Infomotions, Inc.Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, November 13, 1841 / Various

Author: Various
Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, November 13, 1841
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1,
November 13, 1841, by Various

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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, November 13, 1841

Author: Various

Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14936]

Language: English

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VOL. 1.


       *       *       *       *       *


(_By the Observer's own Correspondent._)

It will be seen that we were not premature in announcing the probability
of the birth of a Prince of Wales; and though it was impossible that any
one should be able to speak with certainty, our positive tone upon the
occasion serves to show the exclusive nature of all our intelligence. We
are enabled now to state that the Prince will immediately take, indeed he
has already taken, the title of _Prince of Wales_, which it is generally
understood he will enjoy--at least if a child so young can be said to
enjoy anything of the kind--until an event shall happen which we hope will
be postponed for a very protracted period. The Prince of Wales, should he
survive his mother, will ascend the throne; but whether he will be George
the Fifth, Albert the First, Henry the Ninth, Charles the Third, or
Anything the Nothingth, depends upon circumstances we are not at liberty
to allude to--_at present_; nor do we think we shall be enabled to do so
in a second edition.

Our suggestion last week, that the royal birth should take place on Lord
Mayor's Day, has, we are happy to see, been partially attended to; but we
regret that the whole hog has not been gone, by twins having been
presented to the anxious nation, so that there might have been a baronetcy
each for the outgoing and incoming Lord Mayors of Dublin and London.
Perhaps, however, it might have been attended with difficulty to follow
our advice to the very letter; but we nevertheless think it might have
been arranged; though if others think otherwise, we, of course, have
nothing further to say upon the matter alluded to.

We very much regret to make an announcement, and are glad at being the
first to do so, though we are sorry to advert to the subject, touching an
alarming symptom in the Princess Royal. Her Royal Highness, ever since the
birth of the Prince, whom we think we may now venture to call her brother,
has suffered from an affection of the nose, which is said to be quite out
of joint since the royal stranger (for we hope we may take the liberty of
alluding to the Prince of Wales as a stranger, for he is a stranger to us,
at least we have never seen him) came into existence.

We hear it on good authority that when the Princess was taken to see her
brother, Her Royal Highness, who begins to articulate a few sounds,
exclaimed, "_Tar_!" with unusual emphasis. It is supposed, from this
simple but affecting circumstance, that the Prince of Wales will
eventually become _a Tar_, and perhaps regain for his country the
undisputed dominion of the seas, which, by-the-bye, has not been
questioned, and probably will not be, in which case the naval attributes
of His Royal Highness will not be brought into activity.

       *       *       *       *       *


Master Smith took an airing on the 5th, accompanied by a Guy Fawkes and a
very numerous _suite_.  In the evening there was a select circle, and a

Mr. Baron Nathan and family are still at Kennington. The Baron danced the
college hornpipe, last Wednesday, on one leg, before a party of private
friends; and the Honourable Miss Nathan went through the Cracovienne,
amidst twenty-four coffee-cups and an inverted pitcher, surmounted by a
very long champagne-glass. Upon inspecting the cups after the graceful
performance was concluded, there was not a chip upon one of them. The
champagne glass, though it frequently rattled in its perilous position,
retained it through the whole of the dance, and was carefully picked up at
its conclusion by the Baroness, who we were happy to find looking in more
than her usual health, and enjoying her accustomed spirits.

Bill Bunks has a new feline provisional equipage ready to launch. The body
is a dark black, and the wheels are of the same rich colour, slightly
picked out here and there with a chalk stripe. The effect altogether is
very light and pretty, particularly as the skewers to be used are all new,
and the board upon which the _ha'porths_ are cut has been recently planed
with much nicety.

The travelling menagerie at the foot of Waterloo-bridge was visited
yesterday by several loungers. Amongst the noses poked through the wires
of the cage, we remarked several belonging to children of the mobility.
The spirited proprietor has added another mouse to his collection, which
may now be pronounced the first--speaking, of course, Surreysideically--in
(entering) London.

       *       *       *       *       *


"The variable climate of our native land," as Rowland the Minstrel of
Macassar has elegantly expressed it, like a Roman epicure, deprives our
nightingales of their tongues, and the melodious denizens of our
drawing-rooms of their "sweet voices."

Vainly has Crevelli raised a bulwark of lozenges against the Demon of
Catarrh! Soreness will invade the throat, and noses run in every family,
seeming to be infected with a sentimental furor for blooming--we presume
from being so newly blown. We have seen noses chiseled, as it were, from
an alabaster block, grow in one short day scarlet as our own, as though
they blushed for the continual trouble they were giving their proprietors;
whilst the peculiar intonation produced by the conversion of the nasals
into liquids, and then of the liquids ultimately into mutes, leads to the
inference that there must be a stoppage about the bridge, and should be
placarded, like that of Westminster, "No thoroughfare."

It has been generally supposed that St. Cecilia with a cold in her head
would be incompetent to "Nix my Dolly;" and this erroneous and popular
prejudice is continually made the excuse for vocal inability during the
winter months. Now the effect which we have before described upon the
articulation of the catarrhed would be, in our opinion, so far from
displeasing, that we feel it would amply compensate for any imperfections
of tune. For instance, what can be finer than the alteration it would
produce in the well-known ballad of "Oh no, we never mention her!"--a
ballad which has almost become wearisome from its sweetness and
repetition. With a catarrh the words would run thus:--

  "O lo, we lever beltiol her,
  Her labe is lever heard."

Struck with this modification of sound, PUNCH, anxious to cater _even_ for
the catarrhs of his subscribers, begs to furnish them with a "_calzolet_,"
which he trusts will be of more service to harmonic meetings than pectoral
lozenges and paregoric, as we have anticipated the cold by converting
every _m_ into _b_, and every _n_ into _l_.


  _B_y _B_ary A_ll_e is like the su_l_,
    Whe_l_ at the daw_l_ it fli_l_gs
  Its golde_l_ s_b_iles of light upo_l_
    Earth's gree_l_ and lo_l_ely thi_l_gs.
  I_l_ vai_l_ I sue, I o_l_ly wi_l_
    Fro_b_ her a scor_l_ful frow_l_;
  But soo_l_ as I _b_y prayers begi_l_,
    She cries O _l_o! bego_l_e.
  Yes! yes! the burthe_l_ of her so_l_g
    Is _l_o! _l_o! _l_o! bego_l_e!

  _B_y _B_ary A_ll_e is like the moo_l_,
    Whe_l_ first her silver shee_l_,
  Awakes the _l_ighti_l_gale's soft tu_l_e,
    That else had sile_l_t bee_l_.
  But _B_ary A_ll_e, like darkest _l_ight,
    O_l_ be, alas! looks dow_l_;
  Her s_b_iles o_l_ others bea_b_ their light,
    Her frow_l_s are all _b_y ow_l_.
  I've but o_l_e burthe_l_ to _b_y so_l_g--
   Her frow_l_s are all _b_y ow_l_.

       *       *       *       *       *


A grand gladiatorial tongue-threshing took place lately in a field near
Paisley, between the two great Chartist champions--Feargus O'Connor and
the Rev. Mr. Brewster. The subject debated was, Whether is moral or
physical force the fitter instrument for obtaining the Charter? The Doctor
espoused the moral hocussing system, and Feargus took up the bludgeon for
physical force. After a pretty considerable deal of fireworks had been let
off on both sides, it was agreed to divide the field, when Feargus, waving
his hat, _ascended into a tree_, and called upon his friends to follow
him. But, alas! few answered to the summons,--he was left in a miserable
minority; and the Doctor, as the Yankees say, decidedly "put the critter
up a tree." Feargus, being a _Radical_, should have kept to the _root_
instead of venturing into the higher _branches_ of political economy. At
all events the Doctor, as the Yankees say, "put the critter up a tree,"
where we calculate he must have looked tarnation ugly. The position was
peculiarly ill-chosen--for when a fire-and-faggot orator begins to speak
_trees-on_, it is only natural that his hearers should all take their

       *       *       *       *       *


The _Herald_ gives an account of two persons who were carried off suddenly
at Lancaster by a paralytic attack _each_. We should have been curious to
know the result if, instead of an attack _each_, they had had _one between

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: H]Having christened his child, Agamemnon felt it to be his
bounden duty to have him vaccinated; but his wife's mother, with a
perversity strongly characteristic of the _genus_, strenuously opposed Dr.
Jenner's plan of repealing the small pox[1], and insisted upon having him
inoculated. Poor Mrs. Applebite was sorely perplexed between her habitual
reverence for the opinions of her mama and the dread which she naturally
felt of converting the face of the infant heir into a plum-pudding.
Agamemnon had evidently determined to be positive upon this point, and all
that could be extracted from him was the one word--vaccination!

    [1] Baylis.

To which Mrs. Waddledot replied,

"Vaccination, indeed!--as though the child were a calf! I'm sure and
certain that the extreme dulness of young people of the present day is
entirely owing to vaccination--it imbues them with a very stupid portion
of the animal economy."

As Agamemnon could not understand her, he again ejaculated--"Vaccination!"

"But, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Applebite, "Mama has had so much experience
that her opinion is worth listening to; I know that you give the
preference to--"

"Vaccination!" interrupted Collumpsion.

"And so do I; but we have heard of grown-up people--who had always
considered themselves secure--taking the small pox, dear."

"To be sure we have," chimed in Mrs. Waddledot; "and it's a very dreadful
thing, after indulgent and tender parents have been at the expense of
nursing, clothing, physicking, teaching music, dancing, Italian, French,
geography, drawing, and the use of the globes, to a child, to have it
carried off because a misguided fondness has insisted upon--"

"Vaccination!" shouted _pater_ Collumpsion.

"Exactly!" continued the "wife's mother." "Now inoculate at once, say I,
before the child's short-coated."

Agamemnon rose from his seat, and advancing deliberately and solemnly to
the table at which his wife and his wife's mother were seated, he slowly
raised his dexter arm above his head, and then, having converted his hand
into a fist, he dashed his contracted digitals upon the rosewood as though
he dared not trust himself with more than one word, and that one

Mrs. Waddledot's first impulse was to jump out of her turban, in which she
would have succeeded had not the mystic rolls of gauze which constituted
that elaborate head-dress been securely attached to the chestnut "front"
with which she had sought for some years to cheat the world into a
forgetfulness of her nativity.

"I was warned of this! I was warned of this!" exclaimed the disarranged
woman, as soon as she obtained breath enough for utterance. "But I
wouldn't believe it. I was told that the member for Puddingbury had driven
one wife to her grave and the other to drinking.--I was told that it would
run in the family, and that Mr. _A.C._ Applebite would be no better than
Mr. I. Applebite!"

"Oh! Mama--you really wrong Aggy," exclaimed Theresa.

"It's lucky for you that you think so, my dear. If ever there was an
ill-used woman, you are that unhappy individual. Oh, that ever--I--should
live--to see a child of mine--have a child of hers vaccinated against her
wish!" and here Mrs. Waddledot (as it is emphatically styled) burst into
tears; not that we mean to imply that she was converted into an explosive
_jet d'eau_, but we mean that she--she--what shall we say?--she blubbered.

It is really surprising how very sympathetic women are on all occasions of
weeping, scolding, and scandalising; and accordingly Mrs. Applebite
"opened the fountains of her eyes," and roared in concert with her mama.

Agamemnon felt that he was an injured man--injured in the tenderest
point--his character for connubial kindness; and he secretly did what many
husbands have done openly--he consigned Mrs. Waddledot to the gentleman
who is always represented as very black, because where he resides there is
no water to wash with.

At this agonising moment Uncle Peter made his appearance; and as actors
always play best to a good audience, the weeping ladies continued their
lachrymose performance with renewed vigour. Uncle Peter was a plain
man--plain in every meaning of the word; that is to say, he was very ugly
and very simple; and when we tell you that his face resembled nothing but
a half-toasted muffin, you can picture to yourself what it must have
looked like under the influence of surprise; but nevertheless, both
Agamemnon and the ladies simultaneously determined to make him the
arbitrator in this very important matter.

"Uncle Peter," said Agamemnon.

"Brother Peter," sobbed Mrs. Waddledot.

"Which are you an advocate for?" hystericised Mrs. Applebite.

"Vaccination or inoculation?" exclaimed everybody _ensemble_.

Now whether Uncle John did clearly understand the drift of the question
put to him, or whether he conceived that he was solicited to be the
subject of some benevolent experiments for the advantage of future
generations, it is certain that no man ever looked more positively

[Illustration: ON THE HORN OF A DILEMMA]

than Uncle Peter. At length the true state of the case was made apparent
to him; and the conclusion that he arrived at reflects the greatest
possible credit upon his judgment. He decided, that as the child was a
divided property, for the sake of peace and quietness, the heir of
Applebite should be vaccinated in one arm and inoculated in the other.

       *       *       *       *       *


We were paralysed the other day at seeing a paragraph headed "Sibthorpe's
conversion." Our nose grew pale with terror; our hump heaved with
agitation. We thought there existed a greater genius than ourselves and
that some one had discovered that Sibthorp could be converted into
anything but a Member for Lincoln, and buffoon-in-waiting to the House of
Commons. We found, however, that it alluded to a Reverend, and not to OUR
Colonel. Really the newspaper people should be more careful. Such
startling announcements are little better than

[Illustration: SHEE(A)R CRUELTY.]

       *       *       *       *       *


During the conflagration of the Tower, it was apprehended at one time that
the portion of it called the White Tower would have shared the fate of the
grand store-house,--this was however prevented by hanging _wet blankets_
around it, in which capacity Peter Borthwick, Mr. Plumtre, Col. Percival,
and Lord Castlereagh, kindly offered their personal services and were
found admirably adapted for the purpose.

       *       *       *       *       *


We will now proceed to the consideration of that indispensable adjunct to
a real gentleman--his purse. This little talisman, though of so much real
importance, is very limited in the materials of its formation, being
confined exclusively to silk. It should generally be of net work, very
sparingly powdered with small beads, and of the most delicate colours,
such conveying the idea that the fairy fingers of some beauteous friend
had wove the tiny treasury. We have seen some of party colours, intended
thereby to distinguish the separate depository of the gold and silver coin
with which it is (presumed) to be stored. This arrangement we repudiate;
for a true gentleman should always appear indifferent to the value of
money, and affect at least an equal contempt for a sovereign as a
shilling. We prefer having the meshes of the purse rather large than
otherwise, as whenever it is necessary--mind, we say necessary--to exhibit
it, the glittering contents shining through the interstices are never an
unpleasing object of contemplation.

The purse should be used at the card-table; but never produced unless you
are called upon as a loser to _pay_. It may then be resorted to with an
air of _nonchalance;_ and when the demand upon it has been honoured, it
should be thrown carelessly upon the table, as though to indicate your
_almost_ anxiety to make a further sacrifice of its contents. Should you,
however, be a winner, any exhibition of the purse might be construed into
an unseemly desire of "welling," or securing your gains, which of course
must always be a matter of perfect indifference to you; and whatever
advantages you obtain from chance or skill should be made obvious to every
one are only destined to enrich your valet, or be beneficially expended in
the refreshment of cabmen and ladies of faded virtue. In order to convey
these intentions more conspicuously, should the result of an evening be in
your favour, your winnings should be consigned to your waistcoat pocket;
and if you have any particular desire to heighten the effect, a piece of
moderate value may be left on the table.


cannot do better than find an excuse for a recurrence to his purse; and
then the partial exhibition of the coin alluded to above will be found to
be productive of a feeling most decidedly confirmatory in the mind of the
landlady that you are a true gentleman.

The same cause will produce the same effect with a tradesman whose
album--we beg pardon, whose ledger--you intend honouring with your name.

You should never display your purse to a poor friend or dependant, or the
sight of it might not only stimulate their cupidity, or raise their
expectations to an inordinate height, but prevent you from escaping with a
moderate _douceur_ by "the kind manner in which you slipped a sovereign
into their hand at parting."

A servant should never be rewarded from a purse; it makes the fellows
discontented; for if they see gold, they are never satisfied with a
shilling and "I must see what can be done for you, James."

Should you be fortunate enough to break a policeman's head, or drive over
an old woman, you will find that your purse will not only add to the
_eclat_ of the transaction, but most materially assist the magistrate
before whom you may be taken in determining that the case is very
trifling, and that a fine of 5s. will amply excuse you from the effects of
that polite epidemic known _vulgo_ as drunkenness. There cannot be a
greater proof of the advantages of a purse than the preceding instance,
for we have known numerous cases in which the symptoms have been precisely
the same, but the treatment diametrically opposite, owing to the absence
of that incontrovertible evidence to character--the purse.

None but a _parvenu_ would carry his money loose; and we know of nothing
more certain to ensure an early delivery of your small account than being
detected by a creditor in the act of hunting a sovereign into the corner
of your pocket.

We have known tailors, bootmakers, hatters, hosiers,
livery-stable-keepers, &c., grow remarkably noisy when refused assistance
to meet heavy payments, which are continually coming due at most
inconvenient seasons; and when repeated denials have failed to silence
them, the _exhibition only_ of the purse has procured the desired
effect,--we presume, by inspiring the idea that you have the means to pay,
but are eccentric in your views of credit--thus producing with the most
importunate dun


       *       *       *       *       *


The Editors present their compliments to their innumerable subscribers,
and beg to say that, being particularly hard up for a joke, they trust
that they will accept of the following as an evidence of

[Illustration: GETTING UNDER WHEY.]

       *       *       *       *       *


The extreme proficiency displayed by certain parties in drawing spurious
exchequer-bills has induced them to issue proposals for setting up an
opposition exchequer office, where bills may be drawn on the shortest
notice. As this establishment is to be cunningly united to the Art-Union
in Somerset-House, the whole art of forgery may be there learned in six
lessons. The manufacture of exchequer-bills will be carried on in every
department, from printing the forms to imitating the signatures; in short,
the whole art of

[Illustration: DRAWING TAUGHT.]

       *       *       *       *       *



We have been favoured by the transmission of the following singular
correspondence by the new Mayor of Dublin's private secretary. We hasten
to lay the interesting documents before our readers, though we must
decline incurring the extreme responsibility of advising which offer it
would be most advantageous for Mr. O'Connell to accept.


SIR,--I am requested by the management of the Royal Surrey Theatre to
negotiate with you for a few nights' performance in a local drama, which
shall be written for the occasion, and in which you are requested to
represent the Civic dignitary in the identical robes which have become
immortalised by your wearing. Mr. Dibdin Pitt is of opinion that something
might be done with "Whittington and his Cat," merely transferring the
scene from London to Dublin; and, as he hears your county is highly
celebrated for the peculiar breed, sending to Ireland for one of the
esteemed "Kilkenny species," which would give a greater reality to the
_dramatis personae_ and feline adjunct. This is a mere suggestion, as any
other subject you may prefer--such as the Rebellion of '98, Donnybrook
Fair, the Interior of the Irish Mansion House, or the House of Commons,
can be rendered equally effective. I beg to call your attention to the
fact that you shall have a clear stage and every advantage, as Mr. N.T.
Hicks will be left out of the cast altogether, or else play a very small
dumb villain; so that you need not fear losing your oratorical reputation
by being out-shouted. Should you feel disposed to accept the terms, one
clear half the nightly receipt, pray forward an answer by return, that we
may get out a woodcut of the small-clothes, and underline the identical

I have the honour to be,

Your obedient servant,


_D. O'Connell, Esq._


SIR,--The intense interest created in the bosoms of mankind in general by
the graphic account of your splendid appearance and astounding performance
of the arduous character of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, induces Mr. W.C.
Macready to make you an offer of engagement for the performance of
Shakspere's heroic functionary in the forthcoming revival of Richard the
Third, which is about to be produced under his classic management at the
Theatre Royal Drury-lane, Mr. W.C. Macready offers to replace the breeches
if cracked in stooping; also, to guarantee a liberal allowance of
hair-powder to fall from the wig, and make the usual effective and
dignified huge point while the Mayor is bowing to the king. An early
answer will oblige your obedient servant,


P.S. Can you bring your own Aldermen, as we are anxious to do it with the


P.P.S.--Think of the fame and the twelve-sheet posters, and be moderate.

_Theatre Royal, Adelphi._

DEAR DAN,--The Adelphi is open to you and your robes. Couldn't we do
something with a hero from Blarney, and let you be discovered licking the
stone, amid tableaux, blue fire, and myriads of nymph-like Kate Kearneys?
Or would you prefer an allegory, yourself a Merman, or the Genius of
Ireland, distributing real whiskey-and-water from the tank, which shall be
filled with grog for that purpose. Think it over.

Truly yours,


_D. O'Connell, Esq. &c. &c. &c._

_Theatre Royal, Haymarket._

Mr. Webster presents his compliments to Daniel O'Connell, Esq., Mayor and
M.P., and begs to suggest, as the "Rent Day" was originally produced at
his theatre, it will be an excellent field for any further dramatic
attempt of Mr. D. O'C. A line from Mr. D. O'C. will induce Mr. B.W. to put
the drama in rehearsal.

"_D. O'Connell, Esq. &c. &c._"

_Royal Victoria._

Sir,--As sole lessee of the Royal Victoria I shall be happy to engage you
to appear in costume, in the Mayor of Garratt, or, for the sake of the
name Mayor, any other Mayor you like. If you think all the old ones too
stupid, we can look upon something new, and preserve the title. You shall
be supported by Miss Vincent and Susan Hopley, with two murders by Messrs.
Dale and Saville in the after-piece. Awaiting your reply, I remain

Your obedient servant,


_D. O'Connell, Esq._

_Royal Pavilion Theatre._

SIR,--If you mean to come on the stage, come to me. I know what suits the
public. If you can't come yourself, send your cocked hat, and Mrs. Denvil
shall dramatise it. We have a carpenter of your name; we can gag him and
gammon the public, as follows:--







Yours, &c.


_Garrick Theatre._

SIR,--We should be proud to avail ourselves of your professional services
to do a little in the domestic and appalling murder line; but our forte is
ballet or pantomime; perhaps, as you have your own silk tights, the latter
department might suit you best. Our artist is considered very great, and
shall convert our "Jim Along Josey" wood-cuts into your portrait. We will
also pledge ourselves to procure an illuminated cocked hat. An early
answer, stating terms, will oblige

Your obedient Servants,


_D. O'Connell, Esq._

_T.R. Sadler's Wells._

SIR,--Understanding you are about to figure publicly and professionally in
London, may I draw your attention to my unique establishment. I can offer
you an excellent engagement as the figure-head of a vessel about to be
produced in a new nautical drama. It is at present called "The Shark and
the Alligator," but may be altered with equal effect to "The Mayor and the
Agitator." Begging a reply,

I remain, Sir,

Your's obediently,


_D. O'Connell, Esq._

P.S. Do you do anything in the hornpipe line?

       *       *       *       *       *



We have received the following genuine "Irish version" of a scene from and
for the times, from our own peculiar and poetic correspondent:--

      "DEAR PUNCH,--
          I beg pardon that yoursilf I'm now troublin,
  But I must let you know what I just seen in Dublin;
  There Daniel O'Connell,--Mayor and great agitator,--
  Has been making a Judy of himself, the poor unhappy cratur.
  At his time of life, too! tare and ounds its mighty shocking!
  He shoved ach of his big legs into a span bran new silk stocking:
  How the divil them calves by any manes was thrust in,
  Is a mistery to ev'ry one, without them black silks busting.
  And instead of a dacent trousers hanging to his suspenders,
  He has button'd-up one-half of him in a pair of short knee-enders.
  Now, Punch, on your oath, did you ever hear the likes o' that?
  But oh, houly Paul, if you only seen his big cock'd hat,
  Stuck up on the top of his jazy;--a mighty illegant thatch,
  With hair like young Deaf Burke's, all rushing up to the scratch,
  You must have been divarted; and, Jewil, then he wore
  A thund'ring big Taglioni-cut purple velvet _roquelore_.
  And who but Misther Dan cut it fat in all his pride,
  Cover'd over with white favors, like a gentle blushing bride;
  And wasn't he follow'd by all the blackguards for his tail,
  Shouting out for their lives, 'Success to Dan O'Connell and Rapale.'
  But the Old Corporation has behaved mighty low and mane,
  As they wouldn't lend him the loan of the ancient raal goold chain,
  Nor the collar; as they said they thought (divil burn 'em),
  If they'd done so, it was probable Dan never would return 'em.
  But, good-bye, I must be off,--he's gone to take the chair!
  So my love to Mrs. Punch, and no more about the Mayor."

       *       *       *       *       *


  Huzza! we've a little prince at last,
    A roaring Royal boy;
  And all day long the booming bells
    Have rung their peals of joy.
  And the little park-guns have blazed away,
    And made a tremendous noise,
  Whilst the air hath been fill'd since eleven o'clock
    With the shouts of little boys;
  And we have taken our little bell,
  And rattled and laugh'd, and sang as well,
       Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
       Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!

  Our little Prince will be daintily swathed,
    And laid on a bed of down,
  Whilst his cradle will stand 'neath a canopy
    That is deck'd with a golden crown.
  O, we trust when his Queenly Mother sees
    Her Princely boy at rest,
  She will think of the helpless pauper babe
    That lies at a milkless breast!
  And then we will rattle our little bell.
  And shout and laugh, and sing as well--
       Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
       Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!

  Our little Prince, we have not a doubt,
    Has set up a little cry;
  But a dozen sweet voices were there to soothe,
    And sing him a lullaby.
  We wonder much if a voice so small
    Could reach our loved Monarch's ear;
  If so, she said "God bless the poor!
    Who cry and have no one near."
  So then we will rattle our little bell,
  And shout and laugh, and sing as well--
       Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
       Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!

  Our little Prince (though he heard them not)
    Hath been greeted with honied words,
  And his cheeks have been fondled to win a smile
    By the Privy Council Lords.
  Will he trust the "charmer" in after years,
    And deem he is more than man?
  Or will he feel that he's but a speck
    In creation's mighty plan?
  Let us hope the best, and rattle our bell,
  And shout and laugh, and sing as well--
       Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
       Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!

  Our little Prince, when be grows a boy,
    Will be taught by men of lore,
  From the "dusty tome" of the ancient sage,
    As Kings have been taught before.
  But will there be _one_ good, true man near,
    To tutor the infant heart?
  To tell him the world was made for all,
    And the poor man claims his part?
  We trust there will; so we'll rattle our bell,
  And shout and laugh, and sing as well--
       Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
       Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!

       *       *       *       *       *


Why is the little Prince of Wales like the 11th Hussars?--Because it is
Prince Albert's own.

       *       *       *       *       *


Lord Monteagle, on being shown one of the Exchequer Bills, supposed to
have been forged, declared that he did not know if the signature attached
to it was his handwriting or not. We do not feel surprised at this--his
Lordship has put his hand to so many jobs that it would be impossible he
could remember every one of them.

       *       *       *       *       *


A most unfounded report of the approaching demise of Colonel Sibthorp
reached town early last week. Our Leicester correspondent has, however,
furnished us with the following correct particulars, which will be read
with pleasure by those interested in the luxuriant state of the gallant
orator's crops. The truth is, he was seen to enter a hair-dresser's shop,
and it got about amongst the breathless crowd which soon collected, that
the imposing _toupee_, the enchanting whiskers that are the pride of the
county, were to be cropped! This mistake was unhappily removed to give
place to a more fatal one; for instead of submitting to the shears, the
venerable joker bought a paper of _poudre unique_, from which arose the
appalling report that he was about to _dye_!

Our kind friend the indefatigable "correspondent" of the _Observer_,
informs us from authority upon which every reliance may be placed, that
Mr. Grant, the indefatigable statist and author of "Lights and Shadows of
London Life," is now patiently engaged in researches of overwhelming
importance to the public. He will, in his next edition of the above-named
work, be enabled to state from personal inquiry, how many ladies residing
within a circuit of ten miles round London wear false fronts, with the
colours respectively of their real and their artificial hair, together
with the number of times per year the latter are dressed. Besides this,
this untiring author has called at every hairdresser's in the London
Directory, to ascertain the number of times per quarter each customer has
his hair cut, with the quantity and length denuded. From these materials a
result will be drawn up, showing the average duration of crops; and also
how far the hair-cuttings of every day in London would reach, if each hair
were joined together and placed somewhere, so as to go--when enough is
collected--round the world.

The _Morning Herald_ of Monday informs us, that the King of Hanover has
passed a law to regulate the crops not only of the army, but of those in
the civil employ of government. The moustaches of the former are to be, we
hear, exact copies of those sported by Muntz. The hair is to be cut close,
so as to be woven into regulation whiskers for those to whom nature has
denied them. The pattern whisker was lately submitted by Mr. Truefit, who
is to be the army contractor for the same. It curls over the cheek, and
meets the moustaches at the corners of the mouth.

In consequence of this measure, large sales in bear's grease were made by
the Russian merchants on 'Change yesterday for the German markets. A
consequent rise in this species of manure took place; this will, it is
feared, have a bad effect upon the British crops, which have already
assumed a dry and languid appearance.

       *       *       *       *       *



MESSRS. MACHIN and DEBENHAM respectfully inform the particularly curious,
and the public in general, they have the honor to announce the unreserved
sale of the following particularly and unprecedentedly attractive
Unredeemed Pledges.

N.B.--The auction duty to be paid by the purchasers,--if not, the inmates
of St. Luke's have offered to subscribe for their liquidation.


A perfect collection of the original speeches of Sir Francis
Burdett--previous to his visit to the Tower; his fulminations issued from
the same; and a catalogue of the _unredeemed_ pledges made to the electors
of Westminster, and originally taken in by them--a compliment very
handsomely returned by the honourable Baronet, who kindly took his
constituents in in return. Very curious, though much dogs-eared, thumbed,
and as far as the author's name goes, totally erased.


A visionary pedigree and imaginative genealogical account of Roebuck's
ancestors--commencing in the year 1801, and carefully brought down to the
present time. Very elaborate, but rather doubtful.


A full account of Wakley's parliamentary ratting, or political felo-de-se;
beautifully authenticated by his late Finsbury electors--with sundry cuts
by his former friends.


An extraordinary large batch of uncommonly cheap bread, manufactured by
one John Russell. A beautiful electioneering and imaginative production,
though now rather stale.


A future contract for the continuance of the poor-laws, and the right of
pumps for the guardians to concoct the soup.

N.B. Filters used if too strong.


Daniel O'Connell's opinions upon the repeal of the union, now that he is
Lord Mayor of Dublin: to be sold without reserve to the highest bidder.

The whole of the above are submitted to the public, in the sincere hope of
their meeting purchasers--as the price is all that is wanting to ensure a
_bona  fide_ sale. No catalogues--no particulars--no guarantees--no
deductions--and no money returned.

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir PETER LAURIE has set his awful face against suicide! He will in no way
"encourage" _felo-de-se_. Fatal as this aldermanic determination may be to
the interests of the shareholders of Waterloo, Vauxhall, and Southwark
Bridges, Sir PETER has resolved that no man--not even in the suicidal
season of November--shall drown, hang, or otherwise destroy himself, under
any pretence soever! Sir PETER, with a very proper admiration of the
pleasures of life, philosophises with a full stomach on the ignorance and
wickedness of empty-bellied humanity; and Mr. HOBLER--albeit in the
present case the word is not reported--doubtless cried "Amen!" to the
wisdom of the alderman. Sir PETER henceforth stands sentinel at the gate
of death, and any hungry pauper who shall recklessly attempt to touch the
knocker, will be sentenced to "the treadmill for a month as a rogue and

One _William Simmons_, a starving tailor, in a perishing condition,
attempts to cut his throat. He inflicts upon himself a wound which, "under
the immediate assistance of the surgeon of the Compter," is soon healed;
and the offender being convalescent, is doomed to undergo the cutting
wisdom of Sir PETER LAURIE. Hear the alderman "Don't you know _that that
sort_ of murder (suicide) _is as bad as any other?_" If such be the
case--and we would as soon doubt the testimony of Balaam's quadruped as
Sir PETER--we can only say, that the law has most shamefully neglected to
provide a sufficing punishment for the enormity. Sir PETER speaks with the
humility of true wisdom, or he would never have valued his own throat for
instance--that throat enriched by rivulets of turtle soup, by streams of
city wine and city gravies--at no more than the throat of a hungry tailor.
There never in our opinion was a greater discrepancy of windpipe. Sir
PETER'S throat is the organ of wisdom--whilst the tailor's throat, by the
very fact of his utter want of food, is to him an annoying superfluity.
And yet, says Sir PETER by inference, "It is _as bad_, William Simmons, to
cut your own throat, as to cut mine!" If true Modesty have left other
public bodies, certainly she is to be found in the court of aldermen.

Sir PETER proceeds to discourse of the mysteries of life and death in a
manner that shows that the executions of his shrievalty were not lost upon
his comprehensive spirit. Suicides, however, have engaged his special
consideration; for he says--

    "Suicides and attempts, or apparent attempts, to commit suicide,
    very much increase, I regret to say. _I know that a morbid
    humanity exists_, and does much mischief as regards the
    practice. _I shall not encourage attempts of the kind_, but
    shall punish them; and I sentence you to the treadmill for a
    month, as a rogue and vagabond. I shall look _very narrowly at
    the cases_ of persons brought before me on such charges."

Sir PETER has, very justly, no compassion for the famishing wretch stung
and goaded "to jump the life to come." Why should he? Sir PETER is of that
happy class of men who have found this life too good a thing to leave.
"They call this world a bad world," says ROTHSCHILD on a certain occasion;
"for my part, I do not know of a better." And ROTHSCHILD was even a
greater authority than Sir PETER LAURIE on the paradise of L s. d.

The vice of the day--"a morbid humanity" towards the would-be suicide--is,
happily, doomed. Sir PETER LAURIE refuses to patronise any effort at
self-slaughter; and, moreover, threatens to "look very narrowly at the
cases" of those despairing fools who may be caught in the attempt. It
would here be well for Sir PETER to inform the suicidal part of the public
what amount of desperation is likely to satisfy him as to the genuineness
of the misery suffered. _William Simmons_ cuts a gash in his throat; the
Alderman is not satisfied with this, but having looked very narrowly into
the wound, declares it to be a proper case for the treadmill. We can well
believe that an impostor trading on the morbid humanity of the times--and
there is a greater stroke of business done in the article than even the
sagacity of a LAURIE can imagine--may, in this cold weather, venture an
immersion in the Thames or Serpentine, making the plunge with a
declaratory scream, the better to extract practical compassion from the
pockets of a morbidly humane society; we can believe this, Sir PETER, and
feel no more for the trickster than if our heart were made of the best
contract saddle-leather; but we confess a cut-throat staggers us; we fear,
with all our caution, we should be converted to a belief in misery by a
gash near the windpipe. Sir PETER, however, with his enlarged mind,
professes himself determined to probe the wound--to look narrowly into its
depth, breadth, and length, and to prescribe the treadmill, according to
the condition of the patient! Had the cautious Sir PETER been in the kilt
of his countryman _Macbeth_, he would never have exhibited an "admired
disorder" on the appearance of _Banquo_ with his larynx severed in two;
not he--he would have called the wound a slight scratch, having narrowly
looked into it, and immediately ordered the ghost to the guard-house.

The Duke of WELLINGTON, who has probably seen as many wounds as Sir PETER
LAURIE, judging the case, would, by his own admission, have inflicted the
same sentence upon the tailor _Simmons_ as that fulminated by the
Alderman. ARTHUR and PETER would, doubtless, have been of one accord,
_Simmons_ avowed himself to be starving. Now, in this happy land--in this
better Arcadia--every man who wants food is proved by such want an idler
or a drunkard. The victor of Waterloo--the tutelary wisdom of England's
counsels--has, in the solemnity of his Parliamentary authority, declared
as much. Therefore it is most right that the lazy, profligate tailor, with
a scar in his throat, should mount the revolving wheel for one month, to
meditate upon the wisdom of Dukes and the judgments of Aldermen!

We no more thought of dedicating a whole page to one Sir PETER LAURIE,
than the zoological Mr. CROSS would think of devoting an acre of his
gardens to one ass, simply because it happened to be the largest known
specimen of the species. But, without knowing it, Sir PETER has given a
fine illustration of the besetting selfishness of the times. Had LAURIE
been born to hide his ears in a coronet, he could not have more strongly
displayed the social insensibility of the day. The prosperous saddler, and
the wretched, woe-begone tailor, are admirable types of the giant
arrogance that dominates--of the misery that suffers.

There is nothing more talked of with less consideration of its meaning and
relative value than--Life. Has it not a thousand different definitions? Is
it the same thing to two different men?

Ask the man of independent wealth and sound body to paint Life, and what a
very pretty picture he will lay before you. He lives in another
world--has, as _Sir Anthony Absolute_ says, a sun and moon of his own--a
realm of fairies, with attending sprites to perform his every compassable
wish. To him life is a most musical monosyllable; making his heart dance,
and thrilling every nerve with its so-potent harmony. Life--but especially
his life--is, indeed, a sacred thing to him; and loud and deep are his
praises of its miracles. Like the departed ROTHSCHILD, "he does not know a
better;" certain we are, he is in no indecent haste to seek it.

Demand of the prosperous man of trade--of the man of funds, and houses,
and land, acquired by successful projects--what is Life? He will try to
call up a philosophic look, and passing his chin through his hand--(there
is a brilliant on his little finger worth at least fifty guineas)--he will
answer, "Life, sir--Life has its ups and downs; but taken altogether, for
my part, I think a man a great sinner, a very great sinner, who doesn't
look upon life as a very pretty thing. But don't let's talk of such dry
stuff--take off your glass--hang it!--no heel-taps."

Ask another, whose whole soul, like a Ready Reckoner, is composed of
figures,--what is Life? He, perhaps, will answer, "Why, sir, Life--if you
insure at our office--is worth more than at any other establishment. We
divide profits, and the rate of insurance decreases in proportion," &c.
&c.; and thus you will have Life valued, by the man who sees nothing in it
but a privilege to get money, as the merest article of commercial stock.

Inquire of many an Alderman what is Life? He will tell you that it is a
fine, dignified, full-bellied, purple-faced creature, in a furred and
violet-coloured gown. "Life," he will say, "always has its pleasures; but
its day of great delight is the Ninth of November. Life, however, is
especially agreeable in swan-hopping season, when white-bait abounds at
Blackwall and Greenwich, and when the Lord Mayor gives his Easter-ball;
and 'keeps up the hospitalities of his high office.'" Not, however, that
life is without its graver duties--its religious observations. Oh, no! it
is the duty of well-to-do Life to punish starving men for forgetting its
surpassing loveliness--it is a high obligation of Life to go to church in
a carriage, and confess itself a miserable sinner--it is the duty of Life
to read its bible; and then the Alderman, to show that he is well versed
in the volume, quotes a passage--"when the voice of the turtle is heard in
the land."

Now ask the Paisley weaver what is Life? Bid the famine-stricken
multitudes of Bolton to describe with their white lips the surpassing
beauty of human existence. Can it be possible that the glorious
presence--the beneficent genius that casts its blessings in the paths of
other men--is such an ogre, a fiend, to the poor? Alas! is he not a daily
tyrant, scourging with meanest wants--a creature that, with all its bounty
to others, is to the poor and destitute more terrible than Death? Let
Comfort paint a portrait of Life, and now Penury take the pencil. "Pooh!
pooh!" cry the sage LAURIES of the world, looking at the two
pictures--"that scoundrel Penury has drawn an infamous libel. _That_ Life!
with that withered face, sunken eye, and shrivelled lip; and what is
worse, with a suicidal scar in its throat! _That_ Life! The painter Penury
is committed for a month as a rogue and vagabond. We shall look very
narrowly into these cases."

We agree with the profound Sir PETER LAURIE that it is a most wicked, a
most foolish act of the poor man to end his misery by suicide. But we
think there is a better remedy for such desperation than the tread-mill.
The surest way for the rich and powerful of the world to make the poor man
more careful of his life is to render it of greater value to him.


       *       *       *       *       *




    NORMA  (the Deserted)       LORD MELBOURNE.
    ADALGISA (the Seductive)    SIR R. PEEL.
    POLLIO (the Faithless)      MR. WAKLEY.
    CHILDREN                    MASTERS RUSSELL & MORPETH.]

       *       *       *       *       *



[Illustration: F]From experience we are aware that the invention of the
useful species of phrenotypics, alluded to in our last chapter, does not
rest with the grinder alone. We once knew a medical student (and many even
now at the London hospitals will recollect his name without mentioning
it), who, when he was grinding for the Hall, being naturally of a
melodious and harmonic disposition, conceived the idea of learning the
whole of his practice of physic by setting a description of the diseases
to music. He had a song of some hundred and twenty verses, which he called
"The Poetry of Steggall's Manual;" and this he put to the tune of the
"Good Old Days of Adam and Eve." We deeply lament that we cannot produce
the whole of this lyrical pathological curiosity. Two verses, however,
linger on our memory, and these we have written down, requesting that they
may be said or sung to the air above-mentioned, and dedicating them to the
gentlemen who are going up next Thursday evening. They relate to the
symptoms, treatment, and causes of Haemoptysis and Haematemesis; which
terms respectively imply, for the benefit of the million unprofessional
readers who weekly gasp for our fresh number, a spitting of blood from the
lungs and a vomiting of ditto from the stomach. The song was composed of
stanzas similar to those which follow, except the portion relating to
_Diseases of the Brain_, which was more appropriately separated into the
old English division of _Fyttes_.


  A sensation of weight and oppression at the chest, sirs;
  With tickling at the larynx, which scarcely gives you rest, sirs;
  Full hard pulse, salt taste, and tongue very white, sirs;
  And blood brought up in coughing, of colour very bright, sirs.
  It depends on causes three--the first's exhalation;
  The next a ruptured artery--the third, ulceration.
  In treatment we may bleed, keep the patient cool and quiet,
  Acid drinks, digitalis, and attend to a mild diet.
        Sing hey, sing ho, we do not grieve
        When this formidable illness takes its leave.


  Clotted blood is thrown up, in colour very black, sirs,
  And generally sudden, as it comes up in a crack, sirs.
  It's preceded at the stomach by a weighty sensation;
  But nothing appears ruptured upon examination.
  It differs from the last, by the particles thrown off, sirs,
  Being denser, deeper-coloured, and without a bit of cough, sirs.
  In plethoric habits bleed, and some acid draughts pour in, gents,
  With Oleum Terebinthinae (small doses) and astringents.
        Sing hey, sing ho; if you think the lesion spacious,
        The Acetate of Lead is found very efficacious.

Thus, in a few lines a great deal of valuable professional information is
conveyed, at the same time that the tedium of much study is relieved by
the harmony. If poetry is yet to be found in our hospitals--a queer place
certainly for her to dwell, unless in her present feeble state the
frequenters of Parnassus have subscribed to give her an in-patient's
ticket--we trust that some able hand will continue this subject for the
benefit of medical students generally; for, we repeat, it is much to be
regretted that no more of this valuable production remains to us than the
portion which Punch has just immortalized, and set forth as an apt example
for cheering the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. The gifted hand
who arranged this might have turned Cooper's First Lines of Surgery into a
tragedy; Dr. Copeland's Medical Dictionary into a domestic melodrama, with
long intervals between the acts; and the Pharmacopoeia into a light
one-act farce. It strikes us if the theatres could enter into an
arrangement with the Borough Hospitals to supply an amputation every
evening as the finishing _coup_ to an act, it would draw immensely when
other means failed to attract.

The last time we heard this poem was at an harmonic meeting of medical
students, within twenty shells' length of the ---- School dissecting-room.
It was truly delightful to see these young men snatching a few Anacreontic
hours from their harassing professional occupations. At the time we heard
it, the singer was slightly overcome by excitement and tight boots; and,
at length, being prevailed upon to remove the obnoxious understandings,
they were passed round the table to be admired, and eventually returned to
their owner, filled with half-and-half, cigar-ashes, broken pipes,
bread-crusts, and gin-and-water. This was a jocular pleasantry, which only
the hilarious mind of a medical student could have conceived.

As the day of examination approaches, the economy of our friend undergoes
a complete transformation, but in an inverse entomological
progression--changing from the butterfly into the chrysalis. He is seldom
seen at the hospitals, dividing the whole of his time between the grinder
and his lodgings; taking innumerable notes at one place, and endeavouring
to decipher them at the other. Those who have called upon him at this
trying period have found him in an old shooting-jacket and slippers,
seated at a table, and surrounded by every book that was ever written upon
every medical subject that was ever discussed, all of which he appears to
be reading at once--with little pieces of paper strewn all over the room,
covered with strange hieroglyphics and extraordinary diagrams of chemical
decompositions. His brain is just as full of temporary information as a
bad egg is of sulphuretted hydrogen; and it is a fortunate provision of
nature that the _dura mater_ is of a tough fibrous texture--were it not
for this safeguard, the whole mass would undoubtedly go off at once like a
too tightly-rammed rocket. He is conscious of this himself, from the
grinding information wherein he has been taught that the brain has three
coverings, in the following order:--the _dura mater_, or Chesterfield
overall; the _tunica arachnoidea_, or "dress coat of fine Saxony cloth;"
and, in immediate contact, the _pia mater_, or five-and-sixpenny long
cloth shirt with linen wristbands and fronts. This is a brilliant specimen
of the helps to memory which the grinder affords, as splendid in its
arrangement as the topographical methods of calling to mind the course of
the large arteries, which define the abdominal aorta as Cheapside, its two
common iliac branches, as Newgate-street and St. Paul's Churchyard, and
the medio sacralis given off between them, as Paternoster-row.

Time goes on, bringing the fated hour nearer and nearer; and the student's
assiduity knows no bounds. He reads his subjects over and over again, to
keep them fresh in his memory, like little boys at school, who try to
catch a last bird's-eye glance of their book before they give it into the
usher's hands to say by heart. He now feels a deep interest in the
statistics of the Hall, and is horrified at hearing that "nine men out of
thirteen were sent back last Thursday!" The subjects, too, that they were
rejected upon frighten him just as much. One was plucked upon his anatomy;
another, because he could not tell the difference between a daisy and a
chamomile; and a third, after "being in" three hours and a quarter, was
sent back, for his inability to explain the process of making malt from
barley,--an operation, whose final use he so well understands, although
the preparation somewhat bothered him. And thus, funking at the rejection
of a clever man, or marvelling at the success of an acknowledged
fool--determining to take prussic acid in the event of being
refused--reading fourteen hours a day--and keeping awake by the combined
influence of snuff and coffee--the student finds his first ordeal approach.

       *       *       *       *       *


Peter Borthwick experienced a sad disappointment lately. Having applied to
the City Chamberlain for the situation of Lord Mayor's fool, he was told
that the Corporation, in a true spirit of economy, had decided upon
dividing the duties amongst themselves. Peter was--but we were
not--surprised that between the Aldermen and tom-foolery there should

[Illustration: A STRONG ATTACHMENT.]

       *       *       *       *       *


We are happy in being able to announce that it is the intention of the new
potentate of Guildhall to revive the ancient and honourable office of
"Lord Mayor's Fool." A number of candidates have already offered
themselves, whose qualifications for the situation are so equally
balanced, that it is a matter of no small difficulty to decide amongst
them. The Light of the City has, we understand, called in Gog and
Magog--Sir Peter Laurie and Alderman Humphrey--to assist him in selecting
a fit and proper person upon whom to bestow the Civic cap and bells.

The following is a list of the individuals whose claims are under

_The Marquis of Londonderry_, who founds his claims upon the fact of his
always creating immense laughter whenever he opens his mouth.

_Lord Brougham_, who grounds his pretensions upon the agility displayed by
him in his favourite character of "the Political Harlequin."

_Lord Normanby_, upon the peculiar fitness of his physiognomy to play the
Fool in any Court.

_Daniel O'Connell_, upon his impudence, and his offer to fool it in his
new scarlet gown and cocked-hat.

_Peter Borthwick_, upon his brilliant wit, which it is intended shall
supersede the Bude Light in the House of Commons.

_Colonel Sibthorp_, upon his jokes, which have convulsed all the readers
of PUNCH, including himself.

_George Stephens_, upon the immense success of his tragedy of
"Martinuzzi," which, to the outrageous merriment of the audience, turned
out to be a farce.

_T. Wakley_, upon the comical way in which he turns his Cap of Liberty
into a _Wellington-Wig_ and back again at the shortest notice.

_Sir Francis Burdett_, upon the exceeding complacency with which he wears
his own fool's-cap.

_Ben D'Israeli_, upon his unadulterated simplicity, and the unfurnished
state of his attic.

_Mr. Muntz_, upon the _prima facie_ evidence that he is a near relative of
Gog and Magog, and therefore the best entitled to the Civic Foolship.

       *       *       *       *       *


The astonishing increase of the great metropolis in every direction--the
growing up of Brixton and Clapham--the discovery of inhabited streets and
houses in the _terra incognita_ to the northward of Pentonville--and the
spirit of maritime enterprise which the late successful voyages made by
the _Bridegroom_ steam-boat to the coast of Chelsea has excited in the
public mind--has induced a thirst for knowledge, and a desire to be
acquainted with the exact geographical position of this habitable world,
of which it is admitted Pinnock's work does not give the remotest idea. To
supply this deficiency, PUNCH begs leave to offer to his friends and
readers _his_ Catechism of Geography, which, if received with the
extraordinary favour it deserves from the public, may be followed by
catechisms on other interesting branches of knowledge.



_Q._ What is geography?

_A._ The looking for _places_ on a map, or in Downing-street, or anywhere
else in the world.

_Q._ What do you mean by the world?

_A._ Every place comprehended within the circle of a sixpenny omnibus fare
from the Bank.

_Q._ Of what is the world composed?

_A._ Of bricks and mortar, and Thames water.

_Q._ Into how many parts is the world usually divided?

_A._ Into four great parts, viz.--London, Westminster, Marylebone, and
Finsbury; to which may be added the Borough, which is over the water. Or
it may be said that Fashion has divided the world into two distinct parts,
viz.--the East-end and the West-end, and a great number of suburbs.

_Q._ How are the bricks and mortar subdivided?

_A._ Into continents, islands, peninsulas, and isthmuses.

_Q._ What is a continent?

_A._ Any district containing a number of separate residences and distinct
tenements, as _St. James's_, _St. Giles's_.

_Q._ What is an island?

_A._ An island is anything surrounded by the Thames, as _The Eel-Pie
Island_, and _The Convict Hulk_ at Deptford.

_Q._ What is a peninsula?

_A._ Anything that runs into the Thames, as _The Suspension Pier at
Chelsea_, and _Jack-in-the-Water_ at the Tower-stairs.

_Q._ What is an isthmus?

_A._ A narrow place that joins two continents together, as _Temple bar_,
which joins _Westminster_ to the _City_.

_Q._ How is the Thames water divided?

_A._ Morally speaking, it is divided into river water, pipe water, and

_Q._ Where is river water found?

_A._ Anywhere between Vauxhall and London Bridges. It is inhabited
principally by flounders and bargemen.

_Q._ What is pipe water?

_A._ An intermitting stream, having its source at some distant basin. It
usually runs into a cistern, until the water-rates get into arrear, when
the supply ceases through the intervention of a turncock.

_Q._ Where is gin-and-water to be found?

_A._ All over the world; but especially in the vicinity of a cab-stand.

_Q._ In what other manner is the Thames water divided?

_A._ Physically speaking, into oceans, seas, gulfs, bays, straits, lakes
and rivers.

_Q._ What is an ocean?

_A._ Any great body of water whose limits it is impossible to describe, as
_The Floating Bath_ at Southwark-bridge, and _The Real Tank_ at the
Adelphi Theatre.

_Q._ What is a sea?

_A._ Any small collection of water, as at Chel_sea_, Batter_sea._

_Q._ What is a gulf?

_A._ A gulf is any place, the greater part of which is surrounded by
lawyers, as _Lincoln's Inn,--The Court of Chancery_.

_Q._ What is a haven?

_A._ A commodious harbour, where people lie at anchor in perfect security,
as _The Queen's Bench,--The Fleet_, the sight of which is

[Illustration: ENOUGH TO TURN ONE'S HEAD.]

_Q._ What is a strait?

_A._ A strait is a narrow passage which connects two broad principles as
_Wakley's Straits_, which join Radicalism and Conservatism.

_Q._ What is a lake?

_A._ A lake is any small portion of Honesty, entirely surrounded by Self,
as _Peel's Politics_.

_Q._ What is a river?

_A._ A river is a Tax-stream which rises from the Treasury, and runs into
the pockets of the Ministerial party. The People are _the source_ of the
stream--the Ministry is _the mouth_. When the mouth is very wide, it is
called a _Tory mouth_. The _right_ or _left_ banks of a Tax stream are the
_Treasury_ or _Opposition benches_, to the right or left of the Speaker
when he has his back to the source.

_Q._ How are tax streams divided?

_A._ Into _salaries_ and _pensions_.

_Q._ What is _a conflux_?

_A._ Any place where two or more salaries or pensions are united, as The
Duke's breeches-pocket.

_Q._ Is there any other peculiarity attending a tax stream?

_A._ Yes. _Radicalism_ is that part of a stream nearest to its _source_;
_Toryism_ that part nearest to its _mouth_.

       *       *       *       *       *



Colonel Sibthorp begs to inform the Editor of Punch that the loss of the
wooden gun named "Policy," which was destroyed by the late fire at the
Tower, is not irreparable. He has himself been for a long time employed by
the Tories for a similar purpose as that for which the "Policy" had been
successfully used, namely, to make the enemy believe they were well
provided with real artillery; and being now the _greatest wooden gun_ in
the world, he will, immediately on the Lower Armoury being rebuilt, be
happy to take the place of the gun which has been unfortunately consumed.

       *       *       *       *       *



Merciful Heaven! we shudder as we write! The state of destitution to which
the civic authorities are reduced is appalling. Will our readers believe
it--there were only five hundred tureens of turtle, or two thousand five
hundred pints, or _five thousand_ basins, amongst not quite fifteen
hundred guests,--only two basins and a half a man,--for the first course!
But we print the bill of fare; it will be read with intense interest by
the manufacturers of Paisley, inhabitants of poor-law unions, but more
especially by the literary community.

"GENERAL BILL OF FARE.--250 tureens of real turtle, containing five pints
each; 200 bottles of sherbet; 6 dishes of fish; 30 entrees; 4 boiled
turkeys and oysters; 60 roast pullets; 60 dishes of fowls; 46 ditto of
capons; 50 French pies; 60 pigeon pies; 53 hams (ornamented); 43 tongues;
2 quarters of house lamb; 2 barons of beef; 3 rounds of beef; 2 stewed
rumps of beef; 13 sirloins, rumps, and ribs of beef; 6 dishes of
asparagus; 60 ditto of mashed and other potatoes; 44 ditto of shell-fish;
4 ditto of prawns; 140 jellies; 50 blancmanges; 40 dishes of tarts
(creamed); 30 ditto of orange and other tourtes; 40 ditto of almond
pastry; 20 Chantilly baskets; 60 dishes of mince pies; 56 salads; peas and
asparagus. The Removes:--30 roast turkeys; 6 leverets; 80 pheasants; 24
geese; 40 dishes of partridges; 15 dishes of wild fowl; 2 pea-fowls.
Dessert:--100 pineapples, from 2 lb. to 3 lb. each; 200 dishes of
hot-house grapes; 250 ice creams; 50 dishes of apples; 100 ditto of pears;
60 ornamented Savoy cakes; 75 plates of walnuts; 80 ditto of dried fruit
and preserves; 50 ditto of preserved ginger; 60 ditto of rout cakes and
chips; 46 ditto of brandy cherries.

"THE PRINCIPAL TABLE (at which the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor presides).--10
tureens of turtle, 10 bottles of sherbet, 6 dishes of fish, 30 entrees, 1
boiled turkey and oysters, 2 roast pullets, 2 dishes of fowls, 2 ditto of
capons, 2 French pies, 2 pigeon pies, 2 hams (ornamented), 2 tongues, 1
quarter of house-lamb, 1 stewed rump of beef, 1 sirloin of beef, 6 dishes
of asparagus, 2 dishes of mashed and other potatoes, 3 ditto of
shell-fish, 1 dish of prawns, 3 jellies, 3 blancmanges, 2 dishes of tarts
(creamed), 2 dishes of orange and other tourtes, 2 dishes of almond
pastry, 4 Chantilly baskets, 2 dishes of mince pies, 4 salads. Removes:--3
roast turkeys, 1 leveret, 3 pheasants, 2 geese, 2 dishes of partridges, 1
dish of wild fowl, 2 peafowls. Dessert:--6 pine-apples, 12 dishes of
grapes, 10 ice creams, 2 dishes of apples, 4 dishes of pears, 2 ornamented
Savoy cakes, 3 plates of walnuts, 4 plates of dried fruit and preserves, 3
plates of preserved ginger, 3 plates of rout cakes and chips, 3 plates of
brandy cherries.

"THE FIVE UPPER TABLES.--80 tureens of turtle, 60 bottles of sherbet, 3
boiled turkeys and oysters, 16 roast pullets, 20 dishes of fowls, 15 ditto
of capons, 16 French pies, 16 pigeon pies, 16 hams (ornamented), 13
tongues, 1 quarter of house-lamb, 1 round of beef, 1 stewed rump of beef,
4 sirloins, rumps and ribs of beef, 20 dishes of mashed and other
potatoes, 12 ditto of shell-fish, 1 dish of prawns, 40 jellies, 16
blancmanges, 13 dishes of tarts (creamed), 9 ditto of orange and other
tourtes, 13 ditto of almond pastry, 16 Chantilly baskets, 20 dishes of
mince pies, 17 salads. Removes: 23 roast turkeys, 5 leverets, 23
pheasants, 7 geese, 13 dishes of partridges, 5 ditto of wild fowl.
Dessert:--32 pine-apples, 64 dishes of grapes, 80 ice creams, 15 dishes of
apples, 30 ditto of pears, 18 ornamented Savoy cakes, 24 plates of
walnuts, 26 ditto of dried fruit and preserves, 15 ditto of preserved
ginger, 18 ditto of rout cakes and chips, 14 ditto of brandy cherries.

bottles of sherbet, 3 roast pullets, 6 dishes of fowls, 5 dishes of
capons, 5 French pies, 7 pigeon pies, 6 hams (ornamented), 5 tongues, 1
sirloin of beef, 6 dishes of mashed and other potatoes, 5 ditto of
shell-fish, 1 dish of prawns, 16 jellies, 5 blancmanges, 4 dishes of tarts
(creamed), 3 dishes of orange and other tourtes, 4 dishes of almond
pastry, 6 dishes of mince pies, 6 salads. Removes:--10 roast turkeys, 10
pheasants, 3 geese, 4 dishes of partridges. Dessert:--10 pine-apples, 20
dishes of grapes, 26 ice creams, 5 dishes of apples, 12 ditto of pears, 7
ornamented Savoy cakes, 8 plates of walnuts, 8 ditto of dried fruit and
preserves, 5 ditto of preserved ginger, 7 ditto of rout cakes and chips, 5
ditto of brandy cherries.

"THE FOUR LONG TABLES IN THE BODY OF THE HALL.--80 tureens of turtle, 60
bottles of sherbet, 17 roast pullets, 20 dishes of fowls, 15 dishes of
capons, 16 French pies, 20 pigeon pies, 16 hams (ornamented), 13 tongues,
1 round of beef, 1 stewed rump of beef, 4 sirloins, rumps, and ribs of
beef, 20 dishes of mashed and other potatoes, 13 dishes of shell-fish, 40
jellies, 16 blancmanges, 13 dishes of tarts (creamed), 10 ditto of orange
and other tourtes, 13 ditto of almond pastry, 20 ditto of mince pies, 17
salads. Removes:--23 roast turkeys, 23 pheasants, 7 geese, 13 dishes of
partridges, 5 ditto of wild fowl. Dessert:--32 pine-apples, 64 dishes of
grapes, 80 ice creams, 16 dishes of apples, 30 ditto of pears, 20
ornamented Savoy cakes, 24 plates of walnuts. 26 ditto of dried fruit and
preserves, 16 ditto of preserved ginger, 20 ditto of rout cakes and chips,
15 ditto of brandy cherries.

"THE SEVEN SIDE TABLES.--24 tureens of turtle, 20 bottles of sherbet, 7
roast pullets, 5 dishes of fowls, 4 ditto of capons, 5 French pies, 5
pigeon pies, 6 hams (ornamented), 4 tongues, 1 sirloin of beef, 5 dishes
of mashed and other potatoes, 4 ditto of shell-fish, 1 dish of prawns, 15
jellies, 4 blancmanges, 3 dishes of tarts (creamed), 2 ditto of orange and
other tourtes, 3 ditto of almond pastry, 5 ditto of mince pies, 5 salads.
Removes--9 roast turkeys, 9 pheasants, 2 geese, 20 dishes of partridges.
Dessert:--8 pine-apples, 16 dishes of grapes, 24 ice creams, 5 dishes of
apples, 16 ditto of pears, 6 ornamented Savoy cakes, 7 plates of walnuts,
7 ditto of dried fruit and preserves, 5 ditto of preserved ginger, 6 ditto
of rout cakes and chips, 4 ditto of brandy cherries.

28 bottles of sherbet, 10 roast pullets, 7 dishes of fowls. 6 ditto of
capons, 5 French pies, 10 pigeon pies, 7 hams (ornamented), 6 tongues, 1
round of beef, 2 sirloins and ribs of beef, 7 dishes of mashed and other
potatoes, 6 ditto of shell-fish, 21 jellies, 6 blancmanges, 5 dishes of
tarts (creamed), 4 ditto of orange and other tourtes, 5 ditto of almond
pastry, 7 ditto of mince pies, 7 salads. Removes:--12 roast turkeys, 12
pheasants, 3 geese, 5 dishes of partridges, 4 ditto of wild fowl.
Dessert:--12 pine-apples, 24 dishes of grapes, 30 ice creams, 7 dishes of
apples, 14 ditto of pears, 7 ornamented Savoy cakes, 9 plates of walnuts,
9 ditto of dried fruit and preserves, 6 ditto of preserved ginger, 7 ditto
of rout cakes and chips, 5 ditto of brandy cherries.

"WINES:--Champagne, Hock, Claret, Madeira, Port, and Sherry."

       *       *       *       *       *



  Apoplexia came down on the Alderman fold,
  And his cohorts were gleaming with jaundice like gold,
  And the sheen of the spectres that own'd his behest
  Glimmer'd bright as the gas at a new Lord May'r's feast.

  Every fiend that humanity shrinks from was there--
  Hepatitis, Lumbago, with hollow-eyed Care,
  Hypochondria, and Gout grinning ghastly with pain,
  And of Incubi phantoms a horrible train.

  And onwards they gallop'd in brotherly pairs;
  Their pennons pale yellow, their steeds were night mares;
  And their leader's grim visage a darksome smile wore
  As he gave the word "Halt" at the Mansion-house door.

  The vision dismounted, and peering within,
  'Midst a rattle of glasses and knife and fork din,
  His victims beheld, tucking in calipash,
  While they hob-nobb'd and toasted in Burgundy wash.

  Then he straightway amongst them his grisly form cast,
  And breathed on each puffing red face as he pass'd;
  And the eyes of the feasters wax'd deadly and chill,
  And their stomachs once heaved, and for ever grew still!

  And the turtle devourers were stretched on the floor--
  Each cheek changed to purple--so crimson before!
  Their dewlaps all dabbled with red wine and ale,
  And extremities cold as a live fish's tail!

  And there lay the Liv'ryman, breathless and lorn,
  With waistcoat and new inexpressibles torn;
  And the Hall was all silent, the band having flown,
  And the waiters stared wildly on, sweating and blown!

  And Cripplegate widows are loud in their wail!
  And Mary-Axe orphans all trembling and pale!
  For the Alderman glory has melted away,
  As mists are dispersed by the glad dawn of day.

       *       *       *       *       *


In the list of guests at the Lord Mayor's dinner we did not perceive the
name of "Harmer" among those who met to "despatch" the viands. On inquiry
we learn that since the fire at the Tower he has secluded himself in his
own _Harmer-y_, and has not egressed from "Ingress Abbey," for fear of
incendiaries. The ex-alderman having however always shown a decided
predilection for Gravesend, it is not wonderful that during the wet season
he should be


       *       *       *       *       *



At a period when every Englishman, from the Minister to the Quack Doctor
(and extremes very often meet), is laying down his pseudo-political
principles, PUNCH desires to expound his practical and scientific plan for
increasing prosperity and preserving peace. Yes, at a moment like this,
when the party difference "'twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee" has produced
a total stand-still; when Whigs cannot move, and when Tories will
not,--PUNCH steps forward to prescribe (without a fee) for the sinking

PUNCH _loquitur_.--A very great genius--one almost equal to myself--has
declared that of the great mass of mankind, ninety-nine out of every
hundred are lost in error. Every day proves the fact.--From the Peer, who
mistakes exclusiveness for dignity, and a power to injure for a right to
oppress, to the Peasant, who confounds aggression and insolence with
justice and independence, it is all error! error!! error!!!

Upon this fact rests the basis of my wonderful improvements. If the
majority be wrong, the inference is obvious--the minority must be right.
Then, in future, let everything be conducted by the minority--the sensible
few. Behold the consequences!

In those days we shall have Mr. Samuel Carter Hall, who polled three days
and got--one vote, declared County Member elect. Sibthorp shall be a man
of weight and influence, "giving to (h)airy nothing a local habitation and
a name." Roebuck shall be believed to have had ancestors; and shall wring
the nose of some small boy attached to _The Times_ newspaper; and the
Whigs--yes, the Whigs--shall be declared both wise and honest: though
Parliament has pronounced them fools, and the country has believed them to
be knaves.

_Pupil of Punch, respondet_.--That would be a change, Punch! Rather. Cast
your eye around and see the workings of this grand principle; the labours
of the many compassed by the few--steam and slavery.

_Punch_.--Very true! Let me now draw your attention to the real difference
between the English and some foreign governments:--

    The Turkish minister generally loses his power and his head at the
    same time; the English minister carries on his business without a
    head at all. For the performance of his duty the former is
    decapitated--the latter is incapacitated.

    The Japanese legislator when disgraced invariably rips up his
    bowels; the English legislator is invariably in disgrace, but has
    no bowels to rip up. With some other nations the unsuccessful
    leader gets bow-stringed and comfortably sown up in a sack; our
    great man is satisfied with getting the sack, having previously
    bagged as much as lay in his power.

(Next week I may probably continue the lecture and the parallels.)

       *       *       *       *       *


At Gray's Inn the loyalty of that society was manifested in a very
gratifying manner: the treasurer and benchers having ordered _extra wine_
to be served to the barristers and students, the health of her Majesty and
the infant Prince was drunk with enthusiastic rapture.

  Long live the Prince! For many a year
    To wet each student's throttle;
  He well deserves an _extra cheer_,
    Who brings an _extra bottle_.

       *       *       *       *       *



The author of this farce hath placed himself in the first section of the
second chapter of that treatise on "Dramatic Casualties" which hath helped
to make "Punch" the oracle of wit and of wisdom he has become to the
entire intelligence of the land, from the aristocracy upwards[2]. In this
instance he is truly one who "writeth a farce or comedy and neglecteth to
introduce jokes in the same." But this we hope will prove a solitary
instance of such neglect; for when he next inditeth, may he show that he
is not the "Wrong Man" to write a good piece; although alas, he appeared
on Saturday last to be exactly the right man for penning a bad one.

    [2] Punch, No. 11 page 131.

When a playwright produces a plot whose incidents are just within the
possibilities, and far beyond the probabilities, of this life, it is said
to be "ingenious," because of the crowd of circumstances that are huddled
into each scene. According to this acceptation, the "Wrong Man" would be a
highly ingenious farce; if that may be called a farce from which the
remotest semblance of facetiae is scrupulously excluded. Proceed we,
therefore, to an analysis of the fable with becoming gravity.

At the outset we are introduced to a maiden lady in (_horresco referens!_)
her private apartment; but to save scandal, the introduction is not made
without company--there is also her maid. _Patty Smart_, although not a new
servant, has chosen that precise moment to inform her mistress concerning
the exact situation of her private circumstances, and the precise state of
her heart. She is in love: it is for _Simon Tack_ that the flame is kept
alive; he, a dapper upholder, upholds her affections. At this point, a
triangular note is produced, which plainly foretells a dishonourable
rival. You are not deceived; it proposes an assignation in that elysium of
bachelors and precipice of destruction for young ladies, the Albany.
Wonderful to relate, it is from _Miss Thomasina Fringe's_ nephew, _Sir
Bryan Beausex_. The maiden dame is inconceivably shocked; and to show her
detestation of this indelicate proposal, agrees to personate _Patty_ and
keep the appointment herself, for the pleasure of inflicting on her nephew
a heap of mortification and a moral lecture. _Mr. Tack_ is the next
appearance: being an upholsterer, of course he has the run of the house,
so it is not at all odd to find him in a maiden lady's boudoir; the more
especially as he enters from behind his natural element--the window

It is astonishing with what pertinacity the characters in most farces will
bore one with their private affairs when they first appear! In this
respect _Sir Bryan Beausex_, in the next scene, is quite as bad as _Patty_
was in the former one. He seems to have invited four unoffending victims
to dine at his chambers in the Albany, on purpose to inform them that in
his youth he was betrothed to a girl whom he has never since seen; but
what that has to do with telling his guests to be off, because he expects
a charming little lady's-maid at six, his companions are doubtless puzzled
to understand. One of them, however, is _Beechwood_--a very considerably
diluted edition of _Jerry Bumps_ in "Turning the Tables"--who determines
to revenge this early turn-out by a trick upon the inhospitable host, and
goes off to develop it--to commence, in fact, the farce.

_Sir Bryan Beausex_ is waiting with impatience the arrival of _Patty_,
when his servant enters with a letter, which he says has been just
delivered by a servant, who galloped up to the door on a horse--an
extraordinary clever hack, we should say; for, to perform this feat, he
must have broken through a porter's lodge, galloped over a smooth
pavement, and under a roof so low, that Lord Burghersh can only traverse
it with his hat off. We should like to see a horse-race in the Albany
avenue! The letter thus so cavalierly brought, contains news of an
accident that has happened to _Miss Fringe_, and summons _Beausex's_
immediate presence. Off he goes, and on comes _Beechwood_ with a "Ha! ha!
ha!, fairly hoaxed," and all that; which is usually laughed and said by
hoaxers _of_ hoaxees.

It has happened that _Mr. Tack_, the upholsterer, having had a peep at the
contents of the cocked-hat billet, addressed to Mistress _Smart_,
conceives a violent fit of jealousy, and having also _Beausex's_ custom,
has the range of his house as well as that of _Miss Fringe_. So by this
time we naturally find him behind _Sir Bryan's_ window-curtains, to
witness the interview between him and the future _Mrs. Tack_; that is to
say, if she prove not false.

Things approach to a crisis. _Miss Fringe_ enters, but brings with her
_Alice_, the young lady whose infant heart was betrothed to _Beausex_.
She, taking the place of _Patty Smart_, goes through a dialogue with
_Beechwood_ instead of _Beausex_; and we now learn that the former
christens the farce, he being the "Wrong Man." Somewhere near this point
of the story the first act ends.

The second act is occupied in clearing up the mistakes which the audience
know all about already; but those among them who had, up to about the
middle of it, been waiting with exemplary patience for the jokes, began to
get tired of having nothing to laugh at, and hissed. Despite these noisy
drawbacks, however, we were able to find out that _Beausex_ loses his
cousin _Alice_ and her fortune (a regular farce fortune--some five or six
hundred thousand pounds or so); for she falls in love with _Beechwood_,
and _vice versa_. _Tack_ and _Patty Smart_ are rendered happy; but what
really becomes of _Beausex_ and his aunt the sibilants forbad our knowing.
We suppose, by Mr. Bartley's pantomime, that _Sir Bryan_ puts up with his
hoax and his lady-loss with a good grace; for he flourished about his
never-absent pocket-handkerchief with one hand, shook hands with _Miss
Fringe_ with the other, stepped forward, did some more dumb show to the
dissentients, and, with the rest of the actors, bowed down the curtain.

We perceive by the Times that the author of the "Wrong Man" is not so very
culpable after all. He is guiltless of the plot; that being taken from a
French piece called "Le Tapissier."

       *       *       *       *       *


Mr. Wakley feelingly remarked at the late meeting of the union masons that
the "man who would lock up _a pump_ was unfit to hold any situation of
trust." On the strength of this opinion the Earl of Waklegrave and Captain
Duff intend to proceed against the Marshal of the Queen's Bench for having
_locked them up_ for these last six months.

       *       *       *       *       *


The Times gives an extract from the _Norwich Aurora_, an American paper,
descriptive of a newly discovered cavern. The writer, with a power of
imagination almost marvellous, remarks, "The air in the cavern had a
peculiar smell, resembling--NOTHING." We believe that is the identical
flavour of "_Leg of Nothing and no turnips_."

       *       *       *       *       *


Why does a drunken milkmaid resemble a celebrated French
diplomatist?--Because she is like to _tally-wrong_--(Talleyrand.)

       *       *       *       *       *

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
1, November 13, 1841, by Various


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