9 | that it | He used me once so ungenteely | JANUARY.—"Hard Frost." SLANGOLOGY. "With many holiday and court-like phrase—" Shakespeare's Henry IV., Part I. Miss Arabella Wilhelmina Wiggins is the pattern of gentility: She never utters vulgar words, but talks just like nobility. I met her at Vauxhall, last year, and she gave me a sad relation About Miss Briggs: I recollect it every word;—but here's her own narration: "Oh, dear! my dear Miss Popkins! have you heard what befel Miss B.? (I wish, Papa, you'd get up to snuff the lights; one can hardly see: Oh, la! you've made 'em flare up so, I declare we are quite in a blaze: And, bless me! there's all the people staring at us, all in amaze!) I'll tell you, while Papa is taking his punch; his pipkin he calls the bowl, (You make yourself scarce any punch at home, Papa; so I suppose you'll drink the whole). I'm sure he will, Miss P.; and even then he wont have quench'd his drouth. (I really wonder, Pa', how you can pour so much punch down in the mouth.) But how I rattle on! quite forgetting all about Miss B. You must know we were on a visit at a country cousin's; and after tea We stroll'd about with Mr. Timbs, and Mr. Figgins, and Mr. Oddy;— I declare there he goes with his eye out-staring every body. Poor fellow! he has but one, for the other's made of glass; 'Twas a sad accident; and I'll tell you how it came to pass:— One night, he went out rabbit-shooting; the moon was shining bright; His gun was overloaded and bursted; and so one eye lost its sight. Well, Miss Briggs is a very bold girl; as bold a girl as one knows; And as we were walking along, the laundress caught my eye; and 'Betty Martin,' says Miss B., 'where do you hang out your clothes?' She came to a well after that; and, really, I am almost ashamed to tell, But, upon my word, she behav'd exceedingly ill about that well. She began to kick the bucket; and to a man who was chopping down a tree, She said: 'What are you with that axe about?' which was very rude indeed of Miss B.; And when he left off chopping, she said, 'Why don't you cut your stick?' The man was just then chopping a piece of wood that was thick. Now this made him quite confus'd; and in his hurry his skill to show off, He made a slip with his axe, and chopped poor Miss Brigg's little toe off. The shock gave me such a terrible pain all over my eyes and limbs, That I really should have fainted, if it hadn't been for that dear Mr. Timbs. Poor Frederick Figgins was so affected that I vow he began to cry; I'm sure he did, for I was close to him, and I saw a drop in his eye. He's a nice young man; and I shouldn't wonder if he soon married Miss Briggs: Her father is a coarsish man, and says he shall, please the pigs. He wasn't very gracious, tho', at first, to Mr. Figgins; For when he ask'd his consent, he said to him (I had the whole story from Mr. Higgins) 'How are you off? for soap and candles, and such-like, got me all my money; And for my daughter to marry a poor man wouldn't be vastly funny. How's your mother left you; or have you your fortune to get? If you have I wish you may get it soon; but I can't let you marry Miss Bet; But while I'm describing his bluntness, I'm wand'ring away from my point. The limbs of my relation are indeed terribly out of joint. Well, Mr. Figgins help'd Miss B. home to hop: the twig, which happen'd to lay across her foot, Sav'd her other toes, to be sure, but there was a terrible large gash in her boot. But poor Mr. F.! how he fretted! his fat cheeks than a mummy's were thinner; He never could eat any breakfast, and seldom could eat any dinner. His eyes were once bright as a star: the glaze on them now was quite ghostly; A cloud seem'd to darken his day—lightsome and gay he'd been mostly. A party he join'd at Vauxhall; but its gaieties fail'd to delight him: He did nothing but swallow rack-punch; as to eating, 'twas vain to invite him. He call'd to his friend: 'Jemmy Johnson, squeeze me a lemon;' and turning to me then, He said, in a voice that quite shock'd me, and looking as wild as a heathen: 'My spirits I cannot keep up; your pluck'd flowers droop slower than I do; I'm sure that I make no mistake,—my fate will be that of poor Dido.' (I declare I am talking pentameters; quite forgetting you're not a Blue Stocking; But that I am sure you'll excuse.)—Well, isn't the story quite shocking? Miss Briggs, tho', got quite well at last; to the dolefuls he bade adieu quickly; Yet a long while he talk'd of her death, though he no longer look'd mournful and sickly. 'All round my hat, while I liv'd,' he said, 'a crape hatband I should have worn,— A shocking bad hat, to be sure; but just fit for a lover forlorn. Think what would have been my despair, with no consolation to go to! But tho' I have not lost her quite, yet, alas! I have lost her in toe-toe.'" Paragraphs Extraordinary. [Advertisement.]—We never admit puffs into our paper in any disguise or under any circumstances, for we are sure that "the man who would make" a puff "would pick a pocket." It is a love for veracity alone that induces us to state, that Monsieur Charlatan's TUSKOLATUM MYSTIFICATUM for renewing decayed TEETH is the most wonderful and surprisingly efficacious invention ever invented. How will those ancient maidens rejoice, who have only a colt's tooth in their heads, when they are told, that by sowing this panacea in their gums overnight, a fine crop of full-grown grinders will sprout up by the following morning! We speak from our own experience; and whereas, before we used this extraordinary invention, our great anxiety was how to get teeth for our food, the only matter that now troubles us is how to get food for our teeth. Accidents.—We are happy to state that there is a great diminution in the number of accidents in the past week. Only 250 persons have been drowned by steam-boats; 320 women and children burnt to death by their clothes catching fire; 560 run over by omnibusses and cabs; 252 poisoned by taking oxalic acid instead of salts; 360 scalded to death by the bursting of steam-boilers; 200 blown to atoms by the explosion of powder-mills; and about 100—there or thereabouts—stabbed by drunken soldiers, off duty; all which evinces a great increase of vigilance, carefulness, and humanity, highly creditable to all parties concerned. FEBRUARY.—"Transfer Day at the Bank." | 1836.] | FEBRUARY. | | Look, Mrs. B——, what a crowd I see, | | And the bells they make such a clatter; | | And the people run, and I hear a gun! | | Whatever can be the matter? | | | | Mrs. C——, my dear, it's no good, I fear, | | For us honest women and our spouses, | | For the people say, the King's going to-day, | | To open two very bad houses. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | In | | | | | | | 2 | this | "TRANSFER DAY." | other | | | | | 3 | gay | As I was walking past the Bank, | matters, | | | (I know not why I stroll'd that way,) | | 4 | month | I saw a lady tall and lank, | ? ? | | | With golden ringlets mix'd with grey; | | 5 | I | And as she tripp'd, or strove to trip, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Adown the steps, so light and gay, | | 6 | would | The greasy granite made her slip, | so | | | And down she fell on Transfer Day. | | 7 | not | | worthily | | | I rais'd her up with gallant air; | | 8 | choose | For I'm a Major on half-pay, | stepped | | | Who only live to serve the fair, | | 9 | to | At any time, in any way: | | | | And while she blush'd a purple hue, | | 10 | walk | Her eyes obliquely shot a ray, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Which seem'd to say, "You will not rue | | 11 | the | Your service on a Transfer Day." | into the | | | | | 12 | streets | And while the glance she threw at me | shoes of my | | | Was thro' my heart a-making way; | | 13 | in | I straight began a colloquy, | | | | And to myself I thus did say: | | 14 | dancing | If tradesmen, when their bills they bring, | | | | Would be contented with half-pay; | ? ? ? | 15 | shoes | I'd soar aloft on freedom's wing, | | | | Nor care a rush for Transfer Day. | renowned | 16 | nor | | | | | But needy men the needful need; | | 17 | would | So, spite of ringlets golden grey, | | | | And eyes that squint, I'll take the hint, | ? ? | 18 | I | Nor throw the lucky chance away. | | | | Full soon I found—ah! pleasing sound!— | predecessor, | 19 | for | With wealth she could my love repay; | | | | No longer mute, I urg'd my suit, | | 20 | the | Upon that very Transfer Day. | | | | | ? ? ? | 21 | world | I leave untold our courtship fond:— | | | | I made her Mrs. Major Cox; | the great | 22 | be | And in return for Hymen's bond, | | | | She kindly placed me in the stocks. | FRANCIS | 23 | seen | Her heart is good, her temper mild; | | | | She rules with more than sov'reign sway; | MOORE, | 24 | to | Nor have I thought myself beguil'd, | | | | Or once regretted Transfer Day. | Defunct, | 25 | trip | | | | | | | 26 | along | | | | | | ? ? ? ? | 27 | in | | | | | | which shoes, | 28 | light | | | | | | by-the-bye, | 29 | nankeen. | | | Humbuggum Ass-trologicum, pro Anno 1836. VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: the Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons. I DO herewith, present thee with an hieroglyphic, after the accustomed usage of my lamented precursor and prototype, Francis Moore, defunct. It prefigureth a mighty change now lying in the womb of futurity, and which doubtless will be brought forth in due season by the great man-midwife, Time. And now do I most entreatingly invite thee to cast a Parthian glance at my foregone prophetic lucubrations, and especially towards that symbolical prefiguration or hieroglyphic, by which I brightly shadowed forth a certain notable event, the fulfilment whereof did so closely follow the heels of the prediction as to cause the multitude to marvel;—and when thou hast sufficiently pondered thereupon, I would ask thee whether thou dost not in verity deem me a fit and worthy successor of the renowned Francis Moore, defunct? I do thus throw myself on thy candour, because certain of mine adversaries do most unworthily insinuate, that my astrological skill is stark naught; that I hold no correspondence with the stars; that I am no more acquainted with the Great Bear than with the Great Mogul; that I gather no signs of the Times from the signs of the Zodiac; and, in brief, that I am no conjuror! My only familiar, they affirm, is a little, insignificant, diminutive thing, called Common Sense, whose aid any one may have if he chooses; that the said Common Sense collects together certain things called Past Events, with which he compares Present Appearances, and they help him to Future Probabilities; they are then put into the crucible of Ordinary Judgment; and my sagacious and veracious prophecies and hieroglyphics are the result of this simple alchemy! Candid Reader! Let thine own discretion decide, whether logical judgment or astro-logical fudgement be the art which influenceth my lucubrations. INVITATION OF "THE SELECT" To Bartholomew Fair. Come, buffers and duffers, and dashers and smashers, Come, tag, rag, and bobtail, attend to my call; Ye pickpockets, sally from court, lane, and alley, The Lord Mayor in person has open'd the ball. Come, Billingsgate sinners, and cat and dog skinners, And play up a game to make Decency stare: A fig for propriety, sense, and sobriety! They never were known at fam'd Bartlemy Fair. Come, nightmen and dustmen, and rovers and drovers; Come, Whitechapel butchers, and join in the throng! With marrow-bones and cleavers, delight the coal-heavers, While broken-nose Billy shall snuffle a song. Ye lazy mechanics, who dearly love one day, For wives and for children who never know care; Who reckon Saint Monday more holy than Sunday, Come and spend all your earnings at Bartlemy Fair. Ye wives and ye widows! here's plenty of bidders; Come hither, and each get a swain for herself; To deck yourselves gaily, and grace the Old Bailey, The pawnbrokers' shops will lend plenty of pelf. Ye youth of the city! ye servant-maids pretty! Ye unmarried damsels with characters rare! Come here and be jolly, for virtue's a folly; So, come and be ruin'd at Bartlemy Fair. | MARCH. | [1836. | | Some ready cash Dick wants to borrow | | About this time—perhaps for rent; | | But like most folks, he finds with sorrow | | He's just too late—it's always Lent. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Blowing | | | | | | | 2 | growing | "DAY AND NIGHT EQUAL." | although | | | | | 3 | here's a | 'Tis Six o'Clock;—and now the Sun | ? ? ? ? | | | His daily course begins to run; | | 4 | clatter! | While Folly's children slink away, | somewhat | | | Like bats who dread the glare of day, | | 5 | what the | From Masquerade or Fancy Ball, | clumsy | | | Where pleasure reign'd in Fashion's Hall; | | 6 | deuce | And sneak along, like guilty creatures, | | | | With tir'd limbs and haggard features. | | 7 | can be | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | The sons of toil, as they come near 'em, | | 8 | the | With coarse-spun jokes begin to jeer 'em; | withal, | | | While, au contraire, each motley hero, | | 9 | matter? | Whose wit is now far under zero, | | | | With 'not a gibe to mock their grinning,' | | 10 | tiles | Has but a sorry chance of winning. | ? ? ? ? | | | | | 11 | and | The Clown, with phiz so dull and sad, | do fit me | | | Looks grave as Ghost of Hamlet's Dad; | | 12 | chimney | And Falstaff, now he's lost his stuffing, | with | | | Looks lean as lath, and pale as muffin; | | 13 | pots | While Harlequin, half muzz'd with wine, | marvellous | | | Don't care a rush for Columbine, | | 14 | come | But leaves her, like a careless loon, | accuracy: | | | To draggle home with Pantaloon; | | 15 | down | And Romeo, with empty purse, | | | | Abandons Juliet to her nurse. | | 16 | and pay | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | The child of labour, when he sees | | 17 | their | Such silly spectacles as these,— | for these | | | How dissipation is repented,— | | 18 | duty | May with his station be contented; | reasons, | | | For mete them both with equal measure, | | 19 | to the | He'll find the hardest toil is pleasure. | I say, | | | | | 20 | crown, | | | | | | | 21 | while | | ? ? | | | | | 22 | surly | | it behoveth | | | | | 23 | north | | me to | | | | | 24 | usurps | | | | | | | 25 | the | | | | | | ? ? ? ? ? | 26 | south | | | | | | be tender | 27 | and | | | | | | of my | 28 | makes a | | | | | | | 29 | dusthole | | | | | | ? ? ? ? | 30 | of your | | | | | | | 31 | mouth | | ? ? ? ? | MARCH.—"Day and Night nearly equal." "THE LAY OF THE LAST" ALDERMAN. The feast was over on Lord Mayor's Day; The waiters had clear'd the viands away; The Common Councilmen all were gone, And every Alderman,—saving one; Who to gorge and guzzle no longer able, Had sunk to repose beneath the table, And, sooth'd by his own melodious snore, Lay calmly stretch'd on the Guildhall floor. But he lay not long in the arms of sleep, Ere a sound, that caus'd his flesh to creep, Startled him up from his downy bed, And caus'd him to raise his aching head; When oh, what a sight then met his eyes, And chill'd his soul with sad surprise! * * * * * He bawl'd aloud when the scene was o'er, Which awoke the porter, who open'd the door. When a bottle of sherry had loosen'd his tongue, 'Twas thus the latest Alderman sung:— I was rous'd from my sleep by a frightful crash, As if all the crockery'd gone to smash; And I straight beheld a terrible form,— At the end of the hall it took its stand, With a swingeing besom in its hand, And shouted out "REFORM!" Then stalking to me, it thus did say, "Gone is the glory of Lord Mayor's Day! Gone—gone, for ever! To come back never. The Corporation Reform Bill's past, And ev'ry ward is Cheap; The City of London they'll squeeze at last, And scatter her golden heap. "Portsoken no more Port shall soke, For guzzling they'll aBridge it." (I thought this quite beyond a joke, And it put me in a fidget.) "No 'fair round bellies with capon lin'd Your Aldermen shall sport; They may double the Cape, if they feel inclin'd, But they never must touch at Port. "The Worshipful Court—so fate ordains— Shall look like skeletons hanging in chains; They'll need no gowns, for they'll get so thin, They may wrap themselves round in their own loose skin; And then in vain Shall they complain, Who cannot bear the shock; Champagne shall turn to real pain, And Turtle change to mock. No calipash or calipee Their longing eyes again shall see; No more green fat! To them shall ven'son still be deer; Their stout shall turn to thin small beer, Sour and flat. "No lamps shall blaze in this spacious hall, But farthing rushlights, lank and small, Some cook-shop's dining-room shall grace, Where Mister Mayor, with sword and mace, And all the Corporation sinners, By city contract clothed and fed, Shall dine at eighteen pence a-head, And feel quite grateful for their dinners. While the armour-man, like a turtle starv'd. Shall rattle his bones in his iron shell, And no more shall feast on baron of beef, But stand content with the cook-shop smell!" Thus having said his terrible say, The horrible spectre stalk'd away, And left me in the blues; And as across the Hall he pass'd, E'en Gog and Magog stood aghast, And trembled in their shoes. Oh, dreadful night! Oh, fearful sight! To see that sight, and hear that say, An Alderman's soul it may well dismay. I felt as opprest With a pain in my chest, And as brimful of terror and ills, As if I had eaten some venison old, Or swallow'd a gallon of turtle cold, Or been poison'd by Morison's Pills. I tried to rise, and I scream'd a scream, The man at the gate came staggering in— "To be sure I did, for I heard a din; And your worship gave such a terrible snore, While you laid on your back on the Guildhall floor, That it woke you up from your dream!" Wine in a Ferment and Spirits in Hot Water. | 1836] | APRIL. | | Well, neighbour, what do the papers say | | About "The Wisdom collective?" | | Oh! their Honours are busied by night and day | | With a list of The Lords elective: | | For like old London Bridge, they declare, for years | | They've been sadly obstructed by too many peers. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Sloshy | | | | | | | 2 | squashy | "EASTER MONDAY." | budding | | | | | 3 | are | Can poet's quill, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Or painter's skill, | | 4 | the | Depict the joy | | | | Of 'Prentice Boy, | ? ? | 5 | streets, | On that bright fun day, | | | | Easter Monday? | reputation, | 6 | sloppy | | | | | Can rhetorician or logician | | 7 | droppy | Describe with aught that's like precision | ? ? ? | | | The rapture that dilates his soul, | | 8 | all | Now his own master, and beyond control? | and | | | His fancy soars aloft, like a sky-rocket! | | 9 | one | Where shall he go? | not to put | | | He doesn't know, | | 10 | meets; | Although "the world's before him where to choose," | the same | | | And he's got on a bran new pair of shoes, | | 11 | Haber- | And two bright shillings in his trousers' pocket. | | | | | | 12 | dashers | Perhaps he'll join the merry throng | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Who love the dance and song; | | 13 | mantua- | Or, drawn by Astley's horses, go, | into | | | And "struggling for the foremost row," | | 14 | makers | Enjoy the feats of fam'd Ducrow; | jeopardy | | | Or at the Circus, as they us'd to call it, | | 15 | look as | Clamour and bawl it; | by | | | And, like a little savage, | | 16 | grave as | Shout "Bravo Davidge!" | | | | Who, Richard-like, disdains to yield, | ? ? ? ? | 17 | under- | And "saddles white Surrey for the field." | | | | Or else some fellow-'prentice tells | any crude | 18 | takers, | The joys he'd quaff at Sadler's Wells. | | | | | or hasty | 19 | for | While these temptations try to start him, | | | | A sudden fancy comes athwart him,— | | 20 | shopping | "Well, only think!—why, I declare, | | | | I'd quite forgot there's Greenwich Fair! | ? ? ? ? | 21 | ladies | And won't I have a precious lark | | | | Down One-Tree Hill in Greenwich Park!" | guesses or | 22 | forced | | | | | | speculations | 23 | to | | | | | | | 24 | house | | | | | | ? ? ? | 25 | now | | | | | | thereupon, | 26 | stay | | | | | | as is the | 27 | at home | | | | | | | 28 | to | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 29 | worry | | wont | | | | | 30 | spouse. | | of those | Advertisements and Paragraphs Extraordinary. Extraordinary Circumstance.—Yesterday, a shabbily-dressed, half-genteel, poetical-looking sort of man, suddenly fell down in one of the gin-palaces in St. Giles's; after having, as it was supposed, put an end to his existence, by swallowing a quartern of Deady's Best. On taking him, however, to the Station House, and administering large doses of cold water (to which his stomach manifested a particular antipathy by repeatedly serving it with an ejectment), he was sufficiently recovered to give some account of himself; but the following lines, written on the back of a dirty tobacco paper, found in his pocket, will sufficiently explain the cause of the rash act. It will be seen that he was a man of letters, tho' (judging from his reservedness) of very few words. To Robert Short, Esq. M.P. Dear Bob,—I know that U'll XQQQ The wailings of a mournful MUUU. While U, my friend, are at your EEE, My creditors I can't apPPP: I'm CD,—drooping to DK, With not a sous my debts to pay. So lean a wight you ne'er did C,— I look just like an F-I-G. My purse is MT, it is true; But don't suppose I NV you: I O U nothing but good-will, And that I mean 2 O U still. But if my motive U'd descry For writing this, I'll tell U Y: B 4 'tis long, I hope for peace; And when U hear of my DCCC, I beg, to show your love for me, U'll write your Poet's L-E-G. I'm sure that U'll indite it well, For in such matters you XL. Say, "E was once a R T fellow, "But all his 'green leaves soon turn'd yellow,' "He didn't mind his PPP and QQQ, "But Plutus left, to woo the MUUU: "And tho' he courted all the IX, "He found them far too poor to dine; "Nay, more, the very Graces III "Could scarce afford a cup of T. "So here he lies, for want of pelf, "Who'd but one NME,—himself." An Extraordinary Turnip, of the Dwarf species, was lately dug out of a field on the estate of Major Longbow, who caused the inside to be scooped out, and gave a grand entertainment therein to a party of 250 persons.—American Paper. Falls of Niagara.—Congress has passed a resolution that a premium should be offered for a machine by which the Falls of Niagara might be rendered portable, to afford those persons who live at a distance the opportunity of viewing them at their own houses.—American Paper. | 1836.] | MAY. | | The depth of "A Winter in London," I sing:— | | For thus do the rulers of fashion declare— | | That Spring Garden shall yield all they know of the spring, | | And the charms of fair May be supplied in May Fair. | M | Season's | "Old May Day." | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Ah! well- | BY A NONAGENARIAN. | | | | | | 2 | a-day! | When I was young and in my prime, | who | | | Then ev'rything look'd gay; | | 3 | alack! | And nothing was so merry as | ? ? ? ? | | | The merry First of May: | | 4 | alas! | Kind Nature, who doth ever smile, | in place | | | Seem'd then to smile the more; | | 5 | that | And ev'ry Spring that time did bring | of | | | Seem'd greener than before. | | 6 | such a | The birds they sang so jocundly,— | | | | They fill'd the air around, | | 7 | thing | And human hearts as jocundly | ? ? ? | | | Responded to the sound. | | 8 | should | I recollect the lovely scene | consulting | | | As though I saw it still:— | | 9 | come | The mansion of a noble race | the stars | | | Was seated on a hill; | | 10 | to pass! | And smilingly it seem'd to look | | | | Upon the plain below, | | 11 | but on | Where groups of happy villagers | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Were sporting to and fro. | | 12 | my word, | The May-pole in the centre plac'd, | according to | | | All deck'd with garlands gay. | | 13 | I feel | While lads and lasses danc'd around, | art, | | | And footed it away. | | 14 | suspi- | The ruddy hostess of the inn, | | | | Which stood within the vale, | | 15 | cious, | Supplied the thirsty revellers | ? ? ? ? | | | With draughts of nut-brown ale; | | 16 | unless | While pleas'd, the neighb'ring gentry stood, | | | | And view'd the cheerful scene, | thrust forth | 17 | the stars | Or laid aside their rank to join | | | | The sports upon the green. | | 18 | prove | | ? ? | | | Ah! those were times that memory | | 19 | more | Is happy to retrace, | their | | | But chang'd, alas! and sad are those | | 20 | propi- | Which now supply their place. | own bald | | | An honest healthy peasantry | | 21 | tious, | Then shar'd the farmer's board, | and | | | Who'd shrink from parish pauper pay, | | 22 | that | As from a thing abhorr'd; | conceited | | | The sons of "Merry England" now | | 23 | I shall | Are chang'd to Mammon's slaves, | | | | And "peep about to find themselves | | 24 | nothing | Dishonourable graves." | ? ? ? | | | The "labourer," no longer "reckon'd | | 25 | have | Worthy of his hire," | | | | No more partakes the farmer's board, | suppositions | 26 | to say | Nor warms him at his fire— | | | | | | 27 | about | * * * * * | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 28 | this | (Rigdum Funnidos interrupteth:) | | | | | For these | 29 | famous | Stop, stop, old friend! I prithee, cease this prosing. | | | | Egad! you'll set my gentle readers dozing. | and other | 30 | month | The Times are bad, I own, and sad's the change; | | | | But, surely, that is not so wondrous strange; | weighty | 31 | of May! | And if it were, this is no place to joke in. | | | | | | | | Nonagenarian: | | | | | | | | Enough, good Rigdum!—I'll give over croaking. | | A DRAMATIC FACT. "Macbeth by Mr. Higgs!"— They sometimes used to let him play it in the country; And then, odds wigs! How very great he felt! One night, while he was at it, The pot-boy, from the public-house at which he dealt, Being at the wing, quoth Higgs, aside, "Od 'rat it! I do lack spirits,—but that sha'n't fret me, Here, boy, take thou this coin, and go get me"— "Some bread and cheese, and porter, innions, Sir, or what?" "Nay, no prog! Expend the shilling all in glorious grog!" "With sugar, Sir?" "Ay, and very hot; Thou knowest, lout! I only take sixpenn'orths cold without!" The pot-boy took the grog into the green-room, And left it there for Higgs:—but, as it came to pass, Lady Macbeth and Banquo having twigged it, First she took a very leetle sup,— He fairly swigged it; And so between them both, alas! Lady Macbeth and Banquo mopped it up, And hid the glass! Higgs, who all this time Had been upon the stage,— In that great scene where Macbeth's urged to crime By those foul witches,— Now strutted in,—but, oh! (excuse the rhyme,) Odds philibegs and breeches! How he did foam and rage, And writhe his face, And call the potboy hog, and dog, and log, On not perceiving his expected grog In its accustomed place. The potboy, being summoned, vowed That he had duly brought it, And, if to speak his mind he was allowed, He thought it Might have vanish'd, Being partly spirits,—like the witches, "'Tis false!" roared Higgs, "Avaunt! Be banish'd! Visit no more this realm of milk and honey! Base caitiff! YOU'VE ABSCONDED with the money!" JUNE.—"Holiday at the Public Offices" | 1836.] | JUNE. | | The Midsummer nights fly swiftly by, | | While Members are "catching the Speaker's eye;" | | And the Outs are employing their labour and wit | | On those who are In, to serve "notice to quit." | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Lawyers | "HOLIDAYS AT PUBLIC OFFICES." | | | | | | 2 | now may | I've often thought how hard the fate | and | | | Of those, who're destin'd, day by day, | | 3 | take | To rise up early, lie down late, | sufficient | | | And waste, in toil, their lives away. | | 4 | their | | reasons | | | And often have I ask'd myself, | | 5 | ease, | When musing o'er these scenes of woe, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | "Couldst thou, for sake of sordid pelf, | | 6 | and | Oppress thy fellow-creatures so?" | ? ? ? | | | | | 7 | counsel | Then fancy would begin to paint | | | | The griefs of little cotton-spinners, | instead of | 8 | reckon | Compell'd to labour till they faint, | | | | That bloated knaves may eat good dinners. | | 9 | up their | | | | | I thought of poor young milliners, | ? ? ? | 10 | fees; | Who toil all night, with matted tresses, | | | | And faces pale, that Fashion's dames | jumping | 11 | for | May grace the ball in fancy dresses. | | | | | at once | 12 | now | And then I thought upon the Pole, | | | | Condemn'd, among Siberia's snow, | into the ice | 13 | the | With shackled limbs and blighted soul, | | | | The joys of freedom ne'er to know. | and snow | 14 | welcome | | | | | With those who work in powder mill. | | 15 | long | Life's value scarcely weighs a feather, | | | | So oft exploding, 'twere no ill, | | 16 | vacation | Were they exploded altogether. | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 17 | gives a | But what are these? and what are those? | ? ? | | | Or all that thou, Oh, man! endurest? | | 18 | rest to | Compar'd with those transcendant woes | of January | | | Experienced by the Sinecurist? | | 19 | liti- | | and | | | Compell'd by eight o'clock to rise, | | 20 | gation; | By nine to get his breakfast o'er, | commencing | | | And leave some bit that gourmands prize, | | 21 | while | Because the stage is at the door. | ? ? ? | | | | | 22 | happy | And when the coachman sets him down | as the | | | At Treasury or Navy Pay, | | 23 | they on | His toil begins,—but I'll explain | learned | | | How hard he works from day to day. | | 24 | quarter | | | | | Five weary hours he stands or sits, | | 25 | day, | Or fidgets till he gets the vapours; | ? ? ? ? ? | | | And then to chase the ennui fits, | | 26 | who're | He picks his teeth, or reads the papers. | | | | | have it, | 27 | not | Perhaps his name full twenty times | | | | He writes, or writes a page of figures; | | 28 | obliged | Until are heard the welcome chimes, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Which end the toil of these white Niggers. | | 29 | to run | | ? ? ? | | | The fate of him who digs the mine, | | 30 | away! | Compar'd to this, is children's play; | ab initio, | | | Then, ah! how cruel 'tis to sneer, | | | | And call his life a holiday. | | | | | | | | Ah! radicals: ye little know | | | | 'Bout what it is ye make a clamour; | | | | Go, thank your stars you drag a truck, | | | | Or only wield a blacksmith's hammer. | | Roaming along, the other day, in those regions of Cockney retirement, the vicinity of the Cat and Mutton Fields, about a mile from the Ultima Thule of Shoreditch, I was struck by the appearance of a row of neat little houses; and my attention was so particularly arrested by one of them, that I incontinently paused to look at it. It seemed to have all the ostentatious assumption of a little man who strives to look big. It had a portico, that might have belonged to the Colosseum, with a flight of stone steps that would have graced the new palace at Pimlico; and the drawing-room windows were ambitiously overshadowed by a verandah, not unworthy of Worthing. While I was meditating on its appearance, and admiring the extraordinary air of cleanliness which distinguished it from its neighbours, a paper parcel, tied round with thread, and sealed with a thimble, fell at my feet. I looked above and around me, but no one was visible; and conceiving it to be intended for myself, I picked it up, and walked on. At a favourable opportunity I opened it, and read as follows:— "This cums Hopping that sum boddy in the Street Walking may pick me up and put me into the Square box at the Circling librey, the Place where the Post is. It is the haughty bioggrify of a unfortnit yung cretur who's in servis. Let the supperscripshun be to the Mournin Herald or the Currier or the Trew Son or the Stand Hard, or the Spekt Tatur, or any of 'em, for one's just as good as tother. I think the noospapers would take it inn, for they takes in a good many servants as wants places. "My pappa was a Baker, and he meant I shuld be Bread up like a lady, for tho I was the least of the Batch, i was the Flour of the flock. But pappa Dying, i had to git my Living, for he didn't Roll in ritches, and his guds and chappels were Saddled with detts, witch Spurred me on to Bridel my greef, tho i seldom had a Bit in my mouth, wich was hard; and when our Blow got Wind, i lost my sweethart, wich Blow was Harder. He was sitch a nice yung man; and when i walkt past his Door, he used to prays my Gate, and tell me when we were marryd we should live in Stile. But I am Loth to say, he turned out a Willing, and wanted te tak advantidge of my citywashun. But I had 2 strings to my Beau in a yung mit-chipman, but he got prest and sent on board a Tender, witch was a grate Hard Shipp for him, and I felt it. "But to cut a Long Tail Short,—when my dear Ben Bannister left me, miss fortin Staired me in the face, and every boddy turn'd their Backs on me, and I culd not bare such a Front, so i got a place as a servnt of all work, and my mind was maid up to be in duster house: but it was a Grate fall for me down into the Kitchen, tho when i got there i found a Grater; for my first missus was a Dresser, and often and often when I've bin all over greece she has calld me up to her Rome to help her on with her gownd, witch was very humblin to 1 as was used to have her own made to wait upon her. Butt i left her bekause we lived at a Fishmongers & itt Smelt so; and i had more than twenty Plaices in the first 12 months, wich Maid me quite Crabby, for I was going Backwards. But mississes are as proud as my lord Mare, and makes you work like an Horse; so I turned myself Out, for i culd not In-Door itt. "I wont trubbel you with all my trubbels, but will skipp over the hole to give you my Last, wich dont Fit me at all; and its Jest no Joke, I can ashure you, for its like as if my 20 mississes was turnd into one. I've bin in the plaice almost a month, soe I have had a pritty gud experense. "First, i Seconds all the close, & theres 13 of us in fammaly. Theres missis & master, thats 2, but misses says as how theyre 1: theres the 3 young ladys is 5; and the 3 boys from skool, where i am sure they never larnt no manners, & I dont love em at all, that's Hate; & the 2 yung babbys in harms is 10; and mr. Phipps the frunt parler loger is 11, and mr Snooks the back parler loger is 12 & i am just thirteen. So i leaves you to juge when i Hang em all out if there isnt enuff to Do for. "Missis is what they calls a not Abel womman, & keeps 1 scrubbin & doin all day long, & is so pertickler, that when master cums home on a wet day, i has to lift him into the hous for fear he shuld dirty the steps. To be shure he's a werry littel man, but then its so shockin indillikat. Missis is verry fond of Bruin too, witch i cant Bear, and i hates Hops, xcept when i goes to a dance; besides, the Hopperation quite puts one into a fomentation, and sets one all of a Work. Then the fammaly is so verry unreglar, & we keeps a deal of cumpany, tho they dont alow any follerers, and missis is always snubbin me if the Butcher or the Baker stopps a minuet att the gait. But if i were even to liv in a garratt, i shuld be abuv sitch peepel & shuld look down uppon em. I no one of the yung ladys casts a sheeps eye on the Butcher herself, but i hop he wont giv her his Hart, for i am shure she would be a gay Liver, & i no she has plenty of Tung. "Wile i am uppon theas yung ladys i culd pick a hole in em, but i abhor Back bitin. Howsomdever, tho they are Twins all Three of em, theres no Unity in One of em, and when a gentilman is interdeuced to the fammaly, they all fall in luv with him, wich must be verry embrasing to the party, and they try all their harts of captywashun. Miss Carryline rites a billy dux anomilously and folds it like a trew lovyers not, to puzzel him. Miss Matilda makes annoys on the harp with her bigg Fistis, and says she had her lessons from a Boxer; and miss Jimmima thumps away on the piney Forty, Fifty times a day, to git pirfict for the heavening. I often wishes thare was locks to them keys. "But all their Harts wont do, & theyve none of them got a Deer yet, for they make themselves 2 Chepe, & they are all of em verry jellus of me, bekause the 2 gentilmen logers has a grate licking for me; & they carrys their spit so Fur that I mustnt ware a Bore, and they sets their mama Hat me if they sees a bit of lace on my Cap. They makes quite a Furze too if i incloses my Waste with a ribbon tho its so Common; & I'm shure they had better pay what they Hose than find fault with my Stockins; for they stands over me while i am Pinking em, witch shose they aint well Red in their manors, and they wont lett me Ware em no Ware. I shuld lik to no why servnts aint to doo what they likes with their hone; for Ive red theyve as big a steak in the common unity as their Betters, who're many of em nothin else but Gamblers. "But i dont mind the Hitts of sich Misses: for its all Shear envy, becaus they wants to Cut me out with the 2 logers, & had rayther see me Hangd than Halter my condishun. But the gentilmen dont lik none of em, for theyre as tall and as pail as 2 hapenny Rushlites and a grate deal more Wicked. Mr. Snooks, the loger as walks the Horsepittels in the back parler, says theyre more like ottomies than wimmen, for they've none of em got no hannimashun; and mr. Phipps the clark as hokkipies the frunt parler says theyre quite Ciphers to me, for i am a better Figger, & more uprighter than any 1 of em. He sometimes carrys his devours to such a Pitch, that if i culd forgit my Tar, I see no resin why i shuld not marry him, & then the miss Rushlites would be very much Put Out when they'd lost one of their Flames. "Mr. Phipps is a littery man, and nose a Grate many Tongs, and has maid a bigg book of Pottery, full of Plates. He tells me not to be jellus because he Courts the Mews, & has sent me the histry of his life & a coppy of verses on my mississes yousidge of me; and i hop you'll tell the noospaper man he mustnt take my life without takin his'n & he may have the pottery into the bargain. "Notty Benny.—My life shall be conclooded att the first hopportunitty. "So no more at presnt from yours humbely to comand "Moldydusta Moggs." "Post Scripp. I forgot to tell you that i cant git enuff to heat, missis is sitch a skin Flint, unless I Steel it, & that's unpossebel, for she always takes care to lock upp the Cold Heatabels." | 1836.] | JULY. | | Dear me! how hot the weather grows— | | There's scarce a breath to cool one's face; | | Through Air Street not a zephyr blows, | | Nor e'en a breeze from Wind-ham Place. | | Down Regent Street, so lazy all one sees, | | There's nobody "industrious" but "The Fleas." | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | belly | | | | | | | 2 | back | A DOGGEREL FOR THE DOG DAYS. | (that | | | | | 3 | hips | Most doggedly I do maintain, | is to say, | | | And hold the dogma true,— | | 4 | reins, | That four-legg'd dogs altho' we see, | beginning | | | We've some that walk on two. | | 5 | all | | at the | | | Among them there are clever dogs; | | 6 | full of | A few you'd reckon mad; | beginning) | | | While some are very jolly dogs, | | 7 | aches | And others very sad. | ? ? ? ? | | | | | 8 | and | You've heard of Dogs, who, early taught, | ? ? ? | | | Catch halfpence in the mouth;— | | 9 | pains | But we've a long-tail'd Irish dog, | | | | With feats of larger growth. | I do | 10 | because | | | | | Of Dogs who merely halfpence snatch | | 11 | I know | The admiration ceases, | prefer | | | For he grows saucy, sleek, and fat, | | 12 | not | By swallowing penny-pieces! | | | | | | 13 | what | He's practising some other feats, | ? ? ? ? | | | Which time will soon reveal; | | 14 | to do | One is, to squeeze an Orange flat, | | | | And strip it of its Peel. | jogging | 15 | the | | | | | The next he'll find a toughish job, | | 16 | Season's | For one so far in years; | along | | | He wants to pull an old House down, | | 17 | Signs | That's now propp'd up by Peers. | | | | | | 18 | are | I've heard of physic thrown to dogs, | ? ? ? ? | | | And very much incline | | 19 | now | To think it true, for we've a pack | slowly and | | | Who only bark and w(h)ine. | | 20 | so few | | | | | The Turnspit of the sad old days | cautelously; | 21 | and | Is vain enough to boast, | | | | Altho' his "occupation's gone," | | 22 | all | He still could rule the roast. | ? ? ? | | | | | 23 | that | But turnspits now are out of date,— | | | | We all despise the hack, | feeling | 24 | I have | And in the kitchen of the state | | | | We still prefer a Jack. | my way, | 25 | got | | | | | | | 26 | to say | | | | | | as it were, | 27 | is, take | | | | | | with | 28 | care of | | | | | | | 29 | Saint | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 30 | Swithin's | | my eye at | | | | | 31 | day! | | | STANZAS, addressed to Mrs...., of ... Terrace Cat and Mutton Fields. You 'cat,' that would 'worry a rat!' You 'cow with the crumpled horn!' I wish you were squeez'd,—and that's flat,— For ill-using a 'Maiden forlorn.' You're as bad as a slave-driver quite, Altho' you subscrib'd to the tracts;— If the linen's wash'd ever so white, You always complain of the blacks. A servant is worthy her hire; You pilfer one-fourth of her due, For tho' she does all you desire, She only gets ire from you. A fit she had, one afternoon, When you set her a-cleaning the paint; And while she was off in a swoon, You said it was only a feint. A party you had yesterday,— No wonder so often she swoons,— For as soon as the folks went away, You began to be missing the spoons! She was cleaning the windows last week (Such savings are very small gains), You scolded her while you could speak, And told her she didn't take panes. She cleans all the boots and the shoes; When she's done 'em she sits down to cry: Warren's Jet is the blacking you choose; But od 'rabbit that Warren! say I. For this you can make no excuse:— You'd a party at whist t'other day, And you scolded away like the deuce, 'Cause the sandwiches dropp'd from the tray. You tell her she dresses too gay (You're afraid that she'll cut out your gals), You strip lace and ribbons away, And say she shan't wear such fal-lals. 'Tis in vain her attempting to speak, For your heart is as hard as a stone; But she means to be married next week; Then she'll 'do what she likes with her own.' AUGUST.——Bathing at Brighton. | 1836.] | AUGUST. | Perhaps the Minister has passed the budget, and given the Houses leave to trudge it;—the lawyer folds his brief, with little grief;—closed are the Halls, against all calls;—John Doe and Richard Roe may go;—the debtor breathes, respited from mishap; and Bailiffs, wanting jobs, may keep a Tap. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | In | | | | | | | 2 | Germany | BRIGHTON. | | | | | | 3 | they | Well here, once more, on Brighton's shore, | the end of | | | We're safe arrived at last; | | 4 | rest | So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, | ? ? ? ? | | | Nor look so overcast. | | 5 | their | | my | | | We've not been here this many a year; | | 6 | heads | So do not look so blue, | | | | But sport your cash, and cut a dash, | divining | 7 | betwixt | As other people do. | | | | | | 8 | a pair | There's Mistress Skait,-she wouldn't wait, | rod, | | | But off she tripp'd so gaily: | | 9 | of | She struts along amid the throng: | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Her husband isn't scaly. | | 10 | feather | | ? ? ? | | | There's Mistress Wick, and little Dick, | | 11 | beds; | Have come to have a dipping; | and | | | And there's her niece, who's been to Greece, | | 12 | a famous | Is now all over dripping. | | | | | exploring | 13 | plan, I | And oh, what fun! there's Martha Gunn | | | | (But no, that gun's gone off), | | 14 | will be | But only look at that sea-cook | the mazes | | | A-sousing Mrs. Gough. | | 15 | bound, | | | | | Well, I declare, there's Mrs. Ware | of | 16 | while | (She's every where, I think)— | | | | Her spouse, I know, is quite her beau, | | 17 | frost & | And never spares the chink. | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 18 | snow | And, last of all, there's Mr. Ball, | | | | Who promis'd Mrs. B— | futurity, | 19 | are on | And kindly has redeem'd his pledge,— | | | | That she should see the sea. | | 20 | the | | with the | | | So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, | | 21 | ground, | Nor look so monstrous blue; | | | | But sport your cash, and cut a dash, | heedfulness | 22 | but | As other people do. | | | | | | 23 | in the | | ? ? ? ? | | | | | 24 | Dog | | | | | | of one, who, | 25 | Days' | | | | | | knowing | 26 | raging | | | | | | the | 27 | heat, I | | | | | | | 28 | shouldn't | | ? ? ? ? | | | | | 29 | think it | | weightiness | | | | | 30 | such a | | of the | | | | | 31 | treat. | | | Advertisements Extraordinary. THEATRE ROYAL, ENGLISH UPROAR.—The Proprietor respectfully announces that, while the cold weather lasts, he will present each visitor to the Boxes or Pit with a bucket of "thick-ribbed ICE;" and assures the Public that the temperature of the Theatre is so comfortably regulated that it is never more than 50 degrees below the freezing point. THEATRE ROYAL, DREARY LANE.—This Evening, their Majesties' Servants will perform THE MANAGER IN DISTRESS; To which will be added the serious Extravaganza of THE HOT CROSS BUNN; The principal Character by the Manager. The whole to conclude with THE DEVIL TO PAY. On Monday next, Mr. Swing will exhibit his extraordinary performances on the Tight Rope.—N.B. On this occasion all persons on the Free List will be suspended. WANT PLACES. AS TOADY, an unmarried Female of an uncertain age. She is so soft in her disposition as to take any impression; says yes or no, just as she is bid; prefers Cape to Madeira, and dislikes Champagne; and has no objection to wash and walk out with the poodles.—N.B. Is very skilful in backbiting, and would be delighted to assist in the ruin of reputations. Can have a good character from her last place, which she left in consequence of the lady marrying her tall Irish footman. AS DINER-OUT, an Irish Captain on half-pay, who has at his disposal a plentiful supply of small talk and table wit; does the agreeable to perfection; is a good laugher at stale jokes, and a capital retailer of new ones; never falls asleep at the repetition of a dull story, and always laughs in the right place. He has a variety of other qualifications too numerous for insertion in an advertisement. NOTICE is hereby given, that a considerable portion of Civic Dignity, conjectured to be equal in quantity to a Winchester Measure, has been lost since the 9th of November, 1834. This in-valuable appendage is supposed to have been dropped from the person of an illustrious Mayor, during certain squabbles which took place in spite of common sense and common counsel. It is hoped it will be recovered by his successor, and any information respecting the same may be communicated to a HOBBLER, at the Mare's Nest in the Poultry. LOST—by Nobody, in the neighbourhood of Nowhere, an article more easily conceived than described, known by the name of Nothing. The fortunate finder may keep it on paying the expenses of this Advertisement. SEPTEMBER.—"Michaelmas Day" | 1836.] | SEPTEMBER. | | It pleased her jolly Majesty Queen Bess, | | Stuffing, herself, a well-stuff'd goose to bless, | | And ever since, in sage affairs of state, | | The royal bird does still predominate;— | | So modest merit proves of little use, | | Unless at Court you "boo" to ev'ry goose. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Now | | | | | | | 2 | farmers | "SHOOTING THE MOON." | matters | | | | | 3 | mind | Now, Mrs. Dove, my dearest love, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | No longer let us jar; | | 4 | your | Full well you know that cash is low, | ? ? ? | | | And credit's under par. | | 5 | geese | | | | | Short commons are our common fare. | whereinto | 6 | and | No turtle-doves are we: | | | | Tho' once there came such lots of game, | he is | 7 | pigs, | Now folks make game of me. | | | | | inquiring, | 8 | for | Ah! what to do I wish I knew, | | | | Or where to run a score! | | 9 | Cockney | For all the town I've done so brown, | ? ? ? | | | I can't do any more. | | 10 | sports- | | | | | We've had our fill on Mutton Hill; | is fearful of | 11 | men | In Cornhill gain'd our bread; | | | | Dress'd with an air in fam'd Cloth Fair; | stumbling. | 12 | run their | In Grub Street well were fed. | | | | | | 13 | rigs, | We got our shoes in Leather Lane; | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Our hats in Hatton Garden; | | 14 | and | We'd quite a catch in Ha'penny Hatch, | For look, | | | And never paid a farden. | | 15 | when | | what dire | | | We've chalked a score on every door | | 16 | the | Of publican or sinner; | mishaps | | | And now can't meet a Newman Street, | | 17 | cits | To trust us with a dinner. | do arise | | | | | 18 | are | And, lack-a day! here's Quarter Day; | | | | It always comes too soon; | | 19 | taking | So we by night must take our flight, | ? ? | | | For we must shoot the moon! | | 20 | aim, | | | | | | from false | 21 | your | | | | | | | 22 | poultry | | prophecying! | | | | | 23 | may | | | | | | | 24 | mistake | | ? ? ? ? | | | | | 25 | for | | | | | | The farmer | 26 | game, | | | | | | | 27 | and | | ? ? | | | | | 28 | kill | | reapeth his | | | | | 29 | or | | corn, and | | | | | 30 | lame. | | ? ? ? ? ? | AN EPISTLE From SIR JOHN NORTH to RIGDUM FUNNIDOS, Gent. Dear Rig.—Have you read my famous book, About the wonderful route I took; Through frost and snow, how I went so far, To stare in vain at the polar star, And how I sought by night and noon To bag the beams of the arctic moon; And how it was far beyond a joke To think my steam should end in smoke; With all the spiteful things I said, As I knock'd the engine on the head; And how I've fill'd up countless pages With sneers at the "Useful Knowledge" sages; And about the land of the Esquimaux, Where I gave a squeeze to many a squaw; But sighed to think that a time must come To clear them off by "the force of Rum;" And how I came to an island blest, Which foot of man had never press'd, And grateful to the Spinning Gin-ny, That lined my purse with many a guinea, I straightway handed down to fame A Smithfield Booth's immortal name? I did such deeds as would make you stare; 'Twere a bore to tell how I kill'd a bear; Or how, for want of a better meal, I seal'd the fate of many a seal. And have you read that, to crown the whole, I'm almost sure I found the Pole; ('Twas twirling round, on its centre set, Like an opera dancer's pirouette,) And though the fog as thick did look As a certain stupid quarto book, One night I saw a vision fair, Of knighthood's honours in the air; And how, agog to reach my glory, I hasten'd home to print my story; And how I thought 'twould have been no blame To have left behind the halt and lame, Dead weights that, everybody knows, Are only fit to feed the crows? For if, Dear Rig., you'll only look, All this, and more, is in my book. The Comet, which has so long been looked for, suddenly made its appearance here on the 5th inst. between the hours of four and five in the morning, and the servant maids were pretty particularly astonished when they arose, to find that its tail had lighted all their fires, and boiled all their kettles for breakfast. For this piece of service they have christened it the "tail of love."—American Paper. OCTOBER.—'St. Crispin's Day' | 1836.] | OCTOBER. | | The sum of Summer is cast at last, | | And carried to Wintry season, | | And the frighten'd leaves are leaving us fast; | | If they stayed it would be high trees-on. | | The sheep, exposed to the rain and drift, | | Are left to all sorts of wethers, | | And the ragged young birds must make a shift, | | Until they can get new feathers. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Now | | | | | | | 2 | heroes | "ST CRISPIN'S DAY." | moweth | | | | | 3 | bold | AN ECLOGUE. | his grass, | | | | | 4 | in | CORDWAINERIUS. | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 5 | leather | Arise, Cobblerius, cast thy awl away, | | | | The sun is up, and 'tis Saint Crispin's Day. | when he | 6 | breeches | Leave vulgar snobs to mend plebeian soles, | | | | For you and I will jollify, by goles! | should leave | 7 | do | | | | | COBBLERIUS. | them | 8 | leap | | | | | A seedy poet, lodging next the sky, | | 9 | o'er | Came yesternight, entreating me to try | ? ? ? ? | | | And mend his understanding by the noon; | | 10 | five | When that is done, I'm yours for a blue moon. | | | | | standing; | 11 | barred | CORDWAINERIUS. | | | | | | 12 | gates | Then while you cobble, let us chaunt a stave: | ? ? ? ? ? | | | We're "Temp'rance" folks, so let the theme be grave. | | 13 | and | Let's sing yon palace to the God of Gin: | | | | Who pipes the best, a pot of malt shall win. | the sick man | 14 | ditches | | | | | COBBLERIUS. | throweth off | 15 | the | | | | | I take your challenge—to your plan agree; | his | 16 | perils | Yon Costermonger shall our umpire be. | | | | | warm | 17 | of | COSTERMONGERIUS. | | | | | clothing, | 18 | the | I'm bottle-holder for a glass of max; | | | | So clear your pipes, my jolly cocks o' vax. | | 19 | field | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | CORDWAINERIUS. | | 20 | to | | ? ? ? | | | "Here, sprightly folks, by spirits turn'd to sprites, | | 21 | dare | Whose rosy cheeks are chang'd to lily whites, | ? ? | | | Caught in the snares of Gin, rue not their ruin, | | 22 | and | But do their best, to do their own undoing!" | | | | | when he | 23 | hunt | COBBLERIUS. | | | | | | 24 | that | "Rum customers, who're far more sad than funny, | should wrap | | | Here get no trust when they have spent their money: | | 25 | furious | No pay no potion;—by this rule they stick; | | | | The lighted dial, only, goes on tick." | himself up | 26 | beast | | | | | CORDWAINERIUS. | | 27 | the | | ? ? ? ? | | | "Here, Mothers, by some devilish fiend possest, | | 28 | hare! | Drive their poor infants from the port of Breast; | closer; | | | And 'stead of mother's milk, whene'er they scream, | | 29 | Oh, | Stop their shrill crying with a glass of cream." | ? ? ? | | | | | 30 | courage | COBBLERIUS. | the | | | | | 31 | rare! | "Here compounds dire, which ne'er can cordials be, | ? ? ? ? | | | Turn seedy fellows into felos de se."— | | | | | | | | COSTERMONGERIUS. | | | | | | | | Just stow your magging, for you've piped enough, | | | | And, blow me, if I ever heard sich stuff! | | | | Vy, vhat's the hods, I'll be so bold to ax, | | | | 'Twixt swilling heavy vet, and swigging max? | | | | So stow your staves, and as it's chilly veather, | | | | Ve'll mix the max and heavy vet together: | | | | And then, my lads o' leather, you shall see | | | | How cosily the mixture vill agree. | | ANNUAL REGISTER OF REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES. Jan. 13th.—Three young men on the Serpentine cutting a figure of six, about nine in the morning of twelfth day, were two careless, though warned be-four, to weight the reading of the Society's "not-ice," so popped into sixteen feet water. They were speedily helped out of the ice-well, and resolved to cut away and not come again. 21st.—An Omnibus Cad was brought before the Lord Mayor, charged with having been guilty of civility to a passenger, by neglecting to bang the door against his stern, in time to throw him on his head. His Lordship said such conduct was unprecedented; but as the man, in extenuation, proved that he had cried "go on," while another gentleman was getting off, he thought the case did not call for interference. The culprit, however, was dismissed by the Paddington committee, lest his example should contaminate the others. Feb. 4th.—The following horrible event occurred in a family lately arrived from India. A female of colour, one of the establishment, was sitting by the fire, with two of her dark little progeny by her side, when a black footman, remarkable for his savage disposition, suddenly entered the room, seized one of them in each hand, hurried to the water cistern, and plunging in the struggling little ones, held them till life was extinct. In vain the distracted mother implored compassion; the bystanders seemed to think there was no law against drowning kittens. March 12th.—An elderly gentleman, crossing Fleet Street, was driven through by the Perseverance Omnibus. He was carried into the nearest shop, and, after taking six boxes of Morison's pills, felt so little inconvenience that he expressed his determination to keep the orifice open, so as not to be an obstruction to carriages in future. 8th.—On Thursday, died Old Tom, the Leadenhall Market Gander, after having worthily supported the city dignity for thirty years. The Court of Aldermen attended his funeral, and his deeds were not forgotten by the City Remembrancer. His spirit still haunts the old spot, and nightly takes in his favourite stuffing of sage and onions, and the poulterers say they always know the ghost when they see him a-gobblin. 26th.—Mr. Morison was elected principal of Brazen-nose College on presenting to its library a copy of his treatise on Assurance, with tables of the average termination of life, as deduced from the last returns of the pills of mortality. April 1st.—According to annual custom, a considerable number of persons assembled this morning on Tower Hill to see the Lions washed. It was, however, officially notified that, the menagerie having been broken up, they could not be gratified, but that his Majesty, in order to prevent their entire disappointment, would, for this occasion, substitute the shaving of a Donkey; with a recommendation that each individual do perform the ceremony at his own home in future. 14th.—The Hackney Coaches of the Metropolis met at their usual resting time, which lasts from sixty minutes past twelve on Saturday night till sixty minutes before one on Sunday morning, and resolved to petition Parliament in favour of Sir Andrew's Sunday Bill. They complained that though on that day they always had more fare, they had no more food, for though they were never without the taste of a bit, they had no leisure to bite; and that though the weather might be ever so fine, for them it was always rein-y. They, however, did not wish to make exorbitant demands, and would be quite satisfied if Sunday, to others a day of joy, might be to them a day of "Wo." Earl Grey was asked to present the petition, and signified "yea" by saying "neigh." May 5th.—The attention of the passengers in Salisbury Square was excited by observing an inhabitant come out at the attic window of a house (No. 66), and pass along the parapet. His next neighbour, with whom he was known to be on bad terms, soon after appeared on the adjacent roof. They approached each other with signs of anger, and grappling, engaged in a furious struggle;—both fell from the parapet;—fortunately escaping the iron spikes below, and alighting on their feet, each spit at the other, cried "moll-row," and rushed down his own area. 15th.—As Doctor Fillpot was walking in the Zoological Gardens, his Christian charity was blown into the cage of the Humming birds, and instantly pecked up by the voracious little animals, who, strange to say, did not seem at all inconvenienced by the extraordinary meal. June 3rd.—A nursemaid and three fine children were lost in some cart ruts, called "The New Promenade," in Regent's Park, and have never been heard of since. 9th.—At the Annual Meeting of the Proprietors of the Thames Tunnel, the secretary reported that though the Leeks had all ceased, he was happy to say there was no diminution of Salaries; that they had got over all the soft mud, which was hard; but they had now to get under a hard rock, which was harder; that their money in the stocks was expended in digging stones; and that they had not reached the opposite Bank, though they had exhausted their Banker; and that, in all probability, though they might labour to the end, they would never see the end of their labour; for however light they might make of it, they were more in the dark than ever. The meeting, in great discontent, divided without a dividend; and, grunting like hogs, pronounced the whole a great bore. July 5th.—The old and young elephants, from the Zoological Gardens, were brought up at Marylebone office. It appears that during the night they had made their way to the Paddington Canal Bank, had broken open the Locks, and abstracted all the water, with which they got beastly "drunk on the premises." Their return home in that state caused suspicion to fall on them, and their apartments being searched, the stolen property was found concealed in their trunks, together with pawnbrokers' duplicates for the contents of the Grand Junction reservoir, and the City basin, both of which had suddenly disappeared in a very mysterious manner, and having been at low water of late, and much run upon, owing to the dry weather, were supposed to have run away. The culprits showed their teeth at the charge, as hard as ivory, and speechified at length, but a clear case being established, they offered their pledges for better behaviour; however, the worthy magistrate stopped their spouting, and sent them to the treadmill. The office was crowded by members of the Temperance Society, several of whom offered to become bail for them. 21st.—At the last Drawing Room, Captain Bodkin had the honour of presenting Cleopatra's needle to the Queen. Her Majesty was pleased to send to Cable Street for a hundred yards of Wopping Thread, and in the evening one of the maids of honour used it, by Her Majesty's desire, to work a button-hole of a new shirt for Mister O'Killus in the park. August 4th.—On Sunday, the 2nd, Lord H. visited the Bear-pit in the Zoological Gardens, and leaning too far over the wall, fell among the interesting animals, who were so alarmed at the sight that they were seized with convulsions, and have been in a nervous state ever since. 17th.—An old woman was charged with selling apples on a Sunday morning. She was too poor to keep a shop, so was committed to the Counter. It appeared that her basket obstructed the people in their way to the Gravesend Sunday boats. 26th.—A steam-boat party going down the river for a Marine Gala, were caught in a gale. The Catastrophe happened off the Isle of Dogs, and the hurricane setting in during a Quadrille, they tried in vain to stand firm, for partners were driven "right and left;" the "Ladies' chain" was broken off in the middle, and "The Lancers" totally put to the rout. The chimney fell in the midst of a cadence, and the mast was shivered during a shake, but the musicians were all ruined, for their instruments were blown beyond Fidlers' reach. Sept. 1st.—The Duke of Nemours, with his suite, rode through Coventry Street, when the figure of Fieschi became visibly agitated, and attempted to discharge the Infernal Machine at him. Nothing but its being a sham, and not loaded, saved the Duke from the fate intended for his father. 5th.—The Ladies' Brazen Monument to the Duke of Wellington, having been smoked a good deal of late, its noble proprietresses determined on giving it an autumnal washing before the fall of the leaf. For this purpose, the (Holy) Alliance Company lent their engine, a fiery Marquess played the pipe, and a committee of Countesses worked the pumps. The figure was then invested in a new shirt, presented by Her Majesty, against the cold weather. 20th.—A sailing party from Margate, finding themselves near Urn bay, resolved to drink tea. Mrs. Bullion, of Cheapside, one of the company, proposed music in the air, and, being inspired by the water, volunteered "The Land;" but, in getting up to C above, she overreached herself, and fell into the sea below. At first, Mr. Bullion feared she would prove dead stock on his hands, but he soon saw she was floating, capital; so he bargained with some dredgers to give her an hoister on board again. The natives were greatly alarmed at the occurrence. Oct. 3rd.—Mrs. Belasco delivered her concluding Lecture on morality, with illustrations, in the Saloon of the Haymarket Theatre. 7th.—The Penitentiary at Millbank was partly destroyed by fire; luckily the flames were extinguished, without making an auto-da-fÉ of the fair penitents, many of whom were insured by destiny from that sort of untimely end. The treadmill was unfortunately burnt, to the great inconvenience of several industrious persons who were practising on it, to qualify themselves for places of service where there was a good deal of running upstairs. 12th.—The paupers of Gripeham workhouse having been, under the new law, deprived of their tobacco, deputed one old woman, as the organ of the rest, to demand a restoration of their pipes. The overseers withstood her fire, and refused her smoke; however, at the suggestion of one of their body who had learned Latin, they consented to allow her a "Quid pro quo." Nov. 15th.—The Society for the Protection of Animals held its yearly meeting. The report stated, that in Billingsgate their efforts had met with great success. In the following meritorious cases the large silver medal was awarded:—To Diana Finn, for cracking the necks of a pound of eels before she skinned them; to Simon Soft, for boiling his lobsters in cold water; to Ephraim Hacket, for crimping cod with a blunted knife; and to Felix Flat, for refusing to open live oysters. In other quarters humanity was also progressing, and prizes were given to Hans Lever, for drubbing a donkey with the thin end of his cudgel, at the request of an officer of this Society; and to Nicodemus Nacks, for consenting to keep a plaster on his pony's raw, except on pleasure parties, and other occasions requiring extra persuasion. The thanks of the Society were voted to Daniel Dozer, Esq., of New River Head, for using dead worms as a bait: and the gold medal to the same gentleman, for his practice of angling without hooking the fish. A premium was also offered by the Society for some preparation of ox(h)ide of iron, which shall enable a bullock's back to resist a whacking. Dec. 7th.—Sir Harcourt Lees was frightened into fits by O'Connell's ghost, which appeared in the shape of a moving Mass, with cloven feet, a long tail, and the Pope's eye in the middle of his forehead. 18th.—During the exhibition of the gas microscope, the water tigers, irritated by the intense blaze of light to which they were exposed, after several tremendous efforts to escape, broke from their confinement, and sprang among the spectators. Three young ladies from a boarding school were instantly devoured. The ferocious animals next turned their attention to the governess and an old teacher, who, proving rather tough, afforded time for their keeper to secure them, which he did by re-absorbing them in a drop of water on the point of a needle. NOVEMBER.—'Lord Mayor's Day' | 1836.] | NOVEMBER. | | When good Sir John has carried his bill, | | No dread of Term shall the poet fill, | | The Scholar shall write, and fear no writ, | | No White Cross bars shall bar his wit, | | The Fleet, unmann'd, no more alarm, | | The King's Bench be but an empty Form. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | 1 | Murky | | | | | | | 2 | burky | LORD MAYOR'S SHOW. | stage-coach | | | | | 3 | damp | I sing of a jolly day, | traveller | | | A civical holiday; | | 4 | and | Some call a folly day: | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Weather is foggified; | | 5 | drear | Mechanics get groggified, | | | | Citizens hoggified: | journeyeth | 6 | see | The rain it is drizzling, | | | | Mizzling, frizzling; | | 7 | this | Streets are all slippery; | ? ? ? | | | Girls sport their frippery: | | 8 | gloomy | Sweethearts are squeezing 'em, | | | | Pleasing 'em,—teazing 'em. | outside | 9 | month | Rabble are bawling, O! | | | | Women are squalling, O! | | 10 | appear | Banners are waving, | the vehicle; | | | Policemen are staving | | 11 | London | On heads misbehaving: | | | | Ward beadles bustling, | | 12 | fill'd | Pickpockets hustling; | ? ? ? ? | | | People tip-toeing it: | | 13 | with | Swell mob are going it, | | | | Making sly snatches | when | 14 | slush | At brooches and watches. | | | | Horses are neighing, | he should | 15 | and fog | Urchins huzzaing; | | | | Trumpets are braying; | snugly | 16 | looks | Trombones are grumbling, | | | | Bassoons are rumbling, | ensconce | 17 | just | Clarinets speaking, | | | | Piccoloes squeaking. | himself | 18 | like an | See, there goes the armour man; | | | | Ne'er was a calmer man; | within; | 19 | Irish | Sitting inside the mail, he | | | | Looks a little bit paly. | | 20 | bog | And hark! what a drumming! | ? ? ? ? ? | | | The Lord Mayor is coming; | | 21 | every | And here are the Aldermen, | with divers | | | There's very few balder men; | | 22 | trouble | And there march the Livery, | | | | Looking quite shivery; | and sundry | 23 | now | In and out straggling, | | | | Thro' the mud draggling. | | 24 | seems | I'm sure the poor sinners | ? ? ? ? | | | Must long for their dinners. | | 25 | double | Well, now the fun's over | | | | They'll fatten in clover; | | 26 | and the | And afterwards drink on it. | such-like | | | So, what do you think on it? | | 27 | worst | Don't it shew quite effectual | | | | The March Intellectual? | | 28 | in all | | ? ? ? | | | | | 29 | the | | sad | | | | | 30 | year. | | mischances | Extracts from the Proceedings of the Association of British Illuminati, at their Annual Meeting, held in Dublin, August, 1835. Dr. Hoaxum read an interesting paper on the conversion of moonbeams into substance, and rendering shadows permanent, both of which he had recently exemplified in the establishment of some public companies, whose prospectuses he laid upon the table. Mr. Babble produced his calculating machine, and its wonderful powers were tested in many ways by the audience. It supplied to Captain Sir John North an accurate computation of the distance between a quarto volume and a cheesemonger's shop; and solved a curious question as to the decimal proportions of cunning and credulity, which, worked by the rule of allegation, would produce a product of 10,000l. Professor Von Hammer described his newly-discovered process for breaking stones by an algebraic fraction. Mr. Crowsfoot read a paper on the natural history of the Rook. He defended their caws with great effect, and proved that there is not a grain of truth in the charges against them, which only arise from Grub Street malice. The Rev. Mr. Groper exhibited the skin of a toad, which he discovered alive in a mass of sandstone. The animal was found engaged on its auto-biography, and died of fright on having its house so suddenly broken into, being probably of a nervous habit from passing so much time alone. Some extracts from its memoir were read, and found exceedingly interesting. Its thoughts on the "silent system" of prison discipline, though written in the dark, strictly agreed with those of our most enlightened political economists. Dr. Deady read a scientific paper on the manufacture of Hydro-gin, which greatly interested those of the association who were members of Temperance Societies. Mr. Croak laid on the table an essay from the Cabinet Makers' Society, on the construction of frog-stools. Professor Parley exhibited his speaking machine, which distinctly articulated the words "Repale! Repale!" to the great delight of many of the audience. The learned Professor stated that he was engaged on another, for the use of his Majesty's Ministers, which would already say, "My Lords and Gentlemen;" and he doubted not, by the next meeting of Parliament, would be able to pronounce the whole of the opening speech. Mr. Multiply produced, and explained the principle of, his exaggerating machine. He displayed its amazing powers on the mathematical point, which, with little trouble, was made to appear as large as a coach-wheel. He demonstrated its utility in all the relations of society, as applied to the failings of the absent—the growth of a tale of scandal—the exploits of travellers, &c. &c. The Author of the "Pleasures of Hope" presented, through a member, a very amusing Essay on the gratification arising from the throttling of crying children; but as the ladies would not leave the room, it could not be read. Captain North exhibited some shavings of the real Pole, and a small bottle which, he asserted, contained scintillations of the Aurora Borealis, from which, he stated, he had succeeded in extracting pure gold. He announced that his nephew was preparing for a course of similar experiments, of which he expected to know the result in October. The gallant Captain then favoured the company with a dissertation on phrenology, of which, he said, he had been a believer for thirty years. He stated that he had made many valuable verifications of that science on the skulls of the Esquimaux; and that, in his recent tour in quest of subscribers to his book, his great success had been mainly attributable to his phrenological skill; for that, whenever he had an opportunity of feeling for soft places in the heads of the public, he knew in a moment whether he should get a customer or not. He said that whether in the examination of ships' heads or sheep's heads—in the choice of horses or housemaids, he had found the science of pre-eminent utility. He related the following remarkable phrenological cases:—A man and woman were executed in Scotland for murder on presumptive evidence; but another criminal confessed to the deed, and a reprieve arrived the day after the execution. The whole country was horrified; but Captain North having examined their heads, he considered, from the extraordinary size of their destructive organs, that the sentence was prospectively just, for they must have become murderers, had they escaped hanging then. Their infant child, of six months old, was brought to him, and perceiving on its head the same fatal tendencies, he determined to avert the evil; for which purpose, by means of a pair of moulds, he so compressed the skull in its vicious propensities, and enlarged it in its virtuous ones, that the child grew up a model of perfection. The second instance was of a married couple, whose lives were a continued scene of discord till they parted. On examining their heads scientifically, he discovered the elementary causes of their unhappiness. Their skulls were unfortunately too thick to be treated as in the foregoing case; but, causing both their heads to be shaved, he by dint of planing down in some places, and laying on padding in others, contrived to produce all the requisite phrenological developments, and they were then living a perfect pattern of conjugal felicity, "a thing which could not have happened without phrenology." (This dissertation was received with loud applauses from the entire assembly, whose phrenological organs becoming greatly excited, and developed in an amazing degree by the enthusiasm of the subject, they all fell to examining each others' bumps with such eagerness that the meeting dissolved in confusion.) THE NOTORIOUS UNKNOWN. "Oh, no! we never mention HER, HER name is never heard;" And how the deuce to find it out, I knew not, on my word. But tho' I could not tell HER name, HER face I'd often seen, "She stood among the glitt'ring throng," with Jacky in the green. A ladle in one hand she bore, a salt-box in the other; And of the Sooty Cupids near, she seemed the teeming mother. "I met HER at the Fancy Fair," with Fancy lads around her, And with a blow she laid one low, as flat as any flounder. "I saw HER at the Beulah Spa," along with Gipsey Joe, A-riding on a donkey rough, vitch, somehow, vouldn't go. I saw HER ply her sybil art, and pick up cash like fun, For heads and tails she gave them hearts, and pleasur'd every one. "I saw HER at the Masquerade," along with Nimming Ned, Achieve those feats, where fingers light work nimbler than the head. I saw HER too at All-Max once (not Almack's in the west), "'Twas in a crowd,"—her voice was loud: I mustn't tell the rest. I saw HER at the "Central Court," (it gave me quite a shock,) Surrounded by her body guard, she stood within the dock. And then I heard a little man with solemn voice proclaim, ('Twas rue to me, and wormwood too), that Alias was her name! THE FIVE BELLES. "My own blue belle, my pretty blue belle," How deeply in love with thee I fell! And graciously you receiv'd my suit, While digging away at a Hebrew root: But ah! you us'd me wondrous shabby, To turn me off for a Jewish Rabbi. My next fair belle was a lively dame; But I found if I dar'd to advance my claim, And ventur'd to marry the lovely Bel, I should take to my arms the Dragon as well. For such an event I was too old a stager, So I yielded her up to a triple Bob Major. Now belle the third was a charming belle, Who many a tale of love could tell; But just as I thought that "constancy Was only another name for she," Away she ran with an Irish fellow, And basely proved a horrida Bella. The belle my fancy next did choose Stood six feet high in her low-heel'd shoes; But when I took courage my tale to tell, My Belle Sauvage prov'd a savage belle. I didn't much mind her being a strapper, But I couldn't endure her terrible clapper. But belle the fifth was the belle for me; I was charm'd by her sweet taciturnity. To ring this belle I a wish possess'd, But dumb bells always open the chest, Which made me fear she'd get to the till, And so, alas! I'm a bachelor still. Advertisements Extraordinary. THE INDUSTRIOUS FLEAS will continue to perform their operations in every part of the British dominions, most especially during the Summer months, to the infinite delight and satisfaction of millions of his Majesty's subjects, many thousands of whom have expressed themselves quite tickled with their ingenuity. MR. PUFF respectfully announces that he is authorized to state, that he has received instructions to declare, that he will submit to public competition the whole of the superb and genuine HOUSEHOLD FURNITURE and EFFECTS of the late Simon Squander, Esq., deceased: comprising, among other valuables, a capital cast-iron library, containing upwards of 5000 wooden volumes, bound in calf, and 500 illegible manuscripts beautifully printed; an excellent self-willed never acting pianoforte; a superb suite of wrought iron window curtains; four splendid cobweb carpets; an invisible sofa; two capital India-rubber mirrors; a large stock of flint table and bed-linen; straw fenders and fire irons; leather looking-glasses; a set of calico dining tables, with chairs en suite; about 10,000 ounces of pewter plate; and an excellent paper clock, warranted not to go. The whole will be sold by auction, without reserve, on the First of April next. Catalogues to be had of the Auctioneer. Most Remarkable Fact!—There are now living at Manchester, six persons, whose united ages reach the enormous amount of one hundred and twenty years! And, strange to say, they are all in full possession of their ordinary faculties! DECEMBER—'Boxing Day' | 1836.] | DECEMBER. | | Holiday joys have some alloys,— | | For many they're bitter pills, | | When all the dearest ducks come home | | From school, with their long bills, | | And the noisy waits at midnight chime, | | Convince you it is Wakation time. | M | Season's | Odd Matters. | WEATHER. | D | Signs. | | | | | | | 1 | The | | | | | "BOXIANA." | | 2 | season's | | Now | | | I hate the very name of box; | | 3 | signs | It fills me full of fears: | would it not | | | It 'minds me of the woes I've felt | | 4 | this | Since I was young in years. | be better | | | | | 5 | month | They sent me to a Yorkshire school, | ? ? ? ? ? | | | Where I had many knocks; | | 6 | do | For there my schoolmates box'd my ears, | | | | Because I couldn't box. | | 7 | greatly | | than such | | | I pack'd my box; I pick'd the locks; | | 8 | vary | And ran away to sea; | | | | And very soon I learnt to box | | 9 | in | The compass merrily. | ? ? ? | | | | | 10 | manner | I came ashore—I call'd a coach, | | | | And mounted on the box; | weather | 11 | too | The coach upset against a post, | | | | And gave me dreadful knocks. | wisdom | 12 | that's | | | | | I soon got well; in love I fell, | as this, | 13 | most | And married Martha Cox; | | | | To please her will, at fam'd Box Hill, | | 14 | extr'or- | I took a country box. | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | 15 | dinary: | I had a pretty garden there, | | | | All border'd round with box; | that I should | 16 | if you | But ah, alas! there liv'd, next door, | | | | A certain Captain Knox. | arrive | 17 | are | | | | | He took my wife to see the play;— | at the end | 18 | rich | They had a private box; | | | | I jealous grew, and from that day | of my tether | 19 | why | I hated Captain Knox. | | | | | | 20 | then | I sold my house—I left my wife;— | ? ? ? | | | And went to Lawyer Fox, | | 21 | you're | Who tempted me to seek redress | | | | All from a jury box. | without | 22 | warm | | | | | I went to law, whose greedy maw | | 23 | and | Soon emptied my strong box; | having | | | I lost my suit, and cash to boot, | | 24 | jolly, | All thro' that crafty Fox. | | | | | prophecied | 25 | but if | The name of box I therefore dread, | | | | I've had so many shocks; | | 26 | you're | They'll never end,—for when I'm dead | ? ? ? ? | | | They'll nail me in a box. | | 27 | poor,— | | | | | | anything at | 28 | cold | | | | | | all about | 29 | hungry | | | | | | the matter? | 30 | melan- | | | | | | | 31 | choly. | | ? ? ? ? ? | | | | | FINALE. My task is done! but, ere I "drown my book," And "break my staff," I'll take a parting look. If I have made a fool, in sportive fit, A lapstone meet, whereon to shape my wit, So gently have I used him, that, with care, He'll serve my purpose for another year: As old Majendie skinned the Italian hound, And time too short for demonstration found, Then told his pupils, if they managed right, They'd keep the dog alive another night. Of embryo asses I've a pretty store, Who crave a flaying in a twelvemonth more; Subjects of every colour and complexion, Contending for the honour of dissection; While some there are, who, blest in their condition, Would waive the honours of my exhibition. As bashful Bishops, at an ordination, Cry "Nolo," to the gentle invitation: And some, the only merit of whose life Will be, their forming victims for my knife. Now, John,—not Sir John Ross—I mean John Bull Thou silly, soft, good-natured, guileless gull! Why wilt thou let each knave enrich his nest With treasures pilfered from thy downy breast? Pill-bolting glutton of all sorts of trash! In jest or earnest needing still the lash, Thy cure (no sinecure) will keep, I fear, My rod in pickle for another year.
|