A SHORT TREATISE ON TIDES.

The tides have baffled the ingenuity of some of our greatest philosophers, though Halley was more successful than any one else in his attempts to get to the bottom of them.

If we were disposed to go deeply into the tides, we should require the reader to follow us through a variety of mysterious hieroglyphics, which we are sure would be unintelligible to the majority. Dashes, crosses, circles, and triangles would be scattered over the perplexing page in profusion, while the only result might be, that as 0 is to a hyphen, so would be a couple of asterisks.

We, therefore, prefer leaving the study of the tides to those whose taste for the subject would lead them to a practical acquaintance with it, which may be picked up anywhere up or down the river.

THE ECLIPSES FOR 1845.

On the 6th of May there will be an eclipse of the sun; but whose son it is to be the almanack does not mention.

On the 24th of March there will be a total eclipse of the moon, only visible in London. A rabid leader will appear in the "Nationale," and the feelings of the editor will quite run away with him, on account of Paris being eclipsed on this occasion by le perfide London.

On the 30th of October there will be a total eclipse of the Horse Guards' illuminated clock by a tremendous fog. This eclipse is expected to give such satisfaction, that it has already been announced for repetition on the following evening; but after the 31st the fog will be dropt.

On the 13th of November there will be a partial eclipse of the sun—that is to say, the eclipse will show its partiality by being only visible to those in a high station, who look up to it. It will first show itself to Primrose Hill about four seconds after eight, A.M. It will look in upon Professor Airy at the Greenwich Observatory about five minutes after nine.

There will be a number of eclipses in the political world next year; but we do not intend to throw any light upon them. No doubt Lord John Russell will do his best to eclipse Sir Robert Peel, and that eccentric planet, Brougham, will strive as much as he can to eclipse Campbell, and throw him completely into the shade.

FACTS THAT DO NOT COME WITHIN THE RECOLLECTION
OF THE OLDEST INHABITANT.

Of course every one knows that horoscopes are divisible into twelve classes, and that one of the twelve Signs of the Zodiac is at the head of each class. With this information any one with the aid of the following learned treatise will be able to cast his own nativity or that of any other person.

The first sign of the Zodiac is

LIBRA,

Which formerly belonged to a person of the name of Themis, but was taken from her for using false weights, and hung up, as a warning to tradesmen, among the constellations. Who at present holds them LempriÈre omits to say. The Libra are uppermost in the Zodiac from the 22nd of September to the 21st of October; consequently, any one born during that period is put into the scales and weighed accordingly. Churchwardens who cannot balance their accounts, and Ramo Samees who can balance anything, are generally born under the sign of Libra. It favours also young ladies who hear from Joseph Ady, and are blest with a large balance at their bankers.

The second on the list is

SCORPIO,

Whose malice and sting come into play from the last-mentioned date, and penetrate everywhere up to the 21st November.

Sheriffs' officers, lawyers, stage-door keepers, and anthropophagi, are always born under this constellation.

SAGITTARIUS

Comes next. Old Chiron, the Nimrod of his day, dwells at this Sign of the Zodiac. He was put in possession of it by Jupiter for having taught Achilles how to pull the long-bow. He favours Derby sweeps and the Epping Hunt, but his patronage cannot be of much value to the latter, as his influence is only good from the 22nd of November to the 21st of December.

The protÉgÉ of Sagittarius is generally fond of hunting the slipper and shooting the moon. He is known by his carpet bag, stuffed with bricks and straw. He sports a moustache, but never shows any tip.

The fourth sign is

CAPRICORNUS,

Who was originally Jupiter's wet-nurse. His lease of the Zodiac extends to the 21st of January, after which he is obliged to pull in his horns.

This constellation is noted for the number of stupid people who are born under it. They believe everything they see advertised, and put their trust in pills and Moses and Son. They are mostly called "Gents." They spend their money in Coal-holes, and smoke a kind of cabbage called "cheroot." They abound at promenade concerts, and on the tops of omnibuses and paddle-boxes on Sundays.

Capricornus, when he has finished going the Circuit of the Zodiac, is succeeded by

AQUARIUS,

Or the Watering-pot. Aquarius is only allowed to reign till the 21st of February. The former name of this Sign was Ganymede, who was taken up for sheep-stealing by an eagle, who was noted for being the first beak of his day. He was carried before Jupiter, who condemned him to pour out the nectar at a free-and-easy, of which he was chairman, in Olympus; but upon being detected mixing the grog of the gods, who always took their liquor neat, Ganymede was, in consequence of his foolish propensity to cold water, sentenced to take the sobriquet of Aquarius, which, before the Flood, was the Latin for Father Mathew.

Aquarius is the patron Sign of Vauxhall, which he makes his residence during the summer months. Temperance and Teetotal people are born under his benignant favour. Doctors, too, are his children owing to their liberal use of aqua pompaginis. One half of the London milk is supplied to the metropolis by Aquarius.

PISCES

Makes up the half-dozen of the constellations. Fish in the Zodiac, it seems, comes into season about the 22nd of February, but will not keep after the 22nd of March. Very little is known about the private history of these strange Pisces; they are supposed to have been a couple of John Dorys, who, Neptune having advertised in "Lloyd's List" for a wife, introduced Amphitrite, a Wapping lady, to share his oyster-bed with him. Neptune in return, gave the Pisces the entire swim of the Zodiac, where, if Aquarius did not brandish his watering-pot right and left about him for a month before them, they would have nothing but currents of air and thorough drafts to swim in. This would have made them feel very much like fishes out of water. The Pisces look after picnics and ministerial white-bait dinners.

ARIES

Makes his triumphal entry into the circus of the Zodiac on the 20th of March, and keeps on the move till the 21st of April. He was the original proprietor of the Golden Fleece, but having, from his hasty temper, got into Chancery, he was fleeced, and then locked up for life in the Zodiac. He encourages the breed of April fools, and looks after Chancellors and lawyers that they may have abundance of clients.

TAURUS

Is the prototype of John Bull, who crossed the British Channel with a pair of corks, and, landing at Calais, carried off Europe, or Europa. Young France has often attempted to take this bull by the horns; but, as Old Moore quaintly expresses it, "Y^e puppyes aint yett buorn thatt can baitte y^e Johnn Bull." Taurus looks after the Spanish Legion and the Lumber Troop, and gives them their indomitable valour. Sir Robert Peel was born under this constellation, which accounts for his having offered his constituents at Tamworth a Bull. Taurus superintends the bulls that are kept in the Vatican at Rome; and all Irishmen who are born between the 22nd of April and 21st of May, are under his influence. Taurus frequently shows himself at fairs and market-days, when, if the weather is at all hot, he will toss any one for a cool hundred at heads or tails.

GEMINI

Are nine, though properly only two, in the order of Signs. Castor and Pollux are the twins alluded to. Their berth in the constellations they received from Jupiter, and very naturally too, as he was their father. Their mother was Leda, a regular Spartan, but no relation to the present member for Westminster. The saying of "What a shocking bad hat!" was first applied to Castor. Beggarwomen, who exhibit two children on a door step, very unlike one another, are relieved under the lucky star of the Twins. Castor and Pollux go on very well till the 21st of June, when, as it is longest day in the year, they generally get tired of one another's company, and do not come together again for a twelvemonth.

CANCER

Is a very bad Sign, indeed. It first attacked Hercules when he was attempting to come Van Amburgh over the Hydra. Hercules did not take the Cancer very much to heart, however; but, with one blow, packed him off to Heaven, where, there being a place vacant at the time in the Zodiac, the Cancer was sworn into it, and has filled it very creditably ever since. Cancer sometimes puts the seasons out of order, by thinking he is a crab, and walking accordingly, which is always the case when the summer is a little backward.

LEO

Is the next that comes upon the tapis of the Zodiac. It is the same Leo whom Hercules got over in the forest of Ardennes, by means of animal magnetism, having thrown him into a state of coma, with a few passes of his club. This made the second candidate Hercules returned to the Zodiac Parliament. England (not the Young—but the Old) was born under the protection of the Lion, who, for this reason, is always called by orators the "British Lion," and painted on signboards, giving his paw to the British arms, in friendly confab with the British Unicorn. Mr. Carter, the greatest Lion tamer since Hercules, was born during this month; and young dandies and authors, who patronize tea-parties, are called "Lions."

VIRGO

Comes last. She rises every year on the 22nd of August, and goes to bed, in her golden palace of the East, on the 21st of September.

FOR A BRITISH TAR.

The lubber who would strike a lovely woman in distress is unworthy of the name of T. P. Cooke.

FOR A PRIMA DONNA.

Ah, Ferdinand! when treading the field of battle, when reaping laurels for thy noble brow; when in the hour of triumph or of revelry, thou art far from her who loves thee, still thou wilt think of Carolina, and madly recollect, "She wore a wreath of roses." Sings—

FOR LORD COLLINGWOOD AT ASTLEY'S.

Go, tell Admiral Tomkins to spare no time in bringing the enemy's ships to surrender! Go, tell Ensign Sir Hildebrand Smith instantly to board the 90-gun frigate; and let the memorable words of our noble admiral ring with electric shouts through the entire British fleet, that "England expects every man this day will do his duty."

FOR A HEROINE OF DOMESTIC DRAMA.

Take thy gold, base lord, and know that the heart which truly loves, though beating in the humble breast of a housemaid, would sooner die on the rack of the Inquisition first, than wear the velvet robe of infamy. From my heart I spurn you.—[Throws purse at his feet.]

FOR A GENEROUS BROKER.

Come dry up your tears, Missus; and as long as I have a crust, or a roof, in the house, you are welcome to share it with me—for the man who is not affected when a lovely woman cries is a heartless wretch, who deserves to walk through life branded with infamy.

FOR A CONSCIENCE-STRICKEN STEWARD.

Ah! that picture. It reminds me of a long-lost daughter. In moments of darkness it has smiled upon me, and seemed to say, "True happiness is in our own minds. It is not purchased by riches, or dependent on fraud. It is only acquired by virtue, but shrinks abashed from vice." Ah! the picture smiles again! The eyes beam on me—the nostrils dilate—the mouth speaks—everything counsels me to be good. Yes! I will return my ill-begotten wealth, and henceforth strive to become that noblest work of Nature, an honest man.—[Falls down before the picture and weeps.]

LONDON IMPROVEMENTS.

NOTE ON THE NAVAL FORCES OF GREAT BRITAIN.
BY A FRENCH ADMIRAL.

This note is avowedly designed as a companion to the pamphlet of the Prince de Joinville, which was intended to show how easily England might be taken by the French; but omitted to say how the matter might have been taken by the English. The note is written with the same exactitude as to facts, the same knowledge of the subject, and the same spirit of candour by which all recent French works on England have been distinguished. We give an abridgement of the note, which, in its original state, is extremely full, and at the same time particularly empty.

"In looking at the state of the English marine, I turned my attention to the depÔts for marine stores, which of course comprise the whole of the naval resources of perfidious Albion. To judge of the British marine from the state of the marine stores, nothing can be more contemptible than the former, because nothing can be more insignificant than the latter. I asked one of the marine-store dealers how he would provision a man-of-war with beef for a long voyage, and he had nothing to show me but a quantity of beef bones, which he valued at five pounds for twopence. The English sailors, it is well known, cannot fight unless they are maddened with grog; and I looked over the marine-store dealer's establishment for the exciting liquid. I looked in vain; for he had only an enormous quantity of empty bottles, some of which he told me he had that day been purchasing. I must do the English the justice to say that they provide well for the dressing of the wounds of their sailors, for the marine stores include vast heaps of linen rags, some of which I observed were brought from persons casually coming into the depÔt to dispose of them.

"Being desirous of avoiding any feeling of partiality or prejudice, I determined not to be satisfied with a mere examination of the stores, which must constitute the true strength of a nation's marine; and I resolved to see her vessels afloat on the Thames, for which purpose I made for the river. I made directly for Hungerford, one of her richest ports, and found a considerable fleet of steamers, several of which were manned, and at work, so that I could well judge of their capabilities. They seemed for the most part well officered, but there appeared a want of enthusiasm among the men; and a great deal of quarrelling went on among the various captains, which proves that the British navy is not in that state of union which the English flag—the Jean d'Amitie, or Union Jack—is emblematical of.

"Determined to give a fair trial to the merits of the British marine, I asked of the perfidious Britons themselves which was the best boat, and each began vociferating loudly the praises of the vessels before me, on the deck of one of which, L'Homme pas mariÉ (the Bachelor), I soon found myself. She had no guns with her, and when I asked the captain where they were, he laughed in my face, knowing, of course that the French Cabinet would submit to any humiliation rather than undertake a war with his, the captain of the Bachelor's, Government. At Chelsea, which is to London what Havre is to us, there was a flotilla of two vessels, and there was a great deal of small craft lying about, which as I passed appeared to assume an insolent attitude. On leaving the vessel I was made to produce a portion of the ship's papers, which I had been made to hold in my possession, and pay fourpence for before I was permitted even to embark on board the vessel. If England still avoids a war it is not the superiority of her craft, which is wretched enough, but it is something more than her craft—it is her astounding cunning."

QUARTER DAY.

In some remote parts of England there exists an absurd notion, that tenants are bound by some obsolete law to pay rent four times a year. As I always entertained very opposite opinions on matters of Dr. and Cr. to the mercantile portion of my fellow-creatures (having entered the army at the early age of sixteen), I was preparing on the 25th of June, 18—, to avail myself of the loveliest moonlight night that I ever witnessed, to transport the few valuables that several years of half-pay had left me, when I was presented with a short note from the sheriff of Middlesex, in which the worthy functionary expressed a strong desire to avail himself of any trifles I might possess to the amount of 48l. 9s. 6d.

This circumstance so utterly disgusted me with the world that I determined to put an end to my existence, and having communicated my intention to my wife, she not only concurred in the policy of my determination, but expressed her willingness to assist me in its perpetration. It was to the hands of that once-excellent woman that I owe as respectable a death as ever terminated the chequered life of a captain of Foot, for on the 18th of July, 18—, the following announcement appeared in the Times newspaper, under the head of "Deaths:"—

"On the 16th ult., of decline, Captain Herbert Reginald de Courcy, of the —— Regiment of Foot. His loss will not be easily supplied in the corps, of which he was a distinguished and respected member. He served a considerable time at Birmingham, where he was quartered for eight months."

The next day I laid aside my wig, shaved off my moustachios, and removed a false front tooth, which I had worn since infancy, and the metamorphosis was so complete, that having one day imprudently ventured into the park, a tailor, to whom I was indebted a considerable sum, actually inquired of me the way to the Colosseum.

Mrs. Captain de Courcy shortly after obtained her pension as an officer's widow, and for some years I enjoyed my ghosthood without a single unpleasant interruption; but

but death and quarter-day. About a month ago I discovered that Mrs. Captain De Courcy had presumed upon my decease, and actually considered herself in a state of widowhood, for ever since she has admitted to her table a very uncomfortably good-looking fellow, of the name of Briggs. What can I do? She defies me to interfere. I am only her cousin from Yorkshire. Should I say a word, the authorities at the War Office might object that I was "returned killed" by a decline, and possibly be mercenary enough to deprive me of my hard-earned pension. Again, I say, what am I to do? As an officer and a gentleman, I ought to resent the injury. I will—I swear it, come what may—I will throw off the mask. I will kick Briggs, and uphold the honour of my profession, but not till this day has passed, for this (I blush while I write it), this is quarter-day, and I can't afford it.

It was May! the merry month of May, and bees from flower to flower did melodiously hum, when a traveller, wrapped in an old weather-stricken Macintosh, wound down the little hill that enters the little village of Somerton. The old clock had just struck the hour of sunset, and the lark retired to his nest; the screech-owl was beginning to tune his voice for his nocturnal screeching; while the bat, wrapped in contemplation, kept his keen eye steadily fixed on the setting sun, which had begun to gild the highest peak of the distant mountains. Alas! it is ever thus: man in his haughty pride, like the mountain holding its head high above those by which it is surrounded, only acknowledges the smile when it is too late to take advantage of the warmth; or, to use a more homely illustration, we cherish the ray, though we may have neglected the meridian.

By this time the stranger had reached the bottom of the hill, and in a few minutes he was seated before a foaming tankard of ginger-beer, and a generous plate of captain's biscuits, in the parlour of the little hostelry of Somerton. The host of the "Blighted Ash"—such was the name of the hostelry—was a man a little above the middle stature, with firmly-knit knees, a pair of shoulders slightly rounded, a forehead bronzed by repeated exposure to an autumn sun, a capacious chest, and an upper lip with that peculiar curl which is the sure sign of native aristocracy. The traveller eyed him with searching interest, and the landlord returned glance for glance, as he replenished the invigorating pot, at the desire of his customer. At length the latter invited the former to partake of his cheer, and the stranger having pushed the captain's biscuits towards the host of the "Blighted Ash," both of them fell into a profound silence, which was only disturbed by the ticking of the clock, or the loud laugh of revelry in another room in the hostelry.

Nearly an hour had elapsed, when the stranger, drawing his chair close to that of his companion, looked steadily in his face, and throwing off a flaxen wig, discovered a natural head of hair, in which Rowland seemed to have combined with Oldridge, for the hair displayed all the gloss of the Macassar, added to all the vigour of the Balm of Columbia. It was but the work of an instant; and in another moment the stranger was locked in the arms of the innkeeper, while the latter murmured out "My son!" and the former shrieked—"My father!"

Both of them, a few days afterwards, left the "Blighted Ash," never to return; and many a legend did the village gossips relate, of how the landlord of the "Blighted Ash" at last found a balm for his seared bosom.

It was the 11th of November. It had been raining since three o'clock. A thick fog enveloped London. Horses smoked, as if in a terrible passion with the weather; and omnibuses rolled along, breaking for once their daily custom of stopping at every lamp-post on the way. I had a secret presentiment something strange would happen.

St. Paul's struck one—two—three—four o'clock. I counted them distinctly, one by one. They sounded like a death-knell. A dead silence ensued, invaded only by the cries of "Cl'pam!" "M'l'end!" that broke forth in fitful shouts from contending cads. I did not feel well. I was leaning against a lamp-post at the corner of the Bank—wet to the skin. My mind was very uneasy. I had that day accepted a bill. I was vowing within myself never to accept another, when a sudden noise—a fearful rush—recalled me to my senses. I looked around, and saw a large stream of human beings pouring, in fearful force, from the principal door of the Bank. Man seemed leagued in enmity against man—clerk looked on fellow-clerk with the lowering eyes of a malignant fiend. Their looks alarmed me. Not a policeman was in sight! What should I do? Was the Bank on fire? I had no money there, still there are moments when we can feel for others. It was like a human river broken from its bank, carrying ruin and terror wherever it went. Could it be a panic? I recollected my Julia had 500l. standing there in the suitable name of Smith. I dashed the drops of perspiration from my fevered brow. I endeavoured to recollect myself. It was but one effort. I determined, let it cost me what it would, to follow them to the end.

There were full two hundred beings. They formed one unbroken, moving mass. They were running, as if with one will, frantically together. Their speed was unnatural. The rain only made them run the faster. Not an umbrella had they amongst them. At last they reached the corner. The clerks behind ran as if for their very lives. I was alarmed, and ran after them, the agent of some mysterious fear. I lost sight of them for a moment. Again I saw them—and, oh! what a scene presented itself to me! A band of at least two hundred desperate clerks were struggling, fighting madly, to get admission all into one omnibus. Their screams were dreadful. One fat cashier was lying, dead or wounded, under the door-step, bathed in mud. Another was shouting in agony, at the door, unable to work his way out or in. Twenty or thirty clerks were climbing, to the imminent peril of their lives, on to the roof. At the same time a severe engagement was taking place amongst a determined dozen on the box, to decide by brutal force who should remain master of the one seat. In the algebraical fraction of a minute every place was invaded, and the omnibus rolled away before me, like some frightful dream. How many lives were lost I cannot tell. The subject was too painful to inquire into. I felt a degree of pity for the pettiness of human nature, and had a strong glass of brandy-and-water.

Never, as long as I live, shall I forget the 11th of November!

[This phenomenon, we have been told, is not so strange as it may appear. Let the curious reader only be present at the Bank, on the first rainy day, when the clock strikes four, and he will infallibly—should there be only one omnibus in waiting—witness the same desperate struggle for places as occurred to our German-minded correspondent on the memorable 11th. It is a very amusing sport, we have been told, to be a spectator (under an umbrella) of this animated clerk-race.]

LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM.
BY THE LATE DANIEL LAMBERT.

GARDENING FOR LADIES.
THE MAMMA'S CALENDAR FOR JULY.

Your daughters now demand your serious attention. Dress and plant them in rows for evening parties. Weed poor relations. Sift "Debrett's Peerage" well through, and do your best to nail the oldest branches. Lay traps for bets at races, and hoe young gentlemen for gloves. Calculate the advantages of foreign, as compared with English husbandry, and cultivate whichever promises to turn out best. Remove younger daughters to the nursery, and towards the 30th transplant young sprigs to narrow beds at preparatory schools. Cut your box at the opera, and look forward to spa watering for the autumn. Trim your old man well, if he does not come out handsomely: if the trimming should fail, forcing must be resorted to. Put your frames in muslin bags, and cart away loose furniture to the Pantechnicon. Graft slips on window-panes, labelled "To Let," and harrow your servants with board wages. Clear out your husband's purse, or if he is rather backward this year, transplant him to back kitchen; and, screening yourselves from exposure, drill policemen to say "the family have gone out of town."

Happening to be at Ramsgate in the summer of 1844, and being much out of spirits at the loss of 4l. 10s. in raffles, for which I had won a card-rack—my mind, by-the-bye, has been upon the rack ever since—I determined on availing myself of an opportunity to visit the Continent, which the starting of an excursion boat to Calais on the following day held out to me.

I retired to my apartment at the hotel, and was soon wrapped in the arms of Morpheus and a pair of Witney blankets, from both of which I emerged at six, for our vessel was chartered to start precisely at seven. Having swallowed a hasty pint of shrimps and a rapid plate of bread and butter, washed down by a cup of tolerable Twankay, I threw my zephyr over my arm, lashed my hat to my button-hole by a piece of string, and flung myself on to a camp stool near the binnacle of the packet. Our captain was a thorough tar, with a white hat and a cotton pocket-handkerchief. He had served (as a witness) in the action between the Thunder and the Bachelor, off Westminster Hall, and was continually quoting the words of Nelson to the crew who acted under him. These consisted of a steward, a stoker, a boy, and a common sailor; the steward steering the ship, the common sailor taking the tickets on landing, and the boy throwing the rope to the people on the pier at the termination of each voyage. The gallant old captain, in quoting the exclamation of the hero of the Nile, always interpolated two words to adapt the invigorating sentence to the exigencies of his own craft, and was continually shouting—

By this happy device of our captain the boy was inspired with the same enthusiasm that animated the men, and the result was that the captain was the idol of his little crew of mariners.

We left Ramsgate with a stiff hurricane all around us, steaming up in the teeth of the wind, and a good biting breeze it seemed to promise us. On getting outside the harbour, we lurched up to the right, then tumbled over to the left, and pitched heavily with the vessel's head smack into the wave, as if, like a thirsty bird, she was dipping down into the sea to take a deep drink of it. Several of the passengers performed the same extraordinary manoeuvre, and I threw myself in helpless misery flat on the deck, where I continued to roll backwards and forwards between the mast and an iron grating which covered the part of the vessel containing the machinery. I had little opportunity of cultivating the acquaintance of my fellow-passengers, one or two of whom occasionally tumbled over me, and I hoped if I ever tumbled over either of them in after life, that it would be under more favourable auspices. The chief part of the voyage was passed by me in a state of unconsciousness, and I was roused from a sort of swoon by the information that we had arrived at the mouth of Calais harbour, which there would be no possibility of entering. After beating about for a space of time that I subsequently ascertained was four hours, though it had appeared to me about forty, we put back, and hopped, skipped, jumped, toppled, sidled, ambled, pitched, tossed, and tumbled over the briny deep—a great deal too deep for me to trust it again—into the harbour of Ramsgate. After getting safely on shore we all began to abuse the captain; but the jolly old tar, placing his thumb on the end of his nose, gave a puff at his cigar, and went below to his dinner. One of the party, a London attorney, who had come to Ramsgate in pursuit of health and a runaway cognovit, threatened the proprietors of the packet with an action for not taking us to Calais, according to agreement; but he had no sooner served process on the agent than he was referred to the little words "Weather permitting," at the bottom of the bill announcing the intended landing at Calais. This made all the difference in the contract, for the words should have been "Weather or no," in order to sustain the threatened action.

PROSPECTUS OF THE
MUTUAL PLATE PRESENTATION AND FRIENDLY
TESTIMONIAL ASSOCIATION.

The principle of plate presentation has never yet been thoroughly understood, or, at all events, it has never been completely and satisfactorily acted on. The great advantage of obtaining credit for public and private virtues through the medium of inscriptions on cups and snuff-boxes cannot be too seriously or emphatically insisted on. It is therefore proposed that a society should be formed on the plan of the United Brothers, the Associated Sons of Harmonious Freedom, and other similar institutions, the object of the projectors being the presentation of testimonials in honour of the private and public virtues of the various members.

It is proposed to issue ten thousand shares of one pound each, one shilling deposit being paid at the time of allotment. The holder of ten shares will be entitled to a snuff-box on the death of his wife, with an inscription eulogistic of his virtues as a "tender husband." On the death of each child he will receive a pencil-case, with a brief allusion to his qualities as the "best of fathers;" and on the decease of himself, his widow will be presented with a tooth-pick in albata, having a consolatory motto engraved on the back of it.

Applications for shares to be made at the offices of the Electro-Mosaic-Nickel Continental and Birmingham Gold and Silver Establishment, 0½, Houndsditch.

1. Always carry a box of lucifers in your hand. It is the Ægis of a beggar's life, and shields him from the invasion of policemen.

2. Never be lame and blind together in the same town. One infirmity at a time is enough for the coldest sympathy.

3. Run sedulously after Quakers and fat ladies, especially if you have with you at the time a wife and a large family.

4. Never fail to sing out well in cold weather. If you have three or four little boys and girls, of mixed sizes, to sing with you, all the better. Always choose the middle of the street to give effect to your voices.

5. You must be "frozen out" regularly ever winter, and mount duty in the streets, with a pitchfork, tipped with a cabbage, over your shoulder.

6. Your costume in each season must be the opposite of that usually worn; that is to say, during the winter, a pair of very thin trousers and a corazza will be all you require. Shiver violently, and chatter your teeth as often as a person passes you. A sailor's hat, striped shirt, and canvas trousers, are not bad in a country town.

7. Mind, in your orations, you "haven't tasted food for three days," and make a practice of picking up bones, or old crusts, out of the gutter, and gnawing them, if there is any one looking at you.

8. Never be too modest, if any one has relieved you, to ask for "an old coat, or a pair of old shoes." Recollect, Holywell Street is not too proud to purchase the most worthless of wearing apparel.

9. Take care, if you are deaf and dumb, not to answer any one. Suffer yourself to be taken into custody rather than notice the impertinent questions of an officer of the Mendicity Society.

10. Take care of long crossings, if you are very lame. It is extremely unpleasant, as well as infra dig., to carry your crutches and run all of a sudden, if you happen to have at your heels a mad bull or a racing omnibus.

11. Chalk writing is unprofitable, and belongs to the old school. If you are driven to it, don't mind about spelling incorrectly, and be sure you are "starving." Quiet spots, like Gower Street or Russell Square, are the best markets for this branch of the profession. In great thoroughfares you will have your fresco or calligraphy rubbed out by every unfeeling passer-by, and be obliged ultimately to "walk your chalks."

OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEOPLE.

The returns under this head are extremely interesting, and some curious calculations may be made from them. It appears that there is, in England and Wales, about one lawyer to four lunatics; thus giving him a chance of at least a couple of clients. The tables are, however, very incomplete; for we find no account of the number of omnibus cads, who are lumped under the head of "other educated persons." We presume that convicts come home from transportation are included among persons returned as independent.

Take as much room on the pavement as you possibly can: if you are with four or five friends, walk all arm-in-arm together. Don't make way for a lady; the road is plenty wide enough for her. Joke smartly with the cabmen, and hail every omnibus which is passing, and then walk a different way. Ask each policeman "How's G 149?" and enter into playful conversation with every beggar who asks you for a penny. Enter newspaper shops to inquire the price of the "Penny Magazine," and stop outside cookshops to imitate the action of the carver. Shriek out "Lur-li-e-ty" as often as you please, and compliment cooks and housemaids standing at area-gates. Stop private carriages to inquire if they are "hired," and tap stout gentlemen on the off shoulder to enjoy their surprise when they turn round and see no one there. Buy baked potatoes in the street to keep your hands warm, and play at catch-ball with them as you go along. Pelt dogs with stones, or anything else you can get; and cry "Balloon" when there is none. Converse freely with old clothesmen, and laugh openly at persons in distress. Stare young ladies out of countenance, and quiz aged people on their very juvenile looks. Ring bells vigorously as you go home of an evening, and rattle your stick violently against the area-railings, taking good care to remove all pewter pots that may be hanging on them.

HISTORICAL QUESTIONS:
À LA MANGNALL.

When was ginger-beer first invented?

In whose reign did the British highlow first come into use?

Who built the Elephant and Castle?

Who was the originator of the arrangement which placed "a sandwich and a glass of ale for fourpence" within the reach of the whole population of London?

When was the House of Hanover first brought over to England, and what is its present address?

When was the fantail first worn, and by whom?

What were policemen invented for?

In whose reign was the unicorn attached to the British arms?

When was the Battle of the Constitution fought in the Registration Courts?

Upon what occasion did policemen first wear Berlin gloves?

Who was the last of the outlaws, and state a few of the actions in which he distinguished himself?

Never do anything hastily: remember it is the last cup of tea which is the strongest.

Be not too prodigal: the kettle when too full puts out the fire.

A little scandal is to tea what an olive is to wine.

Butter not your bread on both sides, lest in your old age you be left without bread to butter.

It is a wise washerwoman who knows her own twankay.

Measure your green according to your black.

Happy is he who can take the rough with the smooth—the strong hyson with the fine pearl gunpowder.

Delays are dangerous: remember the hottest toast will get cold by standing.

REASONS FOR CLOSING ATTORNEYS' OFFICES
AT SIX.

The lawyers' clerks, having been bitten by the linendrapers' shopmen, have caught the fashionable mania for "shutting up at six," in order to give them time for that mental cultivation which filling up writs, attending before the Master, and copying bills of costs, are not likely to facilitate.

At a recent meeting of some influential articled clerks, and a numerous body of common-law journeymen, the following resolutions, embodying reasons for closing attorneys' offices at six, were unanimously agreed to:—

"1. That the study of history is conducive to the cultivation of the mind. That the performances at Astley's begin at half-past six, and it is desirable that the clerks who are anxious to profit by the dramatic representation of the great historical events of our own time, should have an opportunity of doing so.

"2. That it is perfectly true the Cider Cellars and the Coal Hole (where the noblest study of mankind, which is universally allowed to be man, can be effectually carried on) do not present many attractive features till after nine in the evening. That, nevertheless, the cigar divans are in full operation before that hour; and it is therefore expedient that six should be the time appointed for the cessation of business.

"3. That stout and devilled kidneys, when introduced into the animal system too late at night, are liable to impede the action of the digestive organs, and impair the intellectual faculties, thus depriving the employer of the full benefit of the clerk's shrewdness and activity. It is, therefore, of the last importance that, by an early release from business, the stout and kidneys may be absorbed by the gastric juices, and the gases given off, by evaporation, in sufficient time to enable the clerk to devote a mens sana in corpore sano by ten o'clock in the morning, to the best interests of his principal.

"4. That the Surrey Zoological Gardens afford opportunities for the study of natural history, which can only be followed up by daylight. That the habits of the bear, the tiger, and other animals, cannot be said to be without interest to an attorney's clerk; and that the knowledge of how certain savage creatures secure their prey may hereafter be of great service in the practice of the legal profession. It is consequently obvious that the lawyers' clerks should be enabled to profit by so valuable a lesson.

"5. That the shooting galleries are seldom open after eight, and that the knowledge of the use of powder and shot is essential to a lawyer, as he will often be called upon by a client to decide whether a defendant is worth the articles alluded to.

"6. That there are many other occasions when, by an early closing of the office, the lawyer's clerk will have an opportunity of being present at some—"

Among the events for which the past year will for ever remain a marked twelvemonth on the page of history, is the Great Fire of London, which broke out, for a considerable period, three nights every week, as a public prediction had declared it should, regularly, till further notice.

We are fortunately enabled to give the particulars of this great conflagration on the occasion of one of its grandest eruptions. It commenced a little after dusk, and there can now exist no doubt that it was the work of more than one incendiary.

Flames were distinctly seen to issue from one of the windows of Old St. Paul's (which seemed to have been renovated only to be re-consumed). They evidently proceeded from a torch, which, we are assured, was applied by a man in a seal-skin cap.

No less than three individuals were observed, busy in assisting the progress of the flames, by tossing ignited straw, &c., about with pitchforks. The glare distinctly revealed their shirt sleeves, thus proving them to be without coats: but, owing to the confusion, their faces were not identified.

The devouring element was brought, by a lad in a short jacket (said to have been out at elbows), with aid of a lighted stick, into contact with the touch-hole of a howitzer, which exploded with a loud noise. This proceeding was frequently repeated during the evening,—it is believed out of mere wantonness. The same heartless principle induced others to throw squibs, crackers, and other fireworks into the blazing ruins.

Neither the crowd nor the attendant policemen offered in the smallest degree to interfere. The cries and shouting of the multitude were tremendous, but seemed to partake of an exulting character.

By a little past ten o'clock the flames got under, apparently of their own accord; and, though several towers and steeples had been seen to fall with a tremendous crash, which was heightened by the frequent tocsin of gongs and the explosion of artillery, little damage is imagined to have been done, the destruction having principally extended to the fireworks and other combustibles already mentioned.

The motive assigned for this act of incendiarism is sheer self-interest on the part of the perpetrators, who received a shilling a head from people who came to witness it. The fiendish project, we fear, was crowned with the most complete success.

Almost every person who has lived in history has had some particular antipathy. Julius CÆsar couldn't eat a periwinkle, and Alexander always fainted at the sight of a blackbeetle.

Chaucer would be unwell for days if he heard the cry of "mackerel!" and Spenser never saw a leg of mutton without shivering all over.

Boadicea hated red whiskers: it nearly cost Caractacus his life, because he came into her presence one day with a tremendous pair on.

The smell of pickles always sent Cardinal Wolsey into hysterical fits. He called upon Henry the Eighth once while the monarch was lunching off some cold meat, and Wolsey fell down under the table as soon as he smelt there was pickled cabbage in the room. Henry, thinking the cardinal was intoxicated, had him locked up in the Tower immediately.

Cleopatra couldn't look at a person with freckles: Antony had all his soldiers who were at all freckled painted black to please her.

Napoleon took a violent hatred against any one who didn't take snuff: it is said the cause of his separation from Josephine was because she never would take a pinch from him.

Alfred the Great could not bear the taste of suet-dumplings.

Artaxerxes had such an intense horror of fleas that he would not go to bed without a suit of armour, made like a night-gown, to fit close to his skin. He would lose his reason for days when bitten by one. There was a reward of ten talents, during his reign, for the apprehension of every flea, dead or alive; and merchants would come from far and near to claim the reward.

Queen Elizabeth had the strongest antipathy to a sheriff's officer: she would run away as fast as she could directly she saw one, and continue running for miles, until her guards, who knew her weakness, stopped her.

Old Parr would turn pale if he touched a piece of soap: this is the reason he never shaved. Cicero had such an antipathy to the Wednesday that he used to remain in bed all that day; and Anna Bolena could not hear the word "potato" pronounced without turning violently red, and feeling low-spirited for weeks afterwards.

Charles the Second never could go through Temple Bar. It used to take the whole strength of Villiers, with Rochester and Nell Gwynne, to push him through it. Cromwell never could pass a tripe shop without bursting immediately into tears.

The word "comet" has been derived by some from the Latin coma, a tail; but the better derivation is comma, because it never can come to a full stop.

Every comet has a tail, or train, which may be compared to some of those monster trains which are occasionally the subjects of newspaper paragraphs.

What a comet is we do not exactly know. It is certainly an eccentric body, but there are so many eccentric bodies in these days, that this hypothesis affords us no assistance.

A comet has a curious propensity to cut and come again, at very long intervals.

Astronomers talk of the mean distance of a comet from the earth, but as no comet ever came nearer than several thousands of miles, which is anything but a mean distance, we should be glad to know the meaning the astronomers attach to the word alluded to.

There is a comet due in 1848, being the same one that favoured us, or rather our ancestors, with a visit at half-past eight P.M., on the 21st of April, 1556. As the "oldest inhabitant" will not have had the honour of a previous acquaintance, it is very possible that some other eccentric body may be mistaken for our old acquaintance of the sixteenth century. Perhaps an inferior planet, disguised in a long tail, may endeavour to pass himself off for the expected visitor.

The safest mode of predicting a comet is to prophesy its appearance at least a century hence, and something luminous is pretty sure to turn up, to enable posterity to find something like a realization of the prediction. Any astronomer desirous of naming an earlier day for the appearance of a comet should stipulate for its being visible at some outlandish locality, where no witnesses will be in attendance to test the accuracy of the prediction.

The comet of 1770 has very shamefully broken its appointments with the astronomers, and shown a degree of unpunctuality which is no less perplexing than it is unbusinesslike. The comet ought to have entered an appearance, according to the law of comets, every five years and a half; but the eccentric body has been non inventus ever since, and we should be glad to see it regularly outlawed from the solar system.

Comets are generally called periodical bodies because their tails are so exceedingly lengthy, like those which are continued from month to month in some of the periodicals. They differ, however, in one respect, the former being very luminous, and the latter utterly destitute of brilliancy.

Between the years 1771 to 1780 there happened a regular glut of comets; no less than five having appeared in the period alluded to. This extraordinary assemblage was no doubt the first regular specimen of a monster meeting.

Professed patriots being always addicted to abusing their own country, it is presumed that the height of patriotism would consist in an Englishman writing leading articles for a French Radical newspaper. With this view a few literary friends of freedom have associated for the purpose of supplying the Parisian Press with Anti-English leaders at a cheap rate, and the following is submitted as a specimen of the article it is proposed to manufacture.

The subject is a particularly happy one, being no less than the solemn declaration of the King of the French (while being invested with the Order of the Garter) that he would never make war upon the Sovereign of the Order alluded to.

The circumstance that the oath taken includes no promise or declaration of the kind can of course be of no consequence, as the leader is intended for a French newspaper. The following is the specimen:—

"Nous voyons [We see] que perfide Albion (we don't translate perfide Albion, for everybody knows the meaning of that) a donnÉ une JarretiÈre [has given a Garter] À Louis Philippe [to Louis Philippe]. Mais, pourquoi cette JarretiÈre? [But why this Garter?] Nous voyons dans cette JarretiÈre [We see in this Garter] une autre chaÎne [another chain] pour France [for France]. Oui, oui! [Yes, yes!] cette JarretiÈre infÂme [this infamous Garter] tiera Louis Philippe par la jambe [will tie Louis Philippe by the leg] plus que jamais [more than ever]. En recevant ce JarretiÈre honteuse [In receiving this infamous Garter] on lui a fait jurer, [they made him swear,] qu'il ne fera pas la guerre [that he will not make war] sur le Souverain de l'Ordre [on the Sovereign of the Order]. Hein, hein! [Alas, alas!] notre pauvre campagne [our poor country] est trahie [is betrayed].

"Mais on a donnÉ cette JarretiÈre dÉshonorante [But they have given this degrading Garter] au Roi de la Prusse aussi bien, [to the King of Prussia as well,] et aussi À l'Empereur de Russie [and also to the Emperor of Russia]. Tous ont jurÉ la mÊme chose, [All have sworn the same thing,] de ne pas faire la guerre contre le Souverain de l'Ordre [not to make war on the Sovereign of the Order]. Et qui est le souverain contre qui on a jurÉ de ne pas faire la guerre? [And who is the sovereign against whom they have sworn not to make war?] Pourquoi, la Reine Victoria, pour Être certain. [Why, Queen Victoria, to be sure]. Et qui est elle? [And who is she?] Pourquoi, perfide Albion, comme une matiÈre du courant. [Why, perfidious Albion, as a matter of course]. Laisser les Anglais aller se pendre [Let the English go and hang themselves] dans leurs jarretiÈres, [in their garters,] comme cette misÉrable Mademoiselle Bailey, [like that unfortunate Miss Bailey,] de qui on chante quelquefois [whom they occasionally sing about]. Mais ne laissez pas les FranÇais [But do not let the French] suivre l'exemple [follow the example] de la demoiselle À qui nous avons fait allusion [of the young lady whom we have alluded to]. Laissons les rappeler [Let them remember] le sort horrible [the horrible fate] de cette jeune dame, [of that young lady,] qui peut avoir ÉtÉ [who might have been] une decoration À sa sexe [an ornament to her sex] mais pour les jarretiÈres [but for the garters]."

REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON WASHHOUSES
FOR THE PEOPLE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THINGS WHICH CAN BE MUCH BETTER CONCEIVED
THAN DESCRIBED.

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

A woman discovering her first grey hair.

Putting the lighted end of a cigar into your mouth.

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

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

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

Breaking your strap in the pas seul in La Pastorale.

The wine at a public dinner.

DIRECTIONS FOR BREWING.

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

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

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

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

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

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

ASSESSED TAXES.

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

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

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

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

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

SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

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

THE POSTMAN.

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

THE CABMAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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