VISIT OF THE THAMES AND MEDWAY

"Yeast Lane, Grinnidge, twenteseckundnowemberhatinfiftethre.

"Honnerd Mistur Punch,

"Umbly thankin u for puttin of my last in blak an wite, wich it were red in our lane an give grate satisfakshun, i make so bold as trubbel u wuns more. In coorse, Surr, the prise of coles cant be unbeknown to u, wich alone in this bitter wether is bad enuf, speshully to wan like me as takes in a litel washin wich i will be appy to get up yours at a shillin a dozzen, ceptin shirts an tabul linen, an have a good dryin ground an no washin powders, wich is a destruction to fine fronts, used, but am in consekens very subjick to goin out in the dryin ground without my bonnet, an ave the plumbago an Asiatick panes in my hips werry bad. To such as me dere coles is bad enuf, but wen they cum upon the quartern lofe at ninepenshapeny, dips at hatepens, wich may seme a lite matter, but is not, and all other things risin too for cumpany's sake, it makes me wunder howJonan me an our siks shall hever get hover our merry Krismas and appy new yere, and the frost an starvashun an all the hother complemens of the seeson. An so the hother hevenin as me anJonan our siks was all in bed afore our husiwal time, a goin to try if we could dreme of a warm fire an a bit of supper wich as dremes mostly goes by contrairies we wos werry like to do, I sez toJonsez I, Wot makes coles so dere? Is it theLord Marea fetherin of his nest by taxin of em, an callin it his dooty? If wun of his dooties is taxin pore peepul's coles, I wunder wot the others is, I sez, or air the Turks an Rooshans a goin to fite by steme? I sez, not that i thort so, but i wanted to cheer upJonwho were terribul cast down, poor feller!

"No, sezJon, it haint. Colliers have struk work and coles is riz accordin. Then, i sez, its a burnin shame an i wont abear it. It haint no ways strange that Turks an Rooshans who air heathens born should squabbel and fite, an raise the price o' bred for they air savages an 'tis their natur so,' asDoctor Wotsisnamesez in the him, but that sum of our hone pore peepul as ave shared the bred of afflikshun with hus, wen their worn't too much to share neither, an nose wot our sufferins must be, should go an raise the price of coles upon hus, is agin all natur. But, sezJon, colliers ave struk for wages an u cant blame them for that. Indede I doJon, sez I, an I spoke hup for I newJonan his mates wos thinkin of a strike. Indede I do, Wot good did strikes hever do the pore? Tisnt honely in colesJonas strikes is goin on, but in hother trades, and in hall on em tis the men and their wives an children an not the masters as suffers. If the masters wanted the men werry much as they wood if trade wos brisk they wood ave riz wages without a strike, but hoffen an hoffen a strike helps masters to get rid of men they don't want, but wouldn't like to turn hoff. Strikes makes coles dere, and likewise heverything helse as the men gives hover makin. But who gets the hextra price of the coles and the factory goods? Why the masters that larf at the pore fules of men that air takin bred hout of their famlies mouths and hout of hour mouths too, to put it hinto theirn. But the men,Jon, gets nothin by a strike, but time to lounge about publicks, an spend their litel savins an spout their close an things, an drors on their club till they brakes it, and praps jines a riot an brakes the winders or the lor, an so gets theirselves into prizzen, an their families into that ouse of bondage the workus. An here I could speke no more for cryin, but woke our siks wich cried too, speshully litelTomee, our heldest, as ave a broken chilblane, and air frakshus, an so we cried hourselves to slepe, an I ope u will print this letter that peepul may see were a strike falls hardest, and take warnin, tho it be from ure umbel chareoman.

"Jane Gimlet."

A miserable Creature stole a watch under the gibbet at the late hanging.Alderman Humphery, on the Bench, said—"You came out to witness the execution of a fellow-creature, but it does not appear to have done youany good." How odd! Certainly, no good: for the thief, with his hand upon the watch, only thought of time, the hangman vainly preaching eternity.

When!—When a woman listens to you, she is criticising you.

Please Marm, yer Bonnet's comin' off"Please Marm, yer Bonnet's comin' off! Pitch us a Copper for telling yer."

"Please Marm, yer Bonnet's comin' off! Pitch us a Copper for telling yer."

The "grandeur of the law," however obvious it may be when represented by ermine (at a guinea a yard) and horsehair (at fifteen shillings a pound) in Westminster Hall, is certainly not very adequately supported at the Judges' Chambers. These judicial tenements are situated in the vicinity of Clifford's Inn, and are, every afternoon, the rendezvous of much of the riff-raff of the attorneys' offices—for any seedy clerk is considered qualified to "go before the Judge" at Chambers.

Even the Judge himself appears to adapt his costume to his company, for the scarlet robe is usually superseded by the paletot, and those who see dignity in the full-bottomed wig look for it in vain in the brown scratch or the napless gossamer. The whole affair has the aspect of a crowd just rushed out of Holywell Street, or preparing to make an excursion to the Minories—an idea to which the abundance of Caucasian noses lends encouragement.

According to the return moved for byMr. Hume, we find that, including Porters, and Gentlemen to Great Seal, Sealer and Deputy Sealer, Chaffwax and Deputy Chaffwax, (what on earthisa Deputy Chaffwax???) Clerk of the Hanaper, and Deputy Clerk of the Hanaper, Ushers, Heralds, Garter Kings at Arms, Purse-bearers, Marshals, Lord Chancellors, Engrossing Clerks, Attorney-Generals, stamps, taxes, and other equally necessary and indispensable persons, places, and things—the making of a Baron is done for the trifling charge of £420. Thanks toMr. Hume, we are put in possession of this Hume-orous document. But the most important question to an Englishman remains unsolved; andMr. Bullrequests us to make inquiries, whether it will cost him this great sum before he can make his appearance at the Royal table on Christmas Day next, as a Baron of Beef?

A Talleyrandism.—The worst form of borrower is he who borrows with the intention of repaying, for you know he intends to borrow again.

TO THE

ROYAL COMMISSIONERS OF THE CITY.

The inhabitants of Parliament Street were lately thrown into a state of great excitement by the appearance of a lady and gentleman, who came out of one of the lanes leading from the river, and asked every one whom they met to show them where the Royal Commissioners were sitting. The gentleman, who rather surlily informed the too curious crowd that he wasFather Thames, was attired in a quaint and singular garb. "All round his head" he wore, not merely "a green willow," but a profusion of reeds, rullies, and osiers, whilst his feet and legs were thickly coated with mud and sand, which made one of the bystanders (a Common Councilman on his way to the Commissioners) observe, that "the stranger's lower extremities were most in need of thehosiers." His waist was garnished by a quantity of bricks, beams, planks, and piles, strung round him without any regard to order or symmetry, and, by their bulk and weight, greatly impeding his progress. He carried his well-known urn under his arm, like an opera hat; but, on passing a window in whichRansome'sPatent Filters were exposed for sale, he looked wistfully at them, and observed to his companion, that he should like to swop the urn against one. A Kentish farmer (one of a deputation who had been explaining to the Home Secretary the connection between the Bank Charter and the disease in the hops) recognised in the lady an old friend namedMedway, who is in the habit of staying on his estate for some months in every year. She had dressed her head with wild-flowers of every hue; her gown "was a blue watered silk; and from her waist hung, by way ofchâtelaine, a string of locks. A number of keys graced her companion's girdle", but we are unable to say if his quays belonged to her locks.

Upon the introduction of these illustrious characters to the Royal Commission the usual question—"Have you anything to say about the Corporation?"—was put to them, andFather Thamesat once gave his evidence, in his usual flowing style:

"Had for many years been committed to the care of the Corporation, but had received at their hands nothing but ill treatment. Remembered that many aquatic plants once adorned the whole course of his stream. Had been told by worthyMaster Camdenthat those curious botanists,Dr. PlukenetandMr. Doody, found on the Thames at Westminster, bitter cresses, the three-cornered bulrush, the water reed grass with an oat-like pannicle, and a great pond-weed with pellucid leaves. Believed that the same locality could not now produce a reed worth a rush. Remembered that salmon, lampreys, mullet, and other fish, used to ascend his stream above Westminster, until the Corporation suffered that stream to be polluted by various abominations. Never saw any fish now, excepting those which were thrown in, dead, by the clerk of the markets. Had heard of Whitebait; but had never seen any. Believed them to be no fish—but a composition of lard, flour, and gold-beaters' skin. Had some Swans still, but they never sang now. Did not think any one would listen to them if they did, as 'The Song of the Turtle' had superior attractions. Remembered to have heard three of them singing 'Water parted from the Sea,' toMr. Pope, one evening, at Twickenham. On another occasion, had heardTaylor, the Water Poet, trying to teach them 'A Boat, a Boat unto the Ferry.' Believed they ceased to sing when the City gave up its poet laureate. Thought there should be Writers to the Cygnet in London, as well as in Edinburgh, but they must not write in Scotch, as the swans would sing no Scotch song, except, perhaps, "Wha'll buy Caller Herrin?" Had not seen a Naiad for many years, and thought the last had emigrated to Ball's Pond, and set up as a clear starcher. Had been much reduced in size by these and other troubles, but regretted to say the Corporation had taken advantage of his diminished channel to build upon his sides. Had been accused of shifting his bed. So would the Corporation, if their bed had been filled with mud and shingle. Thought they should have kept his bed cleaner. Would like to alter the old proverb, for their benefit, and wished that 'as they had made his bed, so they might lie in it.'"

Father Thameshaving concluded his evidence, his sisterMedwaywas about to offer her statement of grievances, when an usher announced that theWater Bailiffwas coming up stairs. Upon which the two rivers, with, fear and perturbation in their countenances, scuttled out of a side door in dread of meeting that terrible functionary.

News has arrived that "the Russians had invested Giurgevo, but were not strong enough to attack." We can only say that the "investment" must have been rather an unprofitable affair.

MMr. Punchis happy to announce that the difficulties which have so long prevented the Royal Exchange Chimes from being completed have been removed, and that the following airs, appropriate to the present condition of City politics, will immediately be heard from theGreshamtower. The contractor gives hopes that the new year will be played in by them.

Mr. Punchis happy to announce that the difficulties which have so long prevented the Royal Exchange Chimes from being completed have been removed, and that the following airs, appropriate to the present condition of City politics, will immediately be heard from theGreshamtower. The contractor gives hopes that the new year will be played in by them.

Air.—"The Light of other Days."

The days of other Mayors have faded,And Aldermen are past;The Cit who hopes to do astheydid,Is hoping much too fast.For London dooms the clique to ruin.She'll mind her own affairs;And the Mansion House see no renewingThe days of other Mayors.

The days of other Mayors have faded,

And Aldermen are past;

The Cit who hopes to do astheydid,

Is hoping much too fast.

For London dooms the clique to ruin.

She'll mind her own affairs;

And the Mansion House see no renewing

The days of other Mayors.

Air.—"Evening Bells."

ThoseGreshamChimes, thoseGreshamChimes!They take us back toTudortimes,When Merchant Princes felt no shameTo bear a civic magnate's name.That name has sunk below disdain,NoGreshamdons the civic chain,A Merchant Prince as soon would wearThe garb of Beadle as of Mayor.But Mayors and such will soon be gone,A newrégimeis coming on;We'll hope to hear, in better times,SomeGreshamhailed byGreshamChimes.

ThoseGreshamChimes, thoseGreshamChimes!They take us back toTudortimes,When Merchant Princes felt no shameTo bear a civic magnate's name.

ThoseGreshamChimes, thoseGreshamChimes!

They take us back toTudortimes,

When Merchant Princes felt no shame

To bear a civic magnate's name.

That name has sunk below disdain,NoGreshamdons the civic chain,A Merchant Prince as soon would wearThe garb of Beadle as of Mayor.

That name has sunk below disdain,

NoGreshamdons the civic chain,

A Merchant Prince as soon would wear

The garb of Beadle as of Mayor.

But Mayors and such will soon be gone,A newrégimeis coming on;We'll hope to hear, in better times,SomeGreshamhailed byGreshamChimes.

But Mayors and such will soon be gone,

A newrégimeis coming on;

We'll hope to hear, in better times,

SomeGreshamhailed byGreshamChimes.

Air.—"The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day."

The Curfew tolls the knell of those whose dayIs done—those greedy "creatures on our lee"—Woe to the burly phalanx soau faitAt hiding callipash and callipee.E'enGoghimself looks lively with affright,AndMagogscarce his spike-stuck weapon holds;ForCornewall Lewissits, prepared to write,AndPattesonan awful scroll unfolds.

The Curfew tolls the knell of those whose day

Is done—those greedy "creatures on our lee"—

Woe to the burly phalanx soau fait

At hiding callipash and callipee.

E'enGoghimself looks lively with affright,

AndMagogscarce his spike-stuck weapon holds;

ForCornewall Lewissits, prepared to write,

AndPattesonan awful scroll unfolds.

Air.—"Woodpecker."

I knew by the smile that derisively curledOn thePattesonlip, that my downfall was near,When he said, "I can't see the least use in the worldOf that gew-gaw procession you mount every year."My half-hearted advocate feebly replied,About wantonly sapping the customs of yore—But I said, "If there's peace to be found in Cheapside,I shan't be disturbing it many times more."

I knew by the smile that derisively curled

On thePattesonlip, that my downfall was near,

When he said, "I can't see the least use in the world

Of that gew-gaw procession you mount every year."

My half-hearted advocate feebly replied,

About wantonly sapping the customs of yore—

But I said, "If there's peace to be found in Cheapside,

I shan't be disturbing it many times more."

The people want gardens, Says the bells of St. Martin's.Townsfolk look palely, Says the bells of Old Bailey.Not if they're rich, Says the bells of Shoreditch.Then they come out to me, Says the bells of Chelsea.Or with me take a bed, Says the bells of Hampstead.But in close London dwellins Says the bells of St. Helen's.Howdothey draw breath? Says the bells of St. Faith.Bless'd if I know. Says the Great Bell of Bow.

The people want gardens, Says the bells of St. Martin's.

Townsfolk look palely, Says the bells of Old Bailey.

Not if they're rich, Says the bells of Shoreditch.

Then they come out to me, Says the bells of Chelsea.

Or with me take a bed, Says the bells of Hampstead.

But in close London dwellins Says the bells of St. Helen's.

Howdothey draw breath? Says the bells of St. Faith.

Bless'd if I know. Says the Great Bell of Bow.

In a quadrille—composed, we think, by the ingeniousM. Jullien—a lively and diverting effect is produced by the cracking of a whip, which forms an accompaniment of the tune which the company are supposed to dance to.

William Curtis, a tailor, according to the Police Reports, was brought the other day before theLord Mayor, at the Mansion House, for having cruelly beaten and attempted to murder his wife; who stated on evidence—which was corroborated by a policeman—that he ripped up her stays with a penknife, took the bone out of them, and beat her with the bone till it broke in three pieces; then beat her with her hair-brush, dragged her out of bed, tried to strangle her, and beat her again with a large square-cut stick—declaring that if she dared to call out for assistance he would dance upon her body.

The quadrille above-mentioned supplies a hint in regard toMr. Curtis'snotion of a dance.Mr. William Curtisis an uneducated man. He has not been taught how to behave himself to the gentler sex. He wants a little instruction in deportment, to which dancing should be added, as his ideas concerning that accomplishment are evidently barbarous.Mr. Curtisshould have been sent toMr. Calcraft'sDancing Academy, and there have been taught to dance with fettered heels to the smack of the lash resounding on his own bare back.

TheLord MayorconsignedMr. Curtisto Holloway Prison and hard labour for six months, to give him, as his Lordship said, an opportunity for reflection and repentance. But the dancing lessons—two, or even three, perhaps, would not have been too many—were wanting to render the reflection profitable and the repentance sincere. They would have given him an opportunity for reflecting on the nature of stripes and blows, and for repenting of having inflicted such injuries on a woman.

Another tailor,James Wright, also brought before theLord Mayoron the same day for the like offence, had hit his wife twice on the head with a sleeveboard, cutting open her skull in three places, had struck her with his fist in the face, and continued to knock her about for three or four minutes. At the Thames Police Office, likewise on the same day,James Cropley, a Lancashire collier, was charged with committing an assault upon his wife, which consisted in felling her to the earth by dealing her a blow in the face with a heavy stick that knocked her nose flat. Six months' imprisonment and hard labour only, were the sentences on these gentlemen also. No blame to theMayoror the Magistrate. The law at present unfortunately does not empower them to enter such savages at the School of Correction for the extra of penal dancing.

Since these cases, others of similar atrocity have occurred, and continue to occur so frequently as to suggest the existence of a downright mania for wife-beating. In other forms of mania the whip has happily been disused; but it is the only cure for this. There is clearly no other help. Cure?—preventive we should rather say. Dastards—with the fear of the scourge before their eyes—have ceased to assail the Royal person, and would very soon begin to respect that of the mere female subject. Thus the possibility of being whipped would restrain them from rendering themselves liable to whipping; a consideration which quite conquers the repugnance one feels at the thought of lashing a human being—if such a phrase can be applied to a brute. Whipcord, therefore, would never, probably, have to whistle, or thong to crack, to the howl of any such ruffian after all: but, if occasion were given for such music, we must say our ears would not be too delicate to bear it.

The presentHome Secretaryis evidently determined to keep his department in order, and may doubtless be depended upon for making Home tolerable to a poor woman, in as far as he can, by warranting her such protection as a cat-o'-nine-tails can afford against the ferocity of a brutal husband.

A law-suit has lately been reported in all the papers, with the appropriate heading of "MoneyversusMoney." Considering that law is generally the madness of many for the gain of the few—namely the lawyers—we think Money against Money would be a good title to almost every cause that is tried.

The pageant of the "Lord of Misrule" was one of the zanyisms of the middle ages. The thing, if not the name, still survives in theLord Mayor'sShow.

A Decided Fool.—The man is a fool who, when asked for his candid opinion, gives it.

SSCOTLAND, having begun to complain of its wrongs, seems in danger of being inundated by incessant showers of grievances. We cannot be surprised that Scotland should itch to have her injuries redressed; and we have now another to add to the long catalogue of complaints that have recently issued from the North Britishers. The following paragraph from theSpectatorof last week brings to light a new calamity:—

SCOTLAND, having begun to complain of its wrongs, seems in danger of being inundated by incessant showers of grievances. We cannot be surprised that Scotland should itch to have her injuries redressed; and we have now another to add to the long catalogue of complaints that have recently issued from the North Britishers. The following paragraph from theSpectatorof last week brings to light a new calamity:—

"The floor of the picture gallery in Holyrood Palace is become so rotten and unsafe, that when Peers assemble to elect a representative, the greatest caution is requisite to prevent disaster. The Commissioners of Woods and Forests are about to provide the proper remedy of a new floor."

It is evident from the above account, that there is something very rotten in the foundation which the Scotch Peers have to rest upon. It would seem that when the Scotch lairds assemble to elect a representative, they are obliged to "tread softly," not because theirs is "hallowed ground," but because it is crumbling away like the rottenest specimen of a Pierage which the banks of the Thames, with its tottering tiers of worn-out barges, could furnish. We can imagine the heavy Scotch Peers proceeding to an election with such caution, as to be compelled to avoid every hole in the floor, lest any of them should inadvertently put their foot in it. We shall not be surprised to hear, some day, that when the members had assembled on the floor of the house for the despatch, of business, they went completely through with it.

(From our Rotherhithe Correspondent.)

"I hasten to inform you of an event, which, if the estimate of the actors themselves is to be taken, will cause the utmost excitement throughout this country and the Continent. On this subject your readers will be judges—in a petty locality small things seem large—and the preternatural importance which is here given to it may deceive me into false calculations.

"You, like the rest of the world, are well aware that a feud of no ordinary virulence has subsisted between the elder and younger branches of the house ofBeerbung, which so long supplied all the Publicans (and a good many of the sinners) to this locality, and indeed dictated to the magistrates of Limehouse, and defied the authorities of the Commercial Docks. You remember that whenLewis Beerbunglost his license, and the 'King's Head' was shut up, things went on anyhow in the parish; everybody opened public-houses, keeping the shutters down Sunday and week-day alike, and at last we hardly knew whether our heads were on our shoulders or not. Then the military came in, and we got on better; and, subsequently, the otherLewis Beerbung(who was given to oysters) and his brother,Charles Dicks, had the 'King's Head' again.Dickstook in preachers, and cheated in his measures, and at last ran off to Scotland; and then the house was let to a thirdLewis, who was son to the firstLewis Beerbung'syounger brother, a very bad fellow, of whomJack Ketchhad the last accounts. TheBeerbungswere always a queer set, and this thirdLewis, though a clever fellow, could not keep the house (which he had named the 'Pear and Umbrella'), but had to run for it, and was made bankrupt under the name ofSmith. Then the whole affair was altered: a committee was appointed to manage the house, which had a new sign, the 'Three Jolly Colours:' and since that the chairman has kicked out the rest of the managers, and has got the licence transferred to himself. The house is now the 'Bee and Bayonet,' and seems to be carried on to the satisfaction of the neighbourhood. Very good order is kept; the chairman, who was formerly in the Ham, and, indeed, sausage line, has married a very nice woman, and tries to keep friends with the most respectable people about. Indeed, his behaviour to a rich and rascally tallow-monger, who has been trespassing on the land of some poor neighbours, and stealing their turkey, has sent upUnlimited Loo, as he's called, in the estimation of all decent folks. Anyhow, he has got the house which was the 'King's Head,' and, while he gives Imperial measures, will keep it.

"But as theBeerbungsare irrevocably kicked out of the house, they comfort themselves by squabbling with one another, and talking as if the question was which had a right to the fixtures.Smith, the bankrupt, is dead, but has left a lot of sons, not bad fellows, but with very little brains among them. And there is a cousin of their's, who at present calls himselfShambore(but I am told is a real bore to any one who has to spend the evening with him), and he comes from the elder branch of theBeerbungs, and claims to be the head of the family.ShamboreandSmith'sboys have hitherto been at daggers drawn, and making everybody laugh at their absurd quarrels.Shamborehas settled just outside the parish, and is always sticking up placards, some of them very profane, abusingLoo, or anybody who happened for the time to have the 'King's Head.' He lives at a place called Frowsy Wharf, and behaves as stuck-up as if the parish belonged to him; sees people with his hat on; and has got a long story about some miraculous hair oil which he says will never dry off his head. Some think he is cracked. TheSmithboys used to make all sorts of game of him, and call him 'Fatty,' and, when their father had the house, they used to stone any one who went to see him.

"But somehow,Shamboreand theSmithshave made it up. Why, nobody knows; but it is thought that the tallow-monger has been at them, and has promised to stand something handsome if they will unite to bring actions of trespass againstLoo. However, be this as it may last week down comes one ofSmith'ssons—who calls himself (for they have allaliases)Knee Moore—to Frowsy Wharf, in his best clothes, and all being arranged, knocks three knocks—no more nor less—atShambore'sfront door. He would not knock two knocks, for fear of being thought a postman; andShamborewould not let him knock four, because that would be coming the swell too much.Shamborewas peeping over the blind (which had crochet lilies on it), but of courseMoorepretended not to see him. The maid opened the door, andMooreasked ifMr. Shamborewas in. 'What name, Sir?' says the girl. ButShamborehad bolted through the back parlour, and was standing on the stairs. 'What do I see?' he shouts out. 'Come in by all means;' and he comes down exactly four stairs—no more—and waits for the other.Moorewill not take off his hat until the door is shut, for fear the neighbours should think he's nobody, but he hangs it on a peg, and makesShamborea bow.

"'I am glad to call on the head of my family,' saysMoore, kicking out his leg behind, and making the girl laugh.Shamboremakes him say it again, pretending to be deaf. Then they shake hands, and the girl is sent out for beer, and they sit down and drink bad luck toUnlimited Loo, and may he soon lose his licence. And it seems they have arranged that, if they can kickLooout, and get the house,Shambore'sto keep it for the good of the family, until a boy—a son ofMoore'selder brother—is old enough to take the licence; and, to prevent danger, ifShambore'swife dies he is not to marry again. The precious couple sat a long time, andMoorebrought inMrs. Moore, and they all grew as thick as thieves; and when going away,Moore, who was tipsy, said he had made a bridge, or was going over the bridge, or something which could not quite be understood. Meantime,Loohas told the police to keep a sharp look-out on the cousins, and it will be wiry times for them if they are laid hold of."

There are two great questions which at present address themselves to the political mind, and they are both in connexion with wages. Without entering into the merits of either, we may say that in England the great question is, "How wages are?" and in Turkey, "How wages war?"

Whether much love prevails on both sides between husband and wife among the inferior classes, properly so called, of this country, may be questioned, but there is no doubt that the wives, at least, are much smitten.

If Turkey can be enabled to hold her own a few years longer, she will, there are good reasons for hoping, arrive at a high state of civilization. There is little doubt that the Ottoman Porte will improve by keeping.

Food for Improvement.—A certain Mare in London must be rather badly off; for its chief present nourishment is chaff.

SHARP'S THE WORDSHARP'S THE WORD.Nice Old Gent (loquitur)."Um! I'll take some Haricot Mutton, and—er—have you any Aspara—"Waiter (like thunder)."'Arico an' 'Grass!"

Nice Old Gent (loquitur)."Um! I'll take some Haricot Mutton, and—er—have you any Aspara—"

Waiter (like thunder)."'Arico an' 'Grass!"

Touching the subjoined newspaper advertisement:—

ORGANIST.—A VACANCY IN THE APPOINTMENT of ORGANIST for the parish of St. Helen, Bishopsgate, London, having been created by the death of Dr. Bexfield, candidates for the office are requested to forward their letters of application and testimonials on or before the 23rd day of November instant, addressed toMr. Churchwarden Richardson, 2, Great St. Helen's, London, by whom all inquiries as to the duties and salary will be answered.

Mr. Punchbegs to askMr. Churchwarden Richardsona question. WouldCecilia Punchbe eligible for the vacant situation of organist to St. Helen's parish? ForMr. Punchhas heard that it is the practice of many vestries to exclude female candidates from competition for the organist's office. NeedCeciliaapply? Has it been, by the parochial powers,

"Resolved, that female candidates be excluded."

Ceciliawould be thankful to be spared the anxiety and trouble of making an application, in doubt whether or not it has been predestined to be fruitless. One would think that the church of a female saint would admit a female musician—or can it be thatSt. Helenwould have closed her doors against her sainted sister, the namesake ofMiss Punch, herself?

To multiply, not to diminish, the means of honourable maintenance for women ought to be the object of all Churchwardens and Vestries; as it certainly is the interest of all rate-payers.

Mr. Samuel Warren, Recorder of Hull, loves to season his sentences with plenty of whipcord. This propensity ofSamuel'shas been significantly rebuked byLord Palmerston, who has remitted whippings and shortened terms of imprisonment. We understand that the judicial poet ofThe Lily and the Beewill—in self-justification—forthwith produce another poem, to be calledThe Cat and her Tails.

The Magistrates of the City of London can scarcely be expected to come out of the present Commission with clean hands, after having fingered every ton of coals within a circuit of twenty miles.

"That fairy form muffled in shawls,Fanny! why?What sorrow hath swoln and beclouded thine eye?Whatcanhave occasioned the tint of the roseTo abandon that cheek for the end of that nose?"Strange ornament, strip of mere flannel, to deckThat swanlike, that snowy, that statuesque neck!Why sit o'er the fender in such an odd trim,With handkerchief stanching those red orbs that swim?""For shabe,Helry! dolt you bake ful so of be;You bolkey, preteldil that you diddlet seeThe state I ab ill; do you walt to be told?You bust low I've got a bost troublesub cold.""But how did you catch it, love?—where did you go?""I cal't thilk, I cal't tell at all, I dol't low.""You don't think damp feet may have brought it about?""Lo, I've worl Ildia rubber shoes whel I've beel out.""I think I can tell what has caused a catarrhThose charms to disfigure, those accents to mar;The bonnet, myFanny, was meant for the head,ButFannywears hers 'twixt the shoulders instead.""OhHelry!—aid yet it bust surely be oledLot clothid the head is the way to catch cold,Ald followilg Fashiul is what, I suppose,Bakes be look such al object ald talk through the doze."

"That fairy form muffled in shawls,Fanny! why?What sorrow hath swoln and beclouded thine eye?Whatcanhave occasioned the tint of the roseTo abandon that cheek for the end of that nose?

"That fairy form muffled in shawls,Fanny! why?

What sorrow hath swoln and beclouded thine eye?

Whatcanhave occasioned the tint of the rose

To abandon that cheek for the end of that nose?

"Strange ornament, strip of mere flannel, to deckThat swanlike, that snowy, that statuesque neck!Why sit o'er the fender in such an odd trim,With handkerchief stanching those red orbs that swim?"

"Strange ornament, strip of mere flannel, to deck

That swanlike, that snowy, that statuesque neck!

Why sit o'er the fender in such an odd trim,

With handkerchief stanching those red orbs that swim?"

"For shabe,Helry! dolt you bake ful so of be;You bolkey, preteldil that you diddlet seeThe state I ab ill; do you walt to be told?You bust low I've got a bost troublesub cold."

"For shabe,Helry! dolt you bake ful so of be;

You bolkey, preteldil that you diddlet see

The state I ab ill; do you walt to be told?

You bust low I've got a bost troublesub cold."

"But how did you catch it, love?—where did you go?""I cal't thilk, I cal't tell at all, I dol't low.""You don't think damp feet may have brought it about?""Lo, I've worl Ildia rubber shoes whel I've beel out."

"But how did you catch it, love?—where did you go?"

"I cal't thilk, I cal't tell at all, I dol't low."

"You don't think damp feet may have brought it about?"

"Lo, I've worl Ildia rubber shoes whel I've beel out."

"I think I can tell what has caused a catarrhThose charms to disfigure, those accents to mar;The bonnet, myFanny, was meant for the head,ButFannywears hers 'twixt the shoulders instead."

"I think I can tell what has caused a catarrh

Those charms to disfigure, those accents to mar;

The bonnet, myFanny, was meant for the head,

ButFannywears hers 'twixt the shoulders instead."

"OhHelry!—aid yet it bust surely be oledLot clothid the head is the way to catch cold,Ald followilg Fashiul is what, I suppose,Bakes be look such al object ald talk through the doze."

"OhHelry!—aid yet it bust surely be oled

Lot clothid the head is the way to catch cold,

Ald followilg Fashiul is what, I suppose,

Bakes be look such al object ald talk through the doze."

There is a rigid sense of honesty in the Russian army. Lately, a sergeant-major was flogged for stealing beyond his rank. There is a graduated right of theft throughout all Russia. Thus, while a mere master-shipwright may steal some cartloads of oak, a Lord of the Admiralty may pocket a whole seventy-four. The god of Russia is not, in fact,Nicholas, butMercury.

Did it want a bit o' Turkey, then?Nurse Ab—rd—n."Did it want a bit o' Turkey, then?"

Nurse Ab—rd—n."Did it want a bit o' Turkey, then?"

A Fertility Well-grounded.—Periodicals are the dead leaves that fertilise the soil of Literature.

ABERDEEN IN HIS UNPOPULAR ACT OF THE COURIER OF ST. PETERSBURG.ABERDEEN IN HIS UNPOPULAR ACT OF THE COURIER OF ST. PETERSBURG.

AA very pleasing advertisement appeared lately in theManchester Advertiser, an advertisement which all who are interested in literature will be glad to see. Here it is:—

A very pleasing advertisement appeared lately in theManchester Advertiser, an advertisement which all who are interested in literature will be glad to see. Here it is:—

WANTED, A POET.—A tradesman who wishes to advertise his wares extensively, wants a Gentleman who can Write Advertising Poetical Effusions with facility.—Apply by letter, containing specimens of poetry, to A S, at the Printer's.

Though poorJohnsonorGoldsmithwould have been glad of such an offer, some conceited brethren of the goose-quill may look with contempt at the idea of the application of poetry to the advertisement of wares. Why not apply poetry to the advertisement of wares as well as apply Art to their construction? is not Art-crockery considered a great thing?—and what is your School of Design for, but to supply us with Art-clothes and Art-furniture; so that in good time we shall have Art-velvets, Art-cottons, Art-muslins, Art-silks, and Art-satins, for Art-waistcoats, Art-shirt-fronts, Art-frocks, Art-slips, Art-gowns; likewise Art-chairs and Art-tables, Art-fenders, Art-fire-irons, Art-pots and Art-kettles, Art-coalscuttles, Art-paper for walls, Art-bell-pulls, Art-pump-handles, Art bedsteads, and Art-washhand basins? The spirit of the age requires that Art shall be turned to practical account. He that would prosper by the poetical Art must utilise it. One way to do so, as good as any other, would be to sing the praises of candlesticks, for instance, or knives and forks, or haberdashery, or any other description of goods; what not? Poets have quite exhausted their old stock of subjects; they want a new stock, and that of a linendraper would be as good as any. The lines—

O heavenly Muse! the vast assortment sing,OfJackson,Johnson,WilkinsonandKing,

O heavenly Muse! the vast assortment sing,

OfJackson,Johnson,WilkinsonandKing,

for example, might serve for the commencement, and indicate the argument of a modern Epic of the Manchester School. The place of the hero in the poem would of course be supplied by a power-loom. But the "poetical effusions" required as per advertisement would necessarily be lyrical. Here an abundance of themes opens up to the bard. Suppose that the wares which the poet is engaged to advertise are stuffs. It will not follow that his verses should be stuff too. Leaving doggrel to the minstrel ofMoses, he might aim at a really sentimental treatment of his subject. He might, with the view of calling public attention to a silk, write something of this sort:—

I saw thee dancing in the hall;The beauteous robe that draped thy formHad just the free and flowing fallOf some old statue's; but, too warm,Too glowing were that eye and cheek,To let thy shape of lovelinessLike marble seem, though rarest Greek,For all that chaste and graceful dress!

I saw thee dancing in the hall;

The beauteous robe that draped thy form

Had just the free and flowing fall

Of some old statue's; but, too warm,

Too glowing were that eye and cheek,

To let thy shape of loveliness

Like marble seem, though rarest Greek,

For all that chaste and graceful dress!

⁂At16s.6d.,A Superior Article and Striking Novelty. Now Selling Off at a Tremendous Sacrifice.Jackson and Co., &c.

The foregoing is merely an attempt to show what might be done in this line, or sort of lines. It is no easy job, as a judicious ancient observes, to do common themes to a T.

Perhaps it is strange, however, that a Manchester tradesman should have to advertise for a poet. Is there no young man in his establishment that turns down his collars and grows his hair in ringlets, and has joined the moustache-movement, that would answer his purpose? In most large businesses there are such young men, who let off their poetical steam in effusions to the moon, &c., and merely waste it. Many of these poor young fellows are snubbed and ridiculed, and thus have their self-regard—which is always sensitive—irritated and mortified, till they are driven to all manner of reckless and evil courses; whereas, by the useful direction of their talent, rendering it subservient to the purposes of the shop, they would be enabled to fulfil the aspirations that are in them with credit to themselves and with advantage to their employers: provided they would pay that attention to their grammatical studies, which is necessary to the composition of decent verses, even on the subject of a merino or a ducape.

The Real and the Ideal.—There is as much difference between the real and the ideal, as there is between a castle in Ayrshire and a castle in the Air.

Those who accept dignities are usually expected to pay for them; but, perhaps, if a man has "greatness thrust upon him" in the form of a title, it would be rather hard to make him pay £420 for an "honour" of which he was not solicitous. Before a man can be "dubbed" a knight he must "dub up" some £200; but it seems to cost between £400 and £500 to make a baron. Last yearLord Fitzroy Somersetwas changed intoLord Raglan—a conversion which, though it might have been managed as easily and as cheaply as the pantomime trick ofSo-and-SoafterwardsHarlequin, orPantaloon, orClown, has, it seems, added upwards of £400 to the annual item of civil contingencies. It is very "civil," no doubt, to make a commoner into a peer, but when the "contingency" arrives, we think the recipient of the honour ought to be civilly expected to pay for it. Perhaps, however, the better course would be to do it cheap, and we should hardly think the dignity of the peerage can be sustained by such charges as we find making up the sum total of the cost of a Barony.

The Clerk of the Hanaper, or Hamper, gets £24 13s.4d.; but why the title of Baron should be hampered with such an expense it is difficult to guess, unless it is that the newly-made peer is expected to "wet" his dignity with a few dozen of something drinkable. Deputy Hamper—by virtue, possibly, of some bottled beer—gets a guinea; and the "porter to the Great Seal" has another guinea; but, whether the word "porter" applies to some officers, or to some beer for theLord Chancellor'sdepartment, we have no means of knowing. The sealing of the patent is a costly affair, including "Sealer, £1 2s.3d.; Deputy ditto, 10s.6d.; Chaff Wax, £1 2s.6d.; deputy ditto, 10s.6d."; from which we can only infer that, while two officers are employed in the act of sealing, two other officers are standing by and "chaffing" the operation.

The "Royal Household" receives £104 6s.10d.for a jollification, no doubt; though we suspect that this act ofHigh Life Below Stairsin the Palace is entirely without the sanction of Royalty. Our old friend "Garter" comes in for £20, which is moderate, considering how invariably the recipients of dignities are tied by the leg by Garter's stringent requirements. The bill winds up with one guinea for the engrossing clerk, who engrosses very little of the profit but a great deal of the trouble, for he was obliged to engross the warrant and find the parchment.

It costs in all £420 to make a Peer; and if every Member of the Peerage is worth what he costs, it is easy to estimate the value of the Upper House of Parliament. Our own opinion is, that the Lords would be quite as precious without the preliminary outlay incurred in their manufacture; but if something is to be paid on the occasion, we think the money might be better employed than by inciting it in chaff, or any other kind of wax, and liquidating it in "porter," or Hampers of any description whatever.

TheMorning Advertiser, speaking ofLouis Napoleon'snew tariff reforms, says that he has effected them, "deafto the howlings of the iron-mastersand the scowlings of the coal-owners". One would not deprive theEmperorof one iota of his merit, but we have a "random recollection" that a "scowl" is a thing to see, rather than to hear. We do think that our friends the Licensed Victuallers are entitled to demand better grammar for their money.OurJeameswould not have so written.

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