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PEN AND INK.
On! pas and mas, with “heirs and hopes,"
For whom you're casting horoscopes,
And whom with anxious care My Dear Young Friend - Misfortune jolly soon oozes out, and you
You're watching as they daily grow, will see as my Gentleman of the Press have already turned against
And guarding 'gainst all grief and woe, me, he only providing me with a single word for a motto out of old
Of this one risk beware! SHAKESPEARE, and which it is all very well for poets to say “Back,"
Permit the child to play with fire, but suppose you have backed, and the luck have gone against you, and your credit beginning to be shy? There is no knowing how human
Or keen-edged knives, should he desire ;
And do not feebly shrink affairs will turn out, and the Prophet may yet pull himself square on
From giving fireworks-powder---guns! coming events; but, my dear young man, I will not disguise it from
With one and all entrust your sons, you that Nicholas have lost, and heavily.
But not with pen and ink ! It says in a daily paper, where I daresay it was pnt in by some of my
individuous detractors : “ The Newmarket Handicap, following in the groove of the other Spring events” (though NICHOLAS do not quite
FROM OUR STALL. see how a handicap can follow in a groove) “resulted in the veriest outsider in the betting winning anyhow. Such a season of reverses to
The author of Society and Ours has now given the stage a more perwhat will become of both of these ill-used classes of the Sporting for a good many tastes, and the plot of Ours sacrificed something to backers, and floorers to prophets, has surely never been known, and fect work of art than either of those very successful comedies. The
story of Society hovered a little too fondly about the borders of Bohemia Community if their bad luck continues is a melancholy conjecture.” Oh, it's a "melancholy conjecture,” is it? Very good, my daily paper; probability for the sake of bringing the characters together in the last
act. But in Caste we have little or no fault to find with either the I am glad ye think so. Speaking personally, I do not consider it as a matter of " conjecture;" it seems to me a certainty-in point of fact, materials or the way in which they are employed. The story turns “a moral.” The course of Nicholas, thank goodness, is tolerably and its interest is unflagging as far as the middle of the third act.
that often-discussed question of social economy-unequal matches, clear. If fortune should again declare against him, he will be quite From that point forward, however, there is nothing except the merit willing to go over to Paris for you, my dear young Friend, and continue in your employment by writing of Art-Criticisms for you on the of the dialogue to retain the audience's attention, for everybody in the Exhibition, he knowing quite as much about it as some which are
piece who deserves to be made happy has been made so some time employed at home by your serious contempories. The Prophet thinks before the fall of the curtain. But MR. T. W. ROBERTSON writes with ihat a series of light and humorous articles on “Eating Horseflesh :
so much point and gusto that we can forgive deficiency in action for by One who knows better than for to do so," might be quite a feature, the sake of excellence in talk. Taking Caste from a literary point of Sir, in your otherwise well-conducted journal. Or, I might see, per- JERROLD wrote his best comedies. Looked at in a dramatic light, it
view, we think it one of the cleverest pieces produced since Douglas haps, whether I happen to have left the MS. of my “ Knurr and of our lively neighbours. In any case, Sir, I trust as you will re- British workman is a gem; and Mr. F. YOUNGE is quiet and artistic Spell”, behind me during one of my passing visits to the gay capital exhibits a thorough
knowledge of stage requirements. The perform
ance of Caste is admirable throughout. Mr. Hare's portrait of the member former services, and not turn a poor, ruinous old man out on the streets, which I am nobody's enemy but my own, and have been Honey's humour is at present a trifle too broad for the Prince of
in a gentlemanly and rather sentimental part. The tone of MR. | known to keep steady for weeks together. Besides, Sir, I am no worse than my prophetic rivals, which have all been let in the hole this sea
Wales's stage, but he will no doubt get rid in time of his tendency to son; and I am still confident, Gentlemen, as my luck will come back exaggerate. Miss Lydia Foote plays with charming tenderness and when the weather gets a little warmer, Nicholas being firmly of pathog; and Miss Marie Wilton is brimful of archness and vivacity, opinion that hitherto the East wind have got into his
head. Rally of our acquaintance could represent it. A little cutting is the only
Miss LARKIN represents an aristocratic elderly lady as no other actress round the old adviser, NICHOLAS! Who sent you the Derby winner of 1865? Who sent you the Derby winner of 1866 ? Who sent you thing needed to qualify Caste for a long and brilliant career: we may the absolute first, second, and third for the '67 St. Leger ? Trust to especially recommend for excision a couple of puns which sadly shocked the Prophet! Rally round him!! And all will yet be joy!!!
our susceptibilities on the first night. NICHOLAS.
Mrs. Scott SIDDONS has a very intellectual face and a neat figure;
but, in spite of these advantages, her performance of Rosalind is unP.S.— I have ventured to draw on you for a few weeks' salary in satisfactory. The lady often puts herself into ungraceful attitudes, advance, and got it cashed in the City.
and her voice is sharp and, to our thinking, unsympathetic. She was P.S. 2.—I do not think it necessary to send my present address.
applauded to the echo on her first appearance at the Haymarket. The company at this theatre seems out of its element in SHAKESPEARE, but
the performance of As You Like It was inoffensive. The Forest of A WEDDED WALTONIAN.
Arden should not be represented with a trim gravel walk and carefully
rolled lawn in the background.
With rod in hand to dangle ;
Ir it looks likely to rain, you had better not go out without your
umbrella, or you may get å soaking. If it does not look likely to
rain, you had better not go out without your umbrella. Our climate's Because, as safe as churches, I always have to buy my fish
uncertain, and you may just as well carry an umbrella as a stick,
especially as you may get wet through if you don't.
Dedicated to the Composers of Fashionable Songs, who may set them to Music
if they can.
Is an avidity
For the flaccidity,
Of the “Drawing-room song," which by Fun is a chid ditty
Tooral lal, looral lal, looral lal, liddity! appear, entitled The Whip. We understand it is to come out in a crack, and that it will have plenty of cuts. We suppose it will be Hansom-ly printed and fare-ly conducted. If so, it may take its rank
True to the Last. with periodicals of long standing. At any rate, it should have a good We understand that Mr. WHALLEY declines to visit the Irish circulation if the police regulations touching the cabs are attended to-Orangemen on the plea that it would be against his principles to cross that is, if every one takes its number first.
MEN WE MEET.
BY THE COMIO PHYSIOGNOMIST.
SOME OLD BACHELORS.
ND it's “Oh! kafoozlum,
This incoherent rav-
No. 4. Tuesday! The C. P. would be looked upon bachelorhood, maidens, and now is your time, if you are anxious that as a_social martyr if he should not sink into irreclaimable fogeydom. MR. PHELPS were to in- No. 1 is the sort of old bachelor that he will become if this sort of sist on reciting passages thing goes on much longer. He sees it coming. He will be as bald from Manfred to him for as an egg, and as round as one. He will fall into the habit of wearing two hours and a half shabby clothes and double neck-cloths, with high collars. He will every morning while establish friendly relations with the waiters at SIMPSON's, and he will the philosopher was at learn all their Christian names.
He will get work. MR. Phelps to know the peculiarities of every distinct
would not dare to at- bin in Simpson's cellars. He will gradually tempt it. The C. P. would be accounted an object of pity if (say) LORD become not at all unlike a head waiter, as is JOHN MANNERS were to insist upon pouring water into the philosopher's the way with old bachelors who customarily trousers pockets every day from 11 to 1.
dine at favourite taverns. His tastes will But it would never occur to LORD John
become the chosen study of the gentleman MANNERS to avail himself of such a privilege
who carves, and the gentleman who carves if he possessed it. The exercise of such a
will be able to spot the C. P.'s favourite cut privilege would be regarded (and rightly so)
in any joint you like to mention. He will as a social_ outrage. But when SIGNOR
not have to ask for his glass of curaçoa after SCAMPIANO FILTHINI takes upon himself to
dinner—it will be brought to him as a matter pour dislocated “Trovatore," or intermit
of course, and his oyster sauce will be as tent “Champagne Charlie” into the philo
populous 'as a St. Giles's lodging-house. This sopher's ears every forenoon of the week, the
is the bright side of his cloud; but there is philosopher is looked upon as an unfeeling
another way of looking at it, and it is when brute if he gives FILTHINI into custody. The
he thinks of the long, long, solitary evenings indignation of society against MR. PHELPS
in furnished lodgings, the intervals of dreary would be unbridled. The contempt for
illness with loving tenderness at so much a LORD JOHN MANNERS would be universal.
week to wait on him; friendless old age, and But SCAMPIANO FILTHINI is an object of pity
Death in Apartments, with only a SIMPSON's and of sympathy, and the C. P.'s next door
waiter to say, “Dear! dear!" when he makes neighbour (the clergyman who orders bells
his second and last appearance in the first
No. 5. to be rung because it's Tuesday) throws
column of the Times-it is when he thinks of halfpence to him, and beckons him into
all these possibilities that he feels tempted to exclaim, “Now, maidens, the front garden. His organ isn't loud
NOW is your time!" enough in the roadway!
By the way, this same Simpson's affords an admirable opportunity for The C. P. feels that before he can go on he must get up and break the study of prosperous old-bachelorhood. No. 2 shows two specimens a plaster cast of BYRON.
Phew! Better now!
who have dined at the C. P.'s table every day during the last two “Some Old Bachelors." Well, well, it's rather a painful subject years. The taller one of the two was once (the C. P. thinks) a proctor, with the C. P., maidens. He must
and he is now a solicitor. The C. P. does not think he is a sharp be permitted to play around it,
sort of solicitor, because he is always a long time in making dance up to it, sniff at it, turn to
up his mind on any point that may arise in something else, revert to it once
conversation. He settles nothing without more, and dally coyly with it be
looking at it from every point of view, and fore he can make up his mind fairly
whenever his opinion is asked on any questo embrace it. His head of hair is
tion, professional or otherwise, he goes not what it was, and his limbs have
through a sort of “personation entertainnot kept pace with his-well, waist,
ment” of Trial by Jury, in which he reprein the matter of filling out. He
Bents, alternately, counsel for prosecution, sleeps after dinner on his club sofas,
witnesses, counsel for defence, witnesses, judge he begins to find that evening
summing up, jury deliberating, and foreman parties bore him; and he is be
announcing verdict. The shorter gentleman, coming critical in the matter of
a bank cashier, is rather a jolly form of old female beauty. He sees the hollow
bachelor. He is a wag in his way, and he is ness of most things; and he wears
especially a wag at a dinner-table. He has slippers, a dressing-gown, and no
jokes for the waiter, good things to say to the collar, whenever he has a chance.
carver, and a little professional chaff for the He finds it necessary to select the
money-taker. elements of his dinner with dis
No. 3 is an old bachelor who don't regret crimination ; and he goes about
his old bachelorhood. He is probably a comwith his hands in his pockets. He
mercial traveller of the old school, who knows cannot disguisg from himself that Bala
every town in the United Kingdom by heart.
chin-chucking terms with every chambermaid in Great Britain and
A HINT OF SPRING. Ireland, to say nothing of our Colonies and other Dependencies. He is in his glory when sitting as chairman at a convivial meeting; and,
Warm weather has come—at one spring, indeed, he always contrives to impart something of a harmonic air to
Let's hope that it's bound to remain nowevery assemblage at which he happens to be present. If he goes to
The lambkin, poor innocent thing, the theatre, he says, “Hear, hear!” and he can't sit down to a chop
Indulges in springs on the plain now. with a friend without voting his friend or himself "into the chair." No. 4 is an old bachelor who does regret his old bachelorhood. He
The blossoms are springing as wellis an old “SIMPSON's" habitué, too. A barrister well-to-do, but, some
The first welcome vanguard of flowers, how, disappointed in his dearest aspiration—to have a home, a wife,
And, hark, what soft murmurs there swell and a family. He will grow old, leave his profession, and finish up as
From the springs, reinforced by the showers. & discontented old nuisance at a Brighton boarding-house. No. 5 is a very tiresome form of old bachelor, that is common enough
They suggest an idea which suits at all places of public entertainment. He is an old bachelor with a
To honour sweet Spring, the new-comer:
I must order a pair of new bootsgrievance. Everything is wrong. If he is at dinner, his fish is a studied insult, and his meat a deliberate outrage. He is always
With side-springs, for croquet in summer. reporting somebody, and the general impression concerning him is, that he is not a man to be trifled with. He is supposed to be the
Vaticination. mysterious creature who writes all those letters to the Times and other morning papers every day. For years the C. P. wondered who in the
The ancients were right in using but one word for "poet" and world the people were who took the trouble to do these things for "prophet." The poet is indeed a seer. Our readers have probably nothing, and as soon as he made the acquaintance of his friend over read the plea of the agricultural labourers on strike in Buckinghamthe way, his doubts were set at rest.
shire--a county, by the way, which is represented by that friend of the No. 6 is another fine crusted old bachelor. He is a poor old peer, labouring classes, the RT. Hon.
Benjamin Disrael?—so we may preliving in lodgings in Sloane-street, on three hundred a year. Hé sume their condition is more happy than that of labourers in districts went wrong in his youth, spent every penny he could realize, and he less fortunate. One portion of the plea runs thus :is now enjoying a friendless and rather disreputable old age. He is Where are we labourers with our industry? Why, on the verge of pauperism. very touchy, very haughty, very penniless, and very much involved in We ask that we may live-not ar paupers, but by our own industry. We are willing
, debt. The C. P. believes that the Nobility of Great Britain have established a species of
We wonder if these poor fellows knew when they penned these Friendly Society to prevent any member of
sentences, that a poet had anticipated their words in "the Lay of the their body coming to utter and unmistake
** Only claim is this, able grief, and that it is on an allowance
With labour stiff and stark, from this society that the poor old gentle
By lawful turn his living to earn man contrives to exist. If the C. P. is mis
Between the light and dark;
His daily bread, and nightly bed, informed as to the existence of such a
His bacon and drop of beersociety, he begs to recommend such a scheme
But all from the hand that holds the land, to the consideration of all noblemen who
And none from the overseer!" have the credit of their order at heart.
No 7 is the Boulogne old bachelor. He is not particularly old, nor is he particularly a
Answers to Correspondents. bachelor, for he has a wife, but the wives of Boulogne old bachelors don't count. He
[We cannot return rejected MSS. or sketches unless they are accomthrashed his wife till she ran away from
panied by a stamped and directed envelope.] him with a waiter from the établissement,
H. A. C., New Cross.—That “A-merry-cur” joke has gone to the dogs and as this was precisely what he was
long since. aiming at when he thrashed her, he didn't
OXONIENSIS.—We do not require acrostics. Other correspondents are take it much to heart. He is, of course, a
requested to accept this intimation-C. F., Notting Hill, and Cornubia,
among others. captain, and he plays at billiards a good deal.
Nameless.-An aimless joke. In the initial are two old men belonging to the worst form of old
B. B.-Apply to our advertising department. bachelorhood. They speak for themselves—the C.P. declines to have T. C., Doughty-street.-However did you come to hit out that new and anything whatever to say about them.
brilliant idea about Pat-riots ?
ANON.- If you can't be clever, try to be original.
F., Cambridge, is recommended to abandon the career of writing bad
comic copy, or he will end by doing a burlesque ! We met ; and on my heart she made
J. T. S., Maida-vale.—Perhaps he did. He certainly has not made So vivid an impression,
G. C., Leeds.- Not quite up to the mark.
W. A. observes “if the following piece strikes us we may throw it into
our paper. Even if it did strike us we should compel him to keep the But I am poor-and she is rich !
peace. She's lofty-and I'm humble !
Dot.-Clearly in his dot-age.
ZAMIBL has got worked into a naughty temper by frequent rejection of A diff'rence of position, which
(to borrow his expressions and spelling) bis "villanous doggerel." Poor Z.! Procured my love a tumble.
When it comes to casting the charmed' bullets, we know whence he will be I would my heart were Bostonite,
able to get the lead. Since we are doomed to sever,
M. E. B.-We really cannot undertake to answer such queries.
GustavUS ADOLPHUS will find, if he consults our back numbers, that
his acrostic was rejected.
Declined with thanks–J. P., Thames-street; J. J., Sunderland; M. H.,
Furnival' s-inn; J. N. 0.; J. H. H., New Brighton; A. B., Perthshire; Brummagem, Ware !
C. W., Torquay; E. L. W., Exeter; T. G. K., Plymouth; C. F. B.; Fact; A BIRMINGHAM paper, alluding to a new form of fork, combining the E. A. B., Savile-row; C. J. R.; Brassey Fitz-Windell; Psyche ; G. D. S., qualities of both fork and spoon, produced by Messrs. ELKINGTON, New Wandsworth; W. F. Battey; M. A. J., South Hackney; C. E. winds up in this way :
Burton Crescent; Memento Mori; Pollie - -; A Horrid Creature; W.L ; “There is every prospect of its becoming popular, since the inventor, through A Weasel; R. F.; 0. W.; J. M., Reading; H. W. B., Mildmay-park;
S. B.; A. J.; J.
L. L., Bristol ; A Constant Reader; D. J. John o'Groat's; his design, like so many others, is of a simple character,” etc. If the inventor is of a simple character, it is not difficult to guess Asmodeus; W. H. S. A., Penge; G. E. P; F.; H. J. T.; Latiger ;
R. G. Westminster; Philopægmon; T. H. H.; E. T. Stockwell; the origin of the spoony suggestion.
F. E. B., Bury St. Edmunds; K., Bayswater; E. T., Hulme; M. W.C.;
E. W. Chard; G. P.; G. C. N.; T. K., Borough; K., Putney; H. J. C., Will it Wash ?
Colchester; Random Riddle; Curiosity; D. P., Liverpool; T. N., Wuy is a laundress like an insult ?- Because she gets up your ! May M.; H. E. V. D.; J. C., St. Leonards; A. M. C., St. Andrews;
Windsor; T. T., Hackney; Lindley Murray; “Absolom;" Litton; clar.
E. C., Ipswich; F.; Anti-Cat,