Punch 1842: Vol 3
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= —~)- = : od AW 4 a X \ . = ~ A): ~ ee, Vv ‘\ ~— a. ‘Ss i Sw» 2 4 ia . Wy ijt i? ‘ ae ) } \ nee <7 { | epee . : — j "9? > Z ae) I aia} Z Y {hj i \ ' Ne | (fy AD w | . uy , y Whi Vy y / if | ._ = ay iN PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET. AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, MDCCCXLII. PREFACE. Wuat shall we say for ourselves?) What apology shall we make to the thousand- and-one prophets who predicted our early dissolution, for again disappointing them ? OUR THIRD VOLUME! Hem! We pull out our frill, and advance our best carved leg in admiration of ourselves. We feel that we have made the “ Times,” and bestowed an immortality upon “our Morning Herald.” What a morality have we taught! Our wit has converted our deformity into beauty. The sweetness of our philosophy has changed the “shrill treble” of our voice to “ golden harmonies.” We are no longer the vagabond brawler of bye lanes and alleys—the baited of police- men—the motley mendicant of the drama. No; we are now—what word can express the thing we are but—*“ Puncu?’ ‘ | | | i PUNCH’S PREFACE. It is narrated of the philosophic Bayle, that his only relaxation from the severest studies, was to wrap his cloak around him, and watch the vagaries of Puncu. Philosophers have accorded the same homage to ourselves—our weekly show-box is anxiously sought by all who are unwilling to let their minds moulder; and, amid our own wearying exertions for our country’s good, we derive a priceless consolation from the reflection that myriads are made wiser and happier for “ Punc#H.” Gentle readers—sensible Subscribers—we touch our cap, and honestly and heartily wish you a merry Christmas—such as we knew of old, when “ The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen, , The hall was dress’d with holly green Forth to the wood did merry men go To gather in the misletoe : Then open wide the baron’s hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside, And Ceremony doffd his pride.” Scorr. wey < | a U Fewer! | VAY ie * UNCH’S PROLOGUE TO HIS THIRD VOLUME. \ Y A mystic Number, is Number Three ! And I’ve come to assist at ‘Puncu,’ Volume Three.” ) For are we not told And then without pausing a single minute, { vy By Pliny of old He has leap’d to the throttle “4 That three, and but three, were the Sibyllz ? Of our little ink-bottle, And just like a dabchick, has soused himself in it. Help! help! he wili surely be drown’d, And what will the coroner say when he’s found ? ‘We've poked all about with our pen, but O la! We can fish nothing up but his chapeau de bras! Three were the books they ieft behind ; (A second edition who can find ?) Three are the thimbles, and only three, That have covered the wonderful little pea. The Poor-law Commissioners are no more ; Their spell would be broken if they were four ;— And never again could the poor be fed The other sprite On a ha’porth of cheese and a ha’porth of bread. Doth now alight, Fatal that Number has been, for we i As though to inquire “ What are you at ?” Married our wife from Number Three ; O my! what a pair of luminous eyes, : And won’t the next year as ever is, be ‘We never saw any so bright for their size, And so wide awake, Eigh d forty-three ? | ghteen hundred and forty-thre O wouldn’t they make Over the paper and on to our quill, Two “ Union-pins” for a satin cravat, Jumping from table to window sill, With one of the “ Albert ties ?” Are two little imps, . , As lively as shrimps Gingerly over the table he trips, : Before they are boil’d—Will they never be still ? | Swaying his body about from the hips, } : As much as to say One has settled at last—such a strange little prig— If you wish to convey In a square-cut coat and a full-bottom’d wig, To the world that you’re inade out of porcelain clay, And under his arm he has placed, ha! ha ! You'll own that my style is the right time o’ day ! Such a queer little three-corner’d chapeau de bras ; The buckles are silver he wears in his shoes, “Tm Wit,” says he, Which were made when they used to be square at the toes. “So, Signior P—, Bless us and save us ! how changed he appears, *Twill be rather hard if we cannot agree. His pucker’d-up face seems the text-book of years, M , 2 And no one would think that a moment ago, You've occasioned some sport He was skipping about like Ma’amselle Cerito! In my own joyous court, So I’ve come to assist in your Volume Three ; With his toes turn’d out as tho’ he had stood And, to prove my good will, In the wooden box, Let me creep in your quill, *Yclept the stocks, And each word shall sparkle that flows from its tip. Which is used to turn naughty girls into good; We can surely devise He hands us a card which we never can hope To be witty and wise, To decipher without we’d a microscope ; For Wisdom lies hid in the fount where you dip !” But the little sprite Now does the polite, Presto ! And stepping up with a gentle hem ! Just so— It’s Doubleu—i—s—dee—o—m.” Wit flew to our pen, “Wispom !—Are you that hoary sage ? And its nib we saw then— * Really you seem very small for your age.” Was gm of the very first water. ‘ Says he, So, tho’ wondrous the tomes that we’ve written may be, “T be, You'll find they ’ll be nothing to Volume Three ! | . : : Says, “ The name you see, belongs to me, Or the time was, if anything, shorter— | | | 2 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. | ST. Pp AUL’S AT SEA ; It was afterwards discovered that the 600 pretended negroes had | ; sailed for Jamaica, takin+ their places as—white passengers! The | We take the following from The Times :— fact is, they had stained their skins with nitrate of silver or lunar | ‘« On the passage out in the Acadia, Captain Alexander Ryrie reports that, caustic to pass for blacks—a fraud deposed to by a chemist who had | on the 16th of May, in latitude 46, longitude 47, there were scen about 100 sold the commodity. icebergs, some of them of large size, and one from 400 to 500 feet high, bearing We have received a letter from Cuba (from “our Own Corre- so strong a resemblance to St. Paul’s, that it was at once christened after | spondent,”) on the matter. He states that the authorities are so that celebrated cathedral. The dome was perfect, and it required no extraor- | indignant at the fraud, that they are about to pass a law to prevent dinary stretch of imagination to supply the turrets, pinnacles, and other parts of | its repetition. Henceforth, every person who buys a black man will the building. But this is not the most extraordinary part of the affair ; on the | be allowed to boil him before paying for him. If he stand colour, the | homeward passage of the Acadia to Liverpool, on the 6th inst., the same object bargain stands good ; if not—nor. was seen ; and the immediate exclamation on board was, ‘ There is our old friend St. Paul’s.’’ In the interim between the two views, the iceberg had drifted about 70 miles.’’ There is something more than curious in this ice-formed cathedral. SONGS OF THE SEEDY.—No. XVI. We have little doubt that it is intended as a significant warning to certain dignitaries of the church—to certain bodies of protesting Christians. For our part, iceberg as it is, we think it should be im- mediately dignified by deans, prebends, canons, choir, and all the other ecclesiastical ornaments to be found in the stone St. Paul’s. We should mightily like to have the appointment of the whole body. We think we could lay our finger upon a bishop, whose hot political zeal would be reduced to a very healthful temperature, if submitted to an ice-pulpit. Then his discourses would have the refreshing coolness of his own port. Most of us know what hot Bishop is ; My lute hath only one sad tone, It hath a mournful twang, Its other strings are crack’d and gone, By one unlucky bang. PUNCH DELIVERED GRATUITOUSLY, You ask me why I don’t restore | Its early sweetness, and fresh cord it ; Oh, no! T’ll play on it no more— Between ourselves—I can’t afford it. LOSING HIS BALANCE. therefore, for a trial, we should mightily like to taste the bishop we think there are many attached to the stone edifice, very much too warm for zealous churchmen—they would cool down admirably, pre- ferred vo sa iceberg. As for the congregation, we could ship off thousands who, with lips could name—well iced. You tell me that my light guitar We know not whether Sir Christopher Wren’s Saint Paul’s could Is now as silent as the grave, spare a few of its body for its glacial counterpart, but we have no T Though ie : edad — neni etinine | : : ; “ > - i b : doubt that Sidney Smith can immediately resolve that question. We Alas! to etzike it ones again, | | More power than I possess requires; The effort would be worse than vain— My light guitar has lost its wires. of Chr’stian love, have hearts of snowballs—zealous church-goers My heart, my lute, my light guitar, who come and go, frozen in their orthodoxy, whose constitutional All broken as they be, piety never rises to blood-heat. As like unto each other are There is, however, one appointment that we insist upon having in As little pea to pea. our own gift—it is that of Beadle, which, in the handsomest way, we Come honest, come Tate, gatine, at e shall bestow on Mr. PLumr REE, whose recent efforts in Parliament to In one lament ye all are blended ! Hang on your nails against the wall,— stop by statute the chirping of sparrows on Sundays, demands the I can’t afford to get ye mended. ee of the whole Christian world. Neither, shou ir ANDREW AGNEw apply for the place, do we think we could find it i i ‘ 5 WAR PRIZES. oo it in our hearts to refuse him the appointment of Pew A cent1emam at Holborn Chapel, Holborn Bars, a few nights We have not entered : ip : since propounded this doctrine, viz., “ That the tenth of all spoils of | are aware that the earphone 63 bale g sy aga bs Christian States” ought to be devoted to the Church! A deputation — be repeated on board the iceberg St. Paul’s, the more especially should of Chelsea and Greenwich pensioners attended on the occasion, and it float into a warm latitude. We have heard of the dissolution of | ¥°T® 5° convinced that a tenth of everyt he ing obtained by war was | abbeys ; but what a dissolution would there be of the Cathedral, as, justly Church property, that both Greenwich and Chelsea —_ oo yece by piece, it melted into the relentless waters! We have, how- | * tithe of their wooden lop to 04 manufactured ‘into Lucifers for the ever, provided for the dignitaries and the congregation; nay, the service of the Chapel aforesaid! Beadle and the Pew-Opener shall partake of our benevolence: for, in the true spirit of philanthropy, we propose to present one and all with—a cork jacket ! HORTICULTURAL INTELLIGENCE. BLACK AND WHITE. Tue French papers give the following story—received neat as im- ported from the isle of Cuba. Six hundred negroes had been sold by an American slave-dealer, but in three weeks after the sale, they all disappeared in one night. ; Tue new process of grafting cherries on te pieces of stick, by means of twine, is just now very popular; and the introduction of a pieee of cabbage leaf between the fruit itself and the wood on to which it is grafted, givee an aspect of great freshness not unmixed with 5 cheerfulness, CONVICTED OF HIGH TREES-ON. TIDE TABLE. Ir will Le high water in the coal-cellar of the Ship-tavern, on Milbank, at half-past two in the afternoon, and the tide will ebb from the front | A LEFT TEMANT OF THE LUMBER TROOP. kitchens on Barnes’.terrace, at three Pp. m., on Tuesday. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARi. 3 THE NATURAL HISTORY OF COURTSHIP. CuapteR I.—ConcERNING THE ORIGIN THEREOF. ND be sure you make it sharp,” ex- claimed the blacksmith’s lady, as she stood over him at his work. “As the tongues of Hydra, my love,” answered the obedient husband, bouncing his hammer upon the anvil with an unnecessary clatter, so as to drown the sound of his wife’s voice. BS Of the two noises he liked that of his Zée@ own making by far the best. em =“ And when Eros comes back with peeve) the shaft,do not lose a minute in finish- ed ing the arrow. Where can he be stay- He has been gone nearly an hour, and it is not quite two hun- ing ? eee miles to Paphos! Meantime it is really quite distressing to think how many of my admirers this newly come-out beauty may have withdrawn from the sphere of my attractions.” At this moment the missing young gentleman appeared, and the arrow was completed in atrice. “ And now,” began Venus, when her son was equipped, “ fly your swiftest to where all the eligible men in the world are flocking to behold this Psyche, whose beauty is said to rival mine. Transfix her heart—inflame her with a passion for something mean ;—for the clerk of a Memphian bank—or, if you like, for one of our cyclops. This will spoil her coquetting, and she will soon fret herself into the ugliness of Atropos.” “ Mother, I fly!” exclaimed the dutiful son, suiting the action to ' the word. When the young archer arrived at his destination, he heard that the belle who gave his mother so much uneasiness was dispensing the hospitalities of a féte champetre to the élite of the surrounding plains. He instantly sent in his card, and concealed himself amidst a group of nymphs to watch the effect the announcement would have upon the hostess. , “Good gracious!” exclaimed the beauty, on receiving the card, “ what an odd sensation! Inever felt so strangely in all my life. I—” “ Hadn’t you better faint, my love?” interrupted her chaperon : “there is young Dandelius and several of your admirers looking on.” “No, no. I reallyam too much overpowered for that. To think that he should come to do me homage! All the way from Lemnos, too. Say, how do I look ?” “Divine! Yet, now I examine more closely, there is one stray eurl which—” “To the brook, to the brook, for goodness sake! and let me arrange it.” ‘ Eros, Deus Amoris !’ she repeatedly ejaculated, speak- ing ‘by the card’ “ Where will my triumphs end ?” But Psyche’s agitation was stoicism compared with that of her new visitor. At the first glance his heart was in a flame. He saw—and loved! Had he committed psychological suicide, by shooting himself with one of his own arrows, he could not have been more dead to all around but Psyche. In his ecstacy he dislocated one of his wings, while flapping them for joy. He rushed to the brook where the nymph was arranging her coiffure, but fearful of committing himself to the ill-breeding of a scene, stopped suddenly short, apologised, and politely tendered the compliments of the season. Psyche’s embarrassment was of short duration; she received the god cordially, and pressed him to make a long séjour as the shooting season was just commencing. Alas! with Cupid it was over ; for he not only forgot all about his arrow, but his errand. Time (considerably more than twelve hours) passed on, and again Venus had to call her son a naughty boy for staying so long on his errands ; whilst he,to make amends, sent his anxious motheramessage in which he gave an exaggerated account of the accident to his wing, and referred his detention to that cause. But Venus, a.shrewd woman, was seldom out, though she knew her son was. She guessed the truth. The new beauty did possess all the powers which were attributed to her, had—horresco referens—actually entrapped her son ! The ! but no, she would not call names—thank the gods, she was too well bred for that. “The nameless minx !—to be sure she was called ‘ Psyche ;’ but what did that mean !— butterfly’? A more suitable title would have been ‘ mushroom ;’ for nobody knows who or what her family were ; as to fortune, the Delphian on dits declare she Las not a penny! And to dare to aspire to so splendid an alliance! Something must be done—something desperate. I'll speak to Mercury on the subject, and if he cannot hit upon a prompt and effectual scheme, the whole affair, together with the parties to it, shall be swallowed up in a grand catastrophe. Vulcan must oblige me with an earthquake.” By a fortunate apropos, Mercury had just arrived at the forge with an extensive order for thunderbolts from an “ illustrious personage.” The irate goddess instantly stated her case, which even Vulcan, who was by, agreed was a hard one. Mercury heard her to the end with wonderful patience, and then addressed her thus :— “TI grieve, my dear madam, that any son of mine—but more par- ticularly such a son—should prove so extremely soft as to fall in love. Had it happened before our divorce, I might have cured him by stopping his allowance, or cutting off the entail of the Paphian estate. As it is, however, I am rather glad that this affair has hap- pened. Don’t start. The truth is, it offers me a valuable opportunity for introducing some reforms into the Olympian legislature that I have long contemplated. The privileges belonging to both of us are shamefully cireumscribed by the simple, artless state in which the law of elections at present stands. I of course mean the mutual elec- tion and (by our son) predestination of lovers. Beauty, my dear Venus, will then possess a new power—that delicious one of teasing; while my privilege, chicanery, will also have full scope. What say you? May I count on your support ? Grant it ; and Cupid and Psyche shall be our first victims.” He said ; and off the trio started for Olympus, delighted with the measure. Meantime, Cupid was in the most agonising embarras. He knew full well that, by marrying without parental consent, he stood a dis- gusting chance of being kicked, like his father-in-law, out of heaven. Yet, could he forget Psyche ?—Never. Besides he had no time to reflect, for at that moment she was flirting with Dandelius ; should he cut him out? Distraction ! His mind was made up, and his bow-string—he aimed point blank. His victim approached—he shot—she staggered, and fell—into his arms. “It’s all right!” exclaimed the god, in the poetical fervour of passionate enthusiasm. “She’s mine! Send for Hymen, and tell Bacchus to prepare a champagne breakfast for the entire population !” “Too late!” screamed Venus, who, with Mercury, became dis- agreeably visible to their son. “ Faltering boy ! how dare you act so unworthy of your parentage and education? Alas! as you have inspired the girl with a passion, there is no help for it.” * But un peu de révanche,” interjected the father of Frenchmen,—the light fantastic Mercury. “Since we last met, the union has been repealed. Love was, last evening, partly taken out of your and Nature’s hands—it is now decreed to be an art, which not only yourself, but all under your influence, will in future have to study as a practical science ; and before Hymen’s torch can be lighted you must pass through an inter- mediate state, which, by the DCLX. of Jupiter 1. cap. 11, is intituled— <E- A Here the paper from which the above is translated (a Greek MS. consisting of an acta diurna, called “ The Lemnonian Morning Post, and Olympian Court Circular,” for which we beg to return our sincere thanks to King Otho, who obligingly discovered it amidst some ruins on purpose to present to us,) breaks off. Other historians, and particularly Tooke, in his “ Pantheon,” inform us that, after a | series of reverses, Cupid and Psyche were married, and had one pledge, called “ Pleasure.” That the story: ..uthentic, the exist- ence at the present day of Courtship, as one of thie finest of the fine arts, fully proves. And now, my dear Lady Letitia, cease to simper, and say you are only thirty—You, excellent Miss Smith, who are dying for matrimony, yet have said “ No” to a dozen offers — You, enchanting Angelica, who love Julian to distraction, because your mamma ap- proves of Jenkins—Ycu, amiable Rosa Gaiety, do leave off waltzing with every man who asks you—Let me implore you, beautiful Lydia, not to ask any more my “candid opinion” of your love verses— 4 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Don’t, my dear Muffins, make yourself further conspicuous by walking all day before Ellen’s door—Cease to protest too strongly to the widow, my Lord Scheemer, because she has a couple of thousand per ann.—Forbid, romantic St. Clair, Julia to direct your letters again to the green-grocer’s, and no longer answer her through the Times newspaper—Cease, forlorn bachelors, to advertise in the Sunday Times for connubial felicity and a comfortable competency—Each and every of you, abandon your maladroit, rude, unskilful systems of courtship, and listen to mine; which is based upon immutable prin- ciples ; and will form, when complete, an unerring manual of matri- mony—an infallible hand-book to the heart. ¢ Ane ees ' Hitt Mss NEW BENEFIT-SOCIETY. WE are happy to hear that the poorer classes are forming Benefit- Societies for almost every purpose ; and we have just received information of a Penny Corn and Bunion Club. Any one is eligible who is afflicted with Corns ; but no one can join who is, at the moment, a sufferer from Bunions. ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATIONS FOR THE WEEK. On Monday the Band of Orion will play over Kensington Gardens from seven until nine. SINGING FOR THE On Tuesday Cancer will pass through the breast of the Great Bear, and the Milky Whey will be in the ascendant at Hyde-Park Corner. On Wednesday the Moon will be in the Crescent, but whether Burton or Mornington Crescent we have not yet been able to calculate. On harypee | the Zodiac will be in some commotion—the Fishes getting MILLION. entangled in the Scales. LAYS OF THE LEAN. =. I know thst I am quickly wasting, I feel that I am getting thin ; I see them almost daily basting My clothes, alas! to take them in. And, when they think that I am soundly sleeping, My eyes are gazing—ever fix'd on them ; I see them o’er my waistcoat wildly weeping, Whilst turning down a most tremendous hem. T’ll ask them, wherefore they are gloomy ? Why at my leanness should they start ? Though for my frame my clothes are roomy, I still possess as large a heart. Perchance ’twere better were I somewhat fatter ; But let them banish all their vain alarms, For if success their prayers for me should flatter, They'd press a Daniel Lambert to their arms. PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON IDLER. ! I.—WHICH 1S MERELY INTRODUCTORY. EAR Reader! | once more, at the commence- ment of a new volume, do we | offer you our | hand in greet- ing; not with | the slight for- | mality of here- tofore, but we hope as an old friend. From week to week have we com- muned __ toge- ther in buoy- ant company —haply the whims and sunshine of our harmless _co- lumns_ shave driven away an occasional cloud of vexa- tion; and if we have not ex- actly met at the same board, or saun- tered together on the same promenade, yet let us regard each other with such feelings of companionship, as a passing Opinion 1n which you agreed with us, or found your own ideas reflected, should generate. We confess that we are rather nervous at beginning our new series. Every bather will allow that the first plunge of the season 1s an awkward affair, even if he is not a novice at such aquatic exer- cises, and the sun is out, and the water tepid. So do we feel a slight timidity at making a fresh dive into the stream of public favour, although we trust we have many and kind friends about us, who will lend a hand if required, and come forward in the capacity of a literary Humane Society. We would commence with the usual invocation ; but we found in “ Evening Parties,” after every spell we could summon to our aid, that no muse appeared to inspire us: we almost think the lady has been so much called upon of late, to no purpose, by various amateurs, that when an author in sober earnest raises the cry of “ Help!” she refuses to come. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Neither can we hope for any necromantic assistance from the most potent incantations: even if we illuminated our laboratory (by which, be it understood we mean our solitary attic) with candles made from Madame Tussaud's choicest figures melted down—if we kindled the fire which heated our alembic with the last new plays and ballads—blew it with a full band of ophicleides, trumpets, bassoons, and cornopeans, and damped its ardour when it burnt too fast with certain newspapers and periodicals. But the glamour of magic expired with Dr. Dee ; and the happy purchaser of his piece of small-coal at Strawberry Hill, found no longer any visions reflected on its polished surface: the imp of darkness has not appeared since his celebrated “ Walk ”—possibly feeling hurt at O. Smith and Wie- land, for their assumption of his character: the race of wizards left in dudgeon, when Dobler and Anderson came to conjure at our theatres; and the wrinkled hags of old ordered relays of broom- sticks at the different posting clouds on the air-roads to the Hartz mountains, and flew off, as soon as they became sensible that Vestris, Nesbitt, and Murray, with the score of beauties that twinkle around them, possessed far more powerful spells to enchant us in their eyes and lips. Despairing, at length, to elaborate any new subjects at home, we will rush out into those never-ending miscellanies of original and striking scenes, which cost nothing to study, and never tire by their monotony—the streets of Londox. We adore the streets. We know there are thousands of our fellow- men who regard them merely as the spaces included by two boundary lines of bricks and mortar, subservient only to the purposes of com- merce, or the transition from one spot to another. But we look upon them as cheap exhibitions—al fresco national galleries of the most in- teresting kind, furnishing ever-varying pictures of character or inci dent ; and in this feeling we will loiter on the pavements of their noisy and bustling thoroughfares, and strive to draw our likenesses from the every-day life and every-day people we may there encounter. But we will not keep exclusively to the streets; if occasion requires it we will follow the idlers of this great metropolis to their different haunts—for the idlers alone are we about to sketch in their various spheres and phases. And s0, loitering loungers, we warn you all—“a chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes ;” and he may be at your elbow when you least ex- pectit. The simple pavement-beater of Regent-street ; the listless bachelor of small independence—that unfortunate medium, which debars him from indulging in the most available luxuries, whilst it gives him a distaste for any exertion ; the mere sight-seer from the country ; the habitué of the playhouse; the spectator of the street exhibition—may all find a place in our Physiology. And, finally, in the words of Fielding, we will submit our sketches to the candid reader with only two requests ; “ first, that he will not expect to find perfection therein ; and secondly, that he will excuse some parts, if they fall short of that little merit which it is hoped inay appear in others.” For we would be respectful to all, and not, like the great novelist, fly in the face of the critics, upon whose com- ment we place great weight, seeing that the present is an age wherein people are governed much more by the opinions of others than their own. PUNCH’S LETTERS TO HIS SON. Dedication. TO THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN (WHOEVER HE MAY BE.) = = “Noes My Lorp, Take my word for it, you have greater reason to be proud of | this Dedication than of your wand of office. Having read it, you may, | for the remainder of your official life, walk in the eyes of all men at least half an inch higher. As, however, persons in your exalted rank are not always inevitably promoted to the eminence by the profun- dity of their reasoning powers, or the subtlety of their wit, it may, perhaps, be necessary for me to explain to you why, from this day forward, you should enjoy an increase of official altitude. Few things irk a man more, than to know he has inflicted the heaviest, yet withal the sweetest obligation on another, who yet obstinately remains in the most Stygian ignorance of the fact. Fancy, my lord, a pearl-diver— your lordship may possibly guess the perils of the trade—having plunged to the bottom of the oozy deep; strange, horrid monsters about him ; the ocean booming and rolling over him ; fearful thoughts of his wife and little ones stirring in his breast ; imagine him groping for the treasure which, it may be, is destined to repose upon tke pal- pitating bosom of an Eastern queen. He rises to the surface of the deep—he is on dry land. Happy diver ! he hath fished up an onion— “ Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark’s crown have worn!” He believes his fortune made ; the precious pearl has enriched him, his wife, and little ones for life. Alas, no! the waywardness of Fate denies to his pearl the asylum of a crown, refuses to it the ear ofa queen. No: that pearl, by the very wilfulness of Destiny, is flung among the wash of pigs, and is swallowed with a grunt by that bacon hog, altogether unconscious of the treasure to be dissolved into nothing by his porcine chyle. 6 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. future Lords Chamberlain, that I here insist on dwelling upon the obligation I have laid them under, by dedicating to them these— adamantine letters ! Having resolved to publish, I looked serenely round the world for a nominal patron. At first, I thought the Lord Chancellor, as legal guardian of the defenceless rich—for there is not one of these letters that may not be considered as the orphan inheritor of invaluable wealth, that is, if wisdom always went as at the trunk-maker’s, by avoirdupois weight,—I thought the genius of the woolsack might fitly protect these costly epistles ; but reflecting upon the many orphans, the many lunatics, too, yet upon his lordship’s hands, I instantly re- solved not to swell the number of his responsibilities, and, therefore, thought again. Next, the rattle of the Prince of Wales fell upon my ear. “ These Letters,” said I, “shall be dedicated to the Prince: they will especially serve to commemorate the day on which his Royal High- ness was taken out of long frocks—the brevity of every epistle will touchingly illustrate the shortness of his coats.” My wife exulted at the idea. “ The very thing,” said she ; “for, isn’t there our last boy, Ugolino? he’ll want something as he grows up; and the Prince can’t do less than make him a tide-waiter.” The mercenary specula- tion—for all women are not mothers of Gracchi—determined me to give up the Prince of Wales. “No!” said I, “the dirty motive- makers of the world will be sure to misconstrue the act ; they will swear that ‘ Puncs’ was only loyal that he might be prosperous ; they will say that he only worshipped the rising pap-spoon that his own brat might catch the fragments that fell from it.’ My heart swelled at the suspicion, like a new-blown bladder, and I struck off from my list the Prince of Wales. I next looked into the Houses of Parliament. Here, I thought, are people whom the world sometimes persist in taking for my blood relations ; and, it must be confessed, that both in the Upper and Lower Senate words are spoken and capers cut, that—were I to be impeached for either—it would, I fear, be very difficult for me to prove an alibi. “Why, there’s fifty of em, at least,” said Judy, “that you can’t persuade the world ar’n’t your own kith and kin.” “ And for that reason, Judy,” I replied, “I will have none of ’em. No; Iam fully aware of the relationship myself ; but it’s their dirty pride that chokes me—their arrogance that makes them sometimes pass me, even in Parliament-street, as if I was to them an alien in blood, in manners, and religion. And why ?—I get my living in the open air. Well; didn’t Julius Caesar, the Duke of Marlborough, do the same ? And when Wellington and Sibthorpe were on service, didn’t they labour, too, sub die? Can you gather laurels in a back parlour—can you grow bay upon a hearth-rug ?” It was then, my lord, I resolved to dedicate these Letters to you. The reason is obvious: the Lord Chamberlain never did anything for “Puncu!” You have graciously let me alone ; and I have flourished under the benignity of your neglect. I pitch my stage wheresoever I will, in Westminster or not, without your warrant : I act my plays without your licence. I discourse upon the world as it is, on the life that is moving about us, and on the invisible emotions of the heart of man, and pay no penny to your deputy. I increase in social im- portance ; for I am not withered by your patronage. Had Fate made me, for these last two hundred years, the master of a pley-house, how different might have been my condition !—Had I, since the Act which made you protector and censor of the dramatic sisters, Melpomene and Thalia—poor girls! there are people who swear you have treated ’em worse than Mrs. Brownrigg used her ap- prentices—had I felt your patronage, how often had I been banco rotto,—how often had I played—understand me, not paid—a “ doleful dump” in Portugal-street ! Wherefore, then, do I dedicate to you these Letters?—From an exalted spirit of independence. I owe you nothing, my lord, and have flourished rich upon the obligation. “ PuncyH.” CROPS AND THE WEATHER. They have already begun to gather in the barley for barley-water in some parts, and a small grower at Brompton housed a pound and a half of new potatoes last week, from the sixteenth of an acre of ground, with a fine S.S.W. aspect. The buttereups are very promising in the neighbourhood cf London, and if the fine weather continues, we may expect to see more of them. Groundsel, which has lately risen into an important article of commerce, is plentiful on the romantic embankments that skirt the suburban lanes ; and when we see the individuals clambering half way up in the dangerous pursuit, with a ditch yawning at their feet, we are reminded of the de- scription by Shakspzare, of “those who gather samphire.’”’ British Assoctation FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERYTHING IN GENERAL, AND NOTHING IN PARTICULAR, ENTLE READER this enlightened body is now at Manchester, whither we have despatched our own reporter, for the purpose of collecting ! all the interesting informa- ‘ tion to be had; and we are ! happy in laying before our j readers the following very | exciting particulars : — Pro- | fessor Dowell, in opening the business of the day, was glad to observe a large attendance i} of foreigners. There was the "2 distinguished Herr Cracken- 2 jaw, from Poland ; Professor = High-Sky-High, the great — Astronomer; and, besides —e Him, Punch ; there was also | Herr Judy. A deputation was also present from the Eel Pie Islands, | and Professor Gratisgrub was also amoug the distinguished foreigners. The Chairman began by announcing the gratifying fact, that the Queen had graciously placed at the disposal of the Association, the modern building in Richmond Pari, formerly used as an Observa- tory and latterly converted into a cow-house. (Hear! hear!) A de- putation had visited it, and found it very commodious. It was cer- | tainly falling to pieces, and no one could venture up the stairs; but a | civil engineer, and a very civil engineer he was, (hear! hear !) had said | that it would hold together for twenty years, for any use that the Association were likely to put it to. It was stated that the Royal Society had declined the building, but they, the Association, had jumped at it. (Loud cheers.) A Member begged to inquire whether the building was not some- times resorted to by the park-keepers in a shower. The President admitted that it was. He, however, thought the building chiefly of importance, as it gave a sort of local habitatior to the Association, which had hitherto had no direction to give, if called upon for its address at a moment’s notice. (Hear !) It was then moved, that the children of members be admitted. A member approved the suggestion, and proposed, that the admis- sion should be confined to the children alone ; but as it was sug- gested, that the presence of the parents would be necessary to make the fun, of which the children were to have the benefit, the amend- ment was withdrawn. OFFICERS, CIVIL AND MILITARY. The association next proceeded te appoint the sections, and to arrange the business of the week. The president was happy to say that the civil authorities had met the association in a proper spirit, and had resolved to throw open to members the Blind Asylum, the Deaf and Dumb School, the New Prison, (hear! hear!) and last, but not least, the Asylum for Lunatics. (Tremendous cheering.) A member wished to know whether any order would be required for obtaining admission to the Lunatic Asylum ? The president had no hesitation in saying, that the mere fact of belonging to the association would be considered, of itself, a suffi- cient qualification to obtain an introduction to any of the Asylums for Lunatics. (Loud cheers.) The sectional meetings commenced on Thursday. Secrion A included Physics ; and Professor Wocdenhead read :- paper on the Blue-pill, taken in connexion with the Black-draughs, which excited considerable interest. A paper was also read on the Distribution of Light, which included a very interesting episode on the Window-tax. A practical illustration of the Polarization of Light PUNCH, OR THE LOND ON CHARIVARI. was unexpectedly exhibited, by a scaffolding-pole being accidentally thrust through the window of the room in which the members were sitting. a B.—Dr. Dulltone made some observations on the pen- dulum of a clock, as affected by the playfulness of a kitten; and concluded, from experiments he had made, that no clock could bear more than two minvtes worrying. He had also remarked that a person who ate well and took little exercise rapidly fattened ; while the Bedouin Arabs, who hunted a great deal, were lean and sinewy. 