CHARACTER IN A BLUE BAG.

THE CAMP AT CHOBHAMTHE CAMP AT CHOBHAM—TAKEN ON THE SPOT BY A RISING YOUNG ARTIST.

At the Metropolitan Free Hospital Dinner, theLord Mayorin the Chair, we find it reported thatMiss M. Wellsobtained great applause by the spirit and feeling with which she sang the ballad of "Annie Laurie." Is the Reporter sure that it wasAnnie? Is he quite certain it wasn'tPeter?

There is one objection to the Bill for the Recovery of Personal Liberty in Certain Cases. That is, its title. False imprisonment, in certain cases, is remediable byHabeas Corpus. What inspection of nunneries is chiefly needed for, is the recovery of personal liberty in uncertain cases.

A BIT OF THE CAMPA BIT OF THE CAMP.Mr. Muggins."What! Fourteen on ye sleep under that Gig Umbereller of a thing? Get along with yer!"

Mr. Muggins."What! Fourteen on ye sleep under that Gig Umbereller of a thing? Get along with yer!"

Two attorneys quarrel about a matter of business; one of them accuses the other of trickery; the latter retorts on the former by calling him a liar and a scoundrel: and the first attorney brings an action for slander against the second. Whereon, according to the report of the case:—

"TheLord Chief Justice, in summing up, said it was not actionable to say of a man personally, 'you are a liar,' or 'you are a scoundrel;' nor was it actionable to combine the epithets, and say, 'you are a lying scoundrel;' but, if said of an attorney in his professional character, those words would be actionable."

What the law—speaking by theLord Chief Justice—means to say, is, that abuse, in order to be actionable, must be injurious; that to call an attorney a lying and scoundrelly man does him no injury; whereas, calling him a lying and scoundrelly attorney tends to injure him in his profession. The law, therefore, presumes, that you may esteem a man to be a true and honest attorney, whilst in every other capacity you consider him a false and mean rascal; so that you may be willing to confide the management of your affairs to him, although you will not trust him with anything else.

It is curious that the rule applied to the defamation of lawyers is reversed in its application to invective against legislators. Members of Parliament are censurable if they impute falsehood and scoundrelism to each other in a personal sense, but not censurable for making those imputations in a Parliamentary sense. The theory of this anomaly seems to be, that the affairs of political life cannot be conducted without deceit and baseness, and accordingly that there is no offence in accusing an honourable gentleman of evincing those qualities in labouring at his vocation, that is to say for his country's good, for which it is necessary that he should cheat and deceive.

The law of slander, partially applied to attorneys, ought perhaps to be wholly inapplicable in the case of barristers. If a counsel may suggest to a jury a supposition which he knows to be false, and particularly one, which at the same time tends to criminate some innocent person; and if he is to be allowed to make such a suggestion for his client's benefit, he is allowed to be base and deceitful for the benefit of his client. To charge him with deception and villainy in his character of advocate, is to accuse him of professional zeal; to advantage him, not injure him, in his business. It ought to be lawful to call him a liar and a scoundrel in a forensic sense, as well as in every other.

WhenLord Brougham, the other evening, was presenting some petition for the abolition of oaths, there were certain oaths in particular which he might have taken the opportunity of recommending the Legislature to do away with. They are alluded to in the following passage from a letter signedCensorin theTimes:—

"As a condition of admission, the Head and Fellows of all Colleges are enjoined to take oaths to the inviolable observance of all the enactments of the statutes. These oaths, to use the words of the commission, increase in stringency and solemnity, in proportion as the statutes become more minute and less capable of being observed. These oaths are not only required but actually taken. Men of high feeling, refinement, education, and, for the most part, dedicated in an especial manner to God's service, are called on suddenly to swear that they will obey enactments incapable of being obeyed."

Oaths such as these are enough to make any man turn Quaker—at least by quaking as he swallows them. Any amount of swearing that ever disgraced a cabstand is preferable to such shocking affidavits; and there is something much more horrible in the oaths of college Fellows than there is in the imprecations of such fellows as coster-mongers. Our army once "swore terribly in Flanders," but never at such a rate as officers of the Church Militant appear to be in the habit of swearing at the Universities: and although there is said to be an awful amount of perjury committed in the County Courts, it is probable that the individuals forsworn at those halls of justice are far exceeded in number by the Reverend Divines who kiss the book to untruth at the temples of learning. It is a strange kind of consistency that objects to rapping out an oath, and yet obstinately retains such oaths at Oxford and Cambridge.

The Plain Truth of it.—There isNO"medium" in Spirit Rapping; for, in our opinion, it is all humbug from beginning to end.

THE CAMP AT CHOBHAMTHE CAMP AT CHOBHAM.—A COLD IN THE HEAD.Jones (a Batman.)"DID YOU SOUND, SIR?"Officer."YES, JOLES. BRING ME MY BUCKET OF GRUEL AS SOOL AS I'VE TALLOWED MYLOZE." (Catarrhic for Nose.)

Jones (a Batman.)"DID YOU SOUND, SIR?"

Officer."YES, JOLES. BRING ME MY BUCKET OF GRUEL AS SOOL AS I'VE TALLOWED MYLOZE." (Catarrhic for Nose.)

AA GREAT fact in India—nay, why should we not throw affected modesty on one side, and say at once,thegreat fact in that great country—is the position occupied in the most flourishing Indian communities by our humble—pooh! why blink the truth—our noble selves!

A GREAT fact in India—nay, why should we not throw affected modesty on one side, and say at once,thegreat fact in that great country—is the position occupied in the most flourishing Indian communities by our humble—pooh! why blink the truth—our noble selves!

India is a country of contrasts—of wealth and want, of prosperity and and decay, of independence and servility, of self-government and despotism.

The want, the decay, the servility, and the despotism are to be found among all the native races—Bengalee and Madrassee, Maratta and Telinga, Canarese and Tamul, Bheel and Ghoorka, Khoond and Rohilla, Sikh and Aheer—it will be seen thatwetoo have been getting up our India;—under all sorts of authorities—Potails and Zemeendars, Kardars and Jagheerdars, Ameers and Mokaddams, and Deshmucks; with all kinds of tenures—Zemeendaree and Ryotwaree and Jagheerdaree. But the wealth, the prosperity, the independence, and the self-government, are to be met with in one class of communities, under one form of authorities, among one kind of holders only. These oases in the desert of Indian native existence are those in whichPunch—thePunch—theMr. Punch—in one word the Indian representative ofOURSELVES—bears sway!

This remarkable circumstance—so deeply gratifying to us of course—is no imagination of our own brain, no dream of our self-satisfaction, no figment of any of our numerous flatterers and admirers; but an historical truth, recorded in his distinctest and dryest manner by one of the distinctest and dryest writers upon India—Mr. Campbell, whose work has been much bought, much read, and unblushingly cribbed from by pillars of the state in the House of Commons, and by leading columns of the morning papers.

Hear then upon this great factMr. Campbell—of the Bengal Civil Service—whose civil service to Punches in general, and Indian Punches in particular,Punchis glad here to acknowledge. HearMr. Campbell, on the nature and effects of the authority and administration of Punch in India. Where Punches preside, "the system" he tells us "is infinitely better than anything we have hitherto seen." The revenue is larger and more easily collected; the condition of the cultivator more flourishing; property more secure, and the police better administered. Each village, under the beneficent and equal rule of its Punch, "is one community, composed of a number of families, all possessing rights in the soil, and responsibilities answering to their rights." Still Punch is no tyrant. "The Democratic Punch has no official power or authority except as representing this body of proprietors"—- like ourselves, who have no authority except in so far as we represent the people of Great Britain, which we flatter ourselves we do in most things.

"The Punch,"Mr. Campbelltells us (page 88), "is as a rule of the plural number"—(that is, there are several contributors);—"a clever well-spoken man, who has a good share of land" (we substitute brains), "and is at the head of a number of relatives and friends" (in our case, readers and admirers), "becomes one of the Punch, which office he holds for life, if he continues to give satisfaction to his constituents" (the public and proprietors are enough for us); "but if he becomes very old, or incompetent, or unpopular, some one else, probably, revolutionises himself into the place" (and serve the old, incompetent, unpopular contributor right). "The office ofPunchis much coveted" (we should think it was), "and all arrangements are by the Punch collectively" (if the gentle reader could be present at one of our Saturday dinners, he would see what very small beer we think of the Editor). "They act not as persons having authority over the community, but always as representatives, and on many subjects they consult their constituencies before deciding." (When didwenot consult public opinion, and when didweclaim any other authority than as representing the country at large?) "There is generally in the village a leader of opposition," (poor creature!) "perhaps the defeated candidate for the last Punchship" (obviously a rejected contributor), "who leads a strong party" (oh, dear no!Mr. Campbell, you are misinformed on that point), "accuses the Punch of malversation, and, sometimes, not without reason, of embezzlement" (not on this side the water), "and insists on their being compelled to render an account of their stewardship" (our proprietors' books are open to all the world); "for there are abuses and grievances in all corporations, in all parts of the world" (i.e."even Punches are not perfect"—a truth, probably, though we trust we shall never exemplify it in our own case).

Such is the rule of the Punches of India—and now for its effect. It produces communities, "strong, independent, and well-organized" (page 90). It is established over whatMr. Campbellstyles "a perfect democratic community."

In short, this rule of Punch is the only oneMr. Campbellis able to rest on with entire satisfaction, as the model to which all the other native organizations of India ought to be, as far as possible, assimilated.

Yes—give every community itsPunch, and India would be something like what it ought to be—something like what England has become since the rule ofPunchwas firmly established here—something which would render altogether unnecessary these dreadful Indian debates, and the immense amount of Indian "cram" which members, journalists, and conscientious persons, who follow the Parliamentary reports, are obliged to bolt, and of which we have disgorged a sample, with great relief to ourselves, at the beginning of this article.

I'm a free indepent Brish Elector—I swear—And I'll have s'more bremwarra—anbanish dullcare!—I know I've a trustodischarge in my vote,And my countryexpex—I shall getfipunnote!At 'lecksh'n shey 'n vied me to come up angetSome breakf'st—so I did—an' I drank—an' I eat—At the Chequers this was—zhere was morebesides me—And not one blessed shixpence—to forkout had we.Dropowhisky I had; bein' indishpo—posed—Sha truth and sha whole truth I 'clare I'vedisclosed—I feel almosasleep—I've been trav'linallnight—Had but one smallglass gin—and you know tha's not right.I have had a shov give me—to come uptatown,An' shey paid my fareup—and shey paid myfare down—Who shey was—I donow—any more than an assh—But I hadmyplacepaidfor an' comebyfirsclassh.I'm a true tenpun householder—noways a snob—Though I did sell myself for the shummofivebob—They wanted myvote—which I toldem theysh'd have,If they'd give sunthink for it—and tha's what they gave.While I'm shtoppinintown, I has ten bobaday,Witch that money's mylowance myspenses to pay,For peachin' on myside byzh 'tother I'm paid,And a preshusgood thingouto' boshsides I've made.I don't feel no 'casion for 'idinmyface,Don't consider sh' I'm kivver'd wizh shameandisgrace,I don't unstand what you should 'sfranchise me for—And 'tis my 'termination to have s'more bremwarr'!

I'm a free indepent Brish Elector—I swear—And I'll have s'more bremwarra—anbanish dullcare!—I know I've a trustodischarge in my vote,And my countryexpex—I shall getfipunnote!

I'm a free indepent Brish Elector—I swear—

And I'll have s'more bremwarra—anbanish dullcare!—

I know I've a trustodischarge in my vote,

And my countryexpex—I shall getfipunnote!

At 'lecksh'n shey 'n vied me to come up angetSome breakf'st—so I did—an' I drank—an' I eat—At the Chequers this was—zhere was morebesides me—And not one blessed shixpence—to forkout had we.

At 'lecksh'n shey 'n vied me to come up anget

Some breakf'st—so I did—an' I drank—an' I eat—

At the Chequers this was—zhere was morebesides me—

And not one blessed shixpence—to forkout had we.

Dropowhisky I had; bein' indishpo—posed—Sha truth and sha whole truth I 'clare I'vedisclosed—I feel almosasleep—I've been trav'linallnight—Had but one smallglass gin—and you know tha's not right.

Dropowhisky I had; bein' indishpo—posed—

Sha truth and sha whole truth I 'clare I'vedisclosed—

I feel almosasleep—I've been trav'linallnight—

Had but one smallglass gin—and you know tha's not right.

I have had a shov give me—to come uptatown,An' shey paid my fareup—and shey paid myfare down—Who shey was—I donow—any more than an assh—But I hadmyplacepaidfor an' comebyfirsclassh.

I have had a shov give me—to come uptatown,

An' shey paid my fareup—and shey paid myfare down—

Who shey was—I donow—any more than an assh—

But I hadmyplacepaidfor an' comebyfirsclassh.

I'm a true tenpun householder—noways a snob—Though I did sell myself for the shummofivebob—They wanted myvote—which I toldem theysh'd have,If they'd give sunthink for it—and tha's what they gave.

I'm a true tenpun householder—noways a snob—

Though I did sell myself for the shummofivebob—

They wanted myvote—which I toldem theysh'd have,

If they'd give sunthink for it—and tha's what they gave.

While I'm shtoppinintown, I has ten bobaday,Witch that money's mylowance myspenses to pay,For peachin' on myside byzh 'tother I'm paid,And a preshusgood thingouto' boshsides I've made.

While I'm shtoppinintown, I has ten bobaday,

Witch that money's mylowance myspenses to pay,

For peachin' on myside byzh 'tother I'm paid,

And a preshusgood thingouto' boshsides I've made.

I don't feel no 'casion for 'idinmyface,Don't consider sh' I'm kivver'd wizh shameandisgrace,I don't unstand what you should 'sfranchise me for—And 'tis my 'termination to have s'more bremwarr'!

I don't feel no 'casion for 'idinmyface,

Don't consider sh' I'm kivver'd wizh shameandisgrace,

I don't unstand what you should 'sfranchise me for—

And 'tis my 'termination to have s'more bremwarr'!

The Russian Minister has long been connected by name and parentage with one of the nicest puddings to be found in the receipts ofSoyer, or in thecarteof theTrois Frères. We must, however, protest against the Russian Diplomatist's endeavouring to combine with the practice of cookery the science of medicine, for though we always eat with pleasureNesselrodepudding, we cannot undertake to swallowNesselrode'srecent draught.

The thunder of war turns the milk of human-kindness sour. Moreover, it may be said to spoil the beer of brotherly love.

TheSublime Porteand theEmperor of Russia, regarded in an æsthetical point of view, present examples of the Sublime and the Ridiculous.

Literature for the Camp.—There are not many books to read at the Chobham encampment; but, besides going through all the Reviews, the Camp will, doubtless, take in a great many numbers of this periodical.

why not Stop All Night?Officer."Well, but look here, old fellow; why not Stop All Night?"

The following Indexes have been compiled by a gentleman who is rather strong in that useful, but much-snubbed and little-read, department of literature. They are intended to keep in countenance the well-known "face," which is said to be "the Index of the Mind."

Cold Soup is the Index of a Bad Dinner.A Bang of the door is the Index of a Storm.A "Button off" is the sure Index of a Bachelor.An Irish Debate is the Index of a Row.A Popular Singer is the Index of a Cold.A bright Poker is the Index of a Cold Hearth.A Servant standing at the door is the Index of a Wasteful House.A Shirt with ballet-girls is the Index of "a Gent."The Painted Plate is the Index of the Hired Fly.Duck, or Goose, is the Index of "a Small Glass of Brandy."A Baby is the Index of a Kiss.A Toast (after dinner) is the Index of Butter.Cold Meat is, frequently, the Index of a Pudding.A Favour is, more frequently, the Index of Ingratitude.A Governess is the Index of suffering, uncomplaining, Poverty.A Puseyite is the Index of a Roman Catholic.Home is the Index Expurgatorius of Liberty; and lastly,Mismanagement is the Index (at least the only one published yet) of the Catalogue of the British Museum.

Whether, in the event ofMr. Sandsbeing subject, likeAmina, to fits of somnambulism, it would be likely that he would walk in his sleep head downwards with his feet on the ceiling?

A Popular Tax.—IfMr. Gladstonetaxes any kind of license, he ought to tax the license of Counsel.

A Younger Son.—The Blade of the "Cold Shoulder."

THURSDAY, MAY 23, 18—

"It would be something to say,Fred, that we'd been to France."—

"To be sure," repliedFred. "And yet only to have something to say and nothing to show, is but parrot's vanity."

"But that needn't be. We might learn a great deal. And Ishouldlike to see Normandy; if only a bit of it. One could fancy the rest,Fred. And then—I've seen 'em in pictures—the women wear such odd caps! And thenWilliam the Conqueror—papa sayswecame in with him; so that we were Normans once; that is on papa's side—for mamma won't hear thatshehad anything to do with it—though papa has often threatened to get his arms. And now I think of it,Fred, what areyourarms?"

"Don'tyouknow?" askedFred, puckering his mouth—well, like any bud. "Don't you know?"

"No, I don't;" and I bit my lip andwouldbe serious. "Whatarethey?"

"It's very odd," said he, "very odd. Andyouare Normans! To think now,Lotty, that I should have made you flesh of my flesh, without first learning where that flesh first came from. You must own, my love, it was very careless of me. A man doesn't even buy a horse without a pedigree."

(Ididlook at him!)

"Nevertheless"—and he went on, as if he didn't see me—"nevertheless, my beloved, I must say it showed great elevation of mind on your part to trust your future fate to a man, without so much as even a hint about his arms. But it only shows the beautiful devotion of woman! What have arms to do with the heart? Wedlock defies all heraldry."

"I thought"—said I—"that, for a lawful marriage, the wedding ring must have the Hall mark?"

"I don't think it indispensable. I take it, brass would be as binding. Indeed, my love, I think according to the Council of Nice, or Trent, or Gretna Green—I forget which—a marriage has been solemnised with nothing more than a simple curtain-ring."

"Nonsense," said I; "such a marriage could never hold. Curtain-rings are very well in their way; but give me the real gold."

"True, my love, that's the purity of your woman's nature. In such a covenant we can't be too real. Any way"—and he took my wedding-finger between his—"any way,Lotty, yours seems strong enough to hold, ay, three husbands."

"One's enough," said I, looking and laughing at him.

"At a time"—saidFred; "but when we're about buying a ring, it's as well to have an article that will wear. Bless you," and he pressed his thumb upon my ring, "this will lastmeout andanother."—

"Frederick," I cried very angrily; and then—I couldn't help it—I almost began to weep. Whereupon, in his kind, foolish manner he—well, Ididn'tcry.

"Let us, my darling," saidFred, after a minute, "let us return to our arms. And you came in with the Normans?"

"WithWilliam the Conqueror, papa says, so wemusthave arms."—

"I remember"—saidFred, as grave as a judge—"once, a little in his cups, your father told me all about it. I recollect. Very beautiful arms: a Normandy pippin with an uplifted battle-axe."

"I never heard that"—said I—"but that seems handsome."

"Yes; your ancestor sold apples in the camp. A fact, I assure you. It all comes upon me now. Real Normandy pippins. They show a tree at Battle—this your father told me as a secret; but as man and wife are one, why it's only one half talking to the other half—a tree at Battle grown from your ancestor's apple-pips. Something like a family tree, that."

"I don't believe a word of it," said I.

"You must. Bless you"—saidFred—"arms come by faith, or how many of the best of people would be without 'em. There's something innocent in the pippin: besides it would paint well. And with my arms"—

"Yes;" I cried; "and what are they,Fred?"

"Well, it's odd: we were—it's plain—made for one another. I came from Normandy too."

"Youdid?" and Iwaspleased.

"Yes," said he. "I wonder what terms our families were on a thousand years ago? To be sure, I came to England later than you; and I can't exactly say who I came with: but then—for I'm sure I can trust my grandmother—my descent is very historical. I assure you that your family pippin will harmonize with my bearings beautifully."

"We'll have the hall-chairs painted," said I, and I felt quite pleased.

"And the gig of course," saidFred.

"Of course; for what is life if one doesn't enjoy it?" said I.

"Very true, love. And the stable-bucket," continuedFred.

"Just as you please, dear," said I; "but certainly the hall-lamp."—

"Yes: and if we could only get—no, but that's too much to expect," saidFred.

"What's too much?" I asked; forFred'smanner quite excited me.

"Why, I was thinking, if we could get your great aunt merely to die, we might turn out a very pretty hatchment."—

"Now,Frederick!"—for this was going too far.

"I assure you, my love"—saidFred—"'twould give us a great lift in the neighbourhood: and as you say, what's existence without enjoying it?—What's life without paint?"

"Well, but"—for he hadn't told me—"but your descent, love? Is it so very historical?"

"Very. I come in a direct line—so direct, my darling, you might think it was drawn by a ruler—a direct line fromJoan of Arc."

"Is it true?" I cried.

"When we cross over to Dieppe, it isn't far to Rouen. You'd like to see Rouen?"

"Very much, indeed," I answered. "I always wanted to see Normandy; the home of my ancestors;" and Ididfeel a little elevated.

"It's very natural,Lotty"—saidFred. "A reasonable, yes, a very reasonable ambition. Well, at Rouen, I have no doubt I can show you my family tree; at the same time, I shouldn't wonder if we could obtain some further authentic intelligence about your pippin."—

"Nothing more likely," said I; for Ididwant to see France. "Nothing more likely."

"I'm afraid there's no regular packet across"—saidFred—"but we can hire a boat."—

"A boat? Why, my dear, a boat is"—

"Yes; in a nice trim sea-boat we can cross admirably; and, my love," saidFred, moving close and placing his arm about me—"my love, the matter grows upon me. Let us consider it. Here we are about to begin the world. In fact, I think I may say, we have begun it."—

"Mamma always said marriage wasn't beginning, but settling."

"Let us say the beginning of the settling. Well, we are at a very interesting point of our history; and who knows what may depend upon our voyage?"—

"Still, you'll never go in a boat that"—but he put his hand over my mouth, and went on.

"I declare, belovedLotty, when I look upon ourselves—two young creatures—going forth upon the waters to search for and authenticate our bearings—when I reflect, my darling, that not merely ourselves, but our unborn great grandchildren"—

"Don't be foolish,Fred," said I; but hewould.

"That our great grandchildren, at this moment in the dim regions of probability, and in the still dimmer limbo of possibility"—

"Now, whatareyou talking about?" I asked; but he was in one of his ways, and it was of no use.

"Are, without being awake to the fact, acutely interested in our discovery; why our voyage becomes an adventure of the deepest, and the most delicate interest. Open your fancy's eye, my love, and looking into futurity, just glance at that magnificent young man, your grandson"—

"Now, I tell you what,Fred, don't be foolish; for I shall look at nothing of the sort," and with the words, I shut my eyes as close as shells.

"Or that lovely budding bride, your grand-daughter"—

"No," said I, "nor any grand-daughter, either; there'squite timeenough forthat."

"Any way, my love, those dearest beings are vitally interested in the matter of our voyage. Therefore, I'll at once go and charter a boat. Would you like it with a deck?"—

"Why, my love, my dearest—as for a boat, I"—and I felt alarmed.

"Columbusfound America almost in a punt," saidFred; "then surely we may seek our arms in"—

"But stop," I cried; for he was really going. "After all, love," and I resolutely seated myself on his knee, and held him round the neck—"after all, you have not told me whatareyour arms? I mean your arms fromJoan of Arc."

"Why, you know, my love, thatJoan of Arcwas a shepherdess?"

"I should hope I knew as much as that," said I.

"Very good. Well, in order to perpetuate the beautiful humility of her first calling,Charles the Seventhmagnificently permitted her and all her descendants, to carry in her shield—a lamb's fry!"

"Now,Frederick!"

"Such are my bearings, inherited in a direct line—I say in a direct line—from theMaid of Orleans!"—

"From theMaid of—" and then I saw what a goose he had made of me; and didn't I box his ears, but not to hurt him; and didn't we afterwards agree that the hall-chairs should remain as they were, and that life might be beautiful and bright enough without a touch of herald's paint.

How wedidlaugh at the family pippin!

Cartoon--Mr. Punch.

A well-founded objection has been raised against the Zoological Gardens; one objection: and that the only one that we can think of. It is complained, with truth, that no proper liquor is provided for the children to drink there. Ginger-beer, soda-water, and lemonade are not fit for children at all times, if they are fit at any, and cherry-brandy is good for nobody; not even for the young ladies who alone drink it; for it neither quenches thirst, nor causes hilarity: which are the sole valid reasons for drinking anything whatever, except physic. It appears that the only juvenile taps in the Gardens are those which supply water to the gardeners. If these afforded the pure element, it would be all very well; but their contents are much more suitable for the nourishment of plants than for the refreshment of little boys and girls. Numerous and interesting as are the varieties of the animal creation contained in these Gardens, the collection does not include that useful individual of the mammalia, the common cow, to produce a drop of milk for the little ones.

Even if children could drink soda-water and cherry-brandy, it would be, for many a father of a family which he takes to the Zoological Gardens for a holiday, much too heavy a disbursement to treat his progeny with soda-waters and cherry-brandies all round. If the Society cannot manage to add an ordinary milch cow to their quadrupeds, they might, at least, establish the cow with an iron tail. They have evinced great solicitude for the comforts of all the specimens of the inferior orders of animals on their grounds; and doubtless, now that their attention has been directed to the subject, they will make the requisite provision for a very pressing want experienced by the young of the genus Homo. With such a fact before them as the Camp at Chobham, they would indeed be inexcusable if they were not immediately to rectify a glaring deficiency in their Commissariat for the Infantry.

The gin-shop keepers and Sabbatarians ought to get up a petition to theQueen, prayingHer Majestyto removeSir William Molesworthfrom her councils, because the Right Hon. Baronet has directed the Royal Pleasure Grounds at Kew, and the Royal Botanic Gardens also, to be opened on Sundays; which must cause a shocking desecration of Sunday to be committed in the enjoyment of flowers and fresh air, accompanied by an equally awful decrease in the consumption of "Cream of the Valley."

The House ofNesselrodeand Co. has issued a Circular Note—which, however, is a very different thing from a Letter of Credit. We don't think they are very likely to get it discounted.

Her Majesty'sDrawing Room was remarkable for the carriage of every lady who attended it; and it may be observed that each one came in a special train.

THE CAMP.—A NIGHT SURPRISETHE CAMP.—A NIGHT SURPRISE.

Mr. Punchobserves that his friends the parliamentary reporters did a sensible thing lately. An Irish faction-fight was detaining the House of Commons from its bed at the unseemly hour of three in the morning, and seemed likely to last until six. As the dawn broke, the gentlemen of the gallery, wearied with the gesticulations ofLord Claude Clamourous—for the best Peter Waggey that ever came out of the Lowther Arcade ceases to amuse after a time—wearied with the iterations ofLord Chaos, for a man cannot always have an eminent statesman, or an old friend, to carp at—wearied with whatMr. Gladstonegently called the "freshness" ofMr. Connoodle, fresh as dew from the mountain—the reporters, we say, suddenly shut up their note-books, and retired into their own apartment. The tongues of the Irish orators faltered, they looked up piteously at the long row of empty benches, murmured that it was unreasonable that the reporters should think that eleven hours and a half of talk was as much as the journals for which they work could conscientiously republish, and the profitless squabble was brought to a speedy close.Mr. Punchcordially approves of the remedy, and suggests that on another and a similar occasion it be tried a little earlier.

A few more such showers as we have had lately, and the Camp at Chobham will become a flotilla.

(As they should be written for Young Ladies).

A history of England for young ladies remains yet to be written. The usual ingredients of a reign cannot be interesting to the youthful female mind. Battles, with the number of killed and wounded; party feuds, with the names of the ministers who succeed one another in place; the slow march of public events, and the men who march slowly with them; the eternal round of diplomatic and political relations—which, as they never marry, are the last relations a lady cares for; these, we say, are not exactly the subjects that would engage the sympathies or the attention of a young girl. What romance, what possible interest is there in any one of them? No! we would change all that, and have our English History written in a style popular, easy, and graceful, and alluding only to such subjects as ladies understand, or can best appreciate.

Our proposal, however, will be at once apparent by the nature of the following questions, which we have extracted from a History supposed to be written according to our sensible plan;—

(Taken principally from the Reign ofqueen Victoria.)

What do you mean by the "Crush-Room of the Opera;" and why is it so called?

When didgigotsleeves go out of fashion, and did such sleeves have anything to do with the popular French phrase of "Revenons à nos Moutons?"

What do you mean by "Crochet Work"? and can you set the pattern for ladies of "How to make a purse for your brother?"

Who edited the "Book of Beauty?" and mention a few of the aristocratic names whose portraits have had the honour of appearing in its splendid pages.

Can you describe the habits and haunts of the "Swedish Nightingale?" and can you mention the highest note it ever reached, and also why it sang in a Haymarket?

State the name of the "Bohemian nobleman" who first brought over the Polka to England.

In what year ofVictoria'sreign was the celebratedBal Costumégiven at Buckingham Palace? and describe the dress thatHer Majestywore on that interesting occasion.

Give the names of the principal singers who distinguished themselves at the two Italian Operas during the rival administrations ofGyeandLumley, and describe the nature of the feud that existed between those two great men.

Give a description of "Pop Goes the Weasel," and state all you know about the "Weasel," and what was the origin of his going "Pop."

Who succeededWiganin theCorsican Brothers?

Mention the names of the principal watering-places, and say which was considered the more fashionable of the two—Margate, or Gravesend?

When did flounces come into fashion, and state the lowest and the highest number a lady could wear?

Describe the position of Chiswick—and give a short account of its Gardens, and theFêtesthat were held there every year.

What were the duties of the Ladies of the Bedchamber, and in what respects did they differ from the Maids of Honour at Richmond?

Mention the names of the most delicious novels that were published between the years 1840 and 1853, and name the character and scene that pleased you the most.

Whose gloves do you consider were the best?

What was the last elopement that created any sensation at Gretna Green?

State who wasJullien? also, whether he had anything to do with the soup that bears his celebrated name?

A lady living at Peckham Rise has nearly ruined her husband by the enormous prices she has been giving for Cochin-China fowls. The poor fellow is always pointed at in the neighbourhood, so the story goes, as "the Cochin-China-pecked husband."

A gentleman at a party, where table-turning was the principal amusement of the evening, upon hearing that the power of turning mainly depended upon the will, instantly recommended his wife, as he "begged to assure the company she had a very strong one, and he had never known anything able to resist it."

It is pleasant to find that the Commissioners of Sewers are stirring; notwithstanding the result proverbially ascribed to stirring in such matters: and we hope we shall soon be enabled to expect that the Metropolis will be drained with some degree of rational assewerance. If this great object is successfully accomplished, we take the liberty of recommending that the Chairman of the Commission should be raised to the Peerage, by the title ofLord Scavenger.

Test of Good Humour.—Wake a man up in the middle of the night, and ask him to lend you five shillings.

THE CAMPTHE CAMP."HEY, COLIN! DINNA YE KEN THE WATTER'S FOR DRINK, AND NAE FOR BATHIN?"

"HEY, COLIN! DINNA YE KEN THE WATTER'S FOR DRINK, AND NAE FOR BATHIN?"

(AfterT. Camp-bell.ByA. Camp-beau.)

We were wet as the deuce; for like blazes it poured,And the sentinels' throats were the only things dry;And under their tents Chobham's heroes had cowered,The weary to snore, and the wakeful to sigh.While dozing that night in my camp-bed so small,With a Mackintosh over to keep out the rain—After one glass of grog, cold without—that was all—I'd a dream, which I hope I shall ne'er have again.Methought from damp Chobham's mock battle-array,I had bowled off to London, outside of a hack;'Twas the season, and wax-lights illumined the wayTo the balls of Belgravia that welcomed me back.I flew to the dancing-rooms, whirled through so oftWith one sweet little partner, who tendril-like clung,I saw the grim chaperons, perched up aloft,And heard the shrill notesWeippert'sorchestra flung.Shewas there—I would "pop"—and a guardsman no more,From my sweet little partner for life ne'er would part,When sudden I saw—just conceive what a bore—A civilian—by Jove—laying siege to her heart!"Out of sight, out of mind!" It was not to be borne—To cut her, challenge him I was rushing away—When sudden the twang of that vile bugle-hornScared my visions, arousing the Camp for the day.

We were wet as the deuce; for like blazes it poured,And the sentinels' throats were the only things dry;And under their tents Chobham's heroes had cowered,The weary to snore, and the wakeful to sigh.

We were wet as the deuce; for like blazes it poured,

And the sentinels' throats were the only things dry;

And under their tents Chobham's heroes had cowered,

The weary to snore, and the wakeful to sigh.

While dozing that night in my camp-bed so small,With a Mackintosh over to keep out the rain—After one glass of grog, cold without—that was all—I'd a dream, which I hope I shall ne'er have again.

While dozing that night in my camp-bed so small,

With a Mackintosh over to keep out the rain—

After one glass of grog, cold without—that was all—

I'd a dream, which I hope I shall ne'er have again.

Methought from damp Chobham's mock battle-array,I had bowled off to London, outside of a hack;'Twas the season, and wax-lights illumined the wayTo the balls of Belgravia that welcomed me back.

Methought from damp Chobham's mock battle-array,

I had bowled off to London, outside of a hack;

'Twas the season, and wax-lights illumined the way

To the balls of Belgravia that welcomed me back.

I flew to the dancing-rooms, whirled through so oftWith one sweet little partner, who tendril-like clung,I saw the grim chaperons, perched up aloft,And heard the shrill notesWeippert'sorchestra flung.

I flew to the dancing-rooms, whirled through so oft

With one sweet little partner, who tendril-like clung,

I saw the grim chaperons, perched up aloft,

And heard the shrill notesWeippert'sorchestra flung.

Shewas there—I would "pop"—and a guardsman no more,From my sweet little partner for life ne'er would part,When sudden I saw—just conceive what a bore—A civilian—by Jove—laying siege to her heart!

Shewas there—I would "pop"—and a guardsman no more,

From my sweet little partner for life ne'er would part,

When sudden I saw—just conceive what a bore—

A civilian—by Jove—laying siege to her heart!

"Out of sight, out of mind!" It was not to be borne—To cut her, challenge him I was rushing away—When sudden the twang of that vile bugle-hornScared my visions, arousing the Camp for the day.

"Out of sight, out of mind!" It was not to be borne—

To cut her, challenge him I was rushing away—

When sudden the twang of that vile bugle-horn

Scared my visions, arousing the Camp for the day.

It seems thatDr. Paul Cullenand the Ultramontanists have procured the rejection, from the Irish National Schools, of theArchbishop of Dublin'sEvidences of Christianity. Hence it may be presumed that the "Evidences" ofArchbishop Whatelyare favourable specimens ofWhately'slogic, and afford some really sensible and satisfactory reason for believing in the Christian religion.

FRIDAY, MAY 24, 18—.

I am not superstitious—certainly not: but when I woke this morning, I felt as if something would happen; though I said nothing toFred. With the feeling that came upon me, I wouldn't have thought of going to France for worlds. I felt as if a war must break out, or something.

"I knew it; I was certain of it," said I, when I'd half read the letter from home.

"In that case," saidFred, in the most unconcerned way, which hewillcall philosophy, whereas I think it downright imprudence—but I fear dear Mamma's right; all men are imprudent—"In that case, we might have saved postage."

"NowFred, don't be frivolous. But I see, there'll be nothing right at home till we get fairly back. Everything will be sacrificed."—

"Is that your serious belief, my love?" saidFred, finishing his tea; and I nodded very decidedly.—"Well, then, suppose we pack up our traps and return to-day. And talking of home, you can't think,Lotty, what a present you've made me without knowing it."

"Have I indeed? What present, love?"—

"It was in my sleep; but then, it was one of those dreams that always forerun the reality. Do you know I dreamt that we'd returned home, and somehow when I tried to sit down in my chair, up I jumped again; and so again and again. Whenever I tried to be quiet and stretch my legs out at my fireside, I seemed possessed with a legion of imps that would lift me from my seat and pull me towards the door."—

"Hm! That's a very ugly dream,Fred," said I; and I know I looked thoughtful.

"Very: but it's wonderful how, like a tranquillizing spirit, you appeared upon the scene. I thought, my dear, you looked more beautiful than is possible."—

"Frederick!"—

"Not but what I'm quite content as it is. You know, my love, it might have been worse."—

"Well," said I, "Mamma needn't have written to me that my honeymoon was nearly ended. It seems I'm not likely to forgetthat."

"And when it was impossible for me to remain in the chair—when I continued to get up and sit down, and run here and run there—- then, as I say, you appeared like a benevolent fairy—bearing across one arm what seemed to me a rainbow turned to silk; and in the other hand carrying a pair of slippers."

"Well; and then?"—

"And then, with a thought, I had put on the morning-gown;—for it was that you carried—and placed my feet in the slippers. There never were more beautiful presents; never richer gifts for a wife to make her husband. For would you think it,Lotty? No sooner had I wrapped the dressing-gown about me, than I became settled in the sweetest repose in my chair: and the very walls of the room seemed to make the softest music. And then the slippers! Most wonderful! Would you believe it,Lotty—wherever the slippers touched, a flower sprang up; flowers and aromatic herbs! The very hearth seemed glowing and odorous with roses and thyme. But then, you know, it was only a dream,Lotty. There's no such dressing-gown—and in this world no such slippers;" and then—I could see it—he looked in his odd way at me.

"I suppose not,Fred," said I; for I wouldn't seem to understand him. "And then, if such slippers could be found, where's the husband's feet to fit 'em? 'T would be another story of the glass slipper."

"Who knows when we get home? But what's happened?" and he pointed to the letter.

"Well, then, the pigeon-house has blown down; and Rajah's flown away; and a strange cat has killed the gold-fish; and, in fact,Fred—as dear Mamma writes to me; not, as she says, she'd have me worry myself about the matter—in fact the house wants a mistress."

"I have no doubt your excellent mother is right," saidFred; "and as you won't go to France, suppose we make way forThe Flitch. Do you know,Lotty, I'm curious to know if—after all—those slippers mayn't be found there."

"I'lltake care of that," said I; "but you know,Fred, we can't go back yet."

"Why not?"—

"Why, you know our honeymoon isn't quite out; and"—

"And what of that? We needn't burn all the moon from home. What if we put the last fragment on a save-all, and see it out atThe Flitch?"

"It isn't to be done,Fred," said I; for I knew how people would talk. "Of course, 'twould be said we were tired of our own society, and so got home for company."

"Nevertheless," saidFred; "you take the flight of Rajah, that dear bird, with wondrous serenity."

And it then struck me that I didnotfeel so annoyed as I ought. "Ha,Fred," said I, "you don't know what my feelings may be; don't misjudge me because I don't talk. I can assure you, I am very much disturbed;" and Iwasvexed.

"Perhaps, then"—saidFred—"you'll take a little walk towards the Steyne; and recover yourself? I've some letters to write, my love: and—'twill do you good—I'll join you."

"Certainly"—said I—"of course; if you wish it," and then I wondered why heshouldwish to get rid of me. It never happened before. Yes—and the thought came againvery forciblyupon me—it's plain the honeymoon's nearly out; and then I left the room; and as I left it, didn't Inearlybang the door?

"Why should he wish to get rid of me?" I seemed quite bewildered with this question. Everything seemed to ask it. He could have written his letters without my leaving the house. However, I felt glad that I contained myself; and especially glad that I didn't bang the door.

Well, I ran and put on my bonnet; and then just peeping in at the door toFred, said, "I'm going;" and in another minute was taking my way towards the Steyne. It was such a beautiful day; the sky so light; and the air so fresh and sweet, that—yes, in a little minute, my bit of temper had all passed away—and I did well scold myself that, for a moment, I had entertained it. I walked down upon the beach. Scarcely a soul was there: and I fell into a sort of dreamy meditation—thinking aboutthatmorning-gown andthoseslippers. "I'll get 'em forFred, that I will;" I resolved within myself. "Rosesshallgrow at the fireside; and reposeshallbe in his arm-chair.ThatI'm determined:" and as I resolved this with myself, everything about me seemed to grow brighter and more beautiful. And then I wished that we were well at home, and the slippers had, for once and all, been tried and fitted. The gulls flying about reminded me of Rajah: and Ididwonder at myself that I could think of his loss—that would have nigh killed me at one time—so calmly. But then, as Mamma said, and as I've since discovered,—it's wonderful what other trifles marriage makes one forget.

There was nobody upon the beach: so I sat down, and began a day-dreaming. How happy we should be at home, and how softly and sweetly all things would go with us! And still, as the waves ran and burst in foam upon the beach, I thought of the slippers.

I hardly knew how long I'd been there, when a little gypsey girl stood at my side, offering a nosegay. I looked and—yes, it was one of the gypsies, at whose tentFredand I took shelter in the thunderstorm. However, before I could say a word, the little creature dropt the nosegay in my lap; and laughing, ran away.

Such a beautifulbouquet! Had it been a thing of wild or even of common garden flowers—but it was abouquetof exotics—and how were gypsies to come by such things? Then something whispered to me—"stole them."

I didn't like to throw the thing away; and as I remained meditating,Fredcame up. "Pretty flowers,Lotty," said he.

"Yes: selected with taste—great taste, an't they?" said I; and I cannot think what whim it was possessed me to go off in such praise of thebouquet.

"Pretty well," saidFred.

"Pretty well! my dearFred; if you'll only look and attend, you'll own that the person who composed thisbouquetmust have known all the true effect of colours."

"Indeed," saidFred; as I thought very oddly; so I went on.

"Every colour harmonizes; the light, you see, falling exactly in the right place; and yet everything arranged so naturally—so harmoniously. The white is precisely where it should be, and"—

"Is it truly?" and saying this,Fredtwitched from among the flowers a note that like a mortal snake as I thought it lay there.

"Why, it's a letter!" I cried.

"It looks like it," saidFred.

"It was brought by a gypsey," said I; and I felt my face burning, and could have cried. "It's a mistake."

"Of course," saidFred: "what else, my love? Of course, a mistake."

And then he gave me his arm, and we returned towards the Inn.Fredlaughed and talked; but somehow I felt so vexed: yes, I could have cried; and stillFredwas so cool—so very cool.

Every liberal-minded person will be glad to hear thatLouis Napoleonis about establishing baths and washhouses in Paris. The cause of order in France has been threatened chiefly by the unwashed; and theEmperorwill promote the peace of society by causing that dangerous class to disappear.

According to theAthenæum, a Cardinal's hat is about to go round—in obedience, however, to no new force or principle. Our learned contemporary says:—

"There has been only one English Pope, and of him there has been hitherto no public monument in the city over which he ruled. The omission is now, it seems, to be rectified. A committee has been formed with a view to collect subscriptions;Pio Nonohas given his blessing,Cardinal Altierihis countenance, andCardinal Wisemanhas received instructions to collect the money in this country.... The sum named for the monument is £6,000 ... A magnificent memorial is to be erected to him in St. Peter's. The attempt to elicit such a declaration in England at such a time is a clever trick enough; and in order to its success, one of the grounds of appeal to the pockets of Englishmen shows a profound knowledge of the weak side of our national character. WhereverJohn Bullwanders, it has been observed that he carries with him a passion for recording his autograph. TheBrowns, andSmiths, andJoneseswrite their names on the Pantheon and Pyramids, temple and tomb. The Cardinals have had the wit to make a direct appeal to this passion; they offer to inscribe the name of every donor of £60—which they are willing to receive in monthly instalments of 20s.—on the base of the monument ofPope Nicholas Breakspeare."

UnderPope Nicholas Breakspeare,aliasAdrian IV,Arnoldof Brescia was burned alive—having first, we believe, had his nose wrung off with red hot pincers. Who will indorse the sentence uponArnoldby causing his name to be carved on the monument ofNicholas?

As nearly seven centuries have elapsed since the time when this mild and beneficent Pontiff flourished, there may perhaps be no portrait in existence to afford any idea of his venerable physiognomy. With what sort of a face to represent him, then, may be a difficulty: unless the problem should be solved by a special miracle. Failing that, the best plan would be to give him the features of somebody likely to resemble him.Neromight do for the model: butNero'sis not an English face. Under these circumstancesGreenacremight be suggested: but asAdrian IVwas a man of some force of character, perhaps, on the whole, it would be better to chooseRush.

Back to Index Next