This is no judaising Puritan, thisMr. Wilmot. This is no semi-Christian pharisee, substituting for the broad phylactery the extensive white choker highly starched; no fanatical sort of hybrid or mule, taking most after donkey. No; our Reverend gentleman is a genial, kindly priest, with a turn for playful irony—in the spirit whereof he writes to theTimes. He knows well enough—bless him!—that the liberalEarl of Clarendonwould never have shut up "Kenilworth Castle" against the busy people, on the only day when there would be any use in opening it to them. He, to be sure, is aware that the ungracious deed has been perpetrated by some underling; some sanctimoniousBarebonesof a steward, or some methodistical old housekeeper, to whom the "bitter observance of the Sabbath" is sweeter than fees. Indeed, his use of the Jewish word Sabbath, in this connexion, for the day which he calls below by its Christian name, allows his real feeling as regards the matter to transpire. In feigning to thank the excellentEarl of Clarendonfor a miserable act of bigotry, he takes a funny way of letting the nobleEarlknow what a sectarian ass some one of his servants has been making himself in the name, and at the expense, of the reputation of his Lordship.
The conclusion of our Reverend humourist's epistle is capital. No doubt such an arrangement as that of shutting up "a romantic ruin," a scene of picturesque and venerable beauty, replete with historical associations of famous memory, suggestive of lofty and solemn thought: no doubt the arrangement of closing such an objectionable place as this on the Sunday, must have "added much to the morality and proper observance" of that day in the parish, by tending considerably to increase the congregation at—the public-house.
And did you ne'er hear of a jolly old WatermanWho at the cabstand used for to ply?He feathered his nest with the passenger's halfpennies,Smoking his pipe, with a drop in each eye.He looked so drunk—yet stood so steadily.The drivers all flocked to his stand so readily;And he eyed the old rogues with so knowing an air,For this Waterman knew they would cheat every fare.What sights of gents drunk and incapable, very,He'd clean out so nice, and politely withal,As he called the first cab, when the finely-dressed victimsCame staggering out from Cremorne or Vauxhall,And oftentimes would they be quizzing and queering,And 'twas all one toTom, all this chaffing and jeering:For laughing or chaffing he little did care,For this Waterman wished but to rifle the fare.And yet but to see how strangely things happen,As he jogged along, thinking of nothing at all,He was caught by a Cab Act so awfully stringent,That it caused all the tricks of the cab stand to fall.But would this old Waterman feel proper sorrow,For all his old tricks, and turn honest to-morrow;And should this old Waterman act with more care,He'll be licensed, and never impose on a fare.
And did you ne'er hear of a jolly old WatermanWho at the cabstand used for to ply?He feathered his nest with the passenger's halfpennies,Smoking his pipe, with a drop in each eye.He looked so drunk—yet stood so steadily.The drivers all flocked to his stand so readily;And he eyed the old rogues with so knowing an air,For this Waterman knew they would cheat every fare.
And did you ne'er hear of a jolly old Waterman
Who at the cabstand used for to ply?
He feathered his nest with the passenger's halfpennies,
Smoking his pipe, with a drop in each eye.
He looked so drunk—yet stood so steadily.
The drivers all flocked to his stand so readily;
And he eyed the old rogues with so knowing an air,
For this Waterman knew they would cheat every fare.
What sights of gents drunk and incapable, very,He'd clean out so nice, and politely withal,As he called the first cab, when the finely-dressed victimsCame staggering out from Cremorne or Vauxhall,And oftentimes would they be quizzing and queering,And 'twas all one toTom, all this chaffing and jeering:For laughing or chaffing he little did care,For this Waterman wished but to rifle the fare.
What sights of gents drunk and incapable, very,
He'd clean out so nice, and politely withal,
As he called the first cab, when the finely-dressed victims
Came staggering out from Cremorne or Vauxhall,
And oftentimes would they be quizzing and queering,
And 'twas all one toTom, all this chaffing and jeering:
For laughing or chaffing he little did care,
For this Waterman wished but to rifle the fare.
And yet but to see how strangely things happen,As he jogged along, thinking of nothing at all,He was caught by a Cab Act so awfully stringent,That it caused all the tricks of the cab stand to fall.But would this old Waterman feel proper sorrow,For all his old tricks, and turn honest to-morrow;And should this old Waterman act with more care,He'll be licensed, and never impose on a fare.
And yet but to see how strangely things happen,
As he jogged along, thinking of nothing at all,
He was caught by a Cab Act so awfully stringent,
That it caused all the tricks of the cab stand to fall.
But would this old Waterman feel proper sorrow,
For all his old tricks, and turn honest to-morrow;
And should this old Waterman act with more care,
He'll be licensed, and never impose on a fare.
A young lady callsMr. Hobbs,Cupid, becauseCupidisLove, andLove, as the proverb says, laughs at locksmiths, and so doesMr. Hobbs.
A Cabman's Idea of a Fare.—A cheque on a Banker.
A Cabman's Idea of a Fare.—A cheque on a Banker.
PORTRAIT OF AN OFFICER IN THE BLUESPORTRAIT OF AN OFFICER IN THE BLUES.
Really the Conscience Money Mania is becoming quite a nuisance. Every day, almost, theTimescontains some such announcement as this:—
"TheChancellor of the Exchequeracknowledges the receipt of half-notes value £15, for unpaid Income Tax."
"TheChancellor of the Exchequeracknowledges the receipt of half-notes value £15, for unpaid Income Tax."
A good healthy conscience is the noblest point in the character of that noblest work of creation—an honest man. But a diseased conscience is as bad as a rotten potato; it is worse than no conscience at all: some degrees below mere dishonesty. This kind of conscience makes people pay omitted Income Tax. They shouldn't do so. It is really quite immoral. The Income Tax is acknowledged to be an imposition byGladstonehimself, insomuch that he has even made arrangements for its cessation. That it never will cease, however; that it will be as perennial as evil in the abstract, or the Deuce himself, is feared by everybody except the jolly beggars, and those who are too ignorant and helpless, or too lazy, to earn liability to its infliction. Any symptoms of acquiescence in it, of anything but dogged opposition to it, on the part of the public, will infallibly encourage Chancellors of the Exchequer to try and perpetuate it. To pay it voluntarily, to pay it at all except under protest, to pay it under any circumstances whatever but those of legal necessity, is to give Chancellors of the Exchequer that encouragement: much more to pay it in a conspicuous and ostentatious manner, at beat of drum, so to speak, as the gentleman settles his just accounts inA New Way to Pay Old Debts. And this is encouraging theChancellor of the Exchequerto go on cheating the nation, or rather cheating part of the nation, in order to bribe the rest. It is being an accessory to the confiscation of one's own property; to defrauding one's self: whereas, surely, if suicide is the worst kind of murder, self-cozenage is the vilest sort of roguery. Therefore, we argue that the conscientiousness that pays conscience money on account of Income Tax is, as aforesaid, morbid; a diseased bump, in phrenological language, which ought to be shaved, and have ice put to it, or leeches, or cupping glasses after scarification, to be followed by a blister: recourse to these antiphlogistic measures being combined with alterative and cooling medicines.
Should the Corporation of London be "hauled over the coals" it will certainly be the heaviest burden that has yet been laid on the unfortunate coals—in spite of what they already suffer.
Important to Manufacturers.—The machinery of a cotton-mill in general goes like clock-work, but this is not the case when the hands strike.
Of all the games that e'er in the world of play were hit upon,Since the ingenious "heads I win, and tails you lose," was lit upon,The most winning game by far is that now played by theCzarWith France and England—famous flats to try his wicked wit upon.A Turkey is the stakes in the match; and who can wonderThat to the wilyCzarFrance and England should knock under,That the honour in their hand 'gainst his tricks can never stand,When his game is all finesse, and theirs all revoke and blunder?What marvel France and England each deal are looking graver?What marvel Russia's play grows more brilliant and braver?When, thanks to his strong club, 'ere the close of the first rub,He's the nine points of possession scored already in his favour?When they lead off with a bow, he trumps it with a bluster;They come out with a minister, he answers with a muster;When diplomatic right meets autocratic might,The latter oft proves stronger, though the former may be juster.Meanwhile no rook e'er plucked his pigeons with more suavity,Or pocketed his winnings with more self-denying gravity,Or ever did express more acuteness of distressAt the slightest hint of cheating, or any such depravity.And throughout, it must be owned, he has shown the utmost patienceIn entertaining any or all negotiations;But we argue and he acts, till our words against his factsEnd in landing him across the Pruth, for further operations.
Of all the games that e'er in the world of play were hit upon,Since the ingenious "heads I win, and tails you lose," was lit upon,The most winning game by far is that now played by theCzarWith France and England—famous flats to try his wicked wit upon.
Of all the games that e'er in the world of play were hit upon,
Since the ingenious "heads I win, and tails you lose," was lit upon,
The most winning game by far is that now played by theCzar
With France and England—famous flats to try his wicked wit upon.
A Turkey is the stakes in the match; and who can wonderThat to the wilyCzarFrance and England should knock under,That the honour in their hand 'gainst his tricks can never stand,When his game is all finesse, and theirs all revoke and blunder?
A Turkey is the stakes in the match; and who can wonder
That to the wilyCzarFrance and England should knock under,
That the honour in their hand 'gainst his tricks can never stand,
When his game is all finesse, and theirs all revoke and blunder?
What marvel France and England each deal are looking graver?What marvel Russia's play grows more brilliant and braver?When, thanks to his strong club, 'ere the close of the first rub,He's the nine points of possession scored already in his favour?
What marvel France and England each deal are looking graver?
What marvel Russia's play grows more brilliant and braver?
When, thanks to his strong club, 'ere the close of the first rub,
He's the nine points of possession scored already in his favour?
When they lead off with a bow, he trumps it with a bluster;They come out with a minister, he answers with a muster;When diplomatic right meets autocratic might,The latter oft proves stronger, though the former may be juster.
When they lead off with a bow, he trumps it with a bluster;
They come out with a minister, he answers with a muster;
When diplomatic right meets autocratic might,
The latter oft proves stronger, though the former may be juster.
Meanwhile no rook e'er plucked his pigeons with more suavity,Or pocketed his winnings with more self-denying gravity,Or ever did express more acuteness of distressAt the slightest hint of cheating, or any such depravity.
Meanwhile no rook e'er plucked his pigeons with more suavity,
Or pocketed his winnings with more self-denying gravity,
Or ever did express more acuteness of distress
At the slightest hint of cheating, or any such depravity.
And throughout, it must be owned, he has shown the utmost patienceIn entertaining any or all negotiations;But we argue and he acts, till our words against his factsEnd in landing him across the Pruth, for further operations.
And throughout, it must be owned, he has shown the utmost patience
In entertaining any or all negotiations;
But we argue and he acts, till our words against his facts
End in landing him across the Pruth, for further operations.
Nuns are, for the most part, ladies of extreme sanctity and purity who educate large numbers of children, and do a great deal of good to the poor.
Therefore, to institute any inquiry as to their liability, under existing circumstances, to compulsory detention in their convents, to cruel punishments under the name of penance, to coercion in regard to the assignment of their property, or any other species of constraint, ill-usage, or duresse, at the hands of malicious, fanatical, or unscrupulous superiors, and ecclesiastical governors, is unnecessary and inexpedient.
"Dear Punch,—Faradaywas regularly non-plussed by experiments at the Royal Agricultural Meeting at Gloucester. The President, Vice-President, and Honorary Secretary caused to be placed before them a large tub filled with three gallons of cream; the fingers of the three gentlemen were placed upon the rim of the tub, and in about fifteen minutes the cream began to move round until it becamesolid Butter!
"A Black Spirit."
If there were any truth in Spirit Rapping, we should be glad if the ghost of any good old British farmer would be so kind as to rap out its ideas on the subject of an agricultural implement, for which a prize has been awarded by the Royal Agricultural Society, and which rejoices in the name of a Dynamometer. Respecting this new-fangled invention, however, it would not, perhaps, be correct to print all the expressions which the worthy but possibly rather prejudiced spirit might "rap out."
Tom Duncombethanks his stars that the Jews never can come into Parliament, as it will be a matter of impossibility for them to swallow the immense quantity ofgammonthere is in the House.
A wretched creature who hangs about thePunchOffice thrust the following indescribable piece of nonsense under the door:
"When is the weather favourable to Haymaking? When it 'rains pitchforks.'"
There! and yet we pay a police rate of two shillings and twopence in the pound.
Whatever geographers may say, in order that the combined fleets may enter the Dardanelles, they must get out of the Pacific.
EFFECT OF THE CAB STRIKEEFFECT OF THE CAB STRIKE.—GOING TO THE OPERA IN A WHEELBARROW.
EFFECT OF THE CAB STRIKE.—GOING TO THE OPERA IN A WHEELBARROW.
Pretty Christianth! No war! Dey von't fight after all!Pretty Christianth, nice Christianth, dese nations I callDey promith'd so fair to cut each others' throatsh,And dey're goin' to thettle de shquabble by notesh!Not a goin' to fight!—and deir quarrel aroseAbout deir religionth—not comin' to blows!Dere never was Christianth behaved so afore,But who's to depend on 'em now, any more?Here'th we bin' a goin' and thtockin' our thopth,And what shall we do now wid all dem old thlopthWid which all our thelvth and our vinders is filled—No war, nor no actionth, nor no theamen killed?Vat customers is dere dem vatcheth vill buy,As ve've got for the thailorth—dem vatcheth to fry?Dem jewels, rings, thatins, and thilks, all in storeAginJackwith prizemoney comin' athore?And vere's all de monish ve thought good as madeIn other thmall vays of rethpectable trade,Such as lodgin' and board for de tars to provide,And p'raps a few thlight 'commodations bethide?Dere'sJacobtha cryin', 'cause now he von't getJack Junkto run head over ears in his debt,Vid his Vill and his Power, lest he shouldn't come back.By vay of insurin' de life of poorJack.Vot a shame o' them Christianth our hopes to ecthite,And then for to cruth 'em, and not have no fight!—Just ven as ve'd made up our mouths for the meat—Pretty Christianth! I thpose you don't call this no sheat!
Pretty Christianth! No war! Dey von't fight after all!Pretty Christianth, nice Christianth, dese nations I callDey promith'd so fair to cut each others' throatsh,And dey're goin' to thettle de shquabble by notesh!
Pretty Christianth! No war! Dey von't fight after all!
Pretty Christianth, nice Christianth, dese nations I call
Dey promith'd so fair to cut each others' throatsh,
And dey're goin' to thettle de shquabble by notesh!
Not a goin' to fight!—and deir quarrel aroseAbout deir religionth—not comin' to blows!Dere never was Christianth behaved so afore,But who's to depend on 'em now, any more?
Not a goin' to fight!—and deir quarrel arose
About deir religionth—not comin' to blows!
Dere never was Christianth behaved so afore,
But who's to depend on 'em now, any more?
Here'th we bin' a goin' and thtockin' our thopth,And what shall we do now wid all dem old thlopthWid which all our thelvth and our vinders is filled—No war, nor no actionth, nor no theamen killed?
Here'th we bin' a goin' and thtockin' our thopth,
And what shall we do now wid all dem old thlopth
Wid which all our thelvth and our vinders is filled—
No war, nor no actionth, nor no theamen killed?
Vat customers is dere dem vatcheth vill buy,As ve've got for the thailorth—dem vatcheth to fry?Dem jewels, rings, thatins, and thilks, all in storeAginJackwith prizemoney comin' athore?
Vat customers is dere dem vatcheth vill buy,
As ve've got for the thailorth—dem vatcheth to fry?
Dem jewels, rings, thatins, and thilks, all in store
AginJackwith prizemoney comin' athore?
And vere's all de monish ve thought good as madeIn other thmall vays of rethpectable trade,Such as lodgin' and board for de tars to provide,And p'raps a few thlight 'commodations bethide?
And vere's all de monish ve thought good as made
In other thmall vays of rethpectable trade,
Such as lodgin' and board for de tars to provide,
And p'raps a few thlight 'commodations bethide?
Dere'sJacobtha cryin', 'cause now he von't getJack Junkto run head over ears in his debt,Vid his Vill and his Power, lest he shouldn't come back.By vay of insurin' de life of poorJack.
Dere'sJacobtha cryin', 'cause now he von't get
Jack Junkto run head over ears in his debt,
Vid his Vill and his Power, lest he shouldn't come back.
By vay of insurin' de life of poorJack.
Vot a shame o' them Christianth our hopes to ecthite,And then for to cruth 'em, and not have no fight!—Just ven as ve'd made up our mouths for the meat—Pretty Christianth! I thpose you don't call this no sheat!
Vot a shame o' them Christianth our hopes to ecthite,
And then for to cruth 'em, and not have no fight!—
Just ven as ve'd made up our mouths for the meat—
Pretty Christianth! I thpose you don't call this no sheat!
A more important Bill than any which has been introduced into Parliament this Session remains to be brought forward. That is, the Bill of National Expenses, including the baker's bill, which will have been incurred on account of the paper war with Russia.
MONDAY, MAY 27, 18—
"Tom'sa good fellow,"—saidFrederick, when he got to bed.
"I don't want to hear anything ofTomnow," said I; for suddenly I felt as if I could have—well, I don't know what; but Ididfor the minute almost hate the man.
"He goes very early to-morrow. By the first coach, love. I've promised to see him off."
"How very kind of you,Fred;" and I could almost have cried, he seemed as if it was so easy for him to try to deceive me. "Going to see him off? Then—for it's very late; for my part, I thought the man would never go—then you'd better go to sleep,Fred; that you may be up. Otherwise you'll be very tired, dear; very tired."
"Think so?" saidFred, trying to be cool: for I knew it was only trying. "Think so?"
"I'm sure so," said I, worried and restless and vexed: not that I stirred.
"Well, then, love, good night," saidFred.
"Good night," said I, very short; though I felt as if my heart would break.
I lay and listened, with the door-key under my pillow; and my pillow well under my shoulders. That key I was determined should never leave me: I'd make sure ofthat, and I grasped it to be certain it was there. Then I listened again. He was not asleep; I was sure of that; though he lay as still as any baby, and tried to seem asleep. Very well, thought I; very well; you shall not outwake me: no—I'll watch like any owl. At least like any guardian spirit.
And to think thatFred—my ownFrederick, with one heart between us, as he's so often said—could lie there; yes, by my very side, and have a secret and keep it from me—well, I did begin to think that dear Mamma was right; and I've heard her say she'd never trust dear Papa further than she could see him—not always that.
At last he slept.—No; he didn't. Well, I never thought he could have such art. But perhaps he suspected my thoughts; imagined I was watching him! When this entered my head, I determined to affect sleep myself; and so see which of us could do it the best.
So I settled myself and—again being sure of the key; yes, there it was—safe enough—and began to appear to go to sleep. In a little while, I had so beautifully deceived him that he was fast—fast as a church.
—It couldn't have been above five minutes, but I had dozed off; and woke with such a start!—Almost instinctively I placed my hand under the pillow; the key was safe.
"What's the matter,Lotty? Dreaming?"—saidFred; for I had either awakened him, or he was awake all the time. "What's it about?" he asked.
"Nothing in particular," said I, "good night, love; or you'll be too late forMr. Truepenny."
At the word, I thought I heardFredsigh—just gently sigh—and the sound went like a dagger through me!
And then what a dream I'd had: and it couldn't have lasted above three—certainly not five—minutes! What a dream! Such a confusion of things! I thought I still grasped the key, and it turned in my hand to a pistol! And then I thought I dropt it on the ground, and it went hopping along like a grasshopper, popping and going off as it went. Then I thought I was resolvedFredshould not get up and go out—and then I suddenly found myself tying the sleeves of his shirt in double-knots, and then emptying the water-jug into both his boots! Then I thought I went through a churchyard, and saw that odiousTruepenny—drest like a pantomime clown—digging a grave; and as he dug it, singing a song about spades being trumps. Then I thoughtFredwas suddenly by my side, and that dreadfulTruepennytook up a shovelful of earth, and was about to throw it, with a laugh, in the face ofFred, when I—I tried to scream, ordidscream, and awoke!
Oh! how I did wish we were well at home! And how I did lie—lie upon thorns and listen for him to go well to sleep, that I might creep out and learn everything ofJosephine. And how I blamed myself that, before I came to bed, I didn't go and hear all she had to say!—But then I was in such a hurry to haveFredall safe, and the key in my own possession—safe under my pillow—and I thought he would so soon go to sleep, and he hadn't! Which made it plain to me that he had something on his mind: and that something—oh, how I did abominate thatMr. Truepenny. No; I thought to myself—as I lay awake, waiting forFredto go off, that is, if he was going to sleep atall—no:Mr. Truepenny: you never enter my house. You never cross the threshold of the Flitch. A pretty friend indeed to take a man out—and that man newly married—to be shot like a sheep; and to leave a lonely, unprotected, broken-hearted—
The bitter thought was too much for me, I wept in good earnest; but cried so quietly—I was almost choked—for fearFred, for he wasnotasleep, should hear me! Oh, and again and again I thought, if ever wedoget home! What a home I'll make it! And still—and I was sure of it—still he was awake.
And then I thought, suppose he should not go to sleep at all. Suppose he should get up and—well, no matter; I was resolved: I'd get up with him. I'd go with him. I'd cling to him. I'd never leave him. I'd call assistance, constables—
And now it was broad daylight, and—yes, surely, hewasasleep? I listened; and I couldn't be mistaken: no, I was sure he slept. And then I rose gently—very, very gently to look, and—yes,—he was in a deep sleep. His face—that beautiful face—was white, white and hushed and still as marble! Oh, how much I seemed to learn—how much more to live in that minute—looking, looking—and he—all the time as if there was some dreadful story under that deep stillness!
I rose quietly as possible; hardly breathing. But still he slept—I was sure of that. I took the key from under my pillow. Oh, that dreadful lock! It was old and rusty, and began to creak and squeak; and I holding my breath, and almost standing upon my tiptoes trying to turn the key. At last, with a grating noise the lock turned. I passed—he was still asleep. I opened the door; and was about to pass toJosephine's, when something whispered me, lock the door again. I did so; for I couldn't be too sure. So I locked the door—that casket-door, as I thought—forFredlay sleeping.
Fortunately,Josephine'sdoor was unlocked; though—I had not time to speak of it at the moment, not but that the thought struck me at the very instant—though how a young woman could go to bed without double-locking her door I couldn't understand, although on second thoughts perhaps she had left it open for me—andJosephinefast asleep. Fast! in fact, as I said, anybody—that is, any robber—might have come in and stripped everything, and she been none the wiser. At last, by nudging and shaking I woke her.
"Murder!" she half-cried; but I put my hand before her mouth.
"Silence! you foolish creature! You needn't cry out so! It's only"—
"La!" said the girl; "I was dreaming; and you did a little startle me. I thought it was true."
"Now,Josephine! what is it? I mean about your master"—
"It wasn't him I was dreaming on, Ma'am," cried the creature.
"I should think not, indeed," said I. "Dream of your master! Like your impudence! But what I want to know is—all, all you know."
"La! Ma'am!" cried the stupid girl, rubbing her eyes, and yawning frightfully.
"I mean that note you left on my dressing-table!"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, as though at last she was thoroughly awake. "Oh, ma'am, be sure you don't let master get up. Put your arms round his neck, if you almost choke him—but don't let him get up."
"Why not?" I cried.
"He's going to fight; with pistols. One of—that is, I've been told all about it; but not time enough to tell you. Master would have fought yesterday, only it was Sunday, so he went to church instead.Mr. Truepennyhas come, like a friend, all the way from London, to see fair play; but don't you let him get up, Ma'am, pray don't"—
"Fight! And with whom?"
"Don't know exactly, Ma'am; but that doesn't matter. One may be as bad as another. But you're sure master's safe, for he was to go out early, as I heard?"
"I've locked the door; and he shall not stir. If he attempts it, I'll raise the house!" said I.
"Do, Ma'am," criedJosephine, "and I'll help you."
I returned to my apartment with new resolution. I unlocked the door; crept into the room, and without looking again locked it; taking out the key, and hugging it close. I stept softly towards the bed.Frederickwas not there! I looked round—the sash was raised. He had escaped through the window.
All I know is, I gave a shriek and fell fainting upon the bed!
TTHE March of Intellect will eventually stride onwards in "seven-leagued boots," for there is every now and then some new league claiming to give a forward impetus to humanity. The last new league is calculated to carry us many miles in advance of everything we have yet approached, for it is no other than a "Woman's Elevation League." Every league of this description contains several acres—commonly called wise-acres—and though no names are given in the "prospectus," we dare say we should meet with several "old familiar faces," if we could fall in with the committee, and that we should recognise among the members not a few of those professed friends of "progress," who are always making a hash of something or other, and eventually falling out among themselves in the name of "universal harmony." The "Woman's Elevation League" professes of course to give Woman a tremendous hoist in one shape or another. We confess that our own ideas of the Elevation of Woman are not particularly definite, but are divided betweenMadame Poitevinin a balloon, andMademoiselle Gellinimaking her "terrific ascent" at Cremorne to the top of a pasteboard tower amidst a "brilliant display of fireworks." Possibly this is not the sort of "elevation" contemplated by the "league" in question for the female sex, though it is evidently designed to place Woman occasionally at the top of a poll; for it is contemplated that she shall take her seat in Parliament. We have been in the habit of thinking that women are very well as they are, but the "League" is desirous of making her a doctor, a trader, an artist, a politician, and a minister. The League thinks she does not "embrace" half enough; but we are modestly of opinion that a woman's embraces should be confined to her own family circle as closely as possible.
THE March of Intellect will eventually stride onwards in "seven-leagued boots," for there is every now and then some new league claiming to give a forward impetus to humanity. The last new league is calculated to carry us many miles in advance of everything we have yet approached, for it is no other than a "Woman's Elevation League." Every league of this description contains several acres—commonly called wise-acres—and though no names are given in the "prospectus," we dare say we should meet with several "old familiar faces," if we could fall in with the committee, and that we should recognise among the members not a few of those professed friends of "progress," who are always making a hash of something or other, and eventually falling out among themselves in the name of "universal harmony." The "Woman's Elevation League" professes of course to give Woman a tremendous hoist in one shape or another. We confess that our own ideas of the Elevation of Woman are not particularly definite, but are divided betweenMadame Poitevinin a balloon, andMademoiselle Gellinimaking her "terrific ascent" at Cremorne to the top of a pasteboard tower amidst a "brilliant display of fireworks." Possibly this is not the sort of "elevation" contemplated by the "league" in question for the female sex, though it is evidently designed to place Woman occasionally at the top of a poll; for it is contemplated that she shall take her seat in Parliament. We have been in the habit of thinking that women are very well as they are, but the "League" is desirous of making her a doctor, a trader, an artist, a politician, and a minister. The League thinks she does not "embrace" half enough; but we are modestly of opinion that a woman's embraces should be confined to her own family circle as closely as possible.
It would be impossible for any "League," however purely benevolent its objects may be, to proceed without subscriptions, and accordingly all ladies who wish to get "elevated" are requested to send "one shilling" as a preliminary step towards the happy state alluded to. Any lady may, however, become qualified for "elevation" for life by a contribution of five guineas—a sum so large, that we think few women who take a sober view of matters in general will like to part with it. We have reasons of our own for thinking that the "elevation" of Woman would be a dangerous step, for a woman when once "put up" is not easily put down again.
It would be a great convenience to the public if somebody would undertake the task of issuing a daily guide to apprise us of the fluctuations in the fares of a Kensington Omnibus. The price of shares, and the value of the funds are steadiness itself to the ups and downs of the fares demanded by the Kensington conductors; who frequently vary one hundred per cent. from the morning to the afternoon in their claims on the pockets of passengers. We can compare the fluctuations of the Kensington fares to nothing but the daily changes in the price of fish or other perishable commodities. On the day of the Cab strike the Kensington and other Bus-men brought out their fares at much higher quotations; but the public kept aloof, and very few passengers were "done" at the increased prices. It is some satisfaction to feel that after October these "tricks upon travellers" by the savage Bus-men of the West will be impossible, as the Police Commissioners will fix the fares, and one may then leave home in the morning with some confidence that after having paid a fair price to go into town, it will not be necessary to pay double the sum to get back again by the same conveyance.
General Foxcomplains to theTimesthat the Great Northern refused to forward a setter, which he wished to send to Newcastle-on-Tyne, unless the dog was packed in a hamper. This precautionary stipulation, though rather vexatious, was not unreasonable, perhaps, in the dog-days: but when the Company required that the dog should be packed in a hamper, they might as well have also insisted on having him packed in ice.
Pedestrianism Extraordinary.—The Cab Strike was no joke, although it was allWalker.
Pedestrianism Extraordinary.—The Cab Strike was no joke, although it was allWalker.
MMADE FOR THE BETTER REGULATION OF PERSONS WHO RIDE IN CABS, AND FOR THE BETTER PROTECTION OF THOSE WHO DRIVE THEM.
MADE FOR THE BETTER REGULATION OF PERSONS WHO RIDE IN CABS, AND FOR THE BETTER PROTECTION OF THOSE WHO DRIVE THEM.
(Being the kind of Act that Cabmen would wish to have.)
This Bill will shortly be printed. The following are some of its most important provisions:—
The Cabman shall have the option of accepting a fare or not, just as he pleases, and he may charge, either by time or distance, precisely as he likes. If he has travelled a long distance, then he is to have the power of charging according to the number of miles, but if he has only been a short journey, and he has taken a long time in going over it, in that case the Cabman is to be allowed the privilege of charging by the hour.
Any Cabman, fancying he has gone quite far enough—and Cabmen know best for themselves how far they can go—may suddenly stop, and insist upon his fare alighting, no matter at what distance the latter may be from his destination.
The rate of speed to be regulated by the Cabman himself, as it depends entirely upon what kind of horse he has got, and whether he has engaged his fare by time or distance.
In the event of the fare making any complaint, or neglecting to pay at once the full sum demanded of him, the Cabman is empowered to drive him to the nearest station-house, and to have the matter investigated. If in the wrong, the Cabman may have him fined for incivility, the penalty whereof shall be a sum not exceeding five pounds, and not less than five shillings; or, at the discretion of the magistrate, imprisonment, with or without hard labour, in the House of Correction, for a term not less than two calendar months.
Any person refusing to give his card, or to be quietly carried to the station-house, or convicted of having used insulting or disrespectful language against a Cabman, to be liable to a heavy fine, not exceeding £50, one-half of which is to go to theQueen, and the other half to the Cabman, or an imprisonment as above; and the person so condemned is further to find two sureties to keep the peace for six months.
Any person convicted of two such offences is to be deprived for ever of the privilege of riding in a public cab.
The rate of payment to be two shillings for the first mile, and as much as the Cabman likes to charge for every mile after that.
The above rate to be materially increased, if a person is going in a hurry to a railway, or is returning home late at night, and also on all special occasions, such asQueen'sBirthdays, Easter and Whitsun Mondays, Horticultural and BotanicalFêtedays, and all illumination nights, and likewise at all times when it should happen to be hailing, snowing, or raining.
In the event of a dispute as to distance, the ground to be measured at the expense of the person disputing the Cabman's word, and a sum of two pounds to be paid into Court as a guarantee of the result thereof.
Clause the Thirteenth enacts that, in all matters of dispute, whether the Cabman shall be proved to be right or wrong, he is to be paid his expenses, and a certain sum, not less than five shillings, for his loss of time.
Every person, beyond two, to be charged at the rate of a separate fare.
Luggage to be charged according to weight, at the same rates demanded by the Parcels' Delivery Company.
Back Fare to be paid on all occasions, and to be doubled after twelve o'clock.
By the next Clause it is enacted, that ladies are to be charged one-half as much again as gentlemen (this clause has been objected to as being rather stringent, and oppressively severe, but when it is considered the trouble that ladies give, and how they always object to pay what a Cabman asks of them, and how they always keep the Cabman waiting, with their useless arguments and frivolous complaints, it is but right that the Cabman should be protected against all such contigencies, and be allowed something extra for his unfeeling waste of time).
Babies, if taken, to be charged each as a separate fare, or else weighed as luggage, according to the option of the Cabman.
In no case is the fare to have the power of appeal against the Magistrate's decision.
There are several minor clauses, but we think we have shown enough of the New Cab Act to prove that if only one-half of it is carried out, we shall have not only the Cabmen better protected, but also a better and more respectable class of riders in cabs.
The Cabalistic Number.—This number is 6, with a small "d" placed on the right hand side, over the top of it; meaning that the price for riding in a Cab is now Sixpence a mile.
Latest from the Cape.—A proposal has been under consideration in the magnetic circles here, to form an expedition for the purpose of moving Table Bay.
Lord Palmerstonat a recent City dinner good-humouredly twitted the Corporation on their dirt, and playfully threw the Thames in the face of the citizens. The Home Secretary, with a pleasant mixture of urbanity and satire, entreated the aid of the Londoners in consuming their own smoke, and absorbing their own mud, with a view to the filtration of their own river. We suppose his Lordship fancied the City Corporation might correct the City dirt; as one poison is said to dispel another, on the principle ofsimilia similibus. We fear the Home Secretary fails to see with his usual clearness when he looks at the Thames as a sort of mirror which is only labouring under a temporary obfuscation, but which is capable of being restored to that translucent state which, according to the poets, formerly belonged to it. The Thames is one of those enormities which none of us can ever hope to see the bottom of.
(Being the Experience of a very Old Man.)
(Being the Experience of a very Old Man.)
Beware of listening to a man who says he "will not detain you five minutes."
Beware of purchasing wine at an auction, which is described as "late the property of a nobleman who has gone to live upon the Continent."
Beware, if you are in a hurry, of getting into an empty omnibus.
Beware of a shop that deals in "Awful Failures!"
Beware of mentioning the name of Ireland in the presence of an Irishman.
Beware of interfering in any quarrel—more particularly a matrimonial one.
Beware of marrying a woman who has "great expectations."
Beware of short cuts, when you are travelling; of playing with a man who knows a trick or two at cards; of buying a horse of a friend; of living near a firework-gallery; above all, beware of putting your name on a stamped piece of paper, as much as you would beware of steel-traps and spring guns, or of putting your fingers in the fire.
We are pleased to learn thatMrs. Chisholm—(she is to have a formal interview ofHer Majesty, we understand, before departure)—is about to take in her own ship, theCaroline Chisholm, no less than twenty young maiden Jewesses, resolved to emigrate to Australia for the noblest and most humanising of purposes. These damsels—should matrimony be their fate—have every hope that they shall be enabled to win their gold-digging husbands from an unceasing pursuit of the root of evil, teaching them that, after all, gold is only the dross of life, and that there is nothing like virtuous love and contented poverty. These young enthusiasts have made quite a sensation in the Minories; and one speculative Hebrew has already offered them very handsome terms to exhibit themselves. Several entire Jewish families have already emigrated to the diggings. None of them, it was observed, had pickaxes; but all had scales.
In connexion with the Eastern question, it may be remarked that the Kurds appear to be a very savage murderous race; and that Kurds like these can hardly be supposed to be made of the milk of human kindness.
The Height of Impossibility (at present).—"To make hay while the sun shines."
The Height of Impossibility (at present).—"To make hay while the sun shines."
A SON AND HEIR.A SON AND HEIR.Son and Heir."How many of us are there? Why, if you Count the Girls, there are Six—but some people don't Count the Girls.—I'm One."
Son and Heir."How many of us are there? Why, if you Count the Girls, there are Six—but some people don't Count the Girls.—I'm One."
The Reporter of the celebrated Bow Street Cab Case has written to theTimesand to us (our letter is sealed with the official seal of the Court) to contradict the contradiction which was given in the House of Commons to his report of the case ofPhillipsthe cabman, who would not or could not put down five shillings for measuring the distance of a fare with respect to which he was charged with an overcharge.
The Reporter appeals to our sense of justice—a tribunal to which nobody ever appealed in vain; but we cannot see that any injustice has been done, and therefore the appeal can only meet with a dismissal. The Reporter and the Magistrate are at issue in their statements of what took place, but the former's contradiction of the latter had not been published when our article was at press; and, had it been, we certainly see no reason why we should believe one party to the discredit of the other. That reporters are fallible we know by the frequency with which their inaccuracies are corrected; and we fear the Reporter in question is capable of making a mistake, for he informs us that "years ago" his "Bow Street reports led to the dismissal of a very incompetent magistrate" (which may be possible), "and to the appointment ofMr. Henryas his successor," which is utterly incredible. We need not waste words in pointing out the absurdity of the assumption that the report of what was being done by a magistrate at one court, could in the smallest degree conduce to the appointment of any other magistrate, though the publicity given to any improper acts of the former might lead to his dismissal.
In conclusion, we have only to say that the Magistrate gives one version of the affair, and the Reporter gives another. Neither magistrates nor reporters are infallible, and we must therefore leave the public to decide for themselves which of the two has, on this occasion, been accurate. The Reporter lays some stress—and with some show of reason—on the alleged fact, that his statement of the case is supported by a note in the minute-book kept by the clerk, and pried into, as it seems, rather unceremoniously by the Reporter; but if a magistrate is liable to err, it is possible that his clerk may be capable of error. Having performed an act of justice, by recording the protest of the Reporter against the impeachment of his accuracy, which we noticed last week, we have done with the subject.
A learned Assistant Judge, while trying a boy for stealing a pudding, summed up thus:—"Here's the pudding; up pops the boy, off goes the pudding, and after him goes the policeman. You've got the boy, the pudding, and the policeman before you, and now, Gentlemen of the Jury, consider your verdict." In like manner, we say to the public, "You have got the report, the Reporter, and the Magistrate before you; therefore, Gentlemen of England, consider your verdict."
From the report of a recent case in the Rolls Court, it appears that some rogues have been putting damaged Prestonpans Ale into bottles labelled with the names ofMessrs. BassandMessrs. Allsopp, and selling the stuff under these false titles "at fairs and races." We suspect that this trick is too common. You meet, occasionally, with beer thus labelled, by which, no doubt, those firms are libelled; for it is a libel on respectable brewers to impute bad beer to them: and the sort of bitter beer we allude to is bitter bad. We call it beer, indeed; but we no more believe that it is made of malt and hops than that it is brewed byAllsoppor byBass, whose names appear on the bottles it is sold in, but, to give a correct idea of their contents, ought to be altered toBaseandAllslop.
The present policy ofNicholasis an illustration of the truth of this. For all he wants for Russians is time; a commodity that our Cabinet seems disposed to allow any quantity of.
Shear Impudence.—Following from street to street a poor foreigner with a long beard, and persecuting him to buy a pair of razors.
Shear Impudence.—Following from street to street a poor foreigner with a long beard, and persecuting him to buy a pair of razors.