  The noble art of boxing made a hit in its day; but it is now numbered amongst the dead or dying, and the art of striking reigns in its stead. Little has been heard of throughout the month but the "strikes" that have taken place at the various public works, among the masons. "Masonic brethren" they have proved themselves, by the secrecy of their communications, and the sympathetic character of their movements. They struck first at the Houses of Parliament, then at Nelson's Monument, then at Woolwich. Not being in want of bread, they refused us a stone. Punctual to a moment, as the Horse Guards' clock struck, they did. Our Omnibus stopped, like the workmen, at Charing-cross. "So the masons at Nelson's Monument are going to strike," said we. "Glad to hear it," rejoined a punning acquaintance, "there ought to be something striking about a monument to him!" The name of Nelson set all our companions talking; but an "old sailor" (not the) was the first to give his discourse a reportable shape, by relating a little historical fact that has escaped history—unimportant, perhaps, but not uninteresting. Everybody knows Tower Hill, but it is not every one we meet with in an Omnibus, who can recollect it as it was fifty years ago, when Steel kept his shop there, and first published the Navy List. However, we cannot stop to speak of him, or his book, nor of the itinerants who were wont to vend their various wares under the trees which shaded the houses in Postern-row; nor of the pump, which then, as now, was declared to be a very good pump; nor of the ditch, into which, in that day, many a passenger was tumbled after being robbed and beaten by the thieves and disorderlies—land privateers as they were called, who cruised in the neighbourhood after dark. We do not intend to relate any thing of these, nor of the sundry stout, ill-favoured, savage-looking vagabonds in fearnought coats, who were ever to be found lolling over the row of posts which fenced the eastern side of the hill—the commissioned press-gang, who used to amuse themselves by scrutinizing the passers-by, and now and then by breaking the head of some unfortunate blue-jacket who had incautiously strolled too near their precincts to avoid capture or a fight. We have taken you out of the city, reader, into a district not inhabited by the most honest or well conducted; but we must still bring you through East Smithfield into Wapping, to a spot a little west of the entrance of the London Docks; and hereabouts one Richardson kept a slop-shop. Early one morning a cheerful-looking hale old man came out of Steel's navigation warehouse, leading by the hand a slender stripling of a lad who carried a chart under his arm, and seemed to regard his companion with the respect due to a patron. They took their way along the same track precisely by which we have conducted you, and parted opposite Richardson's slop-shop. As the man (it was Porteous, the king's pilot) shook the lad by the hand, he ejaculated loud enough to be heard half down the street—"Mind, high water at a quarter past twelve; I won't wait a minute; be there by twelve!" Old Richardson was at this moment busied about his accounts, and too intent on his occupation to perceive that anybody had approached his counter, until the lad who had entered the shop drew his attention. He wanted some sea-clothing, and tendered a list of check shirts, duck trousers, &c. The articles were exhibited, examined, and approved; they were to be packed up and sent to the Dundee Arms by noon. The honest chapman recognized the signature at the foot of the order, and the youth took his departure. There was something in the lad's manners and appearance that would have induced an observation upon the choice he had made of a profession so full of danger and difficulty; and the slopseller was once or twice about to address his The lad gone, the shopkeeper resumed his employment at his books, and, as he turned over leaf after leaf, accompanied the process with certain verbal remarks which a pen he held between his lips rendered somewhat indistinct; at length, laying down the implement and adjusting his spectacles, he pondered over the contents of the page, and after a pause exclaimed—"Ah! I do remember, about the same time in the morning too. Let me see—watch-coat—fearnought trousers—pair of boots—sword-belt—he was rather a different looking chap to the lad that came just now; a hard-faced, smart-built, bold dog he was—fine eye; snapped at me as I showed him the things—sent 'em to Water-lane, but never got the money! Early customers differ otherwise than in looks; this pays, that don't—but it can't be helped; if they are not all—let's see, what's the lads name," (and here he re-examined the order that had just been left with him) "ay—Horatio Nelsons, they are not all Paul Joneses"—And these two widely distinguished heroes, reader, were the customers between whom old Richardson drew a comparison Nelson, and the modern navy, and Napier, and ship-building, and discipline, and improvement, were the changes rung for some time, until at last somebody adverted to a peculiarity of the Jack Tar which may be discussed under the title of The sailor must have his joke in defiance of danger and death. When Commodore Anson took Panama in 1742, his men clothed themselves over their jackets and trousers in all the gay apparel they could collect. They did the same at Capua under Nelson; and the hero, elevated on a cask in the grand square, and surrounded by motley groups of masquerading tars, drank rich wine out of a golden goblet to the toast of "Better times to us." In 1805, the brave Yeo, then a lieutenant of the Loire frigate, with a mere handful of men, stormed the heavy fort of El Muros, near Finisterre, and carried it at noon-day. Having destroyed the fortification and sent off the stores, the seamen arrayed themselves in the immense Spanish grenadiers' bear skin caps and accoutrements, and all black and dirty with their labour, rowed off in this state to the ship, to the great amusement of Captain Maitland and the hearty approval of their shipmates. Many other anecdotes of a similar kind might be related; and now it appears, by recent accounts from China, that Jack is still pursuing his old game; for it is related that at the destruction of several war-junks in the neighbourhood of Canton, the English seamen arrayed themselves in the spoils of the enemy, and figured away in mandarin caps and tunics, and the curly-toed shoes of the Chinamen; nor was the essential tail wanted; for many of the bodies were divested of this ornament, which Jack being in a "cue" for humour, suspended at his own back, occasionally raising it in a coil, and offering to take a messmate in tow by it. We did not break up our little Naval Board without mentioning impressment, and a thing called the CAT; the word was no sooner out, than it operated like the morning-gun in "The Critic," and off went the following:— A cat I sing, of famous memory, Though catachrestical my song may be; In a small garden catacomb she lies, And cataclysms fill her comrades' eyes; Borne on the air, the catacoustic song Swells with her virtues' catalogue along; No cataplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears Once loud and strong her catechist-like voice It dwindled to a catcall's squeaking noise; Most categorical her virtues shone, By catenation join'd each one to one;— But a vile catchpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like catling's cut, her strength disabled quite; Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air, As cataphracts their arms through legions bear; 'Tis vain! as caterpillars drag away Their lengths, like cattle after busy day, She ling'ring died, nor left in kit kat the Embodyment of this catastrophe.—V. D. L. "A play on words," said Mr. Cavil, (who happened to be our guest on this occasion), "a play on words, sir, is a pretty thing in its way; and I'm perfectly well aware that the public expect you to be jocular (as if there were nothing cheerful in seriousness). I know, too, that it's quite impossible to please everybody. But still, sir—still I think a little gravity now and then, eh?—a little gravity. I don't conceive that you give your attention sufficiently to science. Something scientific now—" Mr. Cavil was not allowed to conclude; we had anticipated his want; we had already turned our thoughts that way, and could fortunately plume ourselves upon the presence of one of the illustrissimi of science, who forthwith illumined our humble vehicle by a transcendent and exclusive report of the Section A.—Mathematical and Physical Science. President—Prof. Cycloyd. Vice-Presidents—Dr. Spectrum & Major Fork. "On an Experiment of Interference." By Inspector Jones. The author stated, that one night he had observed a gentleman employed in experimenting upon the tintinnabular powers of bells, as produced by voltaic action communicated through copper wires; the end of the wire being conducted into the open air, and the point defended by a brass knob. Feeling interested in the prosecution of this experiment, the author immediately proceeded to the spot to make inquiries into its success; but when within two paces of the experimentalist, he had suddenly received so severe a shock that he was stunned for the moment. When he recovered from its effects, the gentleman was gone. This he particularly regretted, as he much wished to have discovered the power which had produced the shock that prostrated him; but as he had observed another gentleman a short distance behind him, he supposes that he, being an assistant of the experimentalist, was engaged in generating the galvanic fluid, which, passing from him to the one in connexion with the brass knob, (from thence to be communicated to the bell through the wire,) had produced the shock described—the author's body intercepting its flow, and thus being in a state of interference. "A Comparison between the Results given by Rain-gauges and known Facts with regard to Lachrymatose precipitations." By Dr. Daw. The object of this paper was, to point out the connexion which exists between the quantities of rain received on horizontal surfaces, at different heights above the ground, and the quantity of lachrymal vapour condensed into tears, also at different heights; and showing that, in both cases, the less the elevation the greater were the quantities. Thus, a rain-gauge, four feet from the ground, will intercept less than one on the ground; and a child of four feet high will produce less than one two feet high. "On the Expression of Unknown Quantities." By Prof. Muddelwitz. A method of expressing unknown quantities by known formulÆ has long been a desideratum in mathematical science. This process the author stated he had discovered; for that the fractions of coefficient indices, when used to express the powers of differential equations, are always capable of being solved into pure algebraic roots. Thus, if in an infinitesimal series, in which p, o, o2—t—t2 are unknown given quantities, a, a2, and e, known, and the value to be limited, the equation stands as follows:— 1. a x — a2 × p o t2 = t, o, e. 2. a x = t o e + a — p o t2 —————————— Thus the generalization of the equation of x, to the nth degree, gives its fraction in the form of an algebraic root.
We were all thrown into a state of such intense dumbness, such complete torpor, by the profundity of these scientific researches, that everybody tacitly admitted the appropriateness of the next subject; it was a case of still-life which met our startled eye the other evening, in the form of a pair of On our table stood, not one, but two "black bottles," two bottles that had held "Cork stout"—two we saw without seeing double. The corks had already been drawn, but upon them were two faces distinctly visible, which we resolved to draw likewise; and as the pencil wound itself about, we seemed to hear the following dialogue, in a sort of screw-like tone:— "Arrah, Paddy now, and where are you from?" "Sure I'm from Cork." "Cork is it? fait den it's from Cork I am meself." "Not such terrifying images, sir," said a nervous visitor, who trembled like Keeley in the old drama of the Bottle Imp, "not such terrifying images as that family of phantoms, that assemblage of the blues, which you conjured up in your last number. You might well call them "frights." I'm sure I've felt all over The allusion to this mysterious Derbyshire pike-man produced inquiry, and we were all forthwith reminded by our agitated companion, of a midnight scene— which was lately recorded in the public papers. It appears that when Van Amburgh travels, the large elephant goes on foot in the night, attended by four East Indians, men of negro complexions, in white dresses,—three of them riding on the elephant's back, and one on his tusks. One night as they were passing over Worksop forest, the party arrived at a toll-bar that was closed. The call "Gate" was raised, and out came the toll-keeper in his nightcap. Now it is suspected that this unfortunate individual had been long anticipating the coming of a gentleman in black, whose name is never mentioned to ears polite; for observing the monstrous and unlooked-for spectacle that then presented itself to his drowsy eyes, he, instead of opening the gate, was so terrified, that he ran back into the house, exclaiming in frantic tones, "He's come at last!" "Frightened at an elephant," cried Mr. Cavil, with a profusion of pishes! "At an elephant merely! I wonder if he ever saw a young lady—young ladies such as I have seen! I was never afraid of a woman while she wore her hair turned up, powdered, pomatumed, and frizzed like my mother's and grandmother's; but only imagine the terror of a sensitive mortal on encountering a specimen of the fashions of the present day; on meeting a sample of the feminine gender, who, not satisfied with milliner's 'whiskers,' must exhibit to the affrighted gazer a face Frightened at an elephant! Bless his five wits!—if he were only to come to London!" |
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