of the House at 12 o'clock. WE won't adjourn till morning, We won't adjourn till morning, We won't adjourn till morning,

Till daylight doth appear;

Though midnight's hour be near,
And BROTHERTON cry "Hear!"
When Time rings out his warning,
The intimation scorning,

We won't adjourn till morning,,
Till daylight doth appear.
Members-We won't adjourn, &c.

We'll go on legislating,
Haranguing and debating,
Though wives at home are waiting,
And we have no latch-key.
My hearties, what care we?
The blush of dawn we'll see.
Continue speechifying,
With one another vying
In talking, and in trying

How prosy we can be.

Members-We won't adjourn, &c.

Too short if Life's duration

Be found for legislation,
For our accommodation,

Since clock and watch won't stay;
Why then the only way
To lengthen out the day

Is from the night, you know, boys,
To steal an hour or so, boys;
So let your periods flow, boys,
And jaw and prate away.

Members-We won't adjourn, &c.

The Speaker may be snoring,
Or gape, with yawns imploring,
But we'll persist in boring

His patience till all's blue.
We, like a jovial crew,
Our speeches will pursue,
Though gas-light may be waning,
And BROTHERTON complaining,

Whilst cocks, their voices straining,

Sing "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
Members-We won't adjourn, &c.

A BISHOP MUST BE BLAMELESS.

WITH this text the BISHOP OF EXETER gently smites the cheek of LORD JOHN. Therefore, according to BISHOP PHILPOTTS, a Bishop, to be blameless, must not do these things:

He must not continually dirty his fingers, and spot the purity of his lawn, with pamphleteering ink.

He must not divide the loaves and fishes among his own sons and sons-in-law and nephews, so that the aforesaid shall have two or more loaves, a couple or more of fishes, whilst other Curates have not a penny roll-possess not a single sprat.

He must not equivocate with the poorer clergy, breaking them with the iron rod of expensive law.

He must, in fine, think more of the House of the Lord, and less of the House of Lords!

Dramatic Authors' Militia.

THE letter of the DUKE OF WELLINGTON has created the "most thrilling interest in the Dramatic Authors' Society; who, if the French take London, can, it is plain, no longer take French pieces. Most of the Members' have enrolled themselves as the Foolscap Rifle Brigade. A veteran translator has been unanimously chosen as Colonel, and has addressed the corps in a very animated speech"adapted" to the Society-from NAPOLEON'S Orations. MR. JEFFS, the foreign bookseller of Burlington Arcade, having very generously lent the heroes his first floor front, part of the body are therein able to exercise, whilst others translate and adapt in the attics. The motto selected by the corps is very appropriate : Aut Scissors aut nullus!"

66

The Curtii of Hereford.

AN address, deprecatory of the proposed elevation of DR. HAMPDEN to the episcopal bench, which has been presented by the clergy of the Archdeaconry of Hereford to the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, concludes with the passage following:

"We are not aware that any inconvenience will accrue by setting aside the appointment of DR. HAMPDEN. It may occasion a temporary hiatus, a momentary chasm, in the arrangements of the Church; but we can assure your Grace that our Church has within her bosom a thousand Curtii ready to leap into the gulf, and that we should not be found wanting in the day of need."

We can easily believe these reverend gentlemen. No doubt there are plenty of clerical CURTII who are quite prepared to leap into the gulf which they allude to; the said gulf being, simply, a Bishop's shoes. Nor, should it require to be filled up, do we in the least question the declaration of the memorialists, that they will themselves be perfectly ready to plunge into the vacancy.

HEARTLESS TREATMENT OF NEW MEMBERS.

We regret to see that the new Members are being constantly shut out of divisions "by accident." The fact is-and we have ourselves suffered from it-until one knows one's way about the House, it is quite a chance if one is not locked out, or locked up. We want a few plain directions printed up, such as "This way to the Lobby. Be in Time!" or an usher in a conspicuous dress, to announce, when the bell rings, "This way, gents!" like the black man in the red coat, who guides people to the halfpenny steamboats, in the Strand.

THE LOVES OF THE NEW POLICE.

WHO was the next policeman ?-he
With the proud air and piercing eye,
Which round a corner, p'rhaps, might see,
With squint of strange intensity.
His truncheon, though the day was gone,
With energetic force he drew,
As if a head to lay it on

Was then the only wish he knew.

'Twas WOPSHOT-once amongst the prime
Of that division known as A,
The gallant corps that, in its time,

Has ever kept "the boys" at bay;

"Twas WOPSHOT, in whose well-lined face The spirit's workings you might trace: At times he wore an idle grin,

And then a fiercer look would come; 'Tis thus the brilliance born of gin Blends with the sterner fruits of rum.

His voice, though mournfully it fell
Upon the unaccustom'd ear,

Had tones that proved its power to tell
Of bitter days and bitter beer.

His countenance, though still the same,

Of wear and tear reveal'd the force, For brandy, sorrow, shrub, and shame, Had o'er his features marked their course.

But now the lustre that had flown

For years, seemed once again to flash
As if two bull's-eyes had been thrown
Within the circle of the lash;
Then WOPSHOT, with a frenzied glare,
Forgetting all his former glory,
Bids his two friends at once prepare
To hear their fallen comrade's story.

SECOND POLICEMAN'S STORY,

You both remember well the day
When, with new capes upon our shoulders,
We stood drawn up in bright array,
To awe and dazzle all beholders.
"Twas when, exalted on his horse,
INSPECTOR BRIGGS review'd the force;
We stood the objects of surprise
To woman's fascinated eyes;

And from their lids a thrill was sent,
That through each young policeman went,
Piercing his cape, coat, vest, and shirt,
As with a sharply-pointed dart,
Until, as if with aim expert,

The arrow nestled in his heart.

It was my doom to be the first
To interchange the playful wink
With one who nominally nursed
Three cherubs habited in pink.
It was my doom to be possess'd

With burning wish to know her name,
Where notes might to her be address'd,
How far she lived, and whence she came.
The wish to know-that burning thirst
Which quenching, but, alas! enrages,
Made me upon the instant curst

With wish insane to learn her wages.
Urged onwards by a wild desire,
I follow'd her and cherubs three,
Determined to explore, inquire,

And walk, though miles it p'rhaps might be, Until I should have learn'd the road l'o that fair thing-of-light's abode.

Down crescent, alley, square and street,
She led me after her a race
So intricate, that of my beat
I very quickly lost the trace.
On did I follow all the day,

Till it became no longer light;
She quickly turned-I lost my way,

Look'd round-and she was out of sight.

At length-be still my throbbing brain!—
I met that lovely maid again;

Down by the Serpentine I found her,
The cherub triad playing near,.

With three life-guardsmen standing round her,
Whispering soft somethings in her ear.
The children gamboll'd by the side
Of Kensington's Serpentian tide,
And no one there had cared a pin
Had the small trio tumbled in;
For feeling duty-all above
Is e'en the most incipient love

'Twas maddening! but now hear e'en worse.
Had blighted hopes been all the curse
That came upon me-I declare it,

I had been man enough to bear it.
But when her eyes met mine, she took

To start, and scream, and faint, and shiver,
Exclaiming, with bewilder'd look,

"She knew I never could forgive her!"
With kicks and struggles on my brow,
Her fervid lips a kiss imprest;
So fiery that I feel it now,

And shall do till my final rest.
That fatal kiss! it was a brand

Among the knot of guardsmen thrown;
Each would have fought me hand to hand-
What could I do! the truth I own.
Each threaten'd to severely trounce
The slave-'twas me, alas! they meant-
Unless the maiden to renounce

I, on the instant, was content.
Pardon me for that coward's act-

But tell me friends, would one of you
Risk being regularly whack'd

By privates in the Life-guards Blue?
I gave her up, with many a sigh-
But oh! the worst is yet to tell;
She angry grew, and raised a cry

That I'd by no means used her well.
"Give it the humbug!" she exclaim'd,
But, to attack me half ashamed,
They let me go. I stole away,

But with a brand upon my brow;
I've been degraded since that day-
I feel the degradation now.

He paused, and mournfully bent down

His throbbing head-while his two friends,

Who felt his agony their own,

Each silently a hand extends.

No language did they deem it right

On that occasion to employ ;

But in the grasp of hand one might

Detect the words " Cheer up, old boy!"

A sickly smile he summon'd up,

But fruitless was the faint endeavour:

He'd tasted degradation's cup,

And he must drain its dregs for ever.

Punch's Cure for the Influenza.

WE have given a great deal of attention to the subject of a cure for the Influenza, from which even the writers and artists of Punch have not been entirely free, and the affair had therefore taken somewhat the aspect of a national calamity. Upon turning the subject deliberately over in our minds with the pitchfork of perseverance, and examining all the symptoms of the disease, of which sneezing is the chief, we have come to the resolution that the best cure for Influenza is the Irish loan, for every body will allow that that is not to be sneezed at.

LINES,

(AFTER WOLFE)

WRITTEN ON THE THREATENED DEATH (ON THE FLOOR OF THE HOUSE) OF JOHN O'CONNELL.

Nor a groan was heard, not a pitying note,

As down on the floor he hurried;
Not a member offer'd to lend his coat,
Or ask'd how he'd like to be buried.

We look'd at him slily at dead of night,
Our backs adroitly turning,
That he might not see us laugh outright
By the lights so brightly burning.
No useless advice we on him press'd,
Nor in argument we wound him;
But we left him to lie, and take his rest,
With his Irish clique around him.
Few and short were the speeches made,
And we spoke not a word in sorrow;

But we thought, as we look'd, though we leave him for dead,
He'll be fresh as a lark to-morrow.

We thought, we'll be careful where we tread,

And avoid him where he 's lying:

For if we should tumble over his head,
"Twould certainly send us flying.

Lightly they'll talk of him. when they're gone,
And p'rhaps for his folly upbraid him;

But little he'll care, and again try it on,

Till the Serjeant-at-arms shall have stayed him.

But half of us asked, "What's now to be done?"
When the time arrived for retiring,

And we heard the door-keeper say, "It's no fun
Our attendance to watch him requiring."

Slowly and softly they shut the door,

After Radical, Whig, and Tory;

And muttering out, "We'll stop here no more,"
They left him alone in his glory.

"The gross total number of non-residents amounted to 3,366, including 1,635 cases of "exemption," and 781 of "license," whilst there were no less than 950 (nearly 1.000!) ordained clergymen o the Chu ch of England, munificently emunerated for their sinecure "services," who were altogether ab ent from the sphere of their important and sacred duties without either license or exemption!"

And wherefore are many of these exempt? The reason-the orthodox reason? Why, some are pluralists and cannot-like Noah's dovebe in two places at the same time. Some preach to Royalty, having the cure of Royal souls; wherefore souls not royal must look to them selves. From the diocese of Exeter alone, there are fifty absentees; BISHOP PHILPOTTS being so rapt in divine meditation that he, doubt less, never misses the truants: otherwise, would he not put forth his crook, and bring back the shepherds to their bleating sheep?

And now for the Curates-the light porters of the Church-what of their salaries? Why

"There are nearly 1000 Curates whose stipends are all under 100%.; and 113 receive less than 50%. a year! The total number of assistant Curates to incumbents who are resident on their benefices amounted (in 1846) to 2642, and the number licensed to 2094. Of these 1192 receive stipends under 100%. a year, and 178 less than 50%. a year."

Poor Curates! How many footmen, warm in ardent plush, cosey in cerulean blue, must look down upon your shabby rusty black, and be thankful that their care is the care of the hats and coats and canes of men,-and not of their immortal souls!

Christmas is coming. We should like-were it possible-to have the heroes of the above "abstract" assembled round some mighty Mahogony Tree. Would the pluralist take soup with six hands-feeding six mouths? Would he take six slices of plum-pudding-six legs of turkies -six mince-pies? Surely, yes; for as he takes the toil and the remuneration of six men, he must needs have sextuple sustenance to strengthen him for his labours.

"SIR,

JEWISH ABILITIES AND DISABILITIES.

To SIR ROBERT INGLIS.

"HATH not a Jew brains? hath not a Jew faculties, conception, memory, imagination, judgment, reason? ruled by the same laws, liable to the sanie punishments, open to the same action, entitled to the same remedy, condemned or acquitted by the same judge and jury as a Christian is? If you tax us, do we not pay? if you rate us, do we not cash up? if you hang us, do we not die? and if we obey your government, shall we have no hand in it? If we are like you in the rest, we ought to resemble you in that. "I am, SIR ROBERT,

Your obedient servant,

TRAVELS IN LONDON.

A DINNER IN THE CITY.

T

"A JEW."

HE glorious company of banquet eers were now pretty well all assembled; and I, for my part, attracted by an irresistible fascination, pushed nearer and nearer my LORD MAYOR, and surveyed him as the Generals, Lords, An bassadors, Judges, and other bigwigs rallied round him as their centre, and being introduced to his Lordship and each other, made themselves the most solemn and graceful bows; as if it had been the object of that General's life to meet that Judge; and as if that Secretary of the Tape and Sealing-wax Office, having achieved at length a presentation to the LORD MAYOR, had gained the end of his existence, and might go home singing a Nunc Dimittis. DON GERONIMO DE MULLIGAN Y GUAYABA, Minister of the Republic of Topinambo (and originally descended from an illustrious Irish ancestor, who hewed out with his pickaxe in the Topinambo Mines the steps by which his family have ascended to their present eminence), holding his cocked hat with the yellow cockade close over his embroidered coat-tails, conv rsed with ALDERMAN CODSHEAD, that celebrated statesman, who was also in tights, with a sword and bag. think it is those little bags which I admire most. The dear crisp curly Of all the articles of the splendid court-dress of our aristocracy. I little black darlings! They give a gentlenian's back an indescribable grace and air of chivalry. They are at once manly, elegant, and useful (being made of sticking-plaster, which can be applied afterwards to heal many a wound of domestic life). They are something extra appended to men, to enable them to appear in the presence of royalty. vastly the idea of a Court increases in solemnity and grandeur when you think that a man cannot enter it without a tail!

How

These thoughts passed through my mind, and pleasingly diverted it from all sensations of hunger, while many friends around me were pulling out their watches, looking towards the great dining-room doors, rattling at the lock (the door gasped open once or twice, and the nose of a functionary on the other side peeped in among us and entreated peace), and Vowing it was scandalous, monstrous, shameful. If you ask an assembly of Englishmen to a feast, and accident or the cook delays it, they show their gratitude in this way. Before the supper-rooms were thrown open at my friend MRS. PERKINS'S hall, I recollect LIVERSAGE at the door, swearing and growling as if he had met with an injury. So I thought the Bellows-Menders' guests seemed heaving into mutiny, when the great doors burst open in a flood of light, and we rushed, a black streaming crowd, into the gorgeous hall of banquet.

Every man sprang for his place with breathless rapidity. We knew where those places were beforehand; for a cunning map had been put into the hands of each of us by an officer of the Company, where every plate of this grand festival was numbered, and each gentleman's place was ticked off. My wife keeps my card still in her album; and my dear eldest boy (who has a fine genius and appetite) will gaze on it for half an hour at a time, whereas he passes by the copies of verses and the flower-pieces with an entire indifference.