>his</em> bidding. Do not—oh! do not wait till the vulcan +of the Bartholomew-lane smithy lets fall his hammer upon the anvil +of pleasure, to announce that the Royal Property +is—“Gone!”</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/005-14.png"><img src= +"images/005-14.png" alt= +"A man tips his hat to a skeleton, who tips his crown in return." +id="img005-14" name="img005-14" width="25%" /></a> +<p>WELCOME TO THE ROYAL PROPERTY.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A LADY AND GENTLEMAN</h3> +<h4>IN A PECULIARLY PERPLEXING PREDICAMENT.</h4> +<p>Mrs. Waylett and Mr. Keeley were the lady and gentleman who were +placed in the peculiarly perplexing predicament of making a +second-hand French interlude supportable to an English Opera +audience. In this they more than succeeded—for they caused it +to be amusing; they made the most of what they had to do, which was +not much, and of what they had to say, which was a great deal too +much; for the piece would be far more tolerable if considerably +shorn of its unfair proportions. The translator seems to have +followed the verbose text of his original with minute fidelity, +except where the idioms bothered him; and although the bills +declare it is adapted by Mr. Charles Selby to the English stage, +the thing is as essentially French as it is when performed at the +<em>Palais Royal</em>, except where the French language is +introduced, when, in every instance, the labours of correct +transcription were evidently above the powers of the translator. +The best part of the adaptation is the exact fitness of the +performers to their parts; we mean as far as concerns their +<em>personnel</em>.</p> +<p>Of course, all the readers of PUNCH know Mr. Keeley. Let them, +then, conceive him an uncle at five-and-thirty, but docking himself +of six years’ age when asked impertinent questions. He has a +head of fine auburn hair, and dresses in a style that a +<em>badaud</em> would call “quiet;” that is to say, he +wears brass buttons to his coat, which is green, and adorned with a +velvet collar. In short, it is not nearly so fine as Lord +Palmerston’s, for it has no velvet at the cuffs; and is not +embroidered. Add white unhintables, and you have an imaginative +portrait of the hero. But the heroine! Ah! she, dear reader, if you +have a taste for full-blown beauty and widows, she will coax the +coin out of your pockets, and yourselves into the English Opera +House, when we have told you what she acts, and how she acts. +Imagine her, the syren, with the quiet, confiding smile, the tender +melting voice, the pleasing highly-bred manner; just picture her in +the character of a Parisian widow—the free, unshackled, +fascinating Parisian widow—the child of liberty—the +mother of—no, not a mother; for the instant a husband dies, +the orphans are transferred to convent schools to become nephews +and nieces. Well, we say for the third time, conceive Mrs. Waylett, +dressed with modest elegance, a single rose in her +hair—sympathise with her as she rushes upon the stage (which +is “set” for the <em>chambre meublée</em> of a +country inn), escaping from the persecutions of a persevering +traveller who <em>will</em> follow her charms, her modest elegance, +her single rose, wherever they make their appearance. She locks the +door, and orders supper, declaring she will leave the house +immediately after it is eaten and paid for. Alas! the danger +increases, and with it her fears; she will pay without eating; and +as the diligence is going off, she will resume her journey, +but—a new misfortune—there is no place in it! She will, +then, hire a postchaise; and the landlady goes to strike the +bargain, having been duly paid for a bed which has not been lain +in, and a supper that has not been eaten. As the lady hastens away, +with every prospect of not returning, the piece would inevitably +end here, if a gentleman did not arrive by the very diligence which +has just driven off full, and taken the same chamber the lady has +just vacated; but more particularly if the only chaise in the place +had not been hired by the lady’s wicked persecutor on purpose +to detain her. She, of course, returns to the twice-let chamber, +and finds it occupied by a sentimental traveller.</p> +<p>Here we have the “peculiarly perplexing +predicament”—a lady and gentleman, and only one chamber +between them! This is the plot; all that happens afterwards is +merely supplementary. To avoid the continued persecutions of the +unseen Adolphe, the lady agrees, after some becoming hesitation, to +pass to the hostess as the wife of the sentimental traveller. The +landlady is satisfied, for what so natural as that they +<em>should</em> have but one bed-room between them? so she +carefully locks them in, and the audience have the pleasure of +seeing them pass the night together—how we will not +say—let our readers go and see. Yet we must in justice add +that the “lady and gentleman” make at the end of the +piece the <em>amende</em> good morals demand—they get +married.</p> +<p>To the performers, and to them alone, are we indebted for any of +the amusement this trifle affords. Mr. Keeley and Mrs. Waylett +were, so far as acting goes, perfection; for never were parts +better fitted to them. There are only three characters in the +piece; the third, the hostess of the <em>“Cochon +bleu,”</em> is very well done by Mrs. Selby. The persecuting +Adolphe (who turns out to be the gentleman’s nephew) never +appears upon the stage, for all his rude efforts to get into the +lady’s chamber are fruitless.</p> +<p>Such is the prying disposition of the British public, that the +house was crammed to the ceiling to see a lady and a gentleman +placed in a peculiarly perplexing predicament.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As <em>Romeo</em>, Kean, with awkward grace,</p> +<p class="i2">On velvet rests, ’tis said:</p> +<p>Ah! did he seek a softer place,</p> +<p class="i2">He’d rest upon his head.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>LATEST FOREIGN.</h3> +<p>Several Dutch <em>males</em> arrived from Rotterdam during the +last week. They are all totally devoid of intelligence or +interest.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>AN USEFUL ALLY.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Crack’d China mended!”—Zounds, man! off +this minute—</p> +<p>There’s work for you, or else the deuce is in it!</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>“Draw it mild!” as the boy with the decayed tooth +said to the dentist.</p> +<p>Webster’s Manganese Ink is so intensely black, that it is +used as a marking-fluid for coal-sacks.</p> +<p>There is a man up country so fat, they grease the cart-wheels +with his shadow.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, August 14, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14923-h.htm or 14923-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/2/14923/ + +Produced by Syamanta Saikia, Jon Ingram, Barbara Tozier and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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