Page images
PDF

THE SECOND ROW OP THE PIT.

By A Fooy.

[graphic]

AIR, as whenfirstlused to behold her— Just the same woman, not altered a bit,

Eight years ago! Wefi, she hasn't grown older— (To judge from the second row in tho pit.)

All the intelligence Hashing as keenly Out of her eyes— all the humour and wit. Ah! the same bearing so easy and queenly— (To judge from the second row in the pit.)

All that old elegance, telling and skilfulGesture to word, word to gesture so fit, •Simple or stately— imperious or

(To judge from the second row in the pit.)

Well! tho play's over. Before tho green curtain

She bows, to applause ;—then the audienco quit. Just the samo woman as ever, I'm certain.—

(To judge from tho second row in the pit.)

Round to the stage-door to watch her departure)—■

Yonder, close-ahawled, 'tis she, surely, must Hit! Will her frowning be sterner, or smiling be archer,

Than it seemed from the second row in tho pit?

{He follows her. This is the result.)

She! But how changed! Roses withered to parchment.

Much then depends on the place where you sit; I ne'er should have guessed what old Time's eight years' march meant,—

I judged from tho second row in the pit.

OUT-OP-TOWN TALK.

Editor,—Like a bolt from a crossbow, like a stone from a boomerang, • like a pickpocket from a policeman, I fly once more the melancholy shores of dismal London. And whither? Ah, me, I know not. Who may say whero he shall eventually go? But I havo ascertained this and placed it beyond a doubt, whatever my ultimate destination may be, I have taken Antwerp on tho road to it.

By steamship Baron Osy, 800 register, from St. Kathcrine's Docks at noon on Sunday last. It's a handsome ship this Baron Osy—a combination of tho Iona and the Maria Wood. Pleased to hear an old lady, who had forgotten the ship's name, inquiring her way to the Bernal Osborne. Comic captain, of pleasant, communicative turn of mind. Wore a stove-pipe hat, and did not hitch his breeches. Took us safely up the Scheldt notwithstanding.

Unattractivo country, the Lowlands generally, I should say. May havo points which recommend it to croquet-players, billiard-players, cricket-players, and stout elderly gentlemen with plethoric proclivities. But as I am none of these, my heart is not in the Lowlands, my heart is not there. In point of fact I am sure of this, for tho country is so flat that you command the whole territory at a view, and if it had been there I should have seen it. I havo no doubt but that tho Flemish lodging-letters recommend their apartments as commanding

* That's nonsense.—En.

a view of the Surrey hills. I would not live in Flanders for worlds— those never-ending lines of short-cropped linden trees would drive me mad. I don't know how it is with you, but it is thus with me:— Whenever I see a row of substantives all alike, I always want to count them. Area railings, the Guards in Hyde Park, irregularities in a cornice, tufts on a counterpane, steps in a flight of stairs—no matter what, so that there bo many of them, I must and will count them. It is so with these Lowland lindens. There are between Flushing (oh! Captain Marryat and Peter Simple) and Helvoetsluys (oh! Baron Munchausen) seven thousand and three of them, and between Helvoetsluys and Antwerp there are three miUion four hundred and thirty seven thousand six hundred and nine.

Twenty hours of it from St. Katherino's Docks brought us alongside tho Quai Van Dyck at Antwerp. I am afraid the Antworpians are a shiftless unreasoning set, or why should they take the trouble to construct an erection after the manner of Cajsar's bridge over the Rhine, to land passengers withal, when they could run an ordinary landing-stage on board? I assure you that this is an unexaggorated account of the manner in which ftiis bridge is built: first of all two huge poles, of tho length and thickness of the mainmast of a manof-war, are run out to the boat from the shore. These lie parallel to each other, with an interval of about eight feet between them. Under these are lashed smaller poles, which run transversely, and which act as supports for tho boarding of the bridge, which is subsequently laid on to them by very small instalments. The bridge took twenty minutes to build!

To tho Hotel St. Antoine, on the Place Verte, is a five minutes' walk over those abominable round stones, without which no French or Belgian provincial town can be considered complete. There is an elaborately carved and gilded figure of the Virgin at every street corner; if they would only economise in the matter of wooden holy families, and spend their savings in paving stones, how much—how very much—happier it would make the benighted Londoner!

Snabler.

A FISHY STOEY.

By Our Special Reporter.

DID I sec you at the meeting of tho British Association on Friday? No? Oh! you ought to havo been there. Mr. Glaisrer has beou so near tho moon that he has cut it into four quarters liko an orange and exhibited it in Section A, besides deciding that with a six-inch telescope you would be sure to seo a place liko Birmingham in the moon, if there wore one—but as you can't, of course there isn't. Then Da. Smith told you how much carbonic acid there was in tho room (which was a large quantity, there being two thousand persons present); and Mr. Parkes described a new stiekment, invented by himself, called Gutta Parkes. Then tho Bessemer iron manufacture wag explained; and next Dr. Fairbairn made some very sensible remarks on tho question of grappling the Atlantic telegraph cable. Then camo a whole multiplication table of statistics in reference to the,franchiae. But that was nothing to what followed.

You know Chiasmodus, of course? No ?—why, I thought every fellow knew him. Dr. Carte does—knows him well—surprised you don't. Thought'twas a new "hair-oil " perhaps? Not at all; he's a fish—a Icind of miraculous bloater, only six inches long, that feeds on other fish ten inches in length. You might not think it, but Dk. Carte has heard of somebody, who has met a person related by marriage to a deceased wife's sister of a gentleman who saw a fish ten inches long in Chiasmodus's stomach! Fact, I assure you. Don't believe me ?—look here—it hasn't been equalled since the incident of Jonah swallowing the whale.

"Notes on the voracity of Chiasmodus were read by Da. Caktk. Chiasmodus was not an ancient Roman emperor, following the voracious practices of VmUJUS and others of equally high-sounding names; but he is a little fish six inches in length, living in four hundred fathoms of water, his voracity evinces itself in his devouring nshes ten inches long. At least, one of that length has been found in the singularly elastic confines of Chiasmodus* stomach."

There! However, nobody knows what can be done in four hundred fathoms of water, and if tho fish ain't very long, he's very deep.

After this I am confidently expecting a " free pass," as reporter for Fun, to see Tom Thumb swallow Chang, the Fy-chow giant at the Crystal Palace.

Aeronautic Intelligence.

The papers are making a fuss because Godard had an upset out of his balloon the other day. Why, of course, a firo-balloon can't get on without a spill now and then.

LADIES' SOCIETY.

The Emancipation Society announces its dissolution, its object having been Bfcei'.rcd. Why doesn't it go in for E-woman-cipation?

STANZAS TO AN INTOXICATED FLY.

It's a singular fact that, whenever I order"

My goblet of Guinness or bumper of Bass,
Out of ten or a dozen that sport round the border

Some fly turns a summersault into my glass.
Oh! it's not that I grudge him the liquor he's tasted

(Supposing him partial to bitter or stout),
But consider the time irretrievably wasted

In trying to fish the small animal out!

Ah! believe me, fond fly, 'tis excessively sinful,

This habit which knocks even bluebottles up; Just remember what Ca68i0, on getting a skinful.

Observed about "ev'ry inordinate cup!"
Reflect on that proverb, diminutive being,

Which tells us " Enough is as good as a feast;"
And, mark me, there's nothing more painful than seeing

An insect behaving so much like a beast.

Nay, in vain would you seek to escape while I'm talking,

And shake from your pinions the fast-clinging drops, It is only too clear, from your efforts at walking,

That after your malt you intend to take hope.
Pray, where is your home? and oh! how shall you get there 'i

And what will your wife and your family think
Pray, how shall you venture to shew the whole set there

That Paterfamilias is given to drink f

Oh, think of the moment when Conscience returning

Shall put the brief pleasures of Bacchus to flight;
When the tongue shall be parch'd and the brow shall be burning

And most of to-morrow shall taste of to-night!
For tho toast shall bo hard, and the tea shall be bitter,

And all through your breakfast, this thought shall intrude; That a little pale brandy and Seltzer is fitter

For such an occasion than animal food.

I have known, silly fly, the delight beyond measure—

The blissful sensation, prolonged and intense—
The rapturous, wild, and ineffable pleasure,

Of drinking at somebody else's expense.
But I own—and it's not without pride that I own it—

Whenever some friend in his generous way
Bids mo drink without paying, I simply postpone it,

And pay for it amply the following day!

ATJTOMATICA.

TO THE EDITOR OF "FUN."

Sir,—You may have read in the Times of the 2nd instant, the following account of tho mechanical contrivances invented by Mr. Appold, and applied to practical uses in his own house.

"The doors opened as you approached them, and closed after you had entered; water came unbidden into the basins ; when the gas was lighted the shutters closed; a self-acting thermometer prevented the temperature rising or falling above or below certain fixed points; and the air supplied for ventilation was both washed to cool and screened to cleanse it from blacks. Even the gates of his stableyard opened of themselves as he drove through, and closed again without slamming.*'

Stimulated by his example, I intend to set to work to invent the following arrangements for my own domestic use:

1. A fire that will go out every night and return punctually by nine the next morning.

2. A kettle that will boil with rage whenever I am insulted.

3. A paying-out machine for the especial benefit of dunning creditors.

4. A clock that is always running itself down.

5. A gold hunter that will " ware wheat."
0. A hair-trigger which will do its own hair.

7. A hat that will take itself off, goodness only knows whero.
More of this when my inventions are perfected. In the meantime,

I am yours,

R. Ciiimedes.

The Last New Thing in Hats.

An impecunious friend of ours says he wants a new hat " like" old boots." We have heard of an animal that had a foot liko ft warming pan, and a body like the keel of a ship, but a chapeau resembling an antiquated pair of Wellingtons is scarcely to be imagined.

POOR FELLOW!

An acquaintance who has been eating and drinking anyhow for some years, is reduced to such a state that the coats of his stomach are all out at the elbows.

RAILWAY LIBRARY TERMINI.

One of the secrets of successful novel-writing consists in leaving the fate of the hero and heroine of the story unravelled. This possesses a double advantage. It saves trouble, and enables each reader to wind up the narrative according to his or her individual fancy. For the convenience of future novelists, we subjoin a few terminations that want writing up to:

1.

Evelina and I stood at the edge of the moon-silvered lake, and silently gazed into its deep intensity. And as we gazed, we two, we pondered on What Had Been, What Was, and What Was to Come. The Events of the Past were painted vividly on the tablets of our memory. The Present was then and there before us, but the Future! Ah, which of us could unravel it?

Did I marry the Lady Evelina, or did the fearsome burdon of her hideous crimo force her untimely into an uncongenial sepulchre P

Perhaps. The End.

2.

I suppose it's not necessary to tell you how it all ended after Tom and Mary parted, uncertain if they should ever meet again. Did brave, honest-hearted Tom return from the far East, and if he did, would the fact of his having buried both his legs under the Russian turf disgust Mary with her old, old love ?

Or did Mary marry Herbert—the true, the loving, and the patient? The End.

3.

And Claribel, with her lovers, one on each arm and one walking behind her, went forth into the moonlight. All four were pensive. Clarihel became she know not which of tho three she should choose, the three because none knew which of them would be chosen.

Finis.

4.

Yot another picture, and I have done. Constantina in the gloomy cell of the convent on the Rock. A gloomy, gloomy cell, illumined by a flickering taper, and furnished with but a single rough-hewn stool. Clad in the coarse grey serge of the sisterhood, she bent over a volume of priestly lore. And as tho solemn bell rung forth the hour of midnight mass, she closed the book, and putting it in a recess in tho wall, she joined tho saintly throng in the convent chapel.

Had the murderess repented?

Who shall say P

The End.

[ocr errors]

Anon sends us some verses, and requires, like his namesake in Shakespeare's Henry the Fourth—Anon—another as to tho fate of his lines. He adds, " if occasional contributions from your correspondent would be acceptable, notify the same in your next." They will be acceptable—anon, which means by and by, which means not just directly.

J. L. should not attempt imitations of ballads which he himself speaks of as inimitable. Besides his muso halts instead of tripping light-foot.

Juvenis.—We know the original of your "original sketch" very well.

Piffles.—If your happiness depends upon it you may tell tho girl of your heart that the first celery cried in the streets is a head that is bawled early. But if she doesn't laugh, don't you cry.

Medico.—You am right Tuiter's tragedy would have been like a blister, for in spite of tho irritation it would cause it would have drawn well for one night.

A Nors-KBEPEE.—Your butcher had no business to call you an old cockney for leaving off beef, though you did drop your aitch (bone).

Angelina tells us she is "just married" (wo aro glad she just managed it; it must have been a near shave), and wants a few household receipts to begin housekeeping. As beef is not certain she had better pot a few geraniums instead. They will be nico with bread and butter for lunch. In making pies, she should remember that flattery is never thrown away, and butter the dish, or they may not turn out well. When she happens to forget to order in any dinner she had better roast her husband till he looks done quite brown. In order to see whether sausages are made of pork or of kittens, get a string, tie a wisp of paper to the end, and drag it about near the sausage. If the sausage runs after it it is not fit to eat. If it does not, it may or may not be, according to circumstances.

T. J., M. L., A Friend, F. S., A Constant Scbscriber, M. F. T., etc., etc., will see that in accordance with their request, "Buoyed with Hope" has been printed separately on toned paper, and may bo obtained at the office.

[graphic]

ONE ARM v. ONE LEG.

Early this month the usual Greenwich Hospital match between the one-armed and the one-leggod pensioners camo off at the Oval, though far from an-oval sight now, owing to frequent repetitions.

The one-logged, having won the toss, put their test legs—that is, their wooden ones—foremost, and went in. They began with some capital hitting, and scored scores of runs. The turf between the wickets began very soon to look like a cribbage-board, owing to their pegging away. Ben Borstay, one of the best bats on this side, was run out early, owing to his having got his wooden leg into a drainpipe between wickets, which prevented his running home. Another good player was declared out by tho umpire—".wooden leg before wicket." After this tho wickets were lost rather rapidly, the last going down to 81 in tho shade.

Five minutes' interval was allowed for refreshments before the second part of the entertainment.

The one-armed went in. Tom Bowline, tho first wicket, unluckily had his head knocked off by the roundhand bowling. He subsequently accounted for this by saying that when he was Nelson's bo'sun ho never ducked for a snot, and he wasn't going to bob for a ball. The fielding of tho one-legged was excellent. Tho manner in which Jack MABLiNsriKE, who was standing mid-wicket, managed a very hard hit-up, by taking off his timber limb, and catching the ball in the top as if playing at cup and ball, excited tho wannest admiration.

Tho one-armed wont out at the end of tho first innings with a score of seventy-eight, according to tho documents furnished to us. We have submitted them to Mit. Babraoe, who has called in his Calculating Machine, and assures us that a score being twenty cannot possibly be seventy-six. Wo are theroforo compelled reluctantly to believe that somo ono has been tamporing with the returns.

Tho second innings of tho one-legged opened after a few very interesting experiments in alcoholic hydrostatics. Unfortunately tho very first ball brought the proceedings to an abrupt conclusion. A woll-delivered roundhander it came straight at tho wicket, but the batsman standing a little wide, it struck his wooden log, glanced upwards, and, catching him in the mouth, knocked three of his remaining tooth short off. An eminent dentist was fortunately on tho spot, and kindly consented to take the post of umpire. Tho stumps,

therefore, wore drawn (by congelation) at a quarter past four, and the poor sufferer is progressing favourably, though at his age (ninety-two) it is hardly to bo expected that his loss will be repaired.

The whole passed off most satisfactorily, and there was a large attendance of the supporters of the manly game, together with a few distinguished members of the swell mob, to whom wo owe the reflection that to walk home this hot weather from Kennington to Bayswatnr with a cold in your head and no pocket-handkerchief b

NOTICE.By t/te desire of numerous correspondents, copies of

"BUOYED WITH HOPE,"

printed on toned paper, may now be obtained at the Office, price One Pemy.

Now ready, the Eighth Half-yearly Volume of FUN, being THE FIRST VOLT/ME OF THE NEW SERIES, handsomely bound in Magenta cloth, price is. 6rf.

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

DIAMOND COT DIAMOND.

"Love took up the glass of Time!"

So asserts the Poet Laureate; Here's a theme to point a rhyme

Or the moral of a story at. In return for Cupid's theft,

Time—you'll think him rather stupid— Time went shooting right and left

With the bow and shafts of Cupid.

Guided by their gods above,

Mortals fell to evil-doing;
All the folks that knew young Lovo

Straightway lost their Timo in wooing. This was not the only crimo

Wicked human-nature cherished; For by way of killing Time,

People fell in love and perished!

London: Printed by JUDD & GLASS, Phoenix Works, St vndrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietors) by THOMAS BAKKIt. »t

t Flert-street, E.C.—September 23, 1S65.

[ocr errors]
[graphic][merged small]

HEY tell me if I longor stop,

To be a bacholor I'm fated;
My barber hints at "thin a-top,"

My married friends say "antiquated."
Ah, well! in spite of thinning locks,

I daren't indulge the tender passion. And married friends? The tail-less fox

Declared that tails were out of fashion!

I've pleasant rooms in Gray's Inn Square,
That look upon a grove umbrageous.

I've not a dun—I've not a care—
Not e'en a carious tooth outrageous.

Society receives me well;
I'm up in all that's on the tapis;

And yet—though why I cannot tell

• I'm somehow not entirely happy!

I have my melancholy fits,

And oft indulge in visions tender,
Of one who opposite mo sits,

With tiny foot upon the fender.
Who she's to be I've ne'er surmised—

My wife of dreams, ideal darling!
The hope will ne'er be realised—

So you'll forgive a little snarling!

And why? Because, I must confess,

The female sex is so expensive,
And spends such awful sums on dress,

A man must stand on the defensive;
Kinglets—not rings—their caskets fill,

And chignons havo in prico so mounted, No longer their hairdresser's bill

A " hairy nothing" can bo counted.

Infanticide, in short;—which blots

Just now old England's boasted progress. For every girl, who spends such lots

Of money, seems a cruel ogress; And why '( Because statistics prove

(While vainly ogle, worship, sigh men} Her tastes expensive smother Love,

And in his own knot strangle Hymen.

A NEWSPAPER "OP THE PERIOD."

Wb presume there are very few of our readers who are in the habit of seeing The Spiritual Times. Indeed the mere fact of their being such sensible fellows as to peruse their Fun with regularity ought to be in itself a sufficient guarantee against the suspicion of their wasting their time and intellect over the blasphemous and inane twaddle of this special organ of the spirit-rappers, table-turners, tom-foolknotophobists, et hoc genus omne. We who, of course, and as a matter of duty, read everything, have recently come across a bit of more than usual merit.

In a late number of the Spiritual Times a correspondent who prints his name in full, and appends thereto the honourable initials "M.D.," likewise adding " F.K.C. Physicians, Edinburgh," giveB an account of an interview he had enjoyed with the spirit of the late lamented Db. Pbitchabd, recently executed for the murder of his wife and motherin-law. We will be more considerate of tho writer's reputation than he has been himself, and so we suppress his name. Lest, however, our doing so should in the least degree weaken our readers' faith in the truth of what he states, we will add that the interview he narrates took place in a locality, and in a presence which will at once preclude all possible suspicion of deception. The interview, in fact, took place at the residence of that most notorious of mediums, Mbs. Marshall.

Tho ghost of Pbitchard, duly summoned, gave a most woeful account of his position. In fact he was as badly off as ghost could be. We shrink from the irreverence, the blasphemy we would say, of giving in detail the questions and answers as printed in the article from which we quote. However, there we have it in black and white, the spirit of Pbitchabd was in a "parlous state." After for some time putting leading questions, the replies to which all tended one way, we find the interrogator asked the spirit,

"Do you suffer from heat t"

This was certainly, to say the least of it (considering where the ghost had come from), a mild way of putting it. The spiritualists by their wild assertions have long since proved they are "not particular to a shade," though it now seems they are considerate to a ghost!

And there are men living in our own day, men entitled to "write themselves down"—we had nearly finished Dogberry's famous line —to write themselves down M.D.'s, who can believe in this horrible, this blasphemous tomfoolery.

The same paper contains the following as an advertisement:—

"Any gentleman suffering under the known system of hiring or employing some party to watch and keep the Eye upon a person by overlooking him, fascinating, listening backwards to him (in Arabic ILHAN), crying out of persons around him by word, act, or gesture; hancking, bewitching, blowing upon, setting a watch upon him, &c, whether for the purpose of obtaining charges of Insanity against him, for other purposes, or from any other motive, is requested to communicate with L. P. T., Library, 88, Park-street, Camden-town, London, N.W., with a view to co-operation in obtaining recognition, by statute, of the notorious and well-known existence of the practice, and the enactment of a punishment as felony, Statutes 1 Jac. 1 c. 12, &c, &c, for the offence.

"N. B. None but bona fide communications will be attended to.

"Number of madhouses, 219: and lunatic population, 89,757—in the united kingdom."

We have ourselves such a tremendous character for joking, that we feel our readers will refuse to take us au serteux under any circumstances whatever. But if they will only this once allow us to be in earnest, we pledge our editorial word of honour—nay, we will, if necessary, swear by our editorial gum-bottle and pen-knife (we scorn the " paste and scissors"), that the above was really printed by moveable types in a newspaper during the latter half of this enlightened nineteenth century, and was Not, as they would doubtless imagine, written in black letter by some old superstitious monk in the dark ages. •

We suppose we must speak of the Spiritual Times in the style universally adopted by one journal towards another, as "our cotemporary," though, of a truth, the phrase seems strangely out of character.

[blocks in formation]
[graphic]

TOWN TALK.

Bt ran Sacsteubr nc Sootbtt.

N E hardly knows whether the Irish Government is right or not in taking strongmeasures with the Fenians. It may make the nation think too highly of the silly vapouring of a few foolish men, and yet, if disregarded, the so-called Brotherhood might have beoomo really troublesome if not dangerous. About one thing, however, there can he no doubt: the steps the Government determined upon were carried out with promptitude and prudence. Even the great master of coups d'etdt must acknowledge that the blow could not havo been better struck.

The nine days' wonder which has lent an additional lustro to the groat and glorious name of Smith has collapsed. The groom and the lady retire into the privacy from which they should never have been dragged to fill the heads of stableboys with dreams of ambition, and to set a had example to silly and romantic girls. Smith appears to have behaved with the honesty and straightforwardness one would expect of a Smith, but the girl seems to have an absurd and—I was going to say unstable, but that won't do—a flighty mighty, combined with great stable-ity of character.

How very pleasant it is to hear of the engines snorting defiance at the Sabbatarians on the Scottish Sunday. The fanatics did wisely to put forth all their strength in' the attempt to keep out the great civilizer steam. There will be less drunkenness throughout Scotland on a Sunday now—less drunkenness with whiskey and less with spiritual pride, which is the very worst form of intoxication. If the Scotch bigots did not belong to a class who obstinately Bhut their eyes to facts they would know that wherever Sunday excursions have been introduced intemperance has decreased. The publis houses in London which used to be besieged on Sundays have many of them, Bince the spread of the excursion train movement, had to shut up on that day for want of trade.

The groat Schleswig Holstein question has resolved itself in a very simple—if not a satisfactory— manner. Prussia takes the lot, which quite does away with any difficulty that might havo arisen from the Bub-division of the provinces.

What a funny notion it is—this hob-nobbing of the broad majesty of Spain with the acute Empbror Of France! Fancy a Bourbon Queen interchanging visits with a Bonaparte. But ho is a very knowing card that Emperor— more knowing than all the kings in the pack—imd if he can only get a consolidation of the Latin races—a "federation of the world"—with a general disarmament, he will be able to put the whole civilized world into his pocket. And, upon my word, ho will deserve it!

I—In tho absence of the Editor, who T know is out of town for a few days—must express a hope that now our gracious sovereign has been to Coburg, and has devoted so many years to mourning, we may be allowed to Bee her among us again. And it is on that account that I grieve to see too much stress laid on the " never-to-be-forgotten" in a document, signed by Lord Ghanville, and addressed to the municipality of Coburg. There is little chance of a death being forgotten, which, apart from the sorrow to a whole people, has fallen like a blight upon the country, and crippled trade for nearly four years.

I Should have liked to be present at the laying of the first stone of the Herbert Memorial House for Convalescents. It is erected in memory of a good man whose good works live after him. The soldiers of the British army must remember the one Secretary of State for War who thought of them as men instead of machines, and to whom they owo the few measures that have ever been passed—I had almost Baid introduced—in the british Parliament for many a long year. The ceremony must have been impressive, for Sotheron Estcourt can speak, and when Sam. Oxon puts his heart into what he is saying —which is not always—there is no one living, except Gladstone, who can beat him at oratory.

I Have reason to believe that although the potato disease is prevalent the cattle disease has not—except in a few instances—spread beyond a hundred miles from London. The pasture lands of Somerset and Devon are studded with healthy cattle, and the beef in those parts is delicious. Tho weather is splendid— almost tropical. The trees have only just begun to put on the autumnal gold, and they give back the sun's glory in style. Insect life is very abundant in the country— butterflies are plentiful, and if you take tea in tho open air you may count upon having a few dozen gnats and flies in your cup.

Fkom that last paragraph I m afraid some people may be led to suppose that the Saunterer in Society is out of town. Well! as there's no society in town now, where is he to go to saunter? Nevertheless I shan't confess. But I will tell you this much—that to go to a cucumber frame, and pick a cucumber as long aa my hand, with all the fresh blue bloom on it, and eat it then and there without condiments, and with the rind on, is about as jolly a thing as I know— much pleasanter (I say this behind the editor's back, for I know he's out of town) than editing a comic paper.

A CLUMSY SERVANT.

Oh, Nature, Nature! you're enough
To put a quaker in a huff,

Or make a martyr grumble.
Whenever something rich and rare,
On oarth—at sea— or in the ail'—
Is left in your especial care

You always let ifcUuuule,

You can't, like other folks, confine
Your talents to the hardware lino,

And break the trifles they break;
But, Bpurning anything so small,
You take our nights and let them fall;
And every morning—worst of all—

You go and let the day break.

You drop the rains of early Spring,
That set the wide world blossoming;'

You drop the beams that mellow
Tho grain towards the harvest-prime;
You drop, too, at the autumn time,
With breathings from a colder clime,

The dead leaves, sere and yellow.

You drop and drop; and I've no doubt
You'll go on dropping things about,

Through fine and stormy weather,
Until the day when you shall find
You're growing weary of mankind;
And then you'll Boon make up your mind

To drop us altogether!

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
« PreviousContinue »