LORD WENABLES AGAIN.[55]

"Instructions," says the author of the history of the expedition, "were, accordingly, agreed to be given to the Town Clerk, to secure such accommodation at an inn in Oxford, Reading, and Windsor, as might be adequate for the civic party; and to make every other necessary arrangement."

And here, before we go any further, it may be necessary to state, that the work of which we are about to speak has actually been written by command of Lord Wenables, by his ci-devant Lordship's ci-devant Chaplain, and published by Messieurs Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green,embellished with two beautiful engravings; all we should add is, that the author is perfectly serious in his details, and that our extracts are made from his work, correctlyverbatim et literatim.

Scarce had the Lord Wenables and his Council decided upon going to Oxford, when the Corporation of that City sent them a letter inviting them to dinner on the 26th. This unexpected and welcome letter puzzled the Lord and his Council, inasmuch as they had fixed only to stay one day at Oxford—that day the 26th, and on that day to entertain (as no doubt they would) the heads of houses at dinner.

That the Lord Wenables and his Aldermen could have arranged the matter satisfactorily to all parties by eating two dinners in one day is evident, but not at the same time, and upon this dilemma the reverend author makes this communication:—

"From this difficulty," says he, "they were happily released by the question, 'Could not your Lordship go a day sooner to Oxford?' It was immediately seen that this slight alteration of the plan first intended would obviate every difficulty: it would allow them the opportunity of showing their respect to the Mayor and Magistrates of Oxford by dining with them on the Tuesday; and would also give them the honour of having the University and City to dinner on the Wednesday."

The quickness of perception in the Lord Wenables and his Aldermen, which gave them the advantage of "immediately seeing" that by going to Oxford on the 25th, they could dine there on the 26th, and by staying till the 28th they might also dine there on the 27th, if they liked, is well worthy of praise; and the liberality of inviting the University and City to dine at the Star Inn, cannot fail to impress upon the reader the magnificence of Lord Wenables' mind. Suffice it to say, the Mayor of Oxford accepted the Mayor of London's invitation, and that the Mayor of London adopted the Mayor of Oxford's proposition.

The reverend author then says:—

"Every preliminary arrangement being completed, and ample accommodationhaving been secured at the Star Inn, Oxford, for his Lordship and suite, to the number of about thirty persons, the civic party began to lay their plans for the journey!"It had been previously understood that while his Lordship and friends should return together, in the City state barge, they should yet go to Oxford in such a way, and at such a time, as best comported with their own convenience. Mr. Alderman Atkins, accompanied by two of his daughters, Miss Atkins and Miss Sarah Jane, left his seat, Halstead Place, in Kent, on Monday, the 24th of July, and set out from London for Oxford in the cool of the following morning. On the same day, Mr. Alderman and Mrs. Lucas, with their daughters, Miss Charlotte and Miss Catharine, left their house, at Lee, in Kent, and went by land as far as Boulter's Lock, near Maidenhead, where they embarked on board the Navigation shallop, and proceeded by water to Reading; thus selecting some of the finest views on the river."

"It had been previously understood that while his Lordship and friends should return together, in the City state barge, they should yet go to Oxford in such a way, and at such a time, as best comported with their own convenience. Mr. Alderman Atkins, accompanied by two of his daughters, Miss Atkins and Miss Sarah Jane, left his seat, Halstead Place, in Kent, on Monday, the 24th of July, and set out from London for Oxford in the cool of the following morning. On the same day, Mr. Alderman and Mrs. Lucas, with their daughters, Miss Charlotte and Miss Catharine, left their house, at Lee, in Kent, and went by land as far as Boulter's Lock, near Maidenhead, where they embarked on board the Navigation shallop, and proceeded by water to Reading; thus selecting some of the finest views on the river."

Lord Wenables himself was, however, not so rash; for having satisfied himself of the actual existence of Oxford by receiving a letter from one of the natives, he resolved to proceed thither by land. See we then from his reverend chaplain's history the mode of his Lordship's setting forth:—

"On the morning of the 25th, the Lord Mayor, accompanied by the Lady Mayoress, and attended by the Chaplain, left the Mansion House, soon after eight o'clock."The private state-carriage, drawn by four beautiful bays, had driven to the door at half-past seven. The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtful, indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried, in having the undivided charge of four high-spirited and stately horses—a circumstance somewhat unusual; for, in the Lord Mayor's carriage, a postillion usually guides the first pair of horses. These fine animals were in admirable condition for the journey. Having been allowed a previous day of unbroken rest, they were quite impatient of delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which their impetuosity was restrained."The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half an hour, amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage, was at length hushed by the opening of the hall-door. The Lord Mayor had been filling up this interval with instructions to thefemme de menage! and other household officers, who were to be left in residence, to attend, with their wonted fidelity and diligence, to their respective departments of service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. HisLordship was accompanied by the Lady Mayoress, and followed by the Chaplain."As soon as the female attendant of the Lady Mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however, with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than gratifies the beholders; but at that steady and majestic pace, which is always an indication ofREAL GREATNESS!"Passing along Cheapside and Fleet Street—those arteries, as Dr. Johnson somewhere styles them, through which pours the full tide of London population—and then along the Strand and Piccadilly, the carriage took the Henley-road to Oxford."The weather was delightful; the sun, as though it had been refreshed by the copious and seasonable showers that had fallen very recently, seemed to rise more bright and clear than usual, and streamed in full glory all around. The dust of almost a whole summer had been laid by the rain; the roads were, of consequence, in excellent order, and the whole face of creation gleamed with joy!"

"On the morning of the 25th, the Lord Mayor, accompanied by the Lady Mayoress, and attended by the Chaplain, left the Mansion House, soon after eight o'clock.

"The private state-carriage, drawn by four beautiful bays, had driven to the door at half-past seven. The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtful, indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried, in having the undivided charge of four high-spirited and stately horses—a circumstance somewhat unusual; for, in the Lord Mayor's carriage, a postillion usually guides the first pair of horses. These fine animals were in admirable condition for the journey. Having been allowed a previous day of unbroken rest, they were quite impatient of delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which their impetuosity was restrained.

"The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half an hour, amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage, was at length hushed by the opening of the hall-door. The Lord Mayor had been filling up this interval with instructions to thefemme de menage! and other household officers, who were to be left in residence, to attend, with their wonted fidelity and diligence, to their respective departments of service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. HisLordship was accompanied by the Lady Mayoress, and followed by the Chaplain.

"As soon as the female attendant of the Lady Mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however, with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than gratifies the beholders; but at that steady and majestic pace, which is always an indication ofREAL GREATNESS!

"Passing along Cheapside and Fleet Street—those arteries, as Dr. Johnson somewhere styles them, through which pours the full tide of London population—and then along the Strand and Piccadilly, the carriage took the Henley-road to Oxford.

"The weather was delightful; the sun, as though it had been refreshed by the copious and seasonable showers that had fallen very recently, seemed to rise more bright and clear than usual, and streamed in full glory all around. The dust of almost a whole summer had been laid by the rain; the roads were, of consequence, in excellent order, and the whole face of creation gleamed with joy!"

In fact, creation was so delighted with the appearance of Lord Wenables, that "Nature wore an universal grin."

The reverend gentleman then describes the blowing up of a powder-mill as they reached Hounslow, which at first startled Lord Wenables, who imagined fondly that he had accidentally set fire to the great river whose source he was seeking; but Lady Wenables concurred with the reverend writer in assuring his Lordship that he might make himself perfectly easy upon that particular point.

"At Cranford-bridge," says the reverend author, "which is about thirteen miles from Hyde Park Corner, the Lord Mayor staid only long enough to change horses. For, his Lordship intending to travel post from Cranford-bridge to Oxford, his own fine horses were, after a proper interval of rest, to return to town under the coachman's care."These noble animals, however, seemed scarcely to need the rest which their master's kindness now allotted them. For though they had drawn a somewhat heavy carriage a distance of nearly seventeen miles, they yet appeared as full of life as ever; arching their stately necks, and dashing in all directions the white foam from their mouths, as if they were displeased that they were to go no farther!"Just as the carriage was about to drive away, Mr. Alderman Magnay, accompanied by his lady and daughter, arrived in a post-chaise! After an interchange of salutations, the Lady Mayoress—observing that they must be somewhat crowded in the chaise—invited Miss Magnay to take the fourth seat, which had as yet been vacant in the carriage. As the day was beginning to be warm, this courteous offer of her Ladyship was readily accepted."

"These noble animals, however, seemed scarcely to need the rest which their master's kindness now allotted them. For though they had drawn a somewhat heavy carriage a distance of nearly seventeen miles, they yet appeared as full of life as ever; arching their stately necks, and dashing in all directions the white foam from their mouths, as if they were displeased that they were to go no farther!

"Just as the carriage was about to drive away, Mr. Alderman Magnay, accompanied by his lady and daughter, arrived in a post-chaise! After an interchange of salutations, the Lady Mayoress—observing that they must be somewhat crowded in the chaise—invited Miss Magnay to take the fourth seat, which had as yet been vacant in the carriage. As the day was beginning to be warm, this courteous offer of her Ladyship was readily accepted."

Here we have, in one short page, a striking instance of the "true instinct" of Lord Wenables' fine horses, who were quite displeased that they were not allowed to drag him any farther—a delightful picture of a worthy Alderman and his family—three in a chay—a splendid specimen of Lady Wenables' sagacity and urbanity, and a fair estimate of the value of the latter upon the mind of the young invitée, who accepted her Ladyship's offer of a seat in the state coach because the day was beginning to get warm!

In safety, however, did Lord Wenables get to Oxford, of which, the reverend author says—"There is something peculiarly imposing in the entrance, particularly in the eastern entrance, to this city." Now this, which is ably twisted into the beginning of a flourishing description of towers and colleges, evidently refers to the toll at the Bridge-gate, and which Lord Wenables, who paid the turnpikes himself and kept the halfpence in the coach pockets, declared to be one of the greatest impositions at the entrance of a city that he had ever met with.

We are unable to give our readers the account of the highly honourable reception which Lord Wenables met with at Oxford, or the description of the dinner of which he partook—but we must, let what may happen, extract the whole account of the dinner given by his Lordship to the Oxfordians—a dinner which took place after a somewhat protracted lecture on comparative anatomy, which, if it failed in the delivery of establishing a likeness between a "bat" and a "whale," most certainly bears evidence, in its transmission to paper, of the great similitude between a Lord Mayor's Chaplain and a donkey.

It will be needless for us to make an observation upon what follows:—

"The hour of six had scarcely arrived, when the company, invited by the Lord Mayor to dine with him at the Star, began to assemble. The City watermen, in their new scarlet state liveries, were stationed in the entrance hall; and a band of music was in attendance to play on the arrival of the visitors."

The reverend author, by blending the band and the watermen (who are also firemen), leaves it somewhat doubtful to which corps the duty of playing on the arrival of the visitors was confided. He proceeds:—

"In a large drawing-room, on the first floor, fronting the street, on a sofa at the upper end, sat the Lady Mayoress, accompanied by Mr. Charles Venables, and surrounded by the other ladies of the party. The City Marshal of London, Mr. Cope, dressed in full uniform, and carrying his staff of office in his hand, took his station at the door, and announced the names of the guests as they severally arrived. Near the entrance of the room also stood Mr. Beddome, in a richly-wrought black silk gown, carrying the sword downwards. The Lord Mayor, who was in full dress, and attended by the Chaplain in clerical robes, wore on this occasion the brilliant collar of S.S. (quæreA.SS.) The Worshipful the Mayor, and the other Magistrates of Oxford; Richard Cox, Esq., Thomas Fox Bricknell, Esq., Aldermen; William Folker, Esq., Thomas Robinson, Esq., Richard Ferdinand Cox, Esq., Assistants; Mr. Deodatus Eaton, and Mr. Crews Dudley, Bailiffs; together with Mr. Percival Walsh, the City Solicitor, attended by the Town Clerk, in his robe of office, which resembled in some degree the undress black silk gown worn by Gentlemen Commoners of the University—were all severally introduced, and received by the Lord Mayor with a warmth and cordiality adequate to that which they had so kindly manifested on the preceding day."The Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, the Rev. Dr. Richard Jenkyns, Master of Baliol, preceded, as usual, by one of the Yeomen Bedels, carrying a large mace, and the Rev. Dr. Thomas Edward Bridges, President of Corpus Christi College, the Rev. Dr. George William Hall, Master of Pembroke; the Rev. Dr. Nicholas Philip Shuttleworth, Warden of New College; the Rev. Dr. John Dean, Principal of St. Mary's Hall, and Lord Almoner's Prælector in Arabic; together with the two Proctors, the Rev. George Cumming Rashleigh, M.A., and the Rev. Wadham Harbin, M.A.; the Rev. Mr. Woodgate, to whom allusion hasbefore been made, and other Members of the University, all of whom were dressed in full academicals, were severally introduced to the Lady Mayoress. To this distinguished list of visitors must be added the names of John Fane, Esq., one of the Members of Parliament for the county of Oxford; and James Haughton Langston, Esq., and John Ingram Lockhart, Esq., Members for the City of Oxford."When dinner was announced, the party, amounting to nearly sixty persons, each gentleman taking charge of a fair partner, descended to a long room on the ground floor."Every attention had been given by the proprietor of the Star to render the dinner as excellent as the occasion required, and to fit up the dining-room with as much taste as its extent would admit of; and no means had been left untried to keep the apartment as cool as possible. Wreaths of flowers were hung thickly round it, and the windows, which opened on a garden, were overspread with branches of trees, to exclude, as much as possible, the warm beams of a western summer sun. The band of musicians now removed their station from the entrance hall to the garden under the windows, where they played, at proper intervals, with excellent effect, the whole evening. The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress took their seats at the head of the table, the Vice-Chancellor of the University sitting on the right hand of his Lordship, and the Chief Magistrate of Oxford on the left of her Ladyship. The heads of the Houses then took their seats, according to the priority of their admission to the degree of Doctor, alternating with the ladies and daughters of Aldermen Atkins, Magnay, Heygate, and Lucas. The Aldermen of London and of Oxford then filled the remainder of the table."Amidst much elegance and beauty, the Lady Mayoress attracted particular observation. Her Ladyship was arrayed in the most splendid manner, wore a towering plume of ostrich feathers, and blazed with jewels!"When the Chaplain, by craving a blessing on the feast, had set the guests at liberty to address themselves to the dainties before them, and the room was illuminated throughout by a profusion of delicate wax candles, which cast a light as of broad day over the apartment, it would not have been easy for any eye, however accustomed to look on splendour, not to have been delighted, in no common manner, with the elegance of the classic and civic scene now exhibited in the dining-parlour of the first inn in Oxford."The accompaniments, indeed, fell short of that splendour which they would have had in the Egyptian Hall of the Mansion House in London, but still the general effect was peculiarly striking; and when the rank of the company is considered, may with truth be called brilliant!"The conversation naturally assumed that tone best qualified for the discovery of those talents and learning, of which the evening had drawn together so select and bright a constellation."After dinner, as soon as the health of the King, the welfare of the Church, the prosperity of the University and City, and other toasts of loyalty, literature, and religion, had been honoured, the Lord Mayor proposed the health of the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford. This was followed by toasts to the health of the other Heads of Houses, the Professors, and Proctors; the Worshipful the Mayor and other Magistrates of Oxford, and the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of London; each toast giving rise to such acknowledgments as the individuals, to whom they referred, considered appropriate and adequate. The health of the Lady Mayoress, and the other ladies of the company, was proposed by one of the Heads of the Houses; the toast was hailed with warm demonstrations of respect, and the honour was acknowledged with considerable point and taste by Mr. Lockhart, the Member, at her Ladyship's request."The Ladies, who, to the great gratification of the Company, had sat longer than is usual at most tables, at length obeyed the signal of the Lady Mayoress, and retired to the drawing room,'With grace,Which won who saw, to wish their stay.'"The conversation was, however, in no degree changed in their absence. The Lady Mayoress and her fair friends had taken their share in it with much good sense and delicacy; and their departure, so far from being succeeded by that obstreperous and vulgar merriment, or anything like that gross profligacy of conversation, which indicates rejoicing at being emancipated from the restraint of female presence, only gave occasion to the Magistrates of Oxford to express their wish, that, in the invitations to their Corporation dinners, arrangements could be made that would include the ladies."

"The Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, the Rev. Dr. Richard Jenkyns, Master of Baliol, preceded, as usual, by one of the Yeomen Bedels, carrying a large mace, and the Rev. Dr. Thomas Edward Bridges, President of Corpus Christi College, the Rev. Dr. George William Hall, Master of Pembroke; the Rev. Dr. Nicholas Philip Shuttleworth, Warden of New College; the Rev. Dr. John Dean, Principal of St. Mary's Hall, and Lord Almoner's Prælector in Arabic; together with the two Proctors, the Rev. George Cumming Rashleigh, M.A., and the Rev. Wadham Harbin, M.A.; the Rev. Mr. Woodgate, to whom allusion hasbefore been made, and other Members of the University, all of whom were dressed in full academicals, were severally introduced to the Lady Mayoress. To this distinguished list of visitors must be added the names of John Fane, Esq., one of the Members of Parliament for the county of Oxford; and James Haughton Langston, Esq., and John Ingram Lockhart, Esq., Members for the City of Oxford.

"When dinner was announced, the party, amounting to nearly sixty persons, each gentleman taking charge of a fair partner, descended to a long room on the ground floor.

"Every attention had been given by the proprietor of the Star to render the dinner as excellent as the occasion required, and to fit up the dining-room with as much taste as its extent would admit of; and no means had been left untried to keep the apartment as cool as possible. Wreaths of flowers were hung thickly round it, and the windows, which opened on a garden, were overspread with branches of trees, to exclude, as much as possible, the warm beams of a western summer sun. The band of musicians now removed their station from the entrance hall to the garden under the windows, where they played, at proper intervals, with excellent effect, the whole evening. The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress took their seats at the head of the table, the Vice-Chancellor of the University sitting on the right hand of his Lordship, and the Chief Magistrate of Oxford on the left of her Ladyship. The heads of the Houses then took their seats, according to the priority of their admission to the degree of Doctor, alternating with the ladies and daughters of Aldermen Atkins, Magnay, Heygate, and Lucas. The Aldermen of London and of Oxford then filled the remainder of the table.

"Amidst much elegance and beauty, the Lady Mayoress attracted particular observation. Her Ladyship was arrayed in the most splendid manner, wore a towering plume of ostrich feathers, and blazed with jewels!

"When the Chaplain, by craving a blessing on the feast, had set the guests at liberty to address themselves to the dainties before them, and the room was illuminated throughout by a profusion of delicate wax candles, which cast a light as of broad day over the apartment, it would not have been easy for any eye, however accustomed to look on splendour, not to have been delighted, in no common manner, with the elegance of the classic and civic scene now exhibited in the dining-parlour of the first inn in Oxford.

"The accompaniments, indeed, fell short of that splendour which they would have had in the Egyptian Hall of the Mansion House in London, but still the general effect was peculiarly striking; and when the rank of the company is considered, may with truth be called brilliant!

"The conversation naturally assumed that tone best qualified for the discovery of those talents and learning, of which the evening had drawn together so select and bright a constellation.

"After dinner, as soon as the health of the King, the welfare of the Church, the prosperity of the University and City, and other toasts of loyalty, literature, and religion, had been honoured, the Lord Mayor proposed the health of the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford. This was followed by toasts to the health of the other Heads of Houses, the Professors, and Proctors; the Worshipful the Mayor and other Magistrates of Oxford, and the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of London; each toast giving rise to such acknowledgments as the individuals, to whom they referred, considered appropriate and adequate. The health of the Lady Mayoress, and the other ladies of the company, was proposed by one of the Heads of the Houses; the toast was hailed with warm demonstrations of respect, and the honour was acknowledged with considerable point and taste by Mr. Lockhart, the Member, at her Ladyship's request.

"The Ladies, who, to the great gratification of the Company, had sat longer than is usual at most tables, at length obeyed the signal of the Lady Mayoress, and retired to the drawing room,

'With grace,Which won who saw, to wish their stay.'

'With grace,

Which won who saw, to wish their stay.'

"The conversation was, however, in no degree changed in their absence. The Lady Mayoress and her fair friends had taken their share in it with much good sense and delicacy; and their departure, so far from being succeeded by that obstreperous and vulgar merriment, or anything like that gross profligacy of conversation, which indicates rejoicing at being emancipated from the restraint of female presence, only gave occasion to the Magistrates of Oxford to express their wish, that, in the invitations to their Corporation dinners, arrangements could be made that would include the ladies."

After such a dinner and such an evening, it may easily be imagined that Lord Wenables and his Court slept like tops—not but that his Lordship had "requested his friends not to devote too many hours to repose." In obedience to a wish, which when breathed by a Lord Mayor becomes a command, everybody was up and busy "while the morning was early:" the yeoman of his Lordship's household, half covered with an awning, was occupied with the cook, whowas busied on this lovely day in making a fire to boil the tea-kettle, in a grate in the bow of the boat.

"About seven o'clock," says the reverend historian, "signals of the approach of his Lordship's party were descried and heard. The populace, thickly stationed on the road through which the carriages were to pass, caught up the acclamation; and announced to all who thronged the margin of the river, that——the Lord Mayor was coming! His Lordship and the Lady Mayoress alighted from the carriage at the bridge, and walked through the respectful crowd, which divided to give them passage; and were at once conveyed to the state barge——in the Water Bailiff's boat!"

The shouts of delight which rent the air were music to the ears of greatness—it was quite a genial morning, and one of those days "when we seem to draw in delight with the very air we breathe, and to feel happy we can scarcely tell why." So writes the reverend author, with more taste than judgment; for a man, placed as he was in the society of Lord Wenables and his Court, not to know why he felt happy, shows, we fear, a want of perception equally lamentable with the want of tact displayed in confessing it.

The reverend author laments that the eagerness of the party to do honour to the delicacies of the Lord Mayor's breakfast-table, prevented their seeing the beauties of Nuneham.

At ten o'clock they made Abingdon—and at Clifton the water shoaled suddenly from eighteen inches to fourteen and a half, so that his Lordship's yacht, which drew nearly two feet, could be drawn no farther, and they remained hard and fast till a fresh supply of the element could be procured.

The following passage is in the author's happiest style:—

"The crowds of people—men, women, and children—who had accompanied the barge from Oxford, were continually succeeded by fresh reinforcements from every town and village that is skirted by the river. Distant shouts of acclamation perpetually re-echoed from field to field, as the various rustic parties, with their fresh and blooming faces, were seen hurrying forth from their cottages and gardens; climbing trees, struggling through copses, and traversing thickets, to make their shortest way tothe water-side. Handfuls of halfpence were scattered to the children as they kept pace in running along the banks with the City Barge; and Mr. Alderman Atkins, who assisted the Lord Mayor in the distribution, seemed to enter with more than common pleasure into the enjoyment of the little children. It was gratifying to see the absence of selfish feeling manifested by some of the elder boys, who, forgetful of themselves, collected for the younger girls."

It will be remembered that the voyage now under detail was undertaken in the dreadful year of panic—but we confess we had no idea of the desperate state of affairs in the country which could induce so severe a run on the banks for a few halfpence, such as is here described. It may not be uninteresting to trace the source of the Lord Wenables's munificence. The halfpence in question were those which we mentioned his Lordship to have taken in change at the turnpike-gates during his Lordship's over-land journey to Oxford, and were now distributed with that liberality and grace for which his Lordship and Mr. Alderman Atkins will never cease to be remembered. The reverend writer, indeed, says:—

"There is, unquestionably, something genuine and affectionate in the cheerfulness of the common people, when it springs from the bounty and familiarity of those above them: the warm glow of gratitude spreads over their mirth; and a kind word or look, or a little pleasantry, frankly said or done—and which calls in no degree for any sacrifice of personal dignity—always gladdens the heart of a dependant a thousand times more than oil and wine. It is wonderful, too, how much life and joy even one intelligent and good-humoured member of a pleasure-party will diffuse around him. The fountain of indwelling light, which animates his own bosom, overflows to others; and every thing around quickly freshens into smiles."

It is, we fear, too evident that this passage comes direct from the reverend writer's heart: it seems clear to the meanest capacity, that he speaks from experience—perhaps of himself—when he expresses the delight whicheven oneintelligent person can convey to a party. It is quite clear, that in the party now assembled there either was no intelligent person, or only one—at least, the observation of the author leaves little room to doubt the disagreeable fact.

At page 80, the following account of the natives of Caversham and the neighbouring districts is given, which is at once romantic and picturesque:—

"Among the equestrians, two are deserving that their looks and equipments should be alluded to in more than general terms. The animals they bestrode were a couple of broken-down ponies,gauntand rusty, who had possibly once seen better days. The men themselves were not unsuitable figures for such a pair of steeds. They rode with short stirrups, that brought their knees almost under cover of the shaggy mane that overspread the ewe necks of the poor creatures; and carried their short thick sticks perpendicularly in their hands. Such was the appearance of these country wights as they shambled along the road that gave them so good a view of the City State Barge. And so mightily pleased was the Lord Mayor with their uncouth and ludicrous appearance, that he hailed one of them, and asked him to be the bearer of a message to Reading, touching his Lordship's carriage. The fellow seemed to feel as he never felt before! An honour was about to be conferred upon him alone—to be theavant-courrierof the Lord Mayor of London!—above and beyond all other riders, drivers, and walkers of whatever quality and degree, who had thronged to the view of the civic party. And no sooner had his Lordship flung him a piece of money, and told him to 'make haste to the Bear Inn, Reading, and order the Lord Mayor's carriage to meet the barge at Caversham Bridge,' than the fellow instantly belaboured the starveling ribs of the poor animal that carried him, with kicks and cudgel; who, in a moment, dashed briskly forward, snuffling and snorting across the fields. In the eagerness of his flight, the doughty messenger had much ado to maintain his seat: he sometimes slipped on one side of the saddle, and sometimes on the other; while the skirts of his unbuttoned coat fluttered out far behind him. He executed his commission, however, with fidelity equalled only by the dispatch which he had used; for when the barge arrived at Caversham Bridge, the carriage was waiting the Lord Mayor's arrival. Other carriages were also in attendance. It was now nearly nine o'clock; and as the evening shadows were beginning to shroud the surrounding scenery, the Lady Mayoress, and the other ladies of the party, except the Misses Atkins, fearful of too long exposure to the night air, landed at the bridge, amidst the firing of guns and other demonstrations of respectful salutation, and proceeded in their carriages to Reading."

That a Lord Mayor should devote much time to Reading,Mr. Rogers would declare highly improbable—but his Lordship and party partook of a sumptuous supper and went to bed. That we cannot devote much more space to Lord Wenables is equally mortifying—suffice it to say, that on the following day, after a hearty breakfast, an eleven o'clock snack, and a one o'clock luncheon, Lord Wenables and his court partook of a cold collation at Cliefden, at which were present Mrs. Fromow and her son, Broom Witts, Esq.; the Mayors of Maidenhead, Windsor, and Reading, the brothers and sisters of Lord Wenables, and sixty or seventy other persons.

"The gardens and grounds were thronged with spectators, either strolling about or seated on the grass; and on the opposite banks, several tents were erected for general convenience; around which the children shouted and threw up their hats!"

What particular occurrences excited the mirth and activity of the children round this particular spot, the reverend gentleman omits to mention; the following, however, must not be overlooked:—

"The increasing pressure of the surrounding people now rendered the adoption of some plan necessary by which their curiosity could be better gratified. Arrangements were accordingly made to admit the female part of the spectators, in small successive parties, to walk round the tables as the company were seated at dinner; and it was curious to see how many eager eyes were strained, and fingers pointed, to distinguish the individuals of the party. But it was something more than a mere idle feeling of curiosity that prompted this anxiety in the honest peasantry to see the Lord Mayor of London."

It seems, in fact, that Lord Wenables was born in those parts, so that his anxiety about the source of the Thames was in fact instinctive and intuitive, and as natural as it was laudable.

The next thirty or forty pages of the work consist of a character of his late Majesty, an account of Mr. Wenables's paper-mill, and a description of the royal Castle at Windsor, copied, we presume, from the Guide to that building, whichhas been long since published for the benefit of Lions, at the small charge of sixpence.

The details of breaking a bottle over the stone at Staines we cannot give, although the anxiety of Lord Wenables to discover the London water-mark appears to have been professionally natural. At Richmond the barge remained—like the great Lord's stock in trade—stationary, and his Lordship's fine foaming horses having been delighted once more with the sight of his Lordship, dashed from Richmond to the Mansion House with a celerity which, although somewhat inconsistent with "true dignity," brought the illustrious personage, his wife, his chaplain, and his sword-bearer, to the end of the Poultry in "no time;" having safely achieved an adventure which will hand down to posterity the great names of Wenables and Fromow, and the unrivalled powers of an historian, who (though modesty may induce him to keep himself snug) will live in his works till time shall be no more.

The editor of these memoirs, anxious to do justice to Mr. Firkins's feelings, and to Mr. Gurney's accuracy in recording them, considers that he cannot do more for the establishment of the sincerity of one party, and the correctness of the other, than may be done by submitting a few extracts from an authentic work, published many years subsequent to the period to which Mr. Gurney refers, giving an account of the journey of Lord Mayor Wenables to Oxford, written and published at the desire of his lordship, and his companions in that enterprise, by his lordship's chaplain. As the romance of real life is said to be infinitely more romantic than that of fiction, so the details of dignity, splendour, and magnificence, ably and carefully written by the rev. gentleman, by whichthe expedition of Alderman Wenables was distinguished, very much transcend the description given by our respected acquaintance Firkins, to my much-regretted friend Gurney. The extracts must be brief—but I am convinced they will be highly satisfactory.

The first quotation I shall make from the reverend author's book, is the description of the departure of the Lord Mayor from the Mansion House. It is headed "Tuesday," and begins at page 11:—

"On the morning of the 25th (July), the lord mayor accompanied by the lady mayoress, and attended by the chaplain, left the Mansion House soon after eight o'clock."Theprivate statecarriage" (I ought to observe, the italics are mine) "had driven to the door at half-past seven" (which, by the way, as an act of volition upon the part of the private state coach, was extremely attentive). "The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtful; indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried, in having the undivided charge of four high spirited and stately horses, a circumstance somewhat unusual: for in the lord mayor's carriage, a postilion usually guides the first pair of horses,"—i.e.the postilion in the carriage guides the leaders, which are the farthest removed from it."These fine animals," says the reverend author, "were in admirable condition for the journey—having been allowed a previous day of unbroken rest; they were quite impatient of delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which their impetuosity was restrained."The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half an hour amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage, was at length hushed, by—the opening of the hall door. The lord mayor had been filling up this interval" (the door?) "with instructions to thefemme de ménageand other household officers who were to be left in residence, to attend with their wonted fidelity and diligence to their respective departments of service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. His lordship was accompanied by the lady mayoress, and followed by the chaplain."As soon as the female attendant of the lady mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however, with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than gratifies thebeholders; but at that steady and majestic pace which is always an indication of real greatness."—P. 12.

"On the morning of the 25th (July), the lord mayor accompanied by the lady mayoress, and attended by the chaplain, left the Mansion House soon after eight o'clock.

"Theprivate statecarriage" (I ought to observe, the italics are mine) "had driven to the door at half-past seven" (which, by the way, as an act of volition upon the part of the private state coach, was extremely attentive). "The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtful; indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried, in having the undivided charge of four high spirited and stately horses, a circumstance somewhat unusual: for in the lord mayor's carriage, a postilion usually guides the first pair of horses,"—i.e.the postilion in the carriage guides the leaders, which are the farthest removed from it.

"These fine animals," says the reverend author, "were in admirable condition for the journey—having been allowed a previous day of unbroken rest; they were quite impatient of delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which their impetuosity was restrained.

"The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half an hour amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage, was at length hushed, by—the opening of the hall door. The lord mayor had been filling up this interval" (the door?) "with instructions to thefemme de ménageand other household officers who were to be left in residence, to attend with their wonted fidelity and diligence to their respective departments of service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. His lordship was accompanied by the lady mayoress, and followed by the chaplain.

"As soon as the female attendant of the lady mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however, with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than gratifies thebeholders; but at that steady and majestic pace which is always an indication of real greatness."—P. 12.

The reverend gentleman describes this majestic progress through London to Cranford Bridge; a powder-mill at Hounslow is blown up on the way; but at Cranford Bridge, "just thirteen miles from London," the lord mayor staid only long enough to change horses—"for his lordship intending to travel post from Cranford Bridge to Oxford, his own fine horses were, after a proper interval of rest, to return to town under the coachman's care."

"These noble animals, however, seemed scarcely to need the rest which their master's"—job—"kindness now allotted them, for though they had drawn a somewhat heavy carriage a distance of nearly seventeen miles, yet they appeared as full of life as ever; arching their stately necks, and dashing in all directions the white foam from their mouths, as if they were displeased that they were to go no farther."—P. 16."Just as the carriage was about to drive away" (more volition), "Mr. Alderman Magnay, accompanied by his lady and daughter, arrived in a post-chaise. After an interchange of salutations, the lady mayoress, observing that they must be somewhat crowded in the chaise, invited Miss Magnay to take the fourth seat, which had yet been vacant in the carriage; as the day was beginning to be warm, this courteous offer of her ladyship was readily accepted."

"Just as the carriage was about to drive away" (more volition), "Mr. Alderman Magnay, accompanied by his lady and daughter, arrived in a post-chaise. After an interchange of salutations, the lady mayoress, observing that they must be somewhat crowded in the chaise, invited Miss Magnay to take the fourth seat, which had yet been vacant in the carriage; as the day was beginning to be warm, this courteous offer of her ladyship was readily accepted."

Here is a perfect justification of Firkins's regrets at his fall—the unhappy trio, jammed in thepo chay, had been the year before in precisely the same elevated position which their illustrious friends then occupied; and if the courteous lady mayoress the year before that, had been screwed up with her husband and daughter in apo chayalso, then Mrs. Magnay would have been the courteous lady mayoress, to have relieved the Wenableses. I must, however, think that the reverend gentleman's reason for Miss Magnay's ready acceptance of the courteous offer does her an injustice. By his account, she readily got out of the family jam, not because she duly appreciated the grace and favour of thelady mayoress, but because "the day was beginning to be warm."

The journey to Oxford was all safely completed, and after seventy-six pages of matter, equally illustrative of Firkins's feelings, we come, at p. 77, to this description of the rapture and delight of the people of Oxfordshire, under the exciting circumstances of the lord mayor's return down the river towards London:—

"The crowds of people—men, women, and children—who had accompanied the barge from Oxford, were continually succeeded by fresh reinforcements from every town and village that is skirted by the river. Distant shouts and acclamations perpetually re-echoed from field to field, as the various rustic parties, with their fresh and blooming faces, were seen hurrying forth from their cottages and gardens, climbing trees, struggling through copses, and traversing thickets to make their shortest way to the water side. Handfuls of halfpence were scattered to the children as they kept pace with the city barge, and Mr. Alderman Atkins, who assisted the lord mayor in the distribution, seemed to enter with more than common pleasure into the enjoyment of the little children. It was gratifying to see the absence of selfish feeling manifested by some of the elder boys, who, forgetful of themselves, collected for the younger girls."—Pp. 77, 78.

The last bit for which I have room, is of the more convincing and powerfully descriptive cast, than anything I have yet advanced in favour of my poor friend Gurney's estimation of Firkins's dismay at his fall. The scene is near Caversham, where crowds of "spectators, some on foot, some on horseback, and some in equipages of every kind," were collected to see the barges pass.

"Among the equestrians," says the author, "two are deserving that their looks and equipments should be alluded to in more than general terms. The animals they bestrode were a couple of broken-down ponies, gaunt and rusty, who had possibly once seen better days. The men themselves were not unsuitable figures to such a pair of steeds. They rode with short stirrups, that brought their knees almost under cover of the shaggy manes that overspread theewe necks of the poor creatures; and carried their short thick sticks perpendicular in their hands."

This sounds like an account in one of the innumerable books of travels in the interior of Africa, rather than a description of a couple of natives of Berkshire, within five-and-thirty miles of Hyde Park Corner; however, "so mightily pleased was the lord mayor with their uncouth and ludicrous appearance, that he hailed one of them, and asked him to be the bearer of a message to Reading, touching his lordship's carriage. The fellow seemed to feel as he never felt before. An honour was about to be conferred upon him alone, to be theavant courierof—'the Lord Mayor of London,' above and beyond all the other riders, drivers, and walkers, of whatever quality and degree, who had thronged in view of the civic party; and no sooner had his lordship flung him a piece of money, and told him to 'make haste to the Bear Inn at Reading, and order the lord mayor's carriage to meet the barge at Caversham Bridge,' than the fellow instantly belaboured the starveling ribs of the poor animal that carried him with kicks and cudgel, who in a moment dashed briskly forward, snuffling and snorting, across the fields. In the eagerness of his flight, the doughty messenger had much ado to keep his seat; he sometimes slipped on one side of the saddle, and sometimes on the other, while the skirts of his unbuttoned coat fluttered far out behind him."—Pp. 81, 82.

All this evidence from the pen of a worthy divine, will, I am sure, convince the most sceptical reader of the fidelity with which my late friend repeated the regrets and lamentations of our friends in Budge Row, after their involuntary abdication. Every page of the account of that memorable journey and voyage teems with gem-like illustrations of a similar character; and I regret that my duty, as editor of the Gurney Papers, does not permit me to draw more largely on its stores.

To John Bull.

Sir,—I am not one of those who snarl at modern improvements, but I admit my incapacity to find out the improvements, at which other people snarl—I consider gas and steam to be two of the most odious and abominable nuisances ever tolerated in a Christian country: I only ask the best-natured critic—the most impartial judge in Christendom—whether anything can smell more abominably than the vapour which thousands of pounds are hourly spent to produce? If ruining oil-men, and beggaring wax-chandlers, is sport, well and good—in Heaven's name stew down the wholesome coals and make smoke, and set fire to it: but don't call that an improvement.

I love the sight of a lamp-lighter—a "jolly Dick" in a greasy jacket flaring his link along the pavement, rubbing against one's sleeve, or besprinkling one's shirt with oil—I seldom see one of them now; the race is superseded by a parcel of dandies, with dark lanthorns in their hands, prowling about like so many Guy Fawkes's: up they go, and without taking off the green lamp-tops and putting them on their heads, as the jolly Dicks did, they open a door, turn a cock, introduce their lanthorn—piff, paff, poff,—out comes the light, and down goes the ladder—this is innovation, not improvement.

Then steam—what's the improvement of steam? There was an interest in a short sea voyage when I was young—contrary winds—tides against one—nature had fair play—but now Mr. This-thing or Mr. T'other-thing makes a great copper pot, and fills it with water—more coals; poking and stoking, and shovelling and raking—Nature is thrown overboard; and the pacquet-boat, uninfluenced either by her smiles or frowns, ploughs up the waves, and marches along, like acouple of wandering water-mills. There is no interest in this, sir—any fool can make a copper pot—any fool can fill a copper pot with water—any fool can make a fire, and poke it, and make water boil—there's no pleasure in this life when events are thus provided for, and that, which had all the interest of doubt and difficulty, is reduced to a certainty.

The same in land carriage—formerly, a stage coach journey was an affair—a thing to be thought about—a man took leave of his relations, left his home, in the expectation of never seeing his wife again; then there was an interest, a pleasure in the speculation, and a hope, and a fear, and a doubt, and something to keep the faculties awake. Now, sir, if you want to go sixty or seventy miles, you have hardly settled yourself comfortably in your corner, before you are at your journey's end. Why, sir, before these jigamaree things were invented, I have lived two-and-twenty days on board a Leith smack, for three pounds three shillings, and enjoyed a pleasant five days' excursion on the road to Plymouth; whereas at present I am whirled from Edinburgh to London in forty hours, and taken from Piccadilly to Dock—Devonport I mean—in about half that time. Now this, to my mind, is no improvement.

Then, sir, look at London—look what the improvers have done—pulled up the pavements, the pride of the land, and turned the streets into roads. This Muckadamizing is no improvement. Puddles for purbecks is a bad exchange—the granite grinding is no wonder—the rattle and clatter of London is at an end. One might as well be at Slough or Southall, or any of the environs, as be in the heart of the town. They have taken away Swallow-street—scene of my youthful pleasures; and, to crown all, they are pulling St. James's Park to pieces, planting trees, and twisting the water. Why did not they leave the canal straight, as the Serpentine is? Are we to come back to the days of Duck Island, with a Whig governor for it? Why are the horses and cows disturbed to make way for the people? I love to see horsesand cows happy. I like to see the barracks and hospitals. I don't want to look at great big rows of high houses, filled with people who can afford to live in them, while I cannot. This is no improvement.

Then for manners and customs: in my time we dined early and sat late, and the jolliest part of our lives was that which we passed with our legs under the mahogany. Now, we see no mahogany—we dine at supper-time and the cloth stops and the wine never moves; away go our women—no healths—no toasts—no gentleman to cover a lady—no good wishes—nothing convivial—one anonymous half glass, sipped silently, and the coffee is ready. Out we go, turned adrift at eleven, with nothing on earth to do for the rest of the evening, unless one goes to a Club, where, if a man asks for anything stronger than soda water, he is looked at as a monster. Hock and Seltzer water, perhaps, if it's hot weather—wimbly wambly stuff, enough to make a cat sick, and after that, home. Why, in my time, sir, I should have laughed at a fellow who flinched before his fourth bottle, or who submitted to the degrading circumstance of finding his way to bed of his own proper discretion. But those days are past—one thing Idothank the stars for—we are getting back to the tobacco—not indeed the beautiful lily pipe, tipped rosily with sealing wax, and pure as the driven snow, but a happy succedaneum—a cigar. I do love a cigar, sir; it reminds me of the olden time, and I like the smell of my clothes in the morning, which I congratulate myself none of our modern improvements, as they are called, can ever eradicate.

Perhaps you have been lately in the Regent's Park—I will tell you what is doing there—a Mr. Somebody—I forget his name, but it is somehow connected in my mind upon Von Feinagle's principle with a Christmas pie—Horner, by Jove, that's it—he has sunk twenty thousand pounds, and raised a splendid building—a temple—a pantheon—a feature in the town—and what do you think for?—to exhibit a panorama of London from the top of St. Paul's, just within a couple ofmiles of St. Paul's itself—but then we are to be saved all the trouble—to be screwed up to the eminence without labour: to my mind, the whole point of a fine prospect is the trouble of getting to it—far-fetched and dear-bought are the great attractions, and all the interest is destroyed if things are made too easy of attainment. I don't like this plan.

The same struggle against nature seems to be going on everywhere—see the theatres—even at that band-box the Adelphi—there was a difficulty in getting in, and a difficulty in getting a seat when one did get in; now it is all made easy and comfortable, and for what? To see a schooner so like what any one can see any day in the river, that it is no sight at all; like Lawrence's pictures—I hate that President—his things are like life, the likenesses are identity, and so like nature that there is no merit in the painting—I like a little doubt—I love to show my quickness by guessing a portrait—the interest is destroyed if there is no question about the thing—the same with shooting—I used to hit my bird and miss my bird, and walk and walk over the furrows, and climb over the hedges and ditches, and bang away with a gun of my poor father's, which, when it did go off, was not over-certain in its performance—I liked the pursuit—now, with your Mantons and percussions, your Nocks without flints, and all that sort of thing—wet or dry, off they go—slap bang, down tumbles the bird for each barrel, and the thing is over—I never shoot now—a thing reduced to a certainty loses all interest.

Before Palmer's time I used to keep up a constant correspondence with a numerous circle of friends and acquaintance; there was no certainty about the delivery of one's letters—mail carts were robbed—post-boys were murdered—bags found in a pond all soaked to rags; then, there was an interest in it; now, a letter never miscarries; all like clockwork. I hate that Freeling—his activity and vigilance have destroyed the interest. I haven't written to a friend for the last fifteen years, nor should I write to you now, onlythat I send my letter by a servant lad, who is a member of an Intellectual Institution, and so stupid, that I think it is at least ten to one that you ever receive it.—Perhaps you will just acknowledge it, if it comes to hand—the expectation will, at least, serve to keep up the interest.

Yours truly,

Stephen Brown.

Baker Street, Oct. 17, 1828.

To John Bull.

Sir,—I perceived the other day in your columns a letter from a gentleman of the name of Brown, who, in the most cynical, sneering manner, thought fit, unjustly as I think, to run down all our modern improvements—I know you are impartial, and love to give upright adversaries fair play in your paper; I differ with Mr. Brown, and perhaps you will give me the opportunity of showing how and why.

In the first place, the ridicule, which not only he, but, I am sorry to say, yourself and many others, think fit to cast upon the advancement of learning, and which you have nick-named the march of intellect, is entirely misplaced—you look at things politically, because politicians of a peculiar class have adopted the institution of societies, seminaries, and universities—this is wrong—considering the matter thus, and associating men and manners, you teach us to believe the march of intellect the "rogues' march," to which all the well-disposed middling classes are to go to destruction; but you should consider the matter differently; you should recollect that almost all the political supporters of these Mechanics' Institutes and London Universities have imbibed their political principles merely because they have had little or no education themselves, and that as for instilling pride or arrogance into the minds of the lower and middling classes of the people, by sending them to the London University, the very converse must be the fact, because there is nothing that I see to be derived from the institution at all likely to induce pride or self-satisfaction in any of its members.

In theTimesof Tuesday, I perceive an advertisement from Mr. Dufief, stating that nearly 300 members of a class in the London Mechanics' Institute are learning French rapidly and critically. This, I conceive, so far from being an absurdity, to be one of the most beneficial events ever announced: consider what an improvement it will be for the common run of people who frequent public places of amusement, to find the lower order well grounded in French—in that language they will, for elegance sake, carry on their future conversations, and the ears of our wives and daughters be no longer disgusted with the coarseness to which they are now subject—for you are of course aware, that as the progress of learning exhibits itself amongst thecanaille, the aristocracy will abandon the ground they assume, and our belles and beaux, in less than a dozen years, will whisper their soft nonsense in Hebrew, Sanscrit, Cingalese, or Malabar.

But Mr. Brown seems not only to find fault with mental improvement, but also with mechanical and scientific discoveries—he sneers at steam and growls at gas. I contend that the utility of constructing a coach which shall go by hot water nearly as fast as two horses can draw it, at a trifling additional expense, promises to be wonderfully useful. We go too fast, sir, with horses—besides, horses eat oats, and farmers live by selling oats; if, therefore, by inconveniencing ourselves and occasionally risking our lives, we can, however imperfectly, accomplish by steam what is now done by horses, we get rid of the whole race of oat-sowers, oat-sellers, oat-eaters, and oat-stealers, vulgarly called ostlers.

Gas too—what a splendid invention—we gain a magnificent light, and ruin the oil-merchants, the whale-fisheries, and the wax-chandlers—it is as economical as it is brilliant;—to be sure we use more coals, but the coal-merchants are all worthy men, and never take advantage of a frost to advance the price of their commodity; coals are evidently, however, not so essentially necessary to the poor as waxcandles; therefore, even supposing the price of coals to be raised, and their value enhanced, we light our streets more splendidly, and our houses more economically.

Mr. Brown seems to dislike the over-brilliancy of the gas in the public ways, as tending to destroy the legitimate distinction between day and night. I admit this innovation—but let me beg to say, that until gas was brought to the perfection it now is, for external illumination, we never could see the unhappy women who are driven to walk the streets at night, so plainly following their avocations, or ever were indulged with the pleasing prospect of our watchmen slumbering in their wooden sanctums, at the corners of the streets.

Mr. Brown appears to dislike Mr. Mac Adam's improvements; these I defend upon several principles; one which I conceive to be extremely important, is, the constant employment they afford to the sweepers of crossings, without whose active exertions no man could ever pass from one side of the street to the other; and another which I firmly believe to be conducive to the improvement of the mind—I mean the activity with which the eye, and the ear, and the understanding must be constantly kept, in order that the individual walking may escape being run over; superadded to which, there is the admirable manure which the sweepings provide for the land.

In short, most of the objects of Mr. Brown's vituperation are objects of my respect, and I take the liberty of writing this, in order that he may, if he chooses, enter into a public disputation upon the several points at issue; for which purpose, if he will direct a letter to me under cover to you, I will appoint a time and place where the merits and demerits of the present age may be temperately, calmly, and dispassionately discussed between us.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient servant,Richard White.

It would be vain, at this time of the world's age, to enter upon a serious disquisition into the "art or mystery" of punning: it would be useless to argue upon its utility, the genius and talent required for carrying it on, or the pleasure or amusement derivable from it. The fact is self-evident, that puns are an acknowledged ingredient of the English language amongst the middling classes, and are, in their societies, the very plums in the pudding of conversation.

It may be said that punning is a vice, and we are quite ready to admit the charge; but still it exists and flourishes amongst dapper clerks in public offices, hangers-on of the theatres; amongst very young persons at the universities; in military messes amongst the subalterns; in the City amongst apprentices; and, in some instances, with old witsrazee, who are driven to extravagant quibbles to furnish their quota of entertainment to the society in which they are endured.

A punster (that is, a regular hard-going thick and thin punster) is the dullest and stupidest companion alive, if he could but be made to think so. He sits gaping for an opportunity to jingle his nonsense with whatever happens to be going on, and, catching at some detached bit of a rational conversation, perverts its sense to his favourite sound, so that, instead of anything like a continuous intellectual intercourse, which one might hope to enjoy in pleasant society, one is perpetually interrupted by his absurd distortions and unseasonable ribaldry, as ill-timed and as ill-placed as songs in an opera sung by persons in the depth of despair, or on the point of death.

Admitting, however, the viciousness, the felonious sinfulness of punning, it is to be apprehended that the liberty of the pun is like the liberty of the press, which, says the patriot, is like the air, and if we have it not we cannot breathe. Therefore, seeing that it is quite impossible toput down punning, the next best thing we can do is to regulate it, in the way they regulate peccadilloes in Paris, and teach men to commit punnery as Cæsar died and Frenchmen dissipate—with decency.

The proverb says, "wits jump," so may punsters, and two bright geniuses may hit upon the same idea at different periods quite unconsciously. To avoid any unnecessary repetition or apparent plagiarisms, therefore, by these coincidences, we venture to address this paper to young beginners in the craft, to the rising generation of witlings; and we are led to do this more particularly, from feeling that the tyro in punning, as well as in everything else, firmly believes that which he for the first time has heard or read, to be as novel and entertaining to his older friends, who have heard it or read it before he was born, as to himself, who never met with it till the day upon which he so liberally and joyously retails it to the first hearers he can fall in with.

For these reasons we propose, in order to save time and trouble, to enumerate a few puns which, for the better regulation of jesting, are positively prohibited in all decent societies where punnery is practised; and first, since the great (indeed the only) merit of a pun is its undoubted originality, its unequivocal novelty, its extemporaneous construction and instantaneous explosion, all puns by recurrence, all puns by repetition, and all puns by anticipation, are prohibited.

Secondly, all words spelt differently, having a similar sound, which are carefully collated and arranged in a catalogue prefixed, for the use of little punnikins at schools, to Entick's small dictionary, of whatever sort, kind, or nature they may be, are prohibited. Take for example:

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