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as looked like fairies in their musling bowers; not as I held with tho way as them young gents was a-staring and a-making remarks as was too free.

But, law bless you, I don't think as Td been in tho placo ten minutes beforo I lost sight of Mrs. Simmons and all. So I wont about a-looking at things as was dancing sweeps, and acting of plays, for all the world like Brookgreen Fair, as I once went to when quite a gal. After a bit I wont for to see a wild-beast show, as was certingly wery natural for stuffed and ono donkey, as was life-liko even to eating.

What pleased m« most was a gentleman in the name of Toole, aB was lecturin', and certainly wonderful he was, as showed off a Btout gentleman, as I should call a fino man. I see as they was parties as know'd all manner as was wondorful to hear; not as I could seo why ever some idicts kop' a-grinnin' and a-shovin' so as I couldn't hear distinct, but it must have been very fine. Just as wo was a-comin' out I fell in with young Sam, as took mo to where his mother was, and a very nice dinner we got, and plenty of very good beer, as I enjoyed, and very agreeable everything was, and when wo was goin' off agin in tho Pallis, that Sam said as ho would have a ice, a thing as I never tasted, and was persuaded, but, lor, the first mouthful was that shock, for I swallowed it sudden, thro' its being that slippy, and oh, the hagony as I was in, and if it hadn't been for hot brandy and water constant, I don't think I should havo lived thro' it, and was bent double, I may say, hours as brought on that headache as I was distracted, so I says, "Let mo alono quiet in a corner," and there I Bat till Mas. Simmons come to say it was timo to go, and she'd had a pleasant day, and I dare say Bhe had ; but the fright as we had to get into the train quite upset me, and I was that bad all tho way homo that they put mo in a cab at London-bridge, and when I got homo Buown had to fetch Mr. Midget, as attends me, as said it was a morcy it didn't bring on somewhat as was serous, and mo in them agomos thro' being attacked by rheumatics as laid mo up for many a day, and it's my opinion, on tho whole, as them Fancy Fairs ain't much suited to mo, tho' certainly very beautiful they are, and if they do good, why, of course, I ain't ono to speak agin them, tho' thoy don't suit mo.


III. —HORATIO'S "HAMLET." [No antiquarian can be insensible to tho great historic value of certain manuscripts lately discovered at Elsinore. As soon as it became known that the documents wero in the handwriting—and indeed bore tho signature—of the unfortunate Prince Hamlet's favourite equerry, the most intense excitement was created in literary circles. It has always boen tho conviction of scholars that Horatio Bpent tho latter years of his life—years of sadness and solitudo—in the compilation of a biographical work relating to the careor of his royal and unfortunate master. This hypothesis is justified by tho recent discovery, and the scientific world is at longth in possession of an authentic life of Hamlet, from the pen of one who had ample opportunities of hearing his conversation and studying his character. Wo havo great pleasure in laying before the public certain extracts copied from the original manuscript by our Special Commissioner in Denmark.]

Extract From The Preface.

Even in the life of the meanest mortal there are many events calculated to interest the student of human nature. How much moro entertainment and instruction may be found in the adventures of such an exalted personage as the hero of the following brief memoir; an individual raised by birth and pare ntago to the most eminent of positions, and ultimately driven to the most painful and untimoly of deaths by the force of circumstances over which he had literally no control! It is with sentiments whioh may actually be more easily imagined than described, that I endeavour to recall the most interesting events in tho life of His Koyal Highness the late-lamented Prince Hamlet.

Extracts From The Bioorafhy. I was introduced to tho Princo soon after ho came to complete his education at Wittenberg University. He was then a tall, slim youth, excessively fond of field sports, and betraying very little partiality for study. I had tho distinguished honour of cleaning his .Royal Ilighness's boots on several occasions during his stay at college. He was also good enough to consult mo on tho subject of a Valentino which he was about to send to Miss Polonius, tho only daughter of the Prime Minister. I wrote some verses to obligo him, beginning with "The rose is red." I forgot the rest, but my distinguished friend waB good enough to say that he thought them very sparkling and opigrammatic. I took the liberty of enquiring whether he really felt attached to tho young lady; but on his replying, "Mind your own business," my instinctive tact led mo to change tho subject, and I immediately talked

about the weather, on which theme tho Prince was "always amusing and original.

A few days after this memorable conversation I ventured to ask him whether ho bolieved in apparitions. TTia reply was so characteristic that I at once transferred it to my common-place book. "Why, no, sir," ho answered, " but I should think nono the worse of a man after hearing that ho bolieved in apparitions; for he who can refuse credence to the assoverations of honest ignorance is liablo to be misled by tho protestations of Machiavellian subtlety. I don't exactly see why; but it it so, and there's an end of it."

Some years later I took tho liberty of testing my royal friend's opinion on this question by means of a practical joko, which unfortunately led—as practical jokes generally do—to the most serious results. Having obtained a remarkably largo turnip and scooped out tho interior, I introduced a pocket-lantern into the cavity. After mounting this formidable looking object upon a long pole—which I draped carefully in a white sheet—and surmounting it with a rusty helmet, I placed tho sham ghost in a corner of tho battlements at Elsinoro Palace, with tho assistance of BernArdo and Marcblius, two military friends of mino. We then invented a long and piteous rigmarole concerning tho lato king, Hamlet's father, into which Wb of course introduced murder and three or four other crimes; in fact, it was an admirably contrivod sensation romance, of which I need scarcely say that I was tho humblo author. His Koyal Highness who had only just recovered from a Sevoro indisposition, caused by his father's death, was then induced to join us on the battlements; and our excellent friend Bernardo, who was a delightful amateur performer, concealed himself behind the goblin, and after leading Hamlet away to a distance, recited my improssivo lines. I cannot sufficiently oxpress my regret for the part I took in that unfortunate affair; indeed, I attribute tho insanity of my distinguished friend and the death of his worthy undo—a most courteous and kind-hearted gentleman— entirely to my thoughtless conduct. It is needless to say that I bitterly repent of that fatal step.

• ••••*••

Miss Or-HBLiA Polonius was an oxquisito musician. Hor way of rendering "To-morrow is St. Valentino's Day," was supposed by connoisseurs to be almost perfect. She was very fond of hor brother, Labrtes Polonius, the poor young gentleman who accidentally killed my illustrious friend.

• ••••**•

His Royal Highness did mo tho honour to tell me that he preferred me to Yorick as a companion. Ho said that I had more humour. "Yoricic was all very well," ho remarked, "but there was too much buffoonery about him. He often carried mo about on his back, and I thought it funny then. Alas, poor Yohick! I saw his skull the other day. I think I shall have it mado into a drinking cup."

• • * # * * • * •

The Prince one day said in my hearing, "IS thero wero only ono man in tho world who knew that two and two made fc ur, it is doubtful whether his fellow-creatures would think him a man of genius or a grovelling idiot." I told liim that it was impossible to decide, and therefore useless to enquire; upon which ho was good enough to say that my observation was ingenious.


Rab(id) And His Friends.—The prevailing panic about hydrophobia has little if any reason. In this warm weather young ladies no less than dogs roquiro muslin, but the young ladies, if we may judge from tho impression derived from a visit to a flower show and a fancy fair, aro much the moro dangerous creatures of the two.

A Modest Lover.—When you make a proposal of marriage to a young lady you might lay yourself open to a charge of vanity if, in speaking of yourself you said, "a Gal-axo-I—of beauty."

Versi-fie !—We must decline the MS. with thanks. But you should not call it a poem, or imagine it is one because it is written in a sort of metre with an attempt at rhyme. You cannot hope to manufacture poetry by the foot even though it scans. You might just as well expect to draw a cheque on Threadneedle-strcot because you uso " Lowe's Bank of England pens."

Solomon will be grateful for a recipe to euro depression and low spirits. Ho will find it in any of the numbers of tho New Series.

A Bard.—We carefully pcruaod tho lines you sent us, but failed to detect in it any of tho " thoughts that breatho." A friond who dropped in when wo had dono reading it, and who wanted a light for his cigar, has informed us that they certainly contained the "words that burn." Unfortunately we have never beonable to find the MS. since.

A BIT FOH DAltSSTAl'LE. It is rumoured that the Conservatives in trying to cut out a Cave have got themselves into a hole.


Oa the—Well, we won't say what—Line.

Old Gent:—" Well, George, What Sort Op A Journey Hate You Had f" George:"oh, Very Quiet; Onlt Off The Line Twice, And Ban Into



I'm sick at heart of Hope deferred—

For I have hoped and hoped in rain— Until at lait, upon my word,

I hardly hope to hope again. While that " eternal want of pence,"

Which some can keep in modest bounds, Becomes, in my experience,

A want of shillings and of pounds.

My tailor, too, is getting rude;

I owe that party, hy the way, A boundless debt of gratitude

For putting up with such delay; However, gratitude is not

The only debt I have to meet, Or else I'd pay him on the spot,

And make him give a stamped receipt.

I can't endure the growing ills

Of pressing letters, dunning knocks, And downy birds whose little bills

Are always in one's letter-box. All nature takes a bilious hue;

I see large pimples on the sun; And Heaven's serene, expansive blue

Appears to me—a dirty dun!


A Stick on the boards is no stay for a theatre.

A caul is said by nautical folk to prevent a man from drowning, but when an actor gets a call it is generally a sign that he will go down.

The man who comes on the stage exactly at his cue is prompt, but the man who does not come on at all is prompter.

How absurdly are things named on the stage. The man who can barely get his bread on it is spoken of as "a souper." *


Thb old poets frequently spoke of the azure of the i In the present day the Green of the Evans' is with the naked eye in Covent Garden.


I Was sitting down in solemn resolution that a column,

Or perhaps a little volum', I must fill with quip and pun, When my dreary introspection was relieved by the reflection

That the General Election was a proper theme for Fun. As I thought of all the duffers—all the bald and blatant buffers—

Of the clerks and candle-snuffers who so fain would go away; As I thought how Mr. Speaker, who was nightly growing weaker,

Must have longed to drain a beaker, and to wet his honest clay; How the chief of the Exchequer, though he still sustains his pecker,

Must have yearned in a three-decker to be sailing o'er the brine; Whilst a juvenile patrician's (like Lord Hartinoton's) ambitions,

Were confined to deglutitions of Moselle and of the Rhine; How a man like Cox, plebeian (would to Jove a rock Tarpeian

Were erected for that bein')—you'll excuse the cockney rhyme— For when thinking upon creeturs with such few redeeming feeturs,

It's impossible that metres should be stately and sublime !— How a man liko Cox is yearning, all his soul with ardour burning

For the proximate returning to the only club he knows; Where a middle-class attorney (plus a good account with Gurney)

Finds it Btill an easy journey to intrude his legal nose! How, at Peterborough, Whalley—in an anti-Romish sally—

In a tone that doesn't tally with the notions of to-day,
May indulge in objurgation of a noble congregation,

And a loyal brother-nation, not so very far away!
How, if Folly offered prizes, Darby Griffith, at Devizes,

From a judge at the assizes soon could bear away the palm;
How with question after question (some the fruit of indigestion,

Most the fruit of indigestion!) he can cause a kindred qualm; How a strident, moral force-man, whose opinions none endorse, man,

Is a sort of headless Horshan, false to friends and foes alike; How a personage like Potter—a political garotter—

Only tries to make things hotter—the crusader of a strike;

How the whole of them, perspiring, in a temperature firing,
For the hustings were aspiring, after very brief repose;

Why, in truth, my scornful ditty took a certain tone of pity—
A decided tone of pity, for the wretched " Ayes" and "Noes."
• ••••• •

I was sitting down in solemn resolution that a column,

Or perhaps a little volum', I must fill with quip and pun, When my dreamy meditation took the form of indignation

With the House's Legislation, and the race that it had run! I am loyal, even tender; all due homage would I render,

Nor rob the peer of splendour, nor the bishop of his lawn; But at times I can't determine whether even lordly ermine

Doesn't shelter nasty vermin that had better be—withdrawn; And thus gravely thinking of it, I became, myself, a prophet,

And I wished the men in Tophet, who appeared to bar the way To a grander comprehension, free from partisan dissension,

Of the meaning, the intention, and the lessons of to-day! Yes; your workmen, lean and sallow, whose keen brains were lying fallow,

Yet may blossom, like the aloe, now the hundred years are past; And the final crowning glory of our England's noble story (Beg your pardon, Mr. Tory!) may be drawing near at last!


Mr. and Mrs. Howard Paul request us to inform all the world (and the rest of our readers), that they have provided themselves with an infallible attraction for their bee-hive at the approaching Dramatic College Fete. The services of Mr. G. Honey, the eminent comedian, have been engaged for the occasion. He is to stand near the hive, in Highland costume, with a suggestive bee in his bonnet, and will probably favour purchasers with an occasional drone—on the bagpipe.



It is quite possible that many of tho more detractional readers of this organ may have been writing abusing letters to yourself, Mr. Editor, equally as to tho other contributors, than whom I am suro a more affable body of young gentlemen, though a little gay. It may have been—and well am I acquainted with the mean and dastardly nature as would do such, his father, which I mentioned previous, having long been notorious as a butcher in the New Cut; but, Bir, it may havo been the caso that the capacity of your Sportivo Editor should bo attacked, but, magna est Veritas, although it don't prevail a bit, as well Lord Westbury knows. And it may, sir, have been insinuated that tho only thing your Nicholas really understands is the Turf, and that he only gets that from the other sportive papers, and I will frankly admit that I read thoso vehicles. But it may also havo been said by people (especially when their paronts breathed the pestilential air of a slaughter-houso), that a Sportivo Editor ought not to confine himself to the horse alone, nor mares, as in tho Oaks; but that he should take what tho letter you havo kindly handed mo calls a "comprehensive view," though well can I remembor the time when this " comprehensive viower'' was glad enough to take a glass of sherry wine at tho expenso of your prophet, and may so again, because at present merely envious in consequence of an accidental failure to remit winnings on the part of Nicholas at a time of the latter's career which ho would rather bury in the vaults of oblivion than absolutely go about carrying it chalked on a board in front.

And, sir, I will be sportive in the widest sense of that ojaculation— bat this week? No, Mr. Editor, no, no, contributors, than whom I may assert a more affable body of young gentlemen, although a little gay—this week, friends all and fellow sportsmen, is parliamentary and dramatic, and your prophet will hold the mirror up to nature; and writing this in an obscure part of Kent, being tired of Belgravian saloons, will refrain from giving a tip until he sees the other sportive organs when ho will boldly step forward and confute them as soon as postal facilities, limited in this neighbourhood, can allow.

But, sir, and if Nicholas grows parliamentary it does not prove that my heart may not be in the right place, 1 say the period have arrived when every man of property and position—and please lot the printer put this in tho form of a tip—should

Resist The Inroads Of Democracy .. ,. .. 1
Rally Round Our ANcrEXT Institutions .. .. 2
And Either Our Hearths And Homes, Or Else A

Bold Peasantry, Their Country's Pride .. 3

Yes, fellow-countrymen. Will you allow tho bloated 'six-pound householder to triumph over the unassuming capitalist? Ain't education nothinkf Ain'tgentlemanly manners no account? Just see, dear sir, that all this is put right in the orthography; for when Nicholas, as a man with a steak in the country, not to speak of sherry wine, really gets in earnest about politics, he is apt to confuse himself with the territorial aristocracy of England; nor ho is tho only recent capitalist who does so, and, after all, can fairly look down upon tho levelling Radicals of the day, a member of his_ own family having once been in the Custom-house itself.

And now with regard to tho fete of tho Dramatic College, amongst whom it must be difficult to select tho winners, even tho three year olds being almost as charming as the latest novelties of the present day, and your Prophet has known the drama from a boy. It was then over the water, and many a time has Nicholas' father, who was then reduced, taken his little boy into what I will now call tho amphitheatre stalls, and I only wish he were still alivo to gaze on his son, erected on a sportive pinnacle, and counting unknown friends by thousands, from the letters he receives, amongst his fellow-man. And though the mother of Nicholas rather objected to stage-plays, yet as tho twig was bent tho tree is inclined to bo present on Saturday at tho Crystal Palace, with a smilo of encouragement for even the humble actress, and arm-in-arm with eminent people, who may be recognized by his white hat with a black band (for the late Cassarewitch, whom you may not yourself have known), a light Derby coat, a pair of lemon-coloured trowsors, lavender gloves, and a necktie to which a rainbow is a fool.


The Wail of the Competitor

"who Was Rejected For His Bad Orthography. It is not that I am an idiot lad,

That I to-day cannot spell idiozyncracy; It is because the Gillott's aro so bad,

And that I'm driven by tho hideous-ink-crazy.


If it bo true that tho world is ignorant of some of its greatest men, then, doubtless, the author of one of the most entertaining books that has come under our notice for some time must bo unknown to tho vast public which is so indebted to him. The compiler of that interesting work, The Crystal Palace Refreshment Department possesses profound research, refinod taste, and a remarkablo power of language. As an example of bold imagery wo quote the following description of the bakery:—

"The bakehouse is on a scale for the supply of an army—such as armies were in the time of the Peninsular War, or such a gallant little army as defended the Danish Duppel. Ten regiments could march in here at once, and be handsomely regaled, fed, and satisfied ut a minute's notice, with cakes and pastry and bread. The numbers of tons of buns, biscuits, and delicious Bath buns, that come out of the ovens iu savoury abundance, one tin after the other, each with a hundred, are sometimes incredible."

This picture of the horrors of war is painted with a firm but fooling hand. The terrific spectacle of the heroic British forces being marched in to browse on acres of pastry is thrilling in tho extreme In speaking of the Luncheon Department, or Sandwich Islands, our author glides gracefully into the architectural:—

41 litre on each morning previous to'the influx of visitors the various employes at the counters may be seen busily plying the knife, and deftly arranging with neat hand the several entablatures of ham, heef, and slices of bread and butter into tho correctly squared and exactly weighed and measured sandwich. Nor is this a trilling or an easy task."

And ho then adds with a delicate touch of satire:—

11 The repetition of the act of slicing becomes a labour."

This profound reflection is presently followed by an apt and telling figure—" A sandwich is like a nowspaper; it must bo fresh to" tho day." When our author goes into numerical statements he, probably unconsciously, reminds us of Mr. Gladstone :—" Half a million of plates," "all tho aromatic wealth of tho Eastern Archipelago," "mountains of sugar," and like terms aro almost poetical enough to be excerpts from a financial statement.

The account of the Grocery Stores, where "the soul of tho purveying department nestles" is very tolling, though thero is a little confusion either in our mind or the wording of this passago :—

"Hither come all orders, and emanating from this reach their ultimate destination," etc.

The limited space at our disposal prevents our doing more than making a passing noto of admiration on the correctness with which our author quotes "light-handed Phyllis" from Milton. The epithet is one that recalls light-fingered, and delicately conveys to the reader a hint to take care ol his pockets even while regarding "the most lovely prospect of natural and artificial beauty in a garden view which the whole world can produce." With a brief glance at tho account of tho Soda-wator Room, whore wo moot with

"Ginger beer, lemonade, and other delicately flavoured beverages of a mild and innocent disposition, such as the votaries of that special temperance night teetotalisnl are wont to love,"

and after a passing mention of tho "Ceramic Washing Court, usually called Scullery," we must bring our review to a close with rather a long quotation from a graphic description of tho laundry, in which we meet with scientific information, picturesque delineation, and a really remarkablo style of composition :—

"Here is a steam-boiler which boils the clothes, and a washing-wheel which agiUtcs them in the soap-suds. The same centrifugal force that keeps the universe in order applies itself here, with the humblest condescension, to the homely labour of rinsing and wrluging them out. Round they fly, by the natural law, from the centre to the circumference, and there, being bound lu * with hoops nine times round them,1 they remain while the centrifugal force turns iu attention to the water contained in them, which incontinently flics off and is.carried away through the sides that are perforated with small holes, out of which the clothes cannot themselves make their way, or else they would. Then into tall, thin, iron cupboards, heated with dry heat, on iron ' horses' that run in on wheels, and come out. in a minute or two with the clothes all dry.

"In a neighbouring apartment are three mangles, of the ordinary' Baker's Patent,' worked by steam. In the next room is performed, by several well-dressed and intelligent females, that important operation described as the greatest of luxuries by Miss Martineau, who once to the astonishment of tho natives—Arabs as well as English and Egyptians—drew from her travelling bag a flat-iron, and, after bathing in the waters of the Nile, ironed tho female shirt under the shadow of the Pyramids."

We cannot, however, conclude our remarks without expressing our surprise that so intelligent an observer and so profound a philosopher as the author of this elegant gift-book should havo fallen into the error of calling those lachrymose gatherings, wedding-breakfasts, "the most pleasant of all festivities." But this is hypercritical.

A Dramatic Note.

We have been requested by the property-man of Theatre Royal,

, to inform him what is the "culler of simples," mentioned in

Shakespeare. Green, of course.

The Dramatic Fate.—Morning rehearsals.

A New Light For Debtors.—Composition candles.



■■ -i.-l;., • a in -. *•

A Sydenham Ecloote.


Trrmrs (a sort of foot).
Melibceus (o vsise-ocre).
Many. Thespians.

Tit.—Good lack, my Melibceus, an' this be not a most pretty sight! Let us mingle with the actors, and overhear their conversation; and thou, for thou art wise and gifted, which I, alack, am not, ahalt interpret.

Mel.Tityhus, thou art truly, if a man may say so, a bit of a fool, but thou hast good dispositions, and I will not forsake thee.

Mu. Paul Bedpord.—I believe you, my boys, I believe you, my dear children, my pretty little bricksy-wicksies?

Tit.—Then who is that, my Melibceus, who calls us all his pretty little bricksy-wicksies?

Mel.—That, O my Trrraus, is Mr. Alpred Wigan. It is but recently that he gave a similar entertainment at Apsley House; but thou, O Tityrus, art behind the age, and knowest nothing.

Tit.—I do fear, O Melibceus, that thou art right; but tell me, of thy goodness, who is yonder portly gentleman.

Mr. Robert Room —Yes; the Thespian vocation is—ah!—in point of fact, salubrious—salubrious!

Mel.—That, O thou dunder-headed one, is Mr. Henry Neville, who plays the young gentleman at the Olympic Theatre; but thou, O Tityrus, scarcely knowest where the Olympic Theatre is.

Tit.—Verily, I am but a poor simpleton; but thou canst enlighten thy Tityrus. Say, are there any dramatic authors present?

Mel.—Any? All! Look, Tityrus, at yonder elderly gentleman, whose dishevelled hair and long white beard are marks of genius.

Tit.—I do behold him, and he is

Mel.—He is Mr. H. j. Byron.

Tit.—How wonderful is man!

Md.— I give it up. But, come, let us towards the ladies.

Tit.—Ha! ha! my Melibceus is a sly dog.

Mel.—Get along with you, Tit. (Digs him in ribs.)

Tit.—You needn't hit a fellow quite so hard; but, O my Meltbcet/s,

are they not lovely? I could stop herofor ever; I could bathe in their smiles

Mel.Tityrus, thou art a fool. Bathe in a smile, forsooth! Ass!

Tit.—Well, perhaps, I am, Melibceus; but it's not a gentlemanly thing to say so, and I did but speak, as I may term it, metaphorically.

Mel.—Very well, but mind you don't do it again, or I won't give you any further information.

Tit.—I am rebuked; 0, Melibceus, look, look! The Beehive!

Mel.—Beehive? Ah, yes; beautiful, beautiful. It was designed in Paris, by the Times Bee-Master, Dr. Cujimino.

Tit.—Ah, what a thing it is to have wisdom! But who is that lady sitting there in the hive r She whose green and rosy dress conveys, even to my untutored mind, the image of an opening rose.

Mel. (Reading the inscription)—It is Mrs. Howard Paux.

Tit.—I will make some purchases, methinks.

Mel.—And so will I; an' thou lendest me the money, for truly I left my purse on the piano.

Trr.—Take this gold, my Melibceus. Ah, what a thing it is to

by the bye, if I had had wisdom, I think I should have left my purse on the piano, too!

Theatrical News.

The veteran manager of the Theatre Royal, St. Stephens, has made arrangements to re-open the house as soon as his company which has gone to the country returns from its provincial tour. It is rumoured that a good many old pieces will be revived for the next season. Amongst them will probably be the well-known farce of Reform, or Russell and Bustle, by the author of Box and Cox. Whether this lastnamed farce will be reproduced will depend on whether Cox doesn't get into the wrong box. The famous comedy of Patriotism, or Party Feeling may also be expected, together with Raines and Antidotes, The Peace Society, or Bright-er Days, The Return of the Squires, or the County Crop, Did you ever send your son to Chester? Fresh Bccnery is being painted for the theatre, consisting chiefly of new views of England, but we do not anticipate any very startling novelty in this department. The drop is Little Betnell, with a View of the Falls of the Westbury. The John Stuart Miller and his Men has long been inactive preparation at Westminster.

Printed by JUDD & GLASS, 80, Fleet Street, and Phoenix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKER,

at SO, Fleet street,-- July IS, 1865.

[graphic][merged small]


Is CuriD quito the rosy god

That poets try to make him out?
I've known him two-score years and odd,

And, frankly, I begin to doubt.
He has his prizes, I have heard;

I know he has his blanks as well; In fact, I think, upon my word,

Lejtu ne rant pus In chandtllt!

Is Pletus quite the hero-king

That money-worms would have us think P And is there, truly, anything

Of music in the metal's clink? Perhaps you have two heart and brain,

And have a heart and brain to sell I If not—I tell you yet again,

Le jcu ne taut pas la chandclle.'

Is Bacchus quite the handsome rake—

The gay and fascinating youth—
That poets paint him when they take

Poetic licences with truth!'
When fevered pulses come with day,

And headaches at your break fast-bell,
I rather fancy that you'll say,

Le jcu ne vaut pas la chandclle I

And is AroLLO quite so kind

As people say to all his sons?
I think that now and then you'll find

He rather starves his younger ones.
To play the lyre is pretty hard;

It's harder still to play it well. Depend upon it, brother bard,

Le jeu tie taut pas la chandclle!

Of course you can afford to burn

A rushlight, if the stakes be large; And when you look for some return

In money for your rushlight's charge. But will you lose or will you gain?

That's somewhat difficult to tell; And, if you lose, it's very plain

Le jcu ne taut pas la chandclle!



Be An Animal.

The time happily has at length arrived when philanthropy in the true sense of that much perverted word reigns supreme in every wellconstituted breast, from that of tho lion to that of the white-bait. A society has accordingly been formed whose special mission it will be to shield the fcatherless biped, long known as man, from the outrages to which ho has been subjected hitherto.

No candid tiger will deny that, pleasant as human flesh may be, if considered from a purely epicurean point of view, tho infliction of unnecessary suffering upon tho victim is unworthy of any benevolent wild beast. The man our instinct dooms to die to-day, had he our instinct would he skip and play? Let it not bo conceived that wo advocate tho wild theory of such vegetarians as the Cow. Animal nature requires human food, and the writer of these lines will never allow a merely sentimental hypothesis to blind him to the gastronomical merits of a plump baby, raw. No; but let us put our destined meal to as little pain as possible. It is right to gratify hunger; it is reprehensible to mangle and to tear.

It is, therefore, with considerable satisfaction that wo announce the accession to the Directorial Board of the Lion, the Tiger, the Wolf, the Puma, and the Jaguar. There has not yet been time to receive an answer from the Polar Bear; but there is reason to beliove that he will readily embrace the proposal—unless he should have already embraced, a little too heartily, the messenger of this society.

Some difficulty has been experienced in dealing with the Horse, who still resents the msults to which he has been subjected, and declines to forget or to forgive the indignities of the whip, the bridle, and the spur. He has accordingly insisted upon retaining his right to kill a

few people every year at Btecple-chases and in the hunting field; but he has kindly promised to exercise that privilege only in modern tion.

The Dog—long notorious as the friend of man — has heartily co-operated with tho committee. In a very lucid communication he asserts that it really does not give him the slightest personal pleasure to suffer from hydrophobia; that when, during hot weather, he runs about in an apparently rabid manner, it is not because he is ferocious, but merely because he is thirsty; and that if he were less frequently muzzled, he would not so often go mad. He complains bitterly of certain articles that have lately appeared in tho columns of the public press; and he declares with truly cynical humour that if he encounters the writers thereof, ho will try the effect, upon tho public press, of ft little private pressure. He will be delighted, however, to dwell in peace and amity with all other mortals; in fact, his ferocity will henceforth be entirely suspended—the public press alone excepted!

The Bull declines to join; founding his objections upon the well known Doctrino of Design, and pointing (with hi? hoof) to his horns as evidences that he was meant to toss. On two conditions alone will he abstain from goring; namely, that the human race shall forthwith abandon the culture of horse-radish! and that the town of Durham shall be razed to the earth!

Tho domestic Cat also insists on a stipulation, which will involve the, entire suppression by mankind of its police. Too long has Felis, Domcstica been maligned for outrages really committed by that Force!

And with regard to the Entomological Fellows of this Society, assurances of future good conduct and humanity have been received from one of the most agile, lively, and industrious of their number.

A Pleasant "OrBBATioN" During Hot Weatheb. — Cupping. Claret.

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