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A Rhymed Reason why Journey-men should become Husband-men.

ABOUT this time in foreign clime, John Bull quite sore to journey ia,
And sought for tin, to spend therein, the family attorney is.
To every port will now resort of tourists a variety,
In search of spots where to he got's a mixture of society
Like Ems, or Spa, or Baden Baden where the go to gamhle 'tis,
Or Alpine wastes, where some men's tastes declare a joy to ramble 'tig.



That festive body, the National Temperance League, had an outing at the Crystal Palace, on the 29th August, under the presidency of Mr. George Cruikskank. They are light-hearted, carolling young fellows the teetotallers, always in high spirits, and so different ia that respect from us melancholy, beer-sodden, wife-stamping hounds, who take a pint of beer every day of our lives. There is always something so natural, so un-f orccd in their jollity; there is something so enviable in their pleasant complacency as they sit over their tea, trilling out little social hallelujahs to each other; they are all so clean, so curly, and so chubby (if we may believe Mil. Tweedie's prints), that the only wonder is that society at large don't enlist under their banners, and drive all licensed victuallers into penal servitude for life.

Of course when this blithe body mot at the Crystal Palace, they sang a good deal. In point of fact, no loss than fifteen songs were down on their programme, but as, by some mistako, we wero not present at the gathering, we cannot say that the programme was conscientiously carried out. Most of the songs had ono moral, which was that there was nothing so exhilarating as wator, and nothing so depressing as beer. It might, at first sight, appear that as this was a meeting of ladies and gontlemen, who wero supposed to have settled those facts in thoir own minds long before they arrived at the Crystal Palace, their perpetual repetition was, to say the least of it, ruther unnecessary. You don't find that a body of surgeons takes tho trouble to assert in song, at every possible opportunity, that vaccination is effective against small-pox, because it is an ascertained fact which no reasonable man ventures to question. Perhaps, however, if they have their doubts on the point, thoy may find it answer their own ends to reiterate it in song.

On the 29th August, at the Crystal Palace, you wero to Give me a Draught from the Crystal Spring, under all circumstances of season. ^ ou were, moreover, to Learn to say No wherever you Go, no matter what you were asked to do—an arrangement which, from our bigoted point of view, seems likely to be pregnant with inconvenience. You were asked if you would like to fill a Drunkard's Grave, And bear his infamy ; and you were, moreover, to Touch not, Taste not (it didn't say what), Till you Die! But tho crowning triumph of the afternoon was a throe-part song called "The Social Glass," written by a Mh. P. W. P. G. Stowe, who appears to havo compensated for his abstinence in other respects by going-in recklessly for initials.

The " 1st Voico" (who is a profligate), in evident ignorance of his companion's simple tastes, opens the subject as follows:

"I'm very fond of a social glass!" His friends, however, havo their feelings under control, and (sly dogs) winking at each other reply, traitorously,

2nd Voice.— "So am I."

3rd Voice.— "So am I." The unsuspecting "1st Voico" falls into the trap, and, under the impression that ho is addressing men of kindred tastes, adds, "It makes the timo so pleasantly pass. And fills the heart with pleasure." Hereupon tho "2nd Voice" is shocked, and throwing off the cloak of harmless dissimulation, si<,'hs out the following couplet— "Ah, water pure doth brighter shine, Than brandy, rum, or sparkling wine." The " 3rd Voice," however, wishing to keep up the joke a little longer, chimes in with a bit of his old experience:

3rd Voice.—" But sad is the fix if the liquors you mix." But the " 1st Voico" is evidently an old hand, and immediately adds,

'* "Oh, I never do that." Aad the other two voices, with sly meaning,

'2nd Voice.— "Nor I."

3rd Voice.— "Nor I." But" 1st Voice" begins to suspect something, and basely endeavours to retrieve his position in the eyes of his friends by joining in a toetotal

f'ltorm—" Oh yes, we love the social glass,

But it must bo filled with water; Wisdom says ' bo temperate' now, To every son and daughter." "2nd Voico" re-opens the subject with the following unobjectionable proposition,

"I like with a friend an hour to pass."
3rd Voice.— "So do I."
1st Voice.— "So do I."

2nd Voice (who is anxious not to be misunderstood).
"But never with the social glass."
Unless it be cold water."
3rd Voice.— "No! friendship's joys are so divine,

_ They never should bo pledged with wine."

By this time "l«t Voico" begins to see that his friends are "talking it him," and (losing his temper) replies,

"Perhaps you may think that I love strong drink."

2nd Voice (throwing ojf all disguise).—" I certainly do." 3rd Voice (ditto).—" And I." 1st V'-ice (contemptibly).—" Not I." Then " chorus" as before. , "3rd Voice " then reopens tho conversation: 3rd Voice.— "I love to sing a temperanco glee." 1st Voice (in base acquiescence).—" So do I." 2nd Voice.—" So do I."

3rd Voice.— "I long to see the inebriate free, And every moderate drinker." This is rather cloudy, but perhaps "3rd Voice" has had too much wator.

1st Voice (the humbug !).—

"I'm glad to meet with friends so true,
. For I have long been temperato too!"

Hereupon "2nd Voico" begins to suspect that they've been wasting their convorsion talk on a believer, and disconcerted thereat whispers to " 3rd Voice,"

"Then I understand he's a temperate man!"

3rd Voice (verij smntt voice this time).—" I reckon hn is." 1st Voice (who ha* over/ward this) triumphantly.—" You're right!" All (this sounds tipsy but it isn't).-—" All right." And the three friends join in tho ecstatic chorus,

"Oh, yes, we love the temperate glass,
But it must bs filled with water;
"Wisdom says ' be temperate' now,
To every son and daughter."

There! Wo defy tho caricaturists of tho Teetotal movement to do its cause more harm than the contemptible drivol we have quoted.


Apnoi-os Of A Recent Discussion.

Mr. Jdun Ruskin,
Assuming the buskin,

Rushed on to the stage, willy nillv,
And told the U. T.,
Less welcomo than free,

That its leader on servants was silly.

Said tho D. T., "Your letter,
Dear sir, 's not much better,"

Conducting the contest with boithoinmic,
For J. R., tho art-critical,
Knows of Political

More than Domestic Economy,—

Yet of that knows so little
That Fun just a bit '11

Give him of his mind on this caper—
"It had been economical,
Graduate comical,

Had you saved trouble, timo, ink, and paper!"

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Ax Anxious Inquirer, Covent Garden.—Wo are not in tho secret of the Repository, or tho repository of the secret. If you want to know more of the mysterious mansion you had better ring tho bell, and then run away, and see if anything follows.

A Rejected One asks how we can havo tho heart to decline his contributions. Since he is so anatomically particular, we beg to inform him that, besides the heart, we have the waist—paper basket.

A. Ward.—You had better apply to our advertising agent. We don't supply puffs, so you must go to our Baker.

A Would-he Peer wishes to know whether he can purchase a title Of course ho can, and a profaco and index too, and all foi the small charge of one penny. Apply at 80, Fleet-street.

Julia is anxious to learn where she can meet with a good looking glass. She had better consult her own mirror, which will no doubt help her to a good looking (g)lass.

Histrionicus.—The line

"The man who lifts his hand to a woman, etc." is from Shakespeare. See the tragedy of "R. Homer and Juliot.

Ca. Sa.—You may take a pill without a writ of habeas corpus.

A Youno Man Of Family.—If thty only give you a two-pronged steel fork at tho eating-house you frequent, you may eat your peas with a knife as apeas-nllcr as tho French say, but not otherwise.



Out of town—I'm out of town—

Far away from cares and creditors; Doing all I can to drown

Thoughts of duns and fears of editors. Farewell (for a time, at all events)

Love and Friendship, Wealth, Renown, Interests in great or small events—

Out of town—I'm out of town.

Out of town—I'm out of town—

In a state of green beatitude; Beauty's heck or Fortune's frown

Cannot reach this distant latitude. Let my purse and friends degenerate,

Nay, let every chance run down; Still for this one week, at any rate,

Out of town—I'm out of town.

Out of town—I'm out of town—

Leaving to their own society, Jones and Robinson and Brown

(Who have bored me to satiety). If your London wit shews qualities

Higher than my country clown, Never mind; I sing—how jolly''

"Out of town—I'm out of town!'


Lucy:—" There Now, How Stupid! My New Bonnet's Come Prom Town


Jenny:"all The Better; You Can Wear It Out Both Sides."

A Drawing-Room Ballad.

The light jib-boom may scour the
And whistle through the cleets;

The taffrail may adjure the breeze
The deadeye wink at sheets;

The scuppers on our lee may dance;

And shrouds the welkin blot; But I shan't take a run to Franco

In anybody's yacht.

Why is a party who indulges in limited weeping like a fellow who gets pitched from the gallery of a theatre for being noisy f—Because he drops two or three tiers.


Dear Fun,—Is Martin F. Tupper one of your regular contributors? If he is not he ought to be. I have just been reading Alfred, a Patriotic Play, in Fire Acts, by M. F. T., and here and there it is so droll that I laughed as heartily as I do over Fun.

Here is a choice bit from the introduction to the play:—

"It is just a thousand Tears since all that is here set before our eyes in the Theatre actually happened in life as we nt.e it, and (although we just now are happily in close alliance with a possible future foe who shall be nameless) the ancient idea of invasion is no stranger to the imaginations— say rather rational calculations—of modern Englishmen. This play, therefore, may be all the more acceptable to a decerning and patriotic andience."

It may and it may not, we shall see. The author of Proverbial Philosophy may be recognized by the profound truth he has put into the lips of Alfred :—

11 To know aright the blessedness of plenty, A man must once have felt how hunger gnaws." It is, however, in the stage directions that the poet has put forth his greatest strength. Here is one :—

"Act 2.—Scf ne I.—The outer room of a cottage in the fortified marsh of Athelney, Ai.fhkh's harp hanging up, and a time-candle on the mantel of a hearth, near wh'ch is a scttlc-li're table and stools. Enward and Ethrlward, the boy princes, are making a tog-boat, with n little bow and arrows near them and a paper kxtv. Ac.; sordidly dressed as in distress, and looking hungry, playing not for pleasure, but for empl lyment, perhaps one reading a missal or writing on a board.'*

It will be easy enough for clever children to "look hungry" on the stago; hut how will they be able to convey to their auditors that they aro playing "not for pleasure, but for employment," and the delineation of "perhaps reading a missal" will be difficult.

M nrRTHA discovered comforting Qnxsx El-switha, who is crying over a little, curly-hvaded three-year old daughter, and a large mastiff in the room."

This picture of domestic affliction is after—very much after—the manner of Wilkie.

Here is another of a grander sort:—

"Gradually as he speaks the back-scene- changes, and. to Alfred's mute astonishment [no one else seeing anything of this, for Bertha and Elbwitha are taken up by Alfred's enhancement, and the boys are happy over their nuts and toys, $c), 1 The Vision' comes, with distant, supernatural music, showing the old man, changed into the Guardian Spirit of England, blessing Alfrbd, but nothing said, only music as it fades away, and the cottage wall comes back again.

"Alfred {in an awed whisper)"—why not an and-ible whisper ?—

"Is this a dream T 0 wife, O sister, speak 1
Tell me, my boys, who saw it and who heard?"

This is indeed a splendid burst of poetic thought and imagery; but surely this vision did not "actually happen" to Alfred "in life as we see it." It cannot be meant for fact, it is poesy, the true inspiration.

Here is a gorgeous notion for a last scene:—

"The interior of Glastonbury Abbey, very spUndid, jntt after GtmiRrx has been baptized by the name of Athelstan. A magnificent spectacle, with Alfred, Elswitha, and all the court on one side, several being pardoned English lords and Danish earls; and on tltt other Gcthrum, habi'ed in white and silver, with Bertha near him, and others grouped about the archbishop. Crowds of Danes and English as in amicable union of the lv>o nations, their flags and emblems mixed."

Bravo! bravo! and bravissimo! Do, please, engage TuprRR on your staff, and accept tho thanks of your Constant Reader.

NOTICE.By the desire of numerous correspondents, copies of "BUOYED WITH HOPE," printed on toned paper, may now be obtained at the Office, price One Penny.

Now ready, the Eighth Half-yearly Volume of EVN, being

handsomely bound in Magenta cloth, price is. Gd.

Note Ready, the Title, Preface, And Index, forming an extra Number, price One Penny. Also, now ready, Part IV.

Printed by JUDD & GLASS, Phoenix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKES, >t

80, Elect-street.—September 16, 1865.

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Every Dog must have his Day.

True the adage is, I know it,

True, in not a pleasant way— Was it said by sago or poet ?—

"Every dog must have his day."

If the day would not forsake him,

Or would kindly como again,
Nor the night so soon o'ertako him,

Then the dog need not complain.

But the worst part is the sequel,

That there always is in store; For the night seems most unequal

To the day that's gone before.

Faith, I'vo bought my day-time dearly!

Frequently of lato I've found Cause to think my fate is nearly

That of the proverbial hound.

For my timo seems sore and yellow-
Flat, unprofitable, slow:

And I'm not at all the fellow
That I was three years ago.

Then I was a kind of Criehton,
Courted mueh—a pleasant part!

Oh! that day it was a bright one,
Heavy purse and lightsome heart.

Now of sun I see no traces,

So, I fear, poor dog! 'tis night:

And the weights have changed their places, Heart is heavy, purse is light!


Mr. Ruskin is a great art critic, but there's ono sort of gallery he doesn't understand, and that's servant-gal-lery.


Mon Cher Redacteur (Excuse the French mode of address, but I've been so near the coast of France, I can't help it.)—Of course you gentlemen of England who live at home at ease will wish to hear how we got on yachting. Here is my log:—

Mond., Sept. 11. Lat. &c, Long. &c.—It's no use boring you with technicalities, so I leave them to your imagination. We started from Eyde with a fair breeze, all sails set, close-hauled. We avasted heaving and drew up the stunsail-ring holt, and felt rather squeamish. Spliced tho mainmast and had a little soda and brandy. Went on deck and s»ftly repeated to myself the stanzas in Childe Harold about the ocean. The ocean resented the impertinence, and jibbed severely, the boom knocked my hat off, and sent my telescope and nautical almanack into our wake, I hummed a tune and sneered at the anchor. All hands were piped to dinner, and a storm was discovered gambolling on the lee-bow. Luffed and ported sail. The boom again knocked me on tho head. I ordered it forty lashes.

Sept. 12.—Tried to get up at two bells, but found it was nine o'clock. The bells bothered me, so excuso astronomical time. The sea looked horribly rough, and the houses on land running away very fast. The storm still very near. Hoisted the marlin-spike halyards, and had breakfast. Attired myself carefully <i la Black-eyed Susan, and took the helm. Found it very difficult to hold. Was ordered roughly to put the helm hard a-port or something, and requested to run into the wind's eye. Have reason to believe we did so, for the eye watered considerably. Saw a whale and harpooned it with a fork; found it was only a harmless lohBter-hox. Looked out for the coast of France, and rubbed up my French. Tres bong! Had dinner and found the timbers shiver uncommonly. Took my theodolite and made an observation.* Unwell, and went to hammocks as pale as a sheet.

Sept. 13.—Saw the coast of France trying to evade us in tho distance. Gave chase and got very near the coast, when tho storm could be trifled with no longer. We had to sail under bare poles, their clothes having been washed overboard. I lit my last pipe and philosophically made my will. A hardy native of Franco was observed buffeting the waters on our lee; I shouted all the French I knew,

* "Da»h the weather."

eha;/ vous and enjing, but he discourteously took no notice of it. Tho storm continued to increase, so we put all our old letters into a bottle and cast it overboard; tho Frenchman, who was still swimming easily near us, seized tho bottle and eagerly perused the letters. I had heard of the politeness of continental nations, but did not approve of his actions. The letters were private and should have been respected.

Sept. 14.—The storm increased so much that we thought it advisable to abandon the vessel, but the difficulty was where to go. The oldest man on hoard was requested to spin a yarn, but, unluckily, he had forgotten to ship a loom.

Sept. 15.—Tho storm somewhat abated. But another danger awaited us: our store of provisions was falling short. We were put upon short allowance. A little Efps's cocoa, and one teaspoonful of rum per diem. We all got into the jolly-boat, and were in consequence very hilarious over our teaspoonfuls of rum. The French, man came very near us, and requested a pinch of Erps, ho said he had lived for many days on the remembrance of his last meal. He also said the letters wero his only consolation, particularly one containing a washing-bill of the captain's. He said the man must be an angel who wore so many shirts. Seeing him so kindly and intelligent wo invited him on board, but he said he preferred his liberty. Wo contented ourselves with visions of sumptuous meals, and retired to our hammocks with pleasant thoughts of Errs for the day.

Sept. 16.—Tho rum was all gone and only an ounce of Epfs remained. We began to regard each other with culinary eyes; and tho mate, who was fat and well-favoured, was observed to shudder when any one looked at him. A stout boy on board was also regarded critically. The afternoon of this day came, and starvation stared us in the face. The stout man went up to the main-top, and remained there trembling ; and the stout hoy hid himself in the hold.

Sept. 17.—Attenuation increasing. Every man felt as if his clothes wero getting perceptibly slacker. It seems a strange thing one day's starvation should make such a difference. Hungry were the glances we directed at each other, and horrible must have been the feelings of the stout ones. To hammock a perfectly ravenous.

Sept. 18.—Tho Frenchman got exceedingly lively, and said wo were near the coast of France, and he would introduce us to his relatives. Suffice it to say, they were exceedingly kind, and our dinner was magnifique and o) la Husse. I would write more, but the remembrance of the dry champagne overcomes me.

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Bt Thb Saunterbr In Soctett.

FIAT trcmondouBly hot weather we havo had! We might as well havo heen in the land of the sable Venus, for wo were all Hotand-hot enough to pass for natives. Nevertheless, here am I at my post— not rushing off to seaside places and filling a column of so-called London Gossip with provincial platitudes as less conscientious scribes do. I stick to my post as if it were an iron one, and the glass showing forty degrees of frost. (Of course, by the time this is in the hands of the British public, the weather will have changed, and the rain will be coming | down in pailfuls; the more especially as I am, between ourselves, going to

few days holiday in defiance of the editor. But at this


present writing the heat is terrific—even a Sauntercr in the best Society is reduced to writing in his shirt-sleeves, and the glass is at—well, I don't know what it's at, but there is in it some sherry and lemonade, and a lump of ice. N.B.—Parties lighting on this passago are requested not to tell the editor.) I suppose the heat at Bury is Bury great, for I see the following advertisement in the local journal, Apropos of some new baths :—

"The First-class Plunge Bath will he OPEN' on SATURDAY, September 16th, 1665. After having gone through all the alterations and improvements, whieh is beautifully decorated; and 34 dress boxes will meet the accommodation of all who may patronise them."

Well; if people walk on the beach at Margate in morning costume to look at the bathers, I don't see why there should not be a dress circle for tho performances at a Swimming Bath!

What I complain of is that, during such weather, ono should be called on to make head or tail of such perplexing puzzles as these—they mako ono perspire at every pore to look at them. Hero's the first, an extract from a Newcastle paper :—

"A rather unusual occurrence happens in the quarter which ends this month. It contains fourteen Saturdays; so that fourteen distinct publications of the Advertiser wMl appear. The same thing happened in December of last year; but as the fourteen Saturdays of that month were followed by only twelve in January, we did not think it worth while to direct the special attention of our agents and subscribers to the circumstance. The excess of one month was balanced by the deficiency of the following; so that the quarterly accounts were easily arranged. In the present instance, however, our subscribers must take care to charge the extra week in the present quarter, as the following one will contain the usual number of Saturdays."

The next bewilderment might havo come from the same pen. It occurs in a description of the Shakers, quoted by the Timts from an American paper. In speaking of the female Shakers he says :—

11 Four-fifths were over forty years of age, and at least three-fifths were over fifty; there were a few younger, ef pale, attenuated, almost lifeless faces."

How many more fifths does tho gentleman want in a whole? And how does he explain another statement—that in this exclusive sect, "celibacy is only adopted by the men?"

While I'm on tho subject of absurdities,—did any one read a letter in tho Times gravely advising the application of the same treatment to sick cattle that is usual in cases of typhus in tho human subject t What cannibalism! Imagine a cow talcing beef tea. While I write, it occurs to me that the Times reporter at Birmingham made Frank Bugkland answerable for a bit of nonsense at the meeting of the British Ass.:—

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fathered on him. As for tho leader writer on the D. T., who said, "The King might marry Cora Etc A, hut the Queen must not marry Cophetuus," he ought to go somewhere for change of air.

There's no particular news. Gfladiateur has won the Leger; the Emperor of Franco has met the Queen of Spain on the most friendly terms; President Johnson is bothered by tho irrepressible nigger; thero is very little beef in the market, but game is plentiful; TurpBR's tragedy hasn't appeared; Sip Van Winkle is cleverly acted, though tho piece drags; Eulenbbro is likely to get Prussia into Ott water with France; a baby weighing sixteen pounds has been born somewhere, but Chano, the Chinese giant, can give him thirty tons and whop him easily; tho report that the Prinse Of Wales was seen taking a nip, with his cigar, at Woolwich is unfounded—he was only using one of the new Cigar Nippers; Charles Mathews has had a great success in Used Up in Paris, and I'm going out of town for a few days. But, as I said before, thero is no news. Stop, though! I forgot. There is. The first of Sir E. B. Ltttgu's Literary Almshouses, at Stevenage, is about to be occupied.

In file 11th Number of the Cornhill (Nov., i860), in a poem entitled "Last Words," occur the following lines :—

"The hoarse wolf howls not near,
No dull owl beats the casement, and no roogh-bearded star
stares on my mild departure from yon dark window bar."

The poem is signed Owen Meredith.

In the 66th Number of the Cornhill (May, 1865), occurs the following quotation from Webster (not the Master of the Dramatic College, but a i-otemporary of Beaumont and Fletcher) :—

"No rough-bearded comet
fitares at thy mild departure: tho'dull owl
Beats not against thy easement; tin- hoarse wolf,'* etc.

No one stares now at Ma. Owen Meredith's mild departures from tho paths of literary honesty. But the detection of this robbery having thrown him out of employment, he is about to take up his abode in a wing of the Stevenage Refuge, where he will continue, as heretofore, to bo supported by the involuntary contributions of other writers, living and dead.


A Nrw Philosophy.

Are you thinking of a lover

Gone away, lady fair?
For a smile there seems to hover

And to play, lady fair,
Round your lips, as if those lips inclined to say
"Man is fickle! man is vain!
Shall I murmur or complain
Should my love not true remain?"

And you say "Nay!"

Lady fair.

Your philosophy's a wise one—

More's the woe, lady fair!
Broken faith oft pains and tries one,

As we know, lady fair,
And the chronicles of love too dearly show.
Man is fickle! man is frail!
Vows and oaths are no avail,—
Ropes of sand that break and fail,
And chains of snow,

Lady fair!

Yet the women are no truer

That I Bee, lady fair.
Their broken vows no fewer

Seem to be, lady fair,
Nor their faithlessness much differs in degree.
Woman's false, if man's untrue.
What with us has that to do F—
Suppose I promise to love you,
If you'll love me,

Theatrical Note.

Lady fair.

The Menken, we understand, is to re-appear shortly in a lew drama, entitled Tht Cliild of the Sun. We venture to prophesy she won't look the character, for the child of tho sun ought not to object to a ray.

Good News For Lovers or Ciianoe.

Our democratic friends will be delighted to hear that in severa* parts of England there is a plethora of copper coin.

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