NEGLECTED SCOTLAND.

A fox chasing hounds

A sensible Scotchman writing from Haddington to theTimes, says that "the real grievances of Scotland are not her insulted Lions, nor her deserted Holyrood," but lie in "her ill-paved, worse-lighted and undrained market-towns, and in the incurable apathy of the inhabitants to sanitary reform."

This gentleman says that, on Tuesday last, at a meeting of the inhabitants of Haddington, it was proposed to adopt the drainage clauses of the New Police Act. After an earnest and solemn appeal from their parish minister imploring them "to unite with heart and hand in bringing the influences of pure air and water to bear on the wretched homes of their poorer brethren," followed by an awful warning from a medical officer of the town, "the householders (many of them wealthy men)" rejected, by a majority of ten to one, a bill for their assessment, in order to have their streets and houses cleansed, at the rate of 10d.in the pound.

A week previously, theScotchmanstates, the Haddingtonians had devoted a day to fasting and humiliation in the hope that the pestilence might be averted from them.

Fasting involves self-denial. The Haddington fasters cannot deny themselves to the amount of 10d.in the pound. They cannot fling that tenpence into the gutter, to sweep it, although the gutter is poisoning their poor neighbours, and may poison themselves too.

Christians are supposed to wash their faces when they fast. Whether the Haddington housekeepers accompany their fasting with any ablution may be doubted, since they refuse to pay 10d.in the pound for washing their town. By preference, for cheapness sake, they would rather perhaps fast in sackcloth and ashes; but as all sackcloth is now used up in sacks, whilst ashes are carted away for manure, their fasting possibly consists in wearing their usual clothes, and sitting still in their usual filth, and doing nothing. Whether they abstain from anything else—from haggis or sheep's head, or collops, or whiskey-toddy—in addition to abstinence from wholesome exertion—we do not know.

As to the Scotch Lion playing second fiddle in the Royal Arms, he may bless the sometimeDuke of Argyleand his stars, and be contented to have any place there to fiddle in at all. By all heraldic right he ought to be ousted altogether, and his place should be occupied by the more appropriate emblem of a Pig; a whining, grunting, odoriferous Hog Rampant, sprawling in the filth of towns.

Our friend and contemporary theSunday Times(whose zeal for the spread of Democracy, for the non-suppression of Betting Houses, and for the purification of the Turf and the Church, we gladly recognise), in commenting upon an excellent article in which the dailyTimesdissuades the charitable from encouraging street mendicancy, has the following startling remarks:—

"While on this part of the subject, we would suggest the impolicy of withholding from the metropolitan mendicants, whether impostors or not, the scanty means of support.... We would counsel the old ladies and gentlemennot to hold their hands, lest the sturdy vagabond, who now contents himself with extracting pence from their humanity by whining,should take to strangling them in the dark streets, as some members of the fraternity have lately done in Manchester."

Really,Mr. Punch, who believes that in his time he has done no bad service to the cause of real Democracy (by which he means a system for the benefit of the many and not of the few), begs to say that these utterances by the "Champion of Democracy," are more worthy of one of the ruined clients of theSunday Times, the Betting House Keepers (who may now be properly termed vagabonds), than of a respectable journalist with his faculties in order. Threatening decent people with strangulation because they decline to assist imposture, is rather a strong argument. Luckily, there be things called Policemen.

The "immediate apple of our eye" is an American apple, which we happen to have in our eye at the present moment. It is not an apple of discord, but an apple which comes home to our very heart's core with its assurances of friendship. A Correspondent, who signs himself "The American Enthusiast," has allowed his enthusiasm to take the very sensible turn of a present of apples toPunch, who, while receiving it, proceeds to cut it up; and, like some critics, shows his taste by making mince-meat of it. We have perused the whole of the apples with great satisfaction, and though we might find a spot here and there, the blemish is only on the surface; for when we descend a little lower than skin deep, we find the apple quite worthy of the appellation of the American Prince of Pippins, which we hereby confer on it.

GivePrince Alberta Statue?—Yes, certainly, at the proper time; may it not arrive for a thousand years! But when it does arrive, up with the Statue; a Statue which shall have been merited by a highly useful life, whereof the promotion of the cosmopolitan fair in Hyde Park will have been one only among the remarkable acts. In the mean time, that the memorial may be worthy of the hero, put the money already subscribed towards it out to increase and accumulate; by which means, in addition to the interest which our descendants will take in the work, we shall also transmit to them compound interest that will help to pay for it.

A CASE OF REAL DISTRESSA CASE OF REAL DISTRESS.

Everybody thoughtLord Palmerstona thorough-going Reformer, but since he has left the Cabinet it would appear—from theTimes—that his Lordship refused to remain in, because he is an out-and-out Tory.

A Collective Being.—A Tax gatherer.

KKnow, all men, that Falconry is no longer a British pastime, but Hawking continues to be practised, though, like Shooting, it is not lawful without a license, and in that case is punishable by a swinging fine. TheSussex and Kent Mailcontains a distressing illustration of this fact; which we subjoin:—

Know, all men, that Falconry is no longer a British pastime, but Hawking continues to be practised, though, like Shooting, it is not lawful without a license, and in that case is punishable by a swinging fine. TheSussex and Kent Mailcontains a distressing illustration of this fact; which we subjoin:—

"BeforeJ. Deane, Esq.

"Hawking Without A License.—Michael Derleywas brought up in custody, charged with selling mats without a license. The accused did not deny the charge, but contended that he had a right to do so, as he manufactured the articles himself. He had done the same thing in hundreds of towns, and had never before been interrupted;he had his mother and brother to support, both of whom were deaf and dumb."Mr. Deaneinquired if the prisoner had been cautioned, and on receiving a reply in the affirmative (fromP. C. Morgan) intimated that he could not allow the statement of the prisoner to influence his decision. The tradesmen of the town, as well as persons taking out licenses for hawking, must be protected, and he (the prisoner) must pay afine of£10,or go to prison for seven days."The prisoner requestedMr. Deaneto inform him under what Act he was committed."Mr. Deanedeclined to give the information."The Clerk to the prisoner—You can find that out when you get to gaol."

"Mr. Deaneinquired if the prisoner had been cautioned, and on receiving a reply in the affirmative (fromP. C. Morgan) intimated that he could not allow the statement of the prisoner to influence his decision. The tradesmen of the town, as well as persons taking out licenses for hawking, must be protected, and he (the prisoner) must pay afine of£10,or go to prison for seven days.

"The prisoner requestedMr. Deaneto inform him under what Act he was committed.

"Mr. Deanedeclined to give the information.

"The Clerk to the prisoner—You can find that out when you get to gaol."

Is there any mistake here? Was it for stealing mats that the prisoner was committed instead of being sent to gaol for selling them? If not, does there exist a law so atrocious as to warrant his committal?—if there is no such law, breathes there such a magistrate asMr. Deane? And does Mr. Deane continue to hold a place on the Bench?

The poor man appears to have had a judge, as well as a mother and a brother, afflicted with deafness, if not dumb.Mr. Deanewas deaf to his appeal for mercy, and dumb when challenged to justify his punishment. We cannot say, we hope thatDerleyobtained the information which he was so kindly informed that he might seek for in gaol. If no Act existed to warrant his incarceration, he would have a legal remedy for what morally, at any rate, was a false imprisonment.

(By slight Anticipation.)

IMPERIAL PARLIAMENT—Monday, 13th February, 1854.HOUSE OF LORDS.

Their Lordships met at 5, but rose immediately, in order to afford various Peers an opportunity of hearing what was going on elsewhere.

HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Petitions having been presented, notices of motion given, and questions disposed of.

Mr. Roebuckrose to bring on the motion which he had placed on the book. He said he should be very short (A laugh). He could not express his loathing and contempt for the vulgar and brutal ribaldry which could find matter for a grin in a man's appearance. He should be temperate, as all the world knew he always was (Hear, hear), and should merely read to the House an extract from a document to which the Hon. Member for Sunderland had sworn, and which that Hon. Member had placed on record in a Court of Justice, in whichMr. Hudson—(Order) What was the use of the servile pedantry that adhered to rotten forms? (Order.) Well, in which the honourable—very honourable—right honourable—would that do?—Member swore that he had expended certain moneys, or used other means, in bribing and corrupting members of the legislature to favour railway schemes in which he was interested. Conceiving that a legislator who could bring such a charge against his fellows was utterly unfit to sit among them, he should—without the least personal feeling—move thatMr. George Hudsonbe expelled the House of Commons (Hear, hear).

Mr. Henry Drummondseconded the motion, but only for the purpose of saying that he perfectly believed every word to whichMr. Hudsonhad sworn (Hear, hear). He had last session given Lords and Commons, aye, and Ministers and Knights of the Garter too, his opinion of the extent to which corruption was carried in these days, and he reiterated his assertions. Still, though offences were to come, woe to them by whom they came, and therefore he should supportMr. Roebuck.

TheSpeakerhaving put the motion,

Lord John Russell, as leader of that House, said that he should make very few remarks on a very painful subject. He had carefully looked into Magna Charta, and also into the Bill of Rights, and was inclined to believe that neither made any provision for the case of a railway director who should endeavour to promote steam-traffic by unlawful means. So far they were in the dark. But it was desirable, nay, necessary, to consider rather the spirit of the constitution than its exact letter, and he thought that if the House would refer the matter to a Select Committee, they might attain their object. The instruction to that Committee would be to inquire, first, whether steam carriages were known in the days ofKing John, and if not, whether any portion of Magna Charta appeared to bear on the case. Next, he thought, the Committee might inquire whether, at the Revolution, steam travelling had been invented, and how far the Bill of Rights might have contemplated wrongful Railway Bills. On receiving the report the House would determine on its next step. (Hear.) He moved an amendment in accordance with his suggestion.

Mr. Disraeliwas the last person to infuse into a question any element not patently consanguineous with it; but, with all deference to the noble Lord, he must respectfully inquire whether the noble Lord's suggestion did not tend to the implicit stultification of the House. Why, the noble Lord asked the Committee what he had already told them himself, and did not ask that which it was momentous to register; namely, whether in the chancery archives a damnatory record had been deposited. (Hear, hear.)

Colonel Sibthorpsaid that the noble Lord professed a great deal of virtue, which was all humbug.Facilis descensus Averni. He believed all Ministers to be knaves, especially when they most pretended to decency.Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.He should leave the House (laughter); but before he went, he would just say that if the noble Lord, instead of wallowing in turtle and champagne (laughter), would introduce wise measures, he should be supported by wise men, himself amongst the rest.Judex damnatur cum nocens absolvitur.

Mr. G. H. Mooresaid that hadMr. Hudsonbeen an Irish Member he would have been expelled long ago, but such was the beastly bitterness of England towards his,Mr. Moore's, unhappy countrymen that, asMr. Hudsonusually sat near the Irish Members, he was allowed to remain there in the hopes that he might contaminate the high and pure morality which they had learned from their beloved priests, and which shed a holy and blessed light around their path, to the utter discomfiture of the bigoted, blatant, and blasphemous Protestants.

Mr. LucasconfirmedMr. Moore'sstatement as to the virtues of the Irish, and the wickedness of the English, and made an animated attack upon the Church of England, adding an affecting history of the persecutions to which Catholics were exposed in Protestant countries.

Mr. Duffy,Mr. Scully,Captain Magan, and other Irish Members having dilated upon this branch of the subject for about two hours,Lord Palmerstonsuggested—he hoped that as—a—a—an Irish proprietor, he might be permitted to offer a hint to Irish gentlemen (laughter and cheers), that they were a little departing from the points which perhaps offered themselves most prominently; at any rate—a—a—so it seemed to him. (Hear.) Perhaps it might be advantageous on the present occasion to—a—a—sink thePope. (Great uproar on the Irish bench.) Of course he meant nothing offensive to His—a—a—Holiness. (Laughter.) Honourable gentlemen had certainly travelled very far, but they seemed to have avoided Hudson's Bay. (Shouts of laughter and cheers.) He thought, really, that as the Hon. Member for Sunderland was present, he might be asked whether he had anything to say for himself. English gentlemen were not in the habit of acting harshly or inconsiderately. (Loud cheers.)

An Irish Member(indignantly). "Are Irish?"

Lord Palmerston(laughing). "Qui capit ille facit", you know."

There were then calls for—

Mr. Hudson, who rose and said, "My position is noways pleasant, and I shall not intrude long upon the ouse. In the first place I never said, exactually, that I had bribed members of the legislature, but only that I had applied shares in a way calculated to promote the interests of a certain company. What I've said, I've sworn to; and what I've sworn to, I stick to, of course. I don't see anything to be ashamed of in what I have done; but people differ on these points, and every man has a right to his own opinion. The ouse can do as it likes. But one thing I do mean to say, and that is, that if the ouse has a bad opinion of me, I've a precious bad opinion of a good many people in the ouse, and out of it too. What was I? A provincial shopkeeper, who was lucky enough to make a deal of money. Very well. Did I court Dukes, and Markisses, and M.P.'s, and orficers in the Guards, and dowagers, and debbytarntes, and all that? Not I. They courted me. They came to my ouse, and ate my dinners, and flattered my family, because I'd got a load of money, no matter how; and because some of 'em thought they'd get a slice, the others wanted me to put 'em up to dodges to get money for themselves. Same in this ouse. I couldn't come in here, when I was rich, as the right hon. gentleman in the cheer has seen and knows, but a mob of young aristocrats, aye and old ones too, all gathered round my white waistcoat, and were all fawning and affable, and jocose like. Now, see how they keep away; and if I run against them, some cut me, some only nod. Is it because I'm worse than I was? No, only because I'm worse off. My golden sunshine brought out the vermin,and now that's gone they're gone too. You may expel me, but you can't make me forget, when I had my big ouse which the French have taken, how Lords, and Barnets, and Guardsmen, and the Hort No Bless, and their females crawled and cringed and fawned to the rich Yorkshire linendraper. And if I git right, as I don't doubt to do, I shall have 'em round me again. Money does the trick in England, and it's despicable cant to say it don't. I am in the ands of the ouse."

The Hon. Member's address caused considerable sensation, especially among certain strangers in the privileged galleries.Mr. Henry Drummondwas observed to rub his hands with much enjoyment.Lord John Russell'samendment was negatived without a division,Mr. Roebuck'smotion was then carried, and, on the motion ofMr. Wilson, a new writ was ordered for Sunderland, vacant by the expulsion ofMr. George Hudson.

We are sorry to see that the Zoological Gardens have lately got into the "Star system." Not content with a good working company of bears and monkeys, they must have particular "Stars" to bring the million in. Some time ago it was a hippopotamus, who made all London run after him. Then there was the baby elephant, who was a source of great interest to mothers. After them followed a chimpanzee, and a serpent-charmer, and a whole forest-full of humming-birds, and we cannot recollect what else. All of them, however, were great attractions in their way; in fact, it may be said that the animals lately have completely taken the shine out of the actors. As the theatres have gradually become more empty, the Zoological Gardens have perceptibly become more crowded. What actor, recently, has had anything like the success that for a whole season ran panting, pushing and squeezing after the Hippopotamus? It was a fight of parasols to get near him—it was a joy greater than that of a new gown. To have seen him! What is the reason of this strange preference? Is it because the public prefer Nature to Art?—or is it because the actors speak, and the animals do not?

However, the "Star system" is not likely to be so ruinous here as at most places of entertainment. We need not say that the Zoological Stars receive no salaries, beyond their board and lodging; and they are not likely to ruin their managers with salaries like those. They are paid regularly every day at the usual feeding hour, and we have not heard of an instance of any animal, no matter how popular he may have been, having struck for more beans, or refusing to make his appearance unless he had a double allowance of paunches.

The latest "Star" at this establishment is the Giant Ant-Eater—that is to say, if you can call him a Star at all, for, with a tail like his, he is much more like a comet. It is indeed a tail!—so long is it, that you imagine it must have been originally published in four-and-twenty numbers, and that they are here all bound up together. And a pretty thick volume it makes too!Daniel O'Connell's"tail" must have been a wisp of straw compared to it. It hangs like a small willow tree—only instead of being green, it is a dark badger colour, and, in texture, resembles some of the long brushes we have seen made of Indian grass. It is as flexible as a party-politician, for it can be turned at will to any side. What is the use of such a tail it would be difficult to say, though as far as that goes, you might as well ask what was the use of a lady's bonnet, for the one is not worn more at the back than the other. When the Ant-Eater lies down to sleep, he throws this voluminous tail, like a Scotch plaid, round him, and we have no doubt it keeps him very warm. So, you see, it is of some use after all; and, for what we know, as he comes from a very warm climate, the Ant-Eater may use his tail in the summer to fan himself with. We are told that he is met with in the plains of the Brazils; but, from his habit of spreading his thick hedge of a tail all over his body, we should say that he was much oftener found in the Bush. In fact, it is a complete furs-bush—extending out nearly to the same length as his body. He is a curious animal, take him altogether. In shape he reminds you somewhat of a German pig, which is not the most elegant object a person can meet with on a long day's journey; only a German pig would be an English greyhound in symmetry by the side of him. The Ant-Eater is as hairy as a goat, and all along the ridge of his neck he carries a long frill of hair that stands upright, short and thick, like a long plate-brush turned upside down. Then the hair falls down his front legs, taking the form of a pair of black top-boots. These front legs look at first like hoofs, for the nails, the length of which any woman of spirit would envy, are turned underneath, and the noise he makes in walking upon them sounds exactly as if he had got clogs on. His snout, also, is extremely peculiar, being admirably adapted, from its length and narrowness, for getting the marrow out of a marrow-bone. It is longer than any cucumber reared by a penny-a-liner, only gradually tapering towards the end, in which is enclosed the tongue, to which it seems to act as a sort of case.

This case is made of bone; and, really, when the tongue issues from it, it looks like some very fine surgical instrument that had shot out of its case upon a spring being touched. We hardly know what to compare the snout to, unless it is a very long and thin strawberry pottle, that some wicked boys have been tying over his mouth. This strawberry pottle is his only feature, for his eyes are so small that they are rather eyelet holes than eyes; but then, in its great bounty it more than balances, and leaves a large surplus over, for the miserable poverty of his other features. We know of no other animal that could be so easily led by the nose. As for his coat, the hair on it takes various colours. You remark a long stripe of red running by the side of a long stripe of black or yellow. The colours, on his breast particularly, are as distinct, and the lines as sharply marked, as the different-coloured grains you see arranged in a seedsman's window. The poor animal looks remarkably stupid, but happy. He wanders about his cage in a very inquiring manner, looking for his blessed ants, whom he cannot find anywhere, and making with his claws the noise of a French peasant walking in wooden shoes. He leads a very fashionable life, being up generally all night, and sleeping all day. There his accomplishments seem to begin and end; for he does not sing, nor bray, nor bark, nor low, nor whistle, nor make any noise whatever, except the one with his toe-nails, which must be particularly disagreeable during the night to the poor Chimpanzee who lives in the next cage to him. We tried very hard to dive into the Ant-Eater's thoughts; but, with all our diving, could not bring up any satisfactory proof whether the beast was aware of the great popularity he had suddenly rushed into. LikeByron, we suppose he awoke one morning, and found himself famous. Let him not be too conceited, for "Stars" rise and fall at the Zoological just as quickly as at other places.

Missus has sent some new-laid Ants' Eggs"Missus has sent some new-laid Ants' Eggs for the Mummy-cough-ague Jewbeater." [Myrmecophaga Jubata. Anglice: Ant-Eater.]

"Missus has sent some new-laid Ants' Eggs for the Mummy-cough-ague Jewbeater." [Myrmecophaga Jubata. Anglice: Ant-Eater.]

The late delivery of letters, and the illegal retention of books and prints by the authorities of the Post Office, have occasioned many remonstrances to be addressed to those officials, but without effect. The reason probably will be found in a new proverb, which it has become necessary to substitute for an old one. Instead of saying Deaf as the Post, it is now usual to say, Deaf as the Postmaster-General.

It used to be generally supposed thatLord Palmerstonhad sufficient effrontery and self possession for the entire Cabinet, but circumstances have shown that he is the most retiring member of the Government.

The Coming Man.—ReformBill.—Lord John Russell.

VERY OBLIGINGVERY OBLIGING.Mary."Oh! if you please, the young ladies want you to play a polka."Organ-man."Ah, Miss! mine is a serious organ; but I shall play a Psalm Quick, if you shall like."

Mary."Oh! if you please, the young ladies want you to play a polka."

Organ-man."Ah, Miss! mine is a serious organ; but I shall play a Psalm Quick, if you shall like."

OhPalmerston! why hast thou fledPrecisely when wanted the most?What could put it into thy headJust now to abandon thy post?Why run from the vessel awayThat needs thee to weather the storm?I cannot believe, what they say,'Tis because thou dislikest Reform.Resigning, too, suddenly, whenThou wast doing thy business so well!In the language of certain young men,It seems like a regular sell.Thine office in thus flinging downAt this most particular nickOf Time, thou resemblest the ClownIn a mischievous Pantomime trick.But play out the part of buffoon,And show thyself only in jest;Return to help oldPantaloon,AndHarlequin John, and the rest.Return, or the Grand Christmas PieceWill prove an unlucky affair;AndColumbinehelp to release,Now clutched in the grip of the Bear.Alas! by that Bear hangs a tail,I fear me, for all we are told,Which, lifting obscurity's veil,A very short time will unfold.Meantime let the Ministers weep,Of such a supporter bereft,Until they their handkerchiefs steep,Crying, "Palmerston'staken and left!"

OhPalmerston! why hast thou fled

Precisely when wanted the most?

What could put it into thy head

Just now to abandon thy post?

Why run from the vessel away

That needs thee to weather the storm?

I cannot believe, what they say,

'Tis because thou dislikest Reform.

Resigning, too, suddenly, whenThou wast doing thy business so well!In the language of certain young men,It seems like a regular sell.Thine office in thus flinging downAt this most particular nickOf Time, thou resemblest the ClownIn a mischievous Pantomime trick.

Resigning, too, suddenly, when

Thou wast doing thy business so well!

In the language of certain young men,

It seems like a regular sell.

Thine office in thus flinging down

At this most particular nick

Of Time, thou resemblest the Clown

In a mischievous Pantomime trick.

But play out the part of buffoon,And show thyself only in jest;Return to help oldPantaloon,AndHarlequin John, and the rest.Return, or the Grand Christmas PieceWill prove an unlucky affair;AndColumbinehelp to release,Now clutched in the grip of the Bear.

But play out the part of buffoon,

And show thyself only in jest;

Return to help oldPantaloon,

AndHarlequin John, and the rest.

Return, or the Grand Christmas Piece

Will prove an unlucky affair;

AndColumbinehelp to release,

Now clutched in the grip of the Bear.

Alas! by that Bear hangs a tail,I fear me, for all we are told,Which, lifting obscurity's veil,A very short time will unfold.Meantime let the Ministers weep,Of such a supporter bereft,Until they their handkerchiefs steep,Crying, "Palmerston'staken and left!"

Alas! by that Bear hangs a tail,

I fear me, for all we are told,

Which, lifting obscurity's veil,

A very short time will unfold.

Meantime let the Ministers weep,

Of such a supporter bereft,

Until they their handkerchiefs steep,

Crying, "Palmerston'staken and left!"

A spirited young lady, in service in a very genteel family, remarks, "I should be sorry to reduce English sailors to a menial situation, but I own I should like to hear that our gallant fellows in the Black Sea had been scouring the Steppes."

The Footprints of Time.—Crow's-feet.

Table Turning seems to be turning the heads of the parsons, and Spirit Rapping is likely to give a rap to certain Reverends which they will not speedily recover from. We confess to some experience in the practise of Spirit Rapping in connection with Tables, but the spirits employed in rapping have always been in tumblers of one kind or another. We have frequently suspected Satanic agency in some portions of our furniture, particularly in a quantity of cheap stuff which we purchased at a furniture mart, and which is scarcely worth the rap we have bestowed on it. We are in possession of a round table which is subject to fits of groaning and creaking, with an occasional tendency to the splitting of its sides, as if in very mockery of merriment. We must confess that the refractory table has been occasionally a good deal put upon.

The Clerical Table Turners seem to imagine that the Satanic agency is confined to a particular kind of furniture, but our own opinion is, that we are just as likely to find the "old gentleman" in the chair as in any other portion of our moveables. We do not see why the presence of the evil one should be confined to the work of the cabinet-maker or the carpenter, and indeed there are several articles of hardware which appear to be liable to visitations from invisible beings. Our own stock of crockery is undoubtedly exposed to such contingencies, for we now and then find an amount of breakage which, if our servants are to be believed, has not been done by any earthly agency.

The performance of the Elephant that stands upon its head at Astley's is very seasonable. It represents the Balance of Power, which we wishLord Aberdeencould preserve in Europe as cleverly as the sagacious quadruped contrives to do on another theatre.

The Height of Absurdity.—The height at which in the present day shirt collars are worn.

THE RUSSIAN NAVAL VICTORYTHE RUSSIAN NAVAL VICTORY.Giles (a great politician)."Hey! dang it! Turks be done this toime; 'stead o' um's tak'n um, um's tak'n um."

Giles (a great politician)."Hey! dang it! Turks be done this toime; 'stead o' um's tak'n um, um's tak'n um."

A Living Superiority.—- Woman has this great advantage over Man—she proves her will in her lifetime, whilst Man is obliged to wait till he is dead.

ABERDEEN ON DUTYABERDEEN ON DUTY.A—b—n."I SHAN'T INTERFERE TILL THEY CALL MURDER!"

A—b—n."I SHAN'T INTERFERE TILL THEY CALL MURDER!"

(By a Surly Old Bachelor.)

PPUNCH,—I know Christmas is coming from certain well-known symptoms that never fail to present themselves at this time of the year:—

PUNCH,—I know Christmas is coming from certain well-known symptoms that never fail to present themselves at this time of the year:—

Because my landlady is so extremely civil to me, and brings me my shaving-water the moment I ring for it.

Because I have not had to complain for two weeks about my boots, and the coal-scuttle is generally pretty full of coals.

Because the breakfast is laid before I am up, and when I ask for toast with my tea in the evening, the kitchen fire has not once been out.

Because the impudent news-boy has been much earlier with the newspaper than usual.

Because, wherever I have called, I haven't had cold meat for dinner for ever so long—for two weeks at least.

Because I cannot get my bills in from my tradesmen—they smile, and scrape their feet in their vile sawdust, and murmur something about "any time will do, Sir," and present me with French plum and bonbon-boxes, and fancy I have nothing better to do than to lay in a plantation of Christmas trees.

Because the crossing-sweeper takes his hat off to me every time I pass.

Because the Beadle has been wonderfully profuse with his cocked hat, and the pew-opener, within the last fortnight, has nearly curtseyed me to death.

Because, wherever I have called, I have found all the servants smiling most unnaturally, and bringing me things I didn't want.

Because my little nephews have been so very affectionate to me lately.

Because my little nieces have run up to me, and kissed me in a way that was more flattering than agreeable, and I have had my great coat and hat and umbrella and goloshes pulled off me before I have had time to inquire whether my brother (he is only a clerk) was at home.

Because I have been bothered out of my life with so many inquiries about that "distressing cough" of mine, and have been recommended so many wonderful remedies that were sure to cure it,—which remedies, if I had only taken one half of them, I shouldn't be alive at the present moment.

Because the Waits wake me up at night, paying me the discordant compliment of playing opposite my window longer than anybody else's.

And because—but I think I have said enough of these symptoms, which luckily "come but once a year." After all, I don't know—perhaps they are not so disagreeable, for the attentions one receives at this period are as flattering to one's vanity as they are conducive to one's comfort. The worst is, one knows they all spring out of a Christmas Box—and these boxes, as I have learnt to my cost, are not to be had so cheaply as bandboxes. The enjoyment would be all the more enjoyable, if one hadn't to pay so dearly for it. During the Christmas month, my outgoings invariably exceed my incomings;—otherwise, I like it well enough, and shouldn't mind if the whole year were composed of nothing but Christmas months.

Our Aldermen are such neglectful conservators of the river Thames, that we propose they should be compelled to bathe in it regularly once a day, until some great improvement has been effected in its inodorous management.

Those who send navigators to discover the North-west Passage remind us ofHamlet, although he described himself as only mad North-north-west.

Political convulsions will not yield to chloroform—they are to be cured by reform only.

The Retort Courteous.—The Retort that rectifies an error, and does it in the most refined spirit.

So,Palmerston'sout! and the cannie Scotch PeerWhom he cuts, is in haste to be first with the story,And, to poison ourPamin the popular ear,Proclaims that for years our old friend's been a Tory.ButPunchis afraid that another Scotch mullIs marking the course of the friend ofSt. Nicholas;For the goodMr. Bullis by no means so dullAs not to perceive that the charge is ridiculous.What!Palmerston, Liberty's champion in need,Who confronted oppressors with England's broad ægis,And haughtily ordered the despots to readOn its blazon, the duties that Lords owe to Lieges.Who has fluttered, not pigeons (like us, dearLord A.,Who all "pigeon-livered, lack gall" to sustain us)But Eagles, Spread, Double, Red, Black, White, and Grey,And cried "kennel!" to Kings with hisCivis Romanus.Whose name gives the sign for a chorus of groans,Where, crowned and anointed things gibber in ermine,And, where slaves crawl and slaver the footsteps of thrones,Sends them off to their holes, as the light does night vermin.It really won't do. To your patron, theCzar,When the now forming file of the newspapers comes, heWill laugh out in scorn with a royal "Ha! ha!To thinkAberdeenwas so helplessly clumsy."So, call him what you, for about forty years,Were—a Tory—or aught that comes into your noddle,One only regrets that in these days one hearsOf so very few Tories who're built on his model.He remembers the service byPalmerstondoneSince he took the portfolio, but yesterday hawked about;How, shoulder to wheel, he went through at a run,The work that all others had dawdled and talked about.The grind for "six moons" to the wife-beating brute;The foot on the dens where turf-gamblers would cozen;The foul furnace throats made to swallow their soot;The yet fouler charnel yards closed by the dozen.The lecture your Lordship's Scotch friends would not print,Who against Sabbath-breaking so tipsily hiccup;And the scourge he was knotting, by way of a hintTo bid ruffians reflect before taking the stick up.All this, my dear Lord, in our tablet's enrolled;And we'd very respectfully say to your Lordship,That the tales of your organs had better be toldTo those worthies, the resident soldiers on board ship.For all the Scotch Lords who e'er blessedDuke Argyll,Pouring out all their spleen by the gallon—Scotch measure,Could not poisonJohn Bullfrom his jolly frank smile,When he says, "Punch, here'sPam!" andPunchsays, "John, with pleasure."

So,Palmerston'sout! and the cannie Scotch PeerWhom he cuts, is in haste to be first with the story,And, to poison ourPamin the popular ear,Proclaims that for years our old friend's been a Tory.

So,Palmerston'sout! and the cannie Scotch Peer

Whom he cuts, is in haste to be first with the story,

And, to poison ourPamin the popular ear,

Proclaims that for years our old friend's been a Tory.

ButPunchis afraid that another Scotch mullIs marking the course of the friend ofSt. Nicholas;For the goodMr. Bullis by no means so dullAs not to perceive that the charge is ridiculous.

ButPunchis afraid that another Scotch mull

Is marking the course of the friend ofSt. Nicholas;

For the goodMr. Bullis by no means so dull

As not to perceive that the charge is ridiculous.

What!Palmerston, Liberty's champion in need,Who confronted oppressors with England's broad ægis,And haughtily ordered the despots to readOn its blazon, the duties that Lords owe to Lieges.

What!Palmerston, Liberty's champion in need,

Who confronted oppressors with England's broad ægis,

And haughtily ordered the despots to read

On its blazon, the duties that Lords owe to Lieges.

Who has fluttered, not pigeons (like us, dearLord A.,Who all "pigeon-livered, lack gall" to sustain us)But Eagles, Spread, Double, Red, Black, White, and Grey,And cried "kennel!" to Kings with hisCivis Romanus.

Who has fluttered, not pigeons (like us, dearLord A.,

Who all "pigeon-livered, lack gall" to sustain us)

But Eagles, Spread, Double, Red, Black, White, and Grey,

And cried "kennel!" to Kings with hisCivis Romanus.

Whose name gives the sign for a chorus of groans,Where, crowned and anointed things gibber in ermine,And, where slaves crawl and slaver the footsteps of thrones,Sends them off to their holes, as the light does night vermin.

Whose name gives the sign for a chorus of groans,

Where, crowned and anointed things gibber in ermine,

And, where slaves crawl and slaver the footsteps of thrones,

Sends them off to their holes, as the light does night vermin.

It really won't do. To your patron, theCzar,When the now forming file of the newspapers comes, heWill laugh out in scorn with a royal "Ha! ha!To thinkAberdeenwas so helplessly clumsy."

It really won't do. To your patron, theCzar,

When the now forming file of the newspapers comes, he

Will laugh out in scorn with a royal "Ha! ha!

To thinkAberdeenwas so helplessly clumsy."

So, call him what you, for about forty years,Were—a Tory—or aught that comes into your noddle,One only regrets that in these days one hearsOf so very few Tories who're built on his model.

So, call him what you, for about forty years,

Were—a Tory—or aught that comes into your noddle,

One only regrets that in these days one hears

Of so very few Tories who're built on his model.

He remembers the service byPalmerstondoneSince he took the portfolio, but yesterday hawked about;How, shoulder to wheel, he went through at a run,The work that all others had dawdled and talked about.

He remembers the service byPalmerstondone

Since he took the portfolio, but yesterday hawked about;

How, shoulder to wheel, he went through at a run,

The work that all others had dawdled and talked about.

The grind for "six moons" to the wife-beating brute;The foot on the dens where turf-gamblers would cozen;The foul furnace throats made to swallow their soot;The yet fouler charnel yards closed by the dozen.

The grind for "six moons" to the wife-beating brute;

The foot on the dens where turf-gamblers would cozen;

The foul furnace throats made to swallow their soot;

The yet fouler charnel yards closed by the dozen.

The lecture your Lordship's Scotch friends would not print,Who against Sabbath-breaking so tipsily hiccup;And the scourge he was knotting, by way of a hintTo bid ruffians reflect before taking the stick up.

The lecture your Lordship's Scotch friends would not print,

Who against Sabbath-breaking so tipsily hiccup;

And the scourge he was knotting, by way of a hint

To bid ruffians reflect before taking the stick up.

All this, my dear Lord, in our tablet's enrolled;And we'd very respectfully say to your Lordship,That the tales of your organs had better be toldTo those worthies, the resident soldiers on board ship.

All this, my dear Lord, in our tablet's enrolled;

And we'd very respectfully say to your Lordship,

That the tales of your organs had better be told

To those worthies, the resident soldiers on board ship.

For all the Scotch Lords who e'er blessedDuke Argyll,Pouring out all their spleen by the gallon—Scotch measure,Could not poisonJohn Bullfrom his jolly frank smile,When he says, "Punch, here'sPam!" andPunchsays, "John, with pleasure."

For all the Scotch Lords who e'er blessedDuke Argyll,

Pouring out all their spleen by the gallon—Scotch measure,

Could not poisonJohn Bullfrom his jolly frank smile,

When he says, "Punch, here'sPam!" andPunchsays, "John, with pleasure."

[And they drinkLord Palmerston'shealth.

If you wish to ascertain the temper of a young lady, look at her nails, and the tips of her gloves. If they are jagged and much bitten, you may be sure she is peevish, irritable, quarrelsome, and too ready to show her teeth at the smallest provocation. This is an infallible test that every ill-tempered young lady carries at her finger's-ends. Do not attempt to kiss such a young lady under the mistletoe.

Can no chemist tell us how to obtain a solution of the Eastern difficulty?

Praise her rival before her face, and you may depend upon it, she will soon show her teeth.

Equestrian Entertainment.—The green-room of Drury Lane, all the time the horses were there, was turned into a "Salle àManger."

REFINEMENT ON THE RANKREFINEMENT ON THE RANK.Accomplished Cabman."William, vooly-voo Aqua?"

Accomplished Cabman."William, vooly-voo Aqua?"

We don't understand American institutions—that's a fact. We don't understand the American Press; which is one of the greatest of those institutions. Deficient in the sense of irony, we take the playful abandonment—the jocose mystification—of the American newspapers as simple statement. Hence multitudes of dull worthy people among us will receive theNew York Tribune'saccount of the reception of the runaway convict,Mitchell, at New York as a prosaic and authentic narrative of that event. HadGreenacre, by some chance, escaped the gallows, they will be inclined to think, he too would have been hailed with enthusiasm and acclamation, as an accession to the worth and manhood of American citizenship. ForMitchellresembled the other chiefly in the circumstance of not having been hanged. He was no mere political non-conformist and unsuccessful opponent of the existing order of things, vulgarly and technically termed a rebel. He was a traitor in the vilest sense of the word: a malignant hater of theQueenand the country: the sort of traitor that mediæval justice contemplated when it sentenced the criminal so called to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. He was a sanguinary cruel caitiff; a dogged miscreant who not only preached pike massacres, but yelled and raved for sulphuric acid, which he would have had rascals to squirt into soldiers' eyes. Those, therefore, who are not up to American drollery will naturally be scandalised by the seemingly sympathetic description, given by theNew York Tribune, of the advent of such a fellow amongst the freest and most enlightened people on earth. Says our facetious contemporary:—

"As thePrometheuscame up the river, she was boarded byMessrs. MeagherandWilliam Mitchell, the brother of the patriot. The meeting between these friends in sorrow and persecution was affecting in the extreme. Tears of joy were shed on both sides."

Tears which scalded the cheeks down which they flowed; being vitriolic. Without this comment—which would have spoiled the gravity of the burlesque—theTribuneproceeds:

"On nearing the wharf, the news ofMr. Mitchell'sarrival spread like wildfire, and ships and piers were literally swarming with the immense throng who crowded to give him a freeman's welcome."

No doubt this is the naked truth. There are, unfortunately, a great many scoundrels and ruffians in New York who have an ardent admiration for a fellow scoundrel and ruffian. It is unnecessary that a New York journal should explain that these vagabonds are not Americans. But that explanation is requisite for our stolid readers, whom we will presently tell who the wretches really were. An individual of the noble and generous American nation would as soon think of hugging a rattle-snake or a copper-head, as of taking to his bosom the venomous and vitriol-squirtingMitchell.

AsMr. Mitchelland his companions proceeded to their destination—which, notwithstanding the impulsive nature of American moral feeling, was not the nearest pump—he experienced various honours, which the waggish reporter of his triumph enumerates with whimsical exaggeration—particularising "roar of artillery," "dense mass of human beings," the carriages that bore them, being "followed by the throng," his way resembling "the march of a conqueror"—not by any means such a march as that of a man who is drummed out of his regiment. His friends, the funny journalist avers, "were almost ready to take him from the vehicle, and carry him upon their shoulders," and he was "surrounded by a large number of the citizen-soldiery andNanchan'sband." Among these troops were the "Irish Rifles," whose weapon, of course, is the vitriol squirt—the "MitchellGuard," the "MeagherGrenadiers," with "Cabbage Garden," probably, emblazoned on their colours; and sundry other regiments and guards, which—it was superfluous to inform the New Yorkers—were ragged and—black.

Here lies the point of the whole joke. Misled by a parcel of Uncle-Tom-foolery, we are apt to regard the coloured population of the States as an oppressed race. They are, indeed, shunned and disliked; but that is entirely by reason of their incorrigible villainy. They won't work, but they will squat on an estate, and if compelled to clear off and make room for industrious whites, they shoot the owner of the property from behind a hedge. Rescued from starvation consequent on their unthrift and laziness, they turn and curse the benefactor who feeds them. Such were they who shouted welcome toMitchell; and only think how secure a people must feel in their republican liberty to permit a mob of savages to indulge in such a demonstration! This base and brutal multitude did not contain one American citizen. Their bands are stated to have played Irish melodies, "Star Spangled Banner," "Yankee Doodle," and other national airs. No, no. The ragamuffins hated the stars as well as the stripes too much; and they no more played "Yankee Doodle" thanMitchellsang "Rule Britannia." Their music may have included Irish melodies; but their other national airs were limited to the class comprising "Lucy Neal" and "Ole Dan Tucker." They were an assemblage of odious, miserable, ugly, degraded brutes, connecting links between mankind and the monkey. There was not a single Anglo-Saxon in the whole lot. In short, they were all—Niggers.

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