CIVIC SIMPLICITY.

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We have a bone to pick with our contemporaries. In reporting the speech ofLord Palmerston, at Perth, they recorded a passage in which the noble Lord suggested that those who saw and heard things that were going wrong, should communicate them to the public officer whose duty it is to put them right, which would be conferring a great favour on the man in office, as well as doing a benefit of magnitude to the country at large. They represent his Lordship as saying, in continuation:—

"There may be a great deal of chaff in that which is received—but if in a bushel of chaff he shall find a pint of good corn, that bushel of chaff would be worth winnowing, and he can turn that pint of corn to good purposes."

But why has that been omitted which followed of course, and by the omission of which the above extract is made to conclude with abruptness—to read, as it were, broken off, stumpy? What motive, but a mean one, was there for suppressing whatLord Palmerstonmust have gone on to say?—namely, that in communicating to Government information respecting things that go wrong, mixed up with chaff, the most essential services had been rendered to an applauding nation by a popular periodical—which modesty preventsPunchfrom more distinctly alluding to.

The next Lord Mayor's Day is, we are told, to be celebrated with touching simplicity. Gilt gingerbread has had its day; and Bartholomew Fair being abolished, the Lord Mayor's coach will follow the gilt chanticleers-in-trowsers and other gorgeous gingerbread.Mr. Alderman Wire'sliveries are very simple, but very significant. Being a lawyer, he has put characteristic facings on his profession, clothing his coachman and footmen in suits of parchment with shoulder-knots of red tape. The effect is very handsome. The worthy Sheriff's motto,Vincit qui patitur, is very happy, and is beautifully engrossed upon the cuffs and collars.Vincit qui patitur.He conquers who suffers! How often is it illustrated in law. He who wins,pays!

Scotch Inflictions.—"Winter"—say the papers—"has already set in with severity in Scotland." What is worse;Lord Aberdeenhas, months since, set in with severity in England.

ARRY BELVILLE, IS SO KNOCKED ALL OF A HEAPOUR FRIEND, 'ARRY BELVILLE, IS SO KNOCKED ALL OF A HEAP BY THE BEAUTY OF THE FOREIGN FISH GIRLS, THAT HE OFFERS HIS 'AND AND 'ART TO THE LOVELY PAULINE.

OUR FRIEND, 'ARRY BELVILLE, IS SO KNOCKED ALL OF A HEAP BY THE BEAUTY OF THE FOREIGN FISH GIRLS, THAT HE OFFERS HIS 'AND AND 'ART TO THE LOVELY PAULINE.

The Chinese heroes who are now cutting off each other's tails and mutilating each other's limbs, appear to realise a far larger quantity of kicks than halfpence by their warlike achievements. Even a successful general seems to make but a sorry business of it, for the renownedHiang-Yung, after taking a bridge and a few other important positions, was rewarded for his heroic exploits by "permission to wear a yellow riding jacket." The poor fellow seems to have been regularly jockied by his Imperial master. Military rewards are evidently cheap in China, for "peacock's-feathers," "strike-lights," and "pen-knives," are enumerated as the articles of which theEmperoris most lavish to his successful soldiers.

We wonder what ourWellingtonwould have said to a bunch of cock's tails after Torres Vedras, by way of having so many feathers in his cap; or a box of lucifers as a light recognition of his services at Waterloo. There must be a true relish for military glory among the Chinese generals, if they are sufficiently "pleased by a feather" to risk their lives in the hope of obtaining a bit of a peacock's tail on which to plume themselves, and are prepared to carry on "war to the knife" with a pen-knife in prospect by way of acknowledgment. If a more civilised commander were, after a brilliant achievement, to be offered a pen-knife, he would probably use it to "cut his stick," and leave the service for ever.

Byronhas informed us that "Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains," but how are we to describeAlbert Smith, who seems determined to make himself the "Monarch of Mont Blanc?" It is true that he could scarcely fix upon a higher point for the summit of his ambition. If he has chosen that particular walk in life, though it is laborious and slippery, we see no reason why he should not repeat his "terrific ascent" as often as he feels disposed. If he should continue to go "up, up, up" for another year, we shall begin to look upon the ascent of Mont Blanc asAlbert "Smith'swork in general."

SIGNS MADE SYMBOLS

Reform of the extortionate system of British Hotels might be commenced with an alteration of their nomenclature, consisting in a judicious allotment of nicknames. The good old English signs of the Dragon, the Lion, Red or Black, and such like, should be taken as examples of the principle on which all those places of plunder should be designated. Those time-honoured appellations are recommended not only by their antiquity but by their candour, and we would have every extravagant Inn, that is, almost every Inn in the kingdom, that does not rejoice in one of them, denoted and commonly called and known by a similar kind of title; as, The Crocodile, The Boa Constrictor, The Hyena, The Condor, The Wolf, The Ogre, in order to signify that it is the den of a ravenous monster that subsists by devouring travellers.

There was great consternation at the West End on the announcement being made that the rate of discount had been raised in the Back parlour—ofShadrack and Co.—from fifty-five to sixty per cent. Even this amount of interest was insufficient to ensure the discount of some very good paper—for though the paper itself was certainly very good, it was spoiled by some very bad names on the back of it.

WHAT EVERYBODY THINKSWHAT EVERYBODY THINKS.Young Palmerston, a sharp clever boy."OH, CRIKEY! WHAT A SCOTCH MULL OF A PRIME MINISTER!"[That may be, but it is not Pretty to say so.—Punch.]

Young Palmerston, a sharp clever boy."OH, CRIKEY! WHAT A SCOTCH MULL OF A PRIME MINISTER!"

[That may be, but it is not Pretty to say so.—Punch.]

ECONOMYECONOMY.Mamma. "My dear child! What are you doing with my best Velvet Dress?"Child. "I am only cutting and contriving a Frock for my Doll!"

Mamma. "My dear child! What are you doing with my best Velvet Dress?"

Child. "I am only cutting and contriving a Frock for my Doll!"

(By our own Eye-Witness.)

Boulognehas for some weeks presented the miserable aspect of a sort of daylight Vauxhall, or the "behind the scenes" portion of a theatre at rehearsal time. The "Emperor" having been expected nearly a month ago, the "authorities" who had made him captive in 1840 determined to captivate him in 1853 by turning the town into a series of "bowers of bliss" by the aid of at least 1000 scaffolding poles and some millions of yards of evergreens. The "authorities," having formed themselves into a sort of committee of stage management, proceeded to get up the scenery and properties a month ago; and during that month, the equinoctial gales have been shifting the scenery and distributing the properties in a most vague and impartial manner. Several "triumphal arches" have been for the last three weeks staggering in a sort of drunken state in the middle of the principal thoroughfares. The festoons of "evergreens" have been helplessly hanging about in a condition which shows that the immortality of their greenness is a mere myth, for we never saw a collection of used-up tea-leaves looking so thoroughly "done brown" as the long lines of deceased box, dangling about in the blustering breath ofBoreas. The rain, as if mistaking them for real "tea-leaves," and hoping to get still some good out of them, has kept them in almost a perpetual soak, and the pavements have been strewed with the dying or dead asparagus in that feathery state it assumes when the asparagus has all gone, and the plants have taken it into their heads to put forth a rather graceful but unprofitable luxuriance of green-stuff.

We must give every credit to the "getting up" of the "Emperor's" reception, for we certainly never saw so many "set scenes" employed in a single act, and when we remember that the act was a mere farce, the expense incurred seems still more remarkable.

The "properties" were also on the most elaborate scale, and the pasteboard eagles were equal to any owl we ever saw in the palmiest days ofDer Freischülz. Immense "troops of auxiliaries" and "supernumeraries" in military uniforms were engaged expressly for the occasion, and as these had to be billeted on the inhabitants, there were instances of a quiet English family or two having to entertain a dragoon, while in one case the choice between a colonel, or two lieutenants, or four privates was offered to a quaker, who was residing at Boulogne for retirement.

There could be no objection to any amount of obsequiousness in which the Boulonnais themselves might indulge, but surely a "loyal address" from the English to any sovereign but their own was somewhat superfluous. Nevertheless such a document was got up and was actually signed byDoctor Somebody,Mrs. Somebody,Miss Somebody,Miss Anna Maria Somebody,Master J. Somebody, and a lot of littleSomebodiesorNobodies, who we suppose had a family meeting with Papa or Mamma in the chair, to appoint a deputation to "go up" with the piece of flatulent flattery to the "Emperor." We can excuse the address of thematelottes, presented by a very venerablematelotte, who read to the shamNapoleonthe very same address that she had read to the realNapoleon"forty years ago, in the maturity of her beauty" (what a beauty she must be in 1853 if she was full-blown in 1804); but we cannot understand what pretext there could be for a few English old women and children expressing their "loyalty" to the present "Emperor."

Their "Majesties" entered the lower town, having been "washed, just washed in a shower," which came on as they approached the Sous-Préfecture, and a vast crowd of umbrellas was all that could be seen by the assembled multitude. There was all the usual humbug of receiving the keys, which are never used, and would of course refuse to fit the lock, which in its turn would inevitably decline to act, and the Imperial couple were then dragged about in the rain, under the drippings from the festoons and through the theatrical arches, one of which was designed after theArc d'étoile, being itself in reality anarc de toile—or arch of canvas. No sooner had their "Majesties" left the town than our old friendBoreasbegan to puff and blow through all the streets, which he very rapidly cleared of all their "thousand additional lights," sending the paper lanterns through the air on all sides, and whisking away the evergreen festoons, which were instantly turned into skipping ropes by the delightedgamins. Thus, like everything else, the whole affair of the "Emperor's" visit to Boulogne was speedily blown over.

An Outlaw bold, I quarter hold in a goodly castle free,Which I wot the Lord, of his own accord, would scarce allow to me.And I scorn to sleep in the donjon keep; but the room of state is mine,And I work the beef of the fat old thief, and I tope the old rogue's wine.For, sooth to say, upon his prey, I banquet as I will,And hereby ye know that my Lord also doth plunder, fleece, and pill,He spoils and takes, yet no law breaks, the statute keeps within,As a man may do the traveller who doth shear to the very skin.The lion's feed, through his own greed, the little jackal supplies,So I make my boot of another's fruit, and feast on another's prize.My eyes flash out, and for joy I shout, the wayfarer to view,He is game, I ween, that mine Host so keen and his serfs for me pursue.In glee I skip as I think they'll strip him of all that his poke can hold,As they hack with a will and a brandished bill and hew out the victim's gold,And screw and wring with a long long string, to squeeze out more and more:It pleases me so that I laugh Ho ho! and hurl out a demon's roar;For I know to-night that luckless wight will at my mercy lie;I shall get the good of his sumptuous food and his red port wine so high.On him I'll creep in slumber deep when he is bound for me!Do ye know me now? Do I need avow that I am theTavern Flea?

An Outlaw bold, I quarter hold in a goodly castle free,

Which I wot the Lord, of his own accord, would scarce allow to me.

And I scorn to sleep in the donjon keep; but the room of state is mine,

And I work the beef of the fat old thief, and I tope the old rogue's wine.

For, sooth to say, upon his prey, I banquet as I will,And hereby ye know that my Lord also doth plunder, fleece, and pill,He spoils and takes, yet no law breaks, the statute keeps within,As a man may do the traveller who doth shear to the very skin.

For, sooth to say, upon his prey, I banquet as I will,

And hereby ye know that my Lord also doth plunder, fleece, and pill,

He spoils and takes, yet no law breaks, the statute keeps within,

As a man may do the traveller who doth shear to the very skin.

The lion's feed, through his own greed, the little jackal supplies,So I make my boot of another's fruit, and feast on another's prize.My eyes flash out, and for joy I shout, the wayfarer to view,He is game, I ween, that mine Host so keen and his serfs for me pursue.

The lion's feed, through his own greed, the little jackal supplies,

So I make my boot of another's fruit, and feast on another's prize.

My eyes flash out, and for joy I shout, the wayfarer to view,

He is game, I ween, that mine Host so keen and his serfs for me pursue.

In glee I skip as I think they'll strip him of all that his poke can hold,As they hack with a will and a brandished bill and hew out the victim's gold,And screw and wring with a long long string, to squeeze out more and more:It pleases me so that I laugh Ho ho! and hurl out a demon's roar;

In glee I skip as I think they'll strip him of all that his poke can hold,

As they hack with a will and a brandished bill and hew out the victim's gold,

And screw and wring with a long long string, to squeeze out more and more:

It pleases me so that I laugh Ho ho! and hurl out a demon's roar;

For I know to-night that luckless wight will at my mercy lie;I shall get the good of his sumptuous food and his red port wine so high.On him I'll creep in slumber deep when he is bound for me!Do ye know me now? Do I need avow that I am theTavern Flea?

For I know to-night that luckless wight will at my mercy lie;

I shall get the good of his sumptuous food and his red port wine so high.

On him I'll creep in slumber deep when he is bound for me!

Do ye know me now? Do I need avow that I am theTavern Flea?

"Would you like to wash your hands, Sir?" "We would." "This way if you please Sir." We follow, and are shown into a closet, and allowed to introduce ourselves to soap, water, and towel. We are about to depart for our dinner—for we are at theSun and Staylaceat Richmond, or at theCrozierat Greenwich—when we find, mounting guard at the closet-door (with all the calm determination of a sentinel) the chambermaid. She is upon duty there, for—at least—sixpence for water, soap, and towel. For, at least, sixpence; and you can see by the calm energy of the woman's countenance that she has resolved to have that tester, or like a true and acknowledged heroine of the domestic drama, to perish in the attempt. But she has never yet been known to perish, for she has always achieved her little sixpence!

The only legitimate strike is the strike of the iron when it is hot. A coward is generally a bully, for he who is chicken-hearted may naturally be fowl-mouthed.

The Moustache!—Working-men are about to adopt the moustache. Consequently, all idlers—in self-defense—must shave.

WEIGHT AND MEASUREWEIGHT AND MEASURE."Quite full, Marm. Might have sqooged the Child in, but you're about a hounce and a 'arf too large."

"Quite full, Marm. Might have sqooged the Child in, but you're about a hounce and a 'arf too large."

(From the Nation.)

"It is reported that the ever gloriousJohn Mitchellhas escaped from the blood-red hands of the sanguinary Saxon. And what has been the reward offered for his apprehension? Why '£2 or suchlesser sumas may be determined upon by the convicting magistrate!' Forty shillings for that heroic martyr! Oh, my countrymen, does not the brutalTimes, every day of its atrocious existence, offer more for a strayed cur—a wandering puppy-dog? And forty shillings (or less) for the hope of Erin!"

It would seem that the Colonial Government has orders to treat Irish patriots, as at rural fairs and merry-makings the master of ceremonies treats pigs; namely—to grease well their tails, that they may the more easily slip out of hand.

Our theatrical readers will rejoice to know thatMr. Charles Keanwill re-open the Princess's with an act of clemency. The play-going world lamented to learn that,Mr. Kean—in pursuance of a high, unflinching principle—had erased theQueen'sname from the List, for having incautiously laughed at FreeMr. Braid'simitation ofMr. Kean. We are happy to learn, however, thatHer Majesty'sname has been restored, intelligence to that effect having, last week, been sent from the Box-office to Balmoral.

There is something in Table-moving—and we imagined thatFaradayhad discovered what that was. At least we thought that if he had not, the Deuce was in it; and we were right—but right in the alternative. The phenomenon, according to the demonstration of two Anglican divines, is produced by "Satanic Agency." The old broker of souls is the man in possession of mahogany. TheRev. N. S. Godfrey, Incumbent of Wortley, Leeds, and theRev. E. Gillson, Curate of Lyncombe and Widcombe, Bath, have respectively printed and published evidence of this fact. They have witnessed the change of mahogany into Satan-wood. They have seen the tables talk with their legs by knocking on the floor, and they give us dialogues which they have held, personally, with these articles of furniture; questions put and genuine answers returned, with the stamp—without which none are genuine. From these answers they conclude that the leg of the table is connected with a cloven foot.

The tables, indeed, candidly confessed to both of these clergymen that they were actuated by evil spirits, one of which described itself as a lost soul, by the name ofAlfred Brown, but appeared, by the testimony of another, to have analias. This rogue of a spirit asserted that he could move the table without the hands of the experimenters; which, when tested, however, he could not do; and it certainly seems that table-moving cannot be accomplished unless somebody else, besides the devil, has a hand in it.

That personage is familiarly denominated the Old Gentleman. His table talk justifies his title to that appellation, by showing that he is in his dotage. The demons that possess the tables contradict themselves on cross examination in a way unparalleled by the stupidest liar that ever stood in a witness box. The Baronet whose case broke down the other day was a very adept in fiction, compared to the Father of it—speaking by tables. Besides it is very silly of him—not the Baronet but the other—to disclose himself at all. If his great object is to get people to come to him, he could do nothing more likely to defeat it than to go to them, and thus convince the British Public of his existence. "The Devil is an Ass" is now something more than the title of a comedy.

The tables refused to move when the Bible was placed upon them—though one did lift its leg by trying very hard "slowly and heavily," under the burden of a New Testament. But another was equally restive beneath a slip of paper whereon was written the name of "Satan." So it was under other names, not to be repeated here. Now, all this is grossly inconsistent on the part of one who has always been considered the very Prince of Plausibility.

However, both of the reverend gentlemen denounce all doubt touching the correctness of their reference of these things to diabolical agency, as profane scepticism; and under these circumstances we have besought the advice of our venerated Rector, theRev. Dr. Dryport; who told us that he believed in no supernatural events whatever, the acknowledgment of which was not required by the Thirty-Nine Articles. He added that if he saw a table, moving without physical agency, stopped, independently of simple weight, by the superposition of a Bible, he should be disposed to let the volume remain where it was, and apply himself to the study of its contents. If he had reason to suppose that the devil was in the table, he should let him alone, and have nothing to say to him unless he were sure he had the power to cast him out of it.

We asked the Reverend Doctor what he thought of the following extract from the pamphlet ofMr. Gillson.

"I then asked, 'Where areSatan'shead-quarters? Are they in England?' There was a slight movement. 'Are they in France?' A violent movement. 'Are they in Spain?' Similar agitation. 'Are they at Rome?' The table literally seemed frantic.... 'Do you know the Pope?' The table was violently agitated."

Dr. Dryportanswered that he supposed the table must have been one that had been used at Exeter Hall, and probably acted under influence from that quarter—of a mechanical nature. He should think that one of the parties touching the table was a very zealous Protestant.

We inquired if there would be any harm in our trying if tables would move by the imposition of our hands? He replied that there could be no doubt that they were moved by an imposition practised by hand, but if we had any, there was no objection to our making the experiment. We, therefore, chose twelve honest men, constituting, in fact, a British jury, and got them to lay their hands on a substantial dinner-table, which presently began to move. The following dialogue ensued:

"Where are the head-quarters of despotism? Are they in England?" There was no movement. "Are they in France?" A violent movement. "Are they in Austria?" A tremendous movement. "Are they in Russia?" The table jumped and bounced, and tumbled from side to side in such a manner that one might have imagined that a quantity of brandy and water had been spilt upon it and made it furiously drunk.

"Do you knowOld Nicholas?" The table capsized, went right over; completely upset.

After that, what question can there be about the "agency" concerned in Table-moving?Dr. Dryport, however, will have it thatMr. GodfreyandMr. Gillsonhave not been having communication with evil spirits, and that whatever those gentlemen may say for themselves, they are no conjurors.

"Manchesteris the portico of the great Temple of Peace."—Cobden.

Mr Punch under arrest

Last night, an alarming riot took place in Printing-house Square. About five hundred hotel-keepers—represented by their signs—attacked theTimes'office.

TheRed Bullswore "he'd toss the whole bilin of 'em for a pint. He ought to know something of rumpsteaks; and 5s.a head warn't too much for 'em."

TheAngelwondered that any gentlemen whowasa gentcouldobject to wax-candles to go to bed with. TheAngelabominated compo; hoping she knew what real light was.

TheGoat-in-Bootssaid kids, other ways children, over nine, ought to be charged for as full-growd. Some little gals was women at eight.

TheCock-and-Bottlewas above trumpeting anything. But how could any gent expect a pint of port under three-and-six?

At least a dozenBears—growling their loudest—said, seeing the expense at which they sat, swore they couldn't afford a sandwich under a shilling.

TheAdam-and-Evenever heard of such a thing as "a dressing-room." Wondered what next?

At this time the increased crowd ofRed Lions,White Bulls,Black Horses, began to roar and bellow, and snort and neigh and kick in the most appalling style. The hubbub becoming unendurable, the Editor—after due warning given by the publisher—threw up the window in the face of the mob, and fired a leading article over their heads. Upon this, the crowd quietly separated.

"Dearest Punchy,

"I don't feel quite safe—as I have a large money-bag, full of 'lucky pieces',every one of which is more or less disfigured, or defaced. Some are bent, some are chipped or cut, some have holes bored through them to enable any one to wear them round his neck, and every one has something the matter with it. Now I have been all my life collecting these lucky coins—and I am sure there must be five or six pound's worth of them altogether—at all events a great deal more than I should like to have taken from me. Besides they all represent a 'charm' against fits, against the small-pox, or some calamity or other; and it would be very hard if my 'lucky pieces,' instead of bringing me good-luck, were the cause of my lasting sorrow and ruin. Do you think they could carry me to the Tower for having them in my possession, or would they send me to New South Wales? My aunt tells me they are of no kind of value; but that I will never believe, for what was once a shilling must be always a shilling, though I should not like to be dragged off to the Police-office in the event of my buying a paper of pins in order to test its value.

"Yours,

Fanny."

"Dear Punch,—As there is a great deal doing at present in the way of Removal of Nuisances, would it not be well to draw the attention of the parties entrusted with this duty to all inquiries into 'the authorship ofJunius,' than which a greater nuisance does not exist.

"Toddles."

In a recent edict the Chinese Emperor asks indignantly, "Where is theLieutenant-General Wan-ting?" For the reply we beg to refer his Imperial Majesty to our old friend Echo, who to the question,

"Where isWan-ting?" will truly reply "Wanting."

A CHAUNT FOR CHURCHWARDENS AND OVERSEERS.

Set my arm-chair to the table; hand a light and bring a tumbler,O be joyful while you're able; silence each unthankful grumbler.Parish Clerk and Undertaker is my calling and vocation;Let no peace-and-quiet-breaker throw me into consternation.What's to be will surely happen, by no pains or care prevented;All in vain is sewers trapping; we had better be contented.Wherefore vex your souls, your spirits why should you, my friend, disquiet?He that fidgets, frets, and worrits, gets no satisfaction by it.Since we all are born to trouble, plagues, of course, must be expected.Being only grass and stubble, what of cleanliness neglected?Live an let live, that's my motto; catgut-makers are our neighbours;Knackers we no right have got to stop from following their labours.From the premises ofJonesthe nose ofSmithif somewhat reaches,Caused by boiling flesh or bones, or greaves to feed the canine species,Smithshould, like a Christian, wink; put up with such a little trifle:Hold his nostrils, if he think it needful the perfume to stifle.Churchyards also, that employ afford so many people unto,Why not let us still enjoy, thus doing as you would be done to?Hundreds prosper and grow wealthy with 'em underneath their noses,Living hearty, fat, and healthy, nearly to the age ofMoses.Things of that sort to the senses now and then will grow unpleasant,Whensoever that commences, take and do like me at the present,Smoke a pipe, whereby you'll smother all the nuisance and objection;Better that than any other measure to prevent infection.Don't go poking, don't go raking, into what I need not utter,All the means from parties taking out of which their bread they butter,Best to leave alone stagnation; stir it, and we know the sequel,That of all this agitation will the strongest posy equal.'Tis presumption to depend on such precautions and defences;Who can calculate their end on any further than expenses?From the lot that Man awaits we none of us can lift the curtain;And an increase of the rates is all we can consider certain.Water will be rather queer sometimes; the pump a churchyard handyWell, but then there's little fear, suppose you mingle it with brandy.So, here's the present state of things—and let us have no revolutions—Upsetting Emperors, Queens, and Kings; and our Parochial Institutions.

Set my arm-chair to the table; hand a light and bring a tumbler,

O be joyful while you're able; silence each unthankful grumbler.

Parish Clerk and Undertaker is my calling and vocation;

Let no peace-and-quiet-breaker throw me into consternation.

What's to be will surely happen, by no pains or care prevented;All in vain is sewers trapping; we had better be contented.Wherefore vex your souls, your spirits why should you, my friend, disquiet?He that fidgets, frets, and worrits, gets no satisfaction by it.

What's to be will surely happen, by no pains or care prevented;

All in vain is sewers trapping; we had better be contented.

Wherefore vex your souls, your spirits why should you, my friend, disquiet?

He that fidgets, frets, and worrits, gets no satisfaction by it.

Since we all are born to trouble, plagues, of course, must be expected.Being only grass and stubble, what of cleanliness neglected?Live an let live, that's my motto; catgut-makers are our neighbours;Knackers we no right have got to stop from following their labours.

Since we all are born to trouble, plagues, of course, must be expected.

Being only grass and stubble, what of cleanliness neglected?

Live an let live, that's my motto; catgut-makers are our neighbours;

Knackers we no right have got to stop from following their labours.

From the premises ofJonesthe nose ofSmithif somewhat reaches,Caused by boiling flesh or bones, or greaves to feed the canine species,Smithshould, like a Christian, wink; put up with such a little trifle:Hold his nostrils, if he think it needful the perfume to stifle.

From the premises ofJonesthe nose ofSmithif somewhat reaches,

Caused by boiling flesh or bones, or greaves to feed the canine species,

Smithshould, like a Christian, wink; put up with such a little trifle:

Hold his nostrils, if he think it needful the perfume to stifle.

Churchyards also, that employ afford so many people unto,Why not let us still enjoy, thus doing as you would be done to?Hundreds prosper and grow wealthy with 'em underneath their noses,Living hearty, fat, and healthy, nearly to the age ofMoses.

Churchyards also, that employ afford so many people unto,

Why not let us still enjoy, thus doing as you would be done to?

Hundreds prosper and grow wealthy with 'em underneath their noses,

Living hearty, fat, and healthy, nearly to the age ofMoses.

Things of that sort to the senses now and then will grow unpleasant,Whensoever that commences, take and do like me at the present,Smoke a pipe, whereby you'll smother all the nuisance and objection;Better that than any other measure to prevent infection.

Things of that sort to the senses now and then will grow unpleasant,

Whensoever that commences, take and do like me at the present,

Smoke a pipe, whereby you'll smother all the nuisance and objection;

Better that than any other measure to prevent infection.

Don't go poking, don't go raking, into what I need not utter,All the means from parties taking out of which their bread they butter,Best to leave alone stagnation; stir it, and we know the sequel,That of all this agitation will the strongest posy equal.

Don't go poking, don't go raking, into what I need not utter,

All the means from parties taking out of which their bread they butter,

Best to leave alone stagnation; stir it, and we know the sequel,

That of all this agitation will the strongest posy equal.

'Tis presumption to depend on such precautions and defences;Who can calculate their end on any further than expenses?From the lot that Man awaits we none of us can lift the curtain;And an increase of the rates is all we can consider certain.

'Tis presumption to depend on such precautions and defences;

Who can calculate their end on any further than expenses?

From the lot that Man awaits we none of us can lift the curtain;

And an increase of the rates is all we can consider certain.

Water will be rather queer sometimes; the pump a churchyard handyWell, but then there's little fear, suppose you mingle it with brandy.So, here's the present state of things—and let us have no revolutions—Upsetting Emperors, Queens, and Kings; and our Parochial Institutions.

Water will be rather queer sometimes; the pump a churchyard handy

Well, but then there's little fear, suppose you mingle it with brandy.

So, here's the present state of things—and let us have no revolutions—

Upsetting Emperors, Queens, and Kings; and our Parochial Institutions.

NicholasandFrancis Josephhave met at Olmütz; met and affectionately fraternised. For we are told that "loud applause followed from the spectators as the Emperors publiclykissedeach other: and then the Court dinner followed, the two Emperors spending the evening together in undisturbedprivacy." But this scene (see last week's Punch) our artist has already immortalised; he having sketched the Imperial couple—even as in an old play—"from behind the arras." The royal salute has been embalmed in the lines of the Austrian Poet Laureat,Doctor Von Wattz:—

"Snakes in their little nests agree,And 'tis a pretty sight,When the Emperors of the like kid-ney,Do kiss left cheek and right."

"Snakes in their little nests agree,

And 'tis a pretty sight,

When the Emperors of the like kid-ney,

Do kiss left cheek and right."

But other, and deeper effects resulted from that Imperial smack! And such a smack! As though a red-hot poker should have kissed a barrel of gunpowder. For as cheeks were kissed—

Poland writhed and groaned afresh!—

Hungary clenched her red right hand, and renewed her silent vow!—

Turkey, with a flourish of the sabre, set her teeth, and cried "Allah! Bismallah!"

Naples—throughKing Bomba—cried "Ancora; kiss again!"

AndAberdeen, folding pacific hands, declared, "it was a sweet sight—unco' sweet—to see sick mighty Potentates in sickawmeety."

Punch—meeting his friendBaron Shekelsat theCountess of Polkherlegsoff—asked the philanthropic Hebrewhisprivate opinion of that salute. The Baron pathetically observed "it was a sight worth a Jew's eye." And so it was; even if the Jew had beenJudas.

A convict, perhaps, deserves to have his head shaved; but it does not follow that his treatment should be altogether barbarous.

THE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENTTHE MOUSTACHE MOVEMENT.Whipper."Well, I wear mine because it saves trouble, and is so very 'ealthy."Snapper."Hah. Well there aint no 'umbug about me; I wear mine because they looks 'ansom, and goes down with the Gals."

Whipper."Well, I wear mine because it saves trouble, and is so very 'ealthy."

Snapper."Hah. Well there aint no 'umbug about me; I wear mine because they looks 'ansom, and goes down with the Gals."

Enter from a Hotel,Sir Huon,without his Coat.RECITATIVE.

Yes, even clothes the pay must yield,No carpet bag have I;The Paper be my battle field—I'm fleeced! my battle cry.

Yes, even clothes the pay must yield,

No carpet bag have I;

The Paper be my battle field—

I'm fleeced! my battle cry.

AIR.

O, 'tis a monstrous sight to seeThe charge of the British Hostelry,Its plunderings over aghast we go,With glances adding each long, long row!One's shocked as one glances; we shiver all,Though we shiver quite in vain—They have raised such a total, we, rampant, callOn the Landlord to explain.Charge ten shillings for breakfast and bed!Dinner reckoned at eight per head!Are things raised again, though Protection's no more?For your bills are as of yore!I say, 'I'm done! Tea, two for one?Your crumpets startle my father's son!And my senses are whirled to the winds afar,By your wax-lights, Attendance,Et Cætera!Mourn, ye Knaves in the Public line,Your swindles lie stark in the broad sunshine,The guests whom you sheared ere you let them goHave made all the world your extortion know!Joy to the moderate hosts of France!Custom waits upon wise finance;Joy to your honest Yankee men!Their guests are all travelling back again.There they go—the shaved ones see,Who are grumbling at British Roguery.Take the bill—the items pare,Fill with cheap wine the bottle fair,Strike off half—'t will still be high—When we've won the victory!

O, 'tis a monstrous sight to seeThe charge of the British Hostelry,Its plunderings over aghast we go,With glances adding each long, long row!

O, 'tis a monstrous sight to see

The charge of the British Hostelry,

Its plunderings over aghast we go,

With glances adding each long, long row!

One's shocked as one glances; we shiver all,Though we shiver quite in vain—They have raised such a total, we, rampant, callOn the Landlord to explain.

One's shocked as one glances; we shiver all,

Though we shiver quite in vain—

They have raised such a total, we, rampant, call

On the Landlord to explain.

Charge ten shillings for breakfast and bed!Dinner reckoned at eight per head!Are things raised again, though Protection's no more?For your bills are as of yore!I say, 'I'm done! Tea, two for one?Your crumpets startle my father's son!And my senses are whirled to the winds afar,By your wax-lights, Attendance,Et Cætera!Mourn, ye Knaves in the Public line,Your swindles lie stark in the broad sunshine,The guests whom you sheared ere you let them goHave made all the world your extortion know!Joy to the moderate hosts of France!Custom waits upon wise finance;Joy to your honest Yankee men!Their guests are all travelling back again.There they go—the shaved ones see,Who are grumbling at British Roguery.

Charge ten shillings for breakfast and bed!

Dinner reckoned at eight per head!

Are things raised again, though Protection's no more?

For your bills are as of yore!

I say, 'I'm done! Tea, two for one?

Your crumpets startle my father's son!

And my senses are whirled to the winds afar,

By your wax-lights, Attendance,Et Cætera!

Mourn, ye Knaves in the Public line,

Your swindles lie stark in the broad sunshine,

The guests whom you sheared ere you let them go

Have made all the world your extortion know!

Joy to the moderate hosts of France!

Custom waits upon wise finance;

Joy to your honest Yankee men!

Their guests are all travelling back again.

There they go—the shaved ones see,

Who are grumbling at British Roguery.

Take the bill—the items pare,Fill with cheap wine the bottle fair,Strike off half—'t will still be high—When we've won the victory!

Take the bill—the items pare,

Fill with cheap wine the bottle fair,

Strike off half—'t will still be high—

When we've won the victory!

The Horse-Marines.—The poor horses that draw the Bathing Machines.

We thought we had heard enough of the rows with the Caffres at the Cape; but there have lately been some Caffres cutting the oddest capers at Hyde Park Corner. It seems that a noble Caffre chieftain has entered into an agreement for himself and a few of his tribe to howl, leap, brandish tomahawks, and indulge in other outlandish freaks, coming under the head of "native customs," for a year and a half, during which period the howlings, tomahawkings, &c., are to be the exclusive property of an individual who has speculated on the appetite of the British public for yells and wild antics. Things were going on pretty comfortably, with the exception of an occasional "outbreak"—which means the breaking-in by a Caffre of some other Caffre's, or somebody else's head—when the chief was seized with a generous desire to make a gratuitous exhibition of himself, and accordinglyNkuloocoolo—as the chief calls himself—took a turn in the Park on Thursday last with four of his fellow countrymen.

The proprietor of the yells and native dances, fearful that the gilt would be taken off the gingerbread complexions of the Caffres if their faces were made familiar to the public in Hyde Park, sent a policeman to take the "chief" into custody.Nkuloocoolo, however, who seems to take the thing coolly as well as cavalierly—or Caffrely—refused to walk in, but stood outside the door, rendering it hopeless that anybody would pay half-a-crown to "walk up," when the chief was to be seen "alive, alive" for nothing at the threshold. The proprietor endeavoured to push the chief inside, but the chief gave a counter-push, and there seemed a probability of a war-whoop being got up at the expense rather than for the benefit of the enterprising individual who had engaged the whoopers. Upon this the chief was taken into custody and charged with an assault, and with having desired the proprietor (in Caffre) to "look out"—an expression which, though not very alarming in English, seems to have had in Caffre a very frightful effect on the mind of the hearer. Perhaps, being familiar with the club exercise of the Caffres, he might have reason to fear that their "native customs" would make them rather awkward customers.

The complainant was, however, most properly told by the Magistrate that the Caffres cannot, by law, be restrained from going wherever they please, though they may have agreed to whoop and yell, but their whooping and yelling can only be enforced by civil process. If a Caffre chooses to take a walk in the Park, or anywhere else, he has a perfect right to do so, if he does not break the law by tomahawking the public, or any other "native" eccentricity. The "proprietor" seemed to feel himself rather aggrieved that he could not dispose of the Caffres in any way he pleased, but it would be rather too absurd, that the principle of slavery and absolute control over the person of a human being should be recognised for the benefit of an individual who has speculated in the attraction of savage yells and barbarian antics.

Every now and then we read in the papers an account of the Convocation of Prelates and Clergy, at which, by general consent, nothing seems to be done, and nobody appears to be present. If this assembly, which never assembles, and a body, which nobody troubles himself to form, is supposed to represent the Church, we must admit that the representation is—as far as sinecurism is concerned—a very faithful one. The proceedings at the last meeting consisted of a rather dull duett, between the Archbishop's commissioner and his Grace's registrar. The latter in a lengthened solo gave the whole writ of prorogation at full length, and the former chimed in at the conclusion with an announcement that the business of the day was ended. The scene of this melancholy farce is always the Jerusalem Chambers. It would perhaps give life to the scene ifMr. Cookwould lend fromAstley'sa Jerusalem pony or two by way of affording a little fit companionship to the commissioner and registrar, who must be rather sick of each other, and might be glad to welcome a little congenial society. The addition we have suggested might be sanctioned, under the plea that the Vicar of Bray would then have a representative.

TTHE present financial crisis appears to demand fromMr. Punchone of those Money Articles with which he has stepped forward in other times of difficulty, and which have instantly restored stability and confidence. Regardless, therefore, of his own personal comfort, he attended the Stock Market one day during the past week.

THE present financial crisis appears to demand fromMr. Punchone of those Money Articles with which he has stepped forward in other times of difficulty, and which have instantly restored stability and confidence. Regardless, therefore, of his own personal comfort, he attended the Stock Market one day during the past week.

Mr. Punchwas struck by the exceeding helplessness of the gentlemen in whose hands is the political thermometer, better known as the Funds. They displayed an avidity in grasping at the slightest hint, which was only equalled by the hurry with which they sprang away to do something, before they comprehended the real bearing of the information. Indeed, if these gentlemen of the Stock Exchange waited until they understood the actual tendency of the events upon which they deal, some of them might wait long enough.Mr. Punchcasually remarked to a friend that "Aberdeenwas out this morning," and there was a rush of fifty men eager to buy on account of the good news. Had they paused to hearMr. Punchadd, "walking in Kensington Gardens," they might have spared their trouble. Subsequently, the same gentleman was heard to say, "Not so tight as it was." Away hurried the correspondents of the papers, and told everybody that the tightness of the market was disappearing.Mr. Punchmerely alluded to his hat, which had been a little uncomfortable until he had his hair cut. "Will open flatly," an observationMr. Punchsimply applied to the Princess's Theatre, was construed into a prophecy of the state of the Market next day, and business was done accordingly. But the greatestcoup, and one for whichMr. GladstoneowesMr. Puncha good turn, was the latter gentleman's saying, as he left the Exchange, "Those new Stocks are the best, because they always keep up so well." The new creations, for whose non-popularity theChancellor of the Exchequerhas been much twitted by financiers who do not know discount from premium, immediately sprang into activity, and yetMr. Punch'sremark was simplyaproposof his friend's wearing a rather seedy tie round his neck. He hopes that Exchequer Bill, as theRight Hon. Williamis rather irreverently called in the City, will remember this good service next timeMr. Punchhints that it is time the duty should come off paper.

While the news was favourable to Russia, the Bears were very elate, but as soon as it was known thatPunchhad declared againstAberdeenand for an English policy, the Bulls exulted.Shaksperewas quoted at random, but usually wrongly. The jobbers were scarce, owing to the Irish Brigade being out of the country. There was a rumour that a large operator had come, but it turned out to be only a fat surgical practitioner who had mistaken his way, and was, of course, exposed to the graceful jocularity of the House. A Bank Director came on and made some practical jokes, from which it was surmised that the Bank reserve was very small. Prices jumped about on every side, and so did little boys, whom the beadle chased, declaring he would have them there at no price. Some of the speculators appeared very uneasy, especially those who had a good way to go home, and thought it was going to rain. Finally,Mr. Punchwas informed that things closed with much firmness at four, but he believes this must apply to the gates.

Under all circumstances,Mr. Punchstrongly advises holders to be neither rash nor fearful, while sellers should abstain alike from temerity and timidity. All parties had better be guided by circumstances, and not attempt to lay down Medo-Persian rules for themselves. Let Prudence be their beacon, and Wisdom their chart. They will do well to watch the course of events, but not to surmise that they understand them, while at the same time taking care not to shut their eyes to contingencies. A thing may happen, or it may not, but the wise man will discern the signs of the times. By following this advice, whichMr. Punchhas carefully framed upon the model of what is given by all the recognised financial authorities, he has no doubt that through the shoals of the present crisis the Bark of Public Confidence may be steered into the haven of prosperity.

Somebody has invented an instrument which he calls a Lunarium, and which is calculated to look so very closely into the Moon's face, that the Moon's age—exact to a quarter of an hour—may be discovered. Really this seems hardly fair towards the Moon, for it ought to be remembered that

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