Chapter M: W. Is a Fool; (4)

"Among the equestrians, two are deserving that their looks and
equipments should be alluded to in more than general terms.
The animals they bestrode were a couple of broken-down ponies,
gaunt and rusty, who had possibly once seen better days. The
men themselves were not unsuitable figures for such a pair of
steeds. They rode with short stirrups, that brought their knees
almost under cover of the shaggy mane that overspread the ewe
necks of the poor creatures; and carried their short thick sticks
perpendicularly in their hands. Such was the appearance of these
country wights as they shambled along the road that gave them
so good a view of the City State Barge. And so mightily pleased
was the Lord Mayor with their uncouth and ludicrous appearance,
that he hailed one of them, and asked him to be the bearer of a
message to Reading, touching his Lordship's carriage. The fellow
seemed to feel as he never felt before! An honour was about to be
conferred upon him alone--to be the _avant-courrier_ of the Lord
Mayor of London!--above and beyond all other riders, drivers, and
walkers of whatever quality and degree, who had thronged to the
view of the civic party. And no sooner had his Lordship flung him
a piece of money, and told him to 'make haste to the Bear Inn,
Reading, and order the Lord Mayor's carriage to meet the barge
at Caversham Bridge,' than the fellow instantly belaboured the
starveling ribs of the poor animal that carried him, with kicks
and cudgel; who, in a moment, dashed briskly forward, snuffling
and snorting across the fields. In the eagerness of his flight,
the doughty messenger had much ado to maintain his seat: he
sometimes slipped on one side of the saddle, and sometimes on the
other; while the skirts of his unbuttoned coat fluttered out far
behind him. He executed his commission, however, with fidelity
equalled only by the dispatch which he had used; for when the
barge arrived at Caversham Bridge, the carriage was waiting the
Lord Mayor's arrival. Other carriages were also in attendance.
It was now nearly nine o'clock; and as the evening shadows were
beginning to shroud the surrounding scenery, the Lady Mayoress,
and the other ladies of the party, except the Misses Atkins,
fearful of too long exposure to the night air, landed at the
bridge, amidst the firing of guns and other demonstrations of
respectful salutation, and proceeded in their carriages to
Reading."

That a Lord Mayor should devote much time to Reading, Mr. Rogers would declare highly improbable--but his Lordship and party partook of a sumptuous supper and went to bed. That we cannot devote much more space to Lord Wenables is equally mortifying--suffice it to say, that on the following day, after a hearty breakfast, an eleven o'clock snack, and a one o'clock luncheon, Lord Wenables and his court partook of a cold collation at Cliefden, at which were present Mrs. Fromow and her son, Broom Witts, Esq.; the Mayors of Maidenhead, Windsor, and Reading, the brothers and sisters of Lord Wenables, and sixty or seventy other persons.

"The gardens and grounds were thronged with spectators, either
strolling about or seated on the grass; and on the opposite
banks, several tents were erected for general convenience; around
which the children shouted and threw up their hats!"

What particular occurrences excited the mirth and activity of the children round this particular spot, the reverend gentleman omits to mention; the following, however, must not be overlooked:--

"The increasing pressure of the surrounding people now rendered
the adoption of some plan necessary by which their curiosity
could be better gratified. Arrangements were accordingly made
to admit the female part of the spectators, in small successive
parties, to walk round the tables as the company were seated
at dinner; and it was curious to see how many eager eyes were
strained, and fingers pointed, to distinguish the individuals of
the party. But it was something more than a mere idle feeling of
curiosity that prompted this anxiety in the honest peasantry to
see the Lord Mayor of London."

It seems, in fact, that Lord Wenables was born in those parts, so that his anxiety about the source of the Thames was in fact instinctive and intuitive, and as natural as it was laudable.

The next thirty or forty pages of the work consist of a character of his late Majesty, an account of Mr. Wenables's paper-mill, and a description of the royal Castle at Windsor, copied, we presume, from the Guide to that building, which has been long since published for the benefit of Lions, at the small charge of sixpence.

The details of breaking a bottle over the stone at Staines we cannot give, although the anxiety of Lord Wenables to discover the London water-mark appears to have been professionally natural. At Richmond the barge remained--like the great Lord's stock in trade--_stationary_, and his Lordship's fine foaming horses having been delighted once more with the sight of his Lordship, dashed from Richmond to the Mansion House with a celerity which, although somewhat inconsistent with "true dignity," brought the illustrious personage, his wife, his chaplain, and his sword-bearer, to the end of the Poultry in "no time;" having safely achieved an adventure which will hand down to posterity the great names of Wenables and Fromow, and the unrivalled powers of an historian, who (though modesty may induce him to keep himself snug) will live in his works till time shall be no more.

LORD WENABLES AGAIN.[55]

The editor of these memoirs, anxious to do justice to Mr. Firkins's feelings, and to Mr. Gurney's accuracy in recording them, considers that he cannot do more for the establishment of the sincerity of one party, and the correctness of the other, than may be done by submitting a few extracts from an authentic work, published many years subsequent to the period to which Mr. Gurney refers, giving an account of the journey of Lord Mayor Wenables to Oxford, written and published at the desire of his lordship, and his companions in that enterprise, by his lordship's chaplain. As the romance of real life is said to be infinitely more romantic than that of fiction, so the details of dignity, splendour, and magnificence, ably and carefully written by the rev. gentleman, by which the expedition of Alderman Wenables was distinguished, very much transcend the description given by our respected acquaintance Firkins, to my much-regretted friend Gurney. The extracts must be brief--but I am convinced they will be highly satisfactory.

The first quotation I shall make from the reverend author's book, is the description of the departure of the Lord Mayor from the Mansion House. It is headed "Tuesday," and begins at page 11:--

"On the morning of the 25th (July), the lord mayor accompanied by
the lady mayoress, and attended by the chaplain, left the Mansion
House soon after eight o'clock.

"The _private state_ carriage" (I ought to observe, the italics
are mine) "had driven to the door at half-past seven" (which, by
the way, as an act of volition upon the part of the private state
coach, was extremely attentive). "The coachman's countenance
was reserved and thoughtful; indicating full consciousness
of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be
tried, in having the undivided charge of four high spirited and
stately horses, a circumstance somewhat unusual: for in the lord
mayor's carriage, a postilion usually guides the first pair
of horses,"--_i.e._ the postilion in the carriage guides the
leaders, which are the farthest removed from it.

"These fine animals," says the reverend author, "were in
admirable condition for the journey--having been allowed a
previous day of unbroken rest; they were quite impatient of
delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which
their impetuosity was restrained.

"The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half
an hour amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage,
was at length hushed, by--the opening of the hall door. The
lord mayor had been filling up this interval" (the door?) "with
instructions to the _femme de ménage_ and other household
officers who were to be left in residence, to attend with their
wonted fidelity and diligence to their respective departments of
service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. His
lordship was accompanied by the lady mayoress, and followed by
the chaplain.

"As soon as the female attendant of the lady mayoress had taken
her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the
well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however,
with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than
gratifies the beholders; but at that steady and majestic pace
which is always an indication of real greatness."--P. 12.

The reverend gentleman describes this majestic progress through London to Cranford Bridge; a powder-mill at Hounslow is blown up on the way; but at Cranford Bridge, "just thirteen miles from London," the lord mayor staid only long enough to change horses--"for his lordship intending to travel post from Cranford Bridge to Oxford, his own fine horses were, after a proper interval of rest, to return to town under the coachman's care."

"These noble animals, however, seemed scarcely to need the rest
which their master's"--job--"kindness now allotted them, for
though they had drawn a somewhat heavy carriage a distance of
nearly seventeen miles, yet they appeared as full of life as
ever; arching their stately necks, and dashing in all directions
the white foam from their mouths, as if they were displeased that
they were to go no farther."--P. 16.

"Just as the carriage was about to drive away" (more volition),
"Mr. Alderman Magnay, accompanied by his lady and daughter,
arrived in a post-chaise. After an interchange of salutations,
the lady mayoress, observing that they must be somewhat crowded
in the chaise, invited Miss Magnay to take the fourth seat, which
had yet been vacant in the carriage; as the day was beginning
to be warm, this courteous offer of her ladyship was readily
accepted."

Here is a perfect justification of Firkins's regrets at his fall--the unhappy trio, jammed in the _po chay_, had been the year before in precisely the same elevated position which their illustrious friends then occupied; and if the courteous lady mayoress the year before that, had been screwed up with her husband and daughter in a _po chay_ also, then Mrs. Magnay would have been the courteous lady mayoress, to have relieved the Wenableses. I must, however, think that the reverend gentleman's reason for Miss Magnay's ready acceptance of the courteous offer does her an injustice. By his account, she readily got out of the family jam, not because she duly appreciated the grace and favour of the lady mayoress, but because "the day was beginning to be warm."

The journey to Oxford was all safely completed, and after seventy-six pages of matter, equally illustrative of Firkins's feelings, we come, at p. 77, to this description of the rapture and delight of the people of Oxfordshire, under the exciting circumstances of the lord mayor's return down the river towards London:--

"The crowds of people--men, women, and children--who had
accompanied the barge from Oxford, were continually succeeded
by fresh reinforcements from every town and village that is
skirted by the river. Distant shouts and acclamations perpetually
re-echoed from field to field, as the various rustic parties,
with their fresh and blooming faces, were seen hurrying forth
from their cottages and gardens, climbing trees, struggling
through copses, and traversing thickets to make their shortest
way to the water side. Handfuls of halfpence were scattered to
the children as they kept pace with the city barge, and Mr.
Alderman Atkins, who assisted the lord mayor in the distribution,
seemed to enter with more than common pleasure into the enjoyment
of the little children. It was gratifying to see the absence
of selfish feeling manifested by some of the elder boys, who,
forgetful of themselves, collected for the younger girls."--Pp.
77, 78.

The last bit for which I have room, is of the more convincing and powerfully descriptive cast, than anything I have yet advanced in favour of my poor friend Gurney's estimation of Firkins's dismay at his fall. The scene is near Caversham, where crowds of "spectators, some on foot, some on horseback, and some in equipages of every kind," were collected to see the barges pass.

"Among the equestrians," says the author, "two are deserving
that their looks and equipments should be alluded to in more
than general terms. The animals they bestrode were a couple of
broken-down ponies, gaunt and rusty, who had possibly once seen
better days. The men themselves were not unsuitable figures
to such a pair of steeds. They rode with short stirrups, that
brought their knees almost under cover of the shaggy manes that
overspread the ewe necks of the poor creatures; and carried
their short thick sticks perpendicular in their hands."

This sounds like an account in one of the innumerable books of travels in the interior of Africa, rather than a description of a couple of natives of Berkshire, within five-and-thirty miles of Hyde Park Corner; however, "so mightily pleased was the lord mayor with their uncouth and ludicrous appearance, that he hailed one of them, and asked him to be the bearer of a message to Reading, touching his lordship's carriage. The fellow seemed to feel as he never felt before. An honour was about to be conferred upon him alone, to be the _avant courier_ of--'the Lord Mayor of London,' above and beyond all the other riders, drivers, and walkers, of whatever quality and degree, who had thronged in view of the civic party; and no sooner had his lordship flung him a piece of money, and told him to 'make haste to the Bear Inn at Reading, and order the lord mayor's carriage to meet the barge at Caversham Bridge,' than the fellow instantly belaboured the starveling ribs of the poor animal that carried him with kicks and cudgel, who in a moment dashed briskly forward, snuffling and snorting, across the fields. In the eagerness of his flight, the doughty messenger had much ado to keep his seat; he sometimes slipped on one side of the saddle, and sometimes on the other, while the skirts of his unbuttoned coat fluttered far out behind him."--Pp. 81, 82.

All this evidence from the pen of a worthy divine, will, I am sure, convince the most sceptical reader of the fidelity with which my late friend repeated the regrets and lamentations of our friends in Budge Row, after their involuntary abdication. Every page of the account of that memorable journey and voyage teems with gem-like illustrations of a similar character; and I regret that my duty, as editor of the Gurney Papers, does not permit me to draw more largely on its stores.

MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.

TO JOHN BULL.

SIR,--I am not one of those who snarl at modern improvements, but I admit my incapacity to find out the improvements, at which other people snarl--I consider gas and steam to be two of the most odious and abominable nuisances ever tolerated in a Christian country: I only ask the best-natured critic--the most impartial judge in Christendom--whether anything can smell more abominably than the vapour which thousands of pounds are hourly spent to produce? If ruining oil-men, and beggaring wax-chandlers, is sport, well and good--in Heaven's name stew down the wholesome coals and make smoke, and set fire to it: but don't call that an improvement.

I love the sight of a lamp-lighter--a "jolly Dick" in a greasy jacket flaring his link along the pavement, rubbing against one's sleeve, or besprinkling one's shirt with oil--I seldom see one of them now; the race is superseded by a parcel of dandies, with dark lanthorns in their hands, prowling about like so many Guy Fawkes's: up they go, and without taking off the green lamp-tops and putting them on their heads, as the jolly Dicks did, they open a door, turn a cock, introduce their lanthorn--piff, paff, poff,--out comes the light, and down goes the ladder--this is innovation, not improvement.

Then steam--what's the improvement of steam? There was an interest in a short sea voyage when I was young--contrary winds--tides against one--nature had fair play--but now Mr. This-thing or Mr. T'other-thing makes a great copper pot, and fills it with water--more coals; poking and stoking, and shovelling and raking--Nature is thrown overboard; and the pacquet-boat, uninfluenced either by her smiles or frowns, ploughs up the waves, and marches along, like a couple of wandering water-mills. There is no interest in this, sir--any fool can make a copper pot--any fool can fill a copper pot with water--any fool can make a fire, and poke it, and make water boil--there's no pleasure in this life when events are thus provided for, and that, which had all the interest of doubt and difficulty, is reduced to a certainty.

The same in land carriage--formerly, a stage coach journey was an affair--a thing to be thought about--a man took leave of his relations, left his home, in the expectation of never seeing his wife again; then there was an interest, a pleasure in the speculation, and a hope, and a fear, and a doubt, and something to keep the faculties awake. Now, sir, if you want to go sixty or seventy miles, you have hardly settled yourself comfortably in your corner, before you are at your journey's end. Why, sir, before these jigamaree things were invented, I have lived two-and-twenty days on board a Leith smack, for three pounds three shillings, and enjoyed a pleasant five days' excursion on the road to Plymouth; whereas at present I am whirled from Edinburgh to London in forty hours, and taken from Piccadilly to Dock--Devonport I mean--in about half that time. Now this, to my mind, is no improvement.

Then, sir, look at London--look what the improvers have done--pulled up the pavements, the pride of the land, and turned the streets into roads. This Muckadamizing is no improvement. Puddles for purbecks is a bad exchange--the granite grinding is no wonder--the rattle and clatter of London is at an end. One might as well be at Slough or Southall, or any of the environs, as be in the heart of the town. They have taken away Swallow-street--scene of my youthful pleasures; and, to crown all, they are pulling St. James's Park to pieces, planting trees, and twisting the water. Why did not they leave the canal straight, as the Serpentine is? Are we to come back to the days of Duck Island, with a Whig governor for it? Why are the horses and cows disturbed to make way for the people? I love to see horses and cows happy. I like to see the barracks and hospitals. I don't want to look at great big rows of high houses, filled with people who can afford to live in them, while I cannot. This is no improvement.

Then for manners and customs: in my time we dined early and sat late, and the jolliest part of our lives was that which we passed with our legs under the mahogany. Now, we see no mahogany--we dine at supper-time and the cloth stops and the wine never moves; away go our women--no healths--no toasts--no gentleman to cover a lady--no good wishes--nothing convivial--one anonymous half glass, sipped silently, and the coffee is ready. Out we go, turned adrift at eleven, with nothing on earth to do for the rest of the evening, unless one goes to a Club, where, if a man asks for anything stronger than soda water, he is looked at as a monster. Hock and Seltzer water, perhaps, if it's hot weather--wimbly wambly stuff, enough to make a cat sick, and after that, home. Why, in my time, sir, I should have laughed at a fellow who flinched before his fourth bottle, or who submitted to the degrading circumstance of finding his way to bed of his own proper discretion. But those days are past--one thing I _do_ thank the stars for--we are getting back to the tobacco--not indeed the beautiful lily pipe, tipped rosily with sealing wax, and pure as the driven snow, but a happy succedaneum--a cigar. I do love a cigar, sir; it reminds me of the olden time, and I like the smell of my clothes in the morning, which I congratulate myself none of our modern improvements, as they are called, can ever eradicate.

Perhaps you have been lately in the Regent's Park--I will tell you what is doing there--a Mr. Somebody--I forget his name, but it is somehow connected in my mind upon Von Feinagle's principle with a Christmas pie--Horner, by Jove, that's it--he has sunk twenty thousand pounds, and raised a splendid building--a temple--a pantheon--a feature in the town--and what do you think for?--to exhibit a panorama of London from the top of St. Paul's, just within a couple of miles of St. Paul's itself--but then we are to be saved all the trouble--to be screwed up to the eminence without labour: to my mind, the whole point of a fine prospect is the trouble of getting to it--far-fetched and dear-bought are the great attractions, and all the interest is destroyed if things are made too easy of attainment. I don't like this plan.

The same struggle against nature seems to be going on everywhere--see the theatres--even at that band-box the Adelphi--there was a difficulty in getting in, and a difficulty in getting a seat when one did get in; now it is all made easy and comfortable, and for what? To see a schooner so like what any one can see any day in the river, that it is no sight at all; like Lawrence's pictures--I hate that President--his things are like life, the likenesses are identity, and so like nature that there is no merit in the painting--I like a little doubt--I love to show my quickness by guessing a portrait--the interest is destroyed if there is no question about the thing--the same with shooting--I used to hit my bird and miss my bird, and walk and walk over the furrows, and climb over the hedges and ditches, and bang away with a gun of my poor father's, which, when it did go off, was not over-certain in its performance--I liked the pursuit--now, with your Mantons and percussions, your Nocks without flints, and all that sort of thing--wet or dry, off they go--slap bang, down tumbles the bird for each barrel, and the thing is over--I never shoot now--a thing reduced to a certainty loses all interest.

Before Palmer's time I used to keep up a constant correspondence with a numerous circle of friends and acquaintance; there was no certainty about the delivery of one's letters--mail carts were robbed--post-boys were murdered--bags found in a pond all soaked to rags; then, there was an interest in it; now, a letter never miscarries; all like clockwork. I hate that Freeling--his activity and vigilance have destroyed the interest. I haven't written to a friend for the last fifteen years, nor should I write to you now, only that I send my letter by a servant lad, who is a member of an Intellectual Institution, and so stupid, that I think it is at least ten to one that you ever receive it.--Perhaps you will just acknowledge it, if it comes to hand--the expectation will, at least, serve to keep up the interest.

Yours truly,
STEPHEN BROWN.

Baker Street, Oct. 17, 1828.

TO JOHN BULL.

SIR,--I perceived the other day in your columns a letter from a gentleman of the name of Brown, who, in the most cynical, sneering manner, thought fit, unjustly as I think, to run down all our modern improvements--I know you are impartial, and love to give upright adversaries fair play in your paper; I differ with Mr. Brown, and perhaps you will give me the opportunity of showing how and why.

In the first place, the ridicule, which not only he, but, I am sorry to say, yourself and many others, think fit to cast upon the advancement of learning, and which you have nick-named the march of intellect, is entirely misplaced--you look at things politically, because politicians of a peculiar class have adopted the institution of societies, seminaries, and universities--this is wrong--considering the matter thus, and associating men and manners, you teach us to believe the march of intellect the "rogues' march," to which all the well-disposed middling classes are to go to destruction; but you should consider the matter differently; you should recollect that almost all the political supporters of these Mechanics' Institutes and London Universities have imbibed their political principles merely because they have had little or no education themselves, and that as for instilling pride or arrogance into the minds of the lower and middling classes of the people, by sending them to the London University, the very converse must be the fact, because there is nothing that I see to be derived from the institution at all likely to induce pride or self-satisfaction in any of its members.

In the _Times_ of Tuesday, I perceive an advertisement from Mr. Dufief, stating that nearly 300 members of a class in the London Mechanics' Institute are learning French rapidly and critically. This, I conceive, so far from being an absurdity, to be one of the most beneficial events ever announced: consider what an improvement it will be for the common run of people who frequent public places of amusement, to find the lower order well grounded in French--in that language they will, for elegance sake, carry on their future conversations, and the ears of our wives and daughters be no longer disgusted with the coarseness to which they are now subject--for you are of course aware, that as the progress of learning exhibits itself amongst the _canaille_, the aristocracy will abandon the ground they assume, and our belles and beaux, in less than a dozen years, will whisper their soft nonsense in Hebrew, Sanscrit, Cingalese, or Malabar.

But Mr. Brown seems not only to find fault with mental improvement, but also with mechanical and scientific discoveries--he sneers at steam and growls at gas. I contend that the utility of constructing a coach which shall go by hot water nearly as fast as two horses can draw it, at a trifling additional expense, promises to be wonderfully useful. We go too fast, sir, with horses--besides, horses eat oats, and farmers live by selling oats; if, therefore, by inconveniencing ourselves and occasionally risking our lives, we can, however imperfectly, accomplish by steam what is now done by horses, we get rid of the whole race of oat-sowers, oat-sellers, oat-eaters, and oat-stealers, vulgarly called ostlers.

Gas too--what a splendid invention--we gain a magnificent light, and ruin the oil-merchants, the whale-fisheries, and the wax-chandlers--it is as economical as it is brilliant;--to be sure we use more coals, but the coal-merchants are all worthy men, and never take advantage of a frost to advance the price of their commodity; coals are evidently, however, not so essentially necessary to the poor as wax candles; therefore, even supposing the price of coals to be raised, and their value enhanced, we light our streets more splendidly, and our houses more economically.

Mr. Brown seems to dislike the over-brilliancy of the gas in the public ways, as tending to destroy the legitimate distinction between day and night. I admit this innovation--but let me beg to say, that until gas was brought to the perfection it now is, for external illumination, we never could see the unhappy women who are driven to walk the streets at night, so plainly following their avocations, or ever were indulged with the pleasing prospect of our watchmen slumbering in their wooden sanctums, at the corners of the streets.

Mr. Brown appears to dislike Mr. Mac Adam's improvements; these I defend upon several principles; one which I conceive to be extremely important, is, the constant employment they afford to the sweepers of crossings, without whose active exertions no man could ever pass from one side of the street to the other; and another which I firmly believe to be conducive to the improvement of the mind--I mean the activity with which the eye, and the ear, and the understanding must be constantly kept, in order that the individual walking may escape being run over; superadded to which, there is the admirable manure which the sweepings provide for the land.

In short, most of the objects of Mr. Brown's vituperation are objects of my respect, and I take the liberty of writing this, in order that he may, if he chooses, enter into a public disputation upon the several points at issue; for which purpose, if he will direct a letter to me under cover to you, I will appoint a time and place where the merits and demerits of the present age may be temperately, calmly, and dispassionately discussed between us.

I am, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
RICHARD WHITE.

PUNNING.

It would be vain, at this time of the world's age, to enter upon a serious disquisition into the "art or mystery" of punning: it would be useless to argue upon its utility, the genius and talent required for carrying it on, or the pleasure or amusement derivable from it. The fact is self-evident, that puns are an acknowledged ingredient of the English language amongst the middling classes, and are, in their societies, the very plums in the pudding of conversation.

It may be said that punning is a vice, and we are quite ready to admit the charge; but still it exists and flourishes amongst dapper clerks in public offices, hangers-on of the theatres; amongst very young persons at the universities; in military messes amongst the subalterns; in the City amongst apprentices; and, in some instances, with old wits _razee_, who are driven to extravagant quibbles to furnish their quota of entertainment to the society in which they are endured.

A punster (that is, a regular hard-going thick and thin punster) is the dullest and stupidest companion alive, if he could but be made to think so. He sits gaping for an opportunity to jingle his nonsense with whatever happens to be going on, and, catching at some detached bit of a rational conversation, perverts its sense to his favourite sound, so that, instead of anything like a continuous intellectual intercourse, which one might hope to enjoy in pleasant society, one is perpetually interrupted by his absurd distortions and unseasonable ribaldry, as ill-timed and as ill-placed as songs in an opera sung by persons in the depth of despair, or on the point of death.

Admitting, however, the viciousness, the felonious sinfulness of punning, it is to be apprehended that the liberty of the pun is like the liberty of the press, which, says the patriot, is like the air, and if we have it not we cannot breathe. Therefore, seeing that it is quite impossible to put down punning, the next best thing we can do is to regulate it, in the way they regulate peccadilloes in Paris, and teach men to commit punnery as Cæsar died and Frenchmen dissipate--with decency.

The proverb says, "wits jump," so may punsters, and two bright geniuses may hit upon the same idea at different periods quite unconsciously. To avoid any unnecessary repetition or apparent plagiarisms, therefore, by these coincidences, we venture to address this paper to young beginners in the craft, to the rising generation of witlings; and we are led to do this more particularly, from feeling that the tyro in punning, as well as in everything else, firmly believes that which he for the first time has heard or read, to be as novel and entertaining to his older friends, who have heard it or read it before he was born, as to himself, who never met with it till the day upon which he so liberally and joyously retails it to the first hearers he can fall in with.

For these reasons we propose, in order to save time and trouble, to enumerate a few puns which, for the better regulation of jesting, are positively prohibited in all decent societies where punnery is practised; and first, since the great (indeed the only) merit of a pun is its undoubted originality, its unequivocal novelty, its extemporaneous construction and instantaneous explosion, all puns by recurrence, all puns by repetition, and all puns by anticipation, are prohibited.

Secondly, all words spelt differently, having a similar sound, which are carefully collated and arranged in a catalogue prefixed, for the use of little punnikins at schools, to Entick's small dictionary, of whatever sort, kind, or nature they may be, are prohibited. Take for example:

AUGUR a soothsayer.
AUGER a carpenter's tool.
ALL every one.
AWL a shoemaker's gimblet.
HAUL (for the Cockneys) to pull.
HALL a vulgar proper name.
BOAR a male pig.
BORE Mr. Creevy.
WAX the produce of Bees.
WHACKS thumps on the head or body

and so on.

In the next place, all the following travelling puns are strictly prohibited:--

All allusions upon entering a town to the _pound_ and the _stocks_--knowing a man by his gait and not liking his _style_--calling a tall turnpike-keeper a colossus of _roads_--paying the post-boys charges of _ways_ and means--seeing no _sign_ of an _inn_--or, replying, "Sir, you are out," to your friend who says he does--talking of a hedger having a _stake_ in the _bank_--all allusions to _sun_ and _air_ to a new-married couple--all stuff about village _belles_--calling the belfry _a court of a peal_--saying, upon two carpenters putting up paling, that they are very peaceable men to be _fencing in_ a field--all trash about "_manors_ make the man," in the shooting season--and all such stuff about trees, after this fashion--"that's a _pop'lar_ tree--I'll turn over a new _leaf_, and make my _bough_," etc. etc.

Puns upon field sports, such as racing being a matter of _course_--horses _starting_ without being shy--a good shot being fond of his _but_ and his _barrel_--or saying that a man fishing deserves a _rod_ for taking such a _line_; if he is sitting under a _bridge_ calling him an _arch_ fellow--or supposing him a nobleman because he takes his place among the _piers_--or that he will _catch_ nothing but cold, and no fish by _hook_ or by crook. All these are prohibited.

To talk of yellow pickles at dinner, and say the way to _Turn 'em Green_ is through Hammersmith--all allusions to eating men, for _Eton_ men, or _Staines_ on the table-cloth--or _Egg-ham_, are all exploded--as are all stuff about _Maids_ and _Thornbacks_, and _Plaice_--or saying to a lady who asks you to help her to the wing of a chicken, that it is a mere matter of _a pinion_--all quibbles about dressing _hare_ and cutting it--all stuff about a merry fellow being given to _wine_--or upon helping yourself to say you have a _platonic_ affection for roast beef--or when fried fish runs short, singing to the mistress of the house, with Tom Moore,--

"Your sole, though a very sweet sole, love,
Will ne'er be sufficient for me,"

are entirely banished.

At the play-house never talk of being a _Pittite_ because you happen not to be in the boxes--never observe what a _Kean_ eye one actor has, or that another can never grow old because he must always be _Young_--never talk of the uncertainty of _Mundane_ affairs in a farce, or observe how _Terrybly_ well a man plays Mr. Simpson--banish from your mind the possibility of saying the Covent Garden manager has put his best _Foot_ forward, or that you should like to go to _Chester_ for a day or two--or that you would give the world to be tied to a _Tree_--or that Mr. _Make ready_ is a presentable actor--all such stuff is interdicted.

In speaking of Parliament, forget Broom and Birch, Wood and Cole, Scarlett and White, Lamb and the Leakes, the Hares and the Herons, the Cootes and the Cruins--such jumbles will lead into great difficulties, and invariably end, without infinite caution, in an observation, that the conduct of that House is always regulated by the best possible _Manners_.

There are some temptations very difficult to avoid--for instance, last Saturday we saw gazetted, as a bankrupt, "Sir John Lade, Cornhill, watchmaker!" Now this, we confess, was a provocation hard of resistance--when one sees a _lad_ of sixty-four _set up_ only to _break down_, and perceives that whatever he may do with _watches_, he could not make a _case_ before the Insolvent Debtors' Court; and moreover, since his taking to watchmaking arose from his having, in the _spring_ of life, gone upon _tick_, and that the circumstance may be considered as a _striking_ instance of a _bad wind-up_--we admit that in the hands of a young beginner such a thing is quite irresistible, but such temptations should be avoided as much as possible.

We have not room to set down all the prohibited puns extant; but we have just shown that the things which one hears, when one dines in the City (where men eat peas with a two-pronged fork, and bet hats with each other), as novelties, and the perfection of good fun, are all flat, stale, and unprofitable to those who have lived a little longer and seen a little more of the world, and have heard puns when it was the fashion to commit them at the west end of the town.

These hints are thrown out for the particular use of some sprightly persons, with whose facetiousness we have been of late extremely pestered--we apologise to our rational readers for the insertion of such stuff, even by way of surfeit to our quibbling patients.

CAUTIONARY VERSES TO YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES.[56]

My readers may know that to all the editions of Entick's Dictionary, commonly used in schools, there is prefixed "A table of words that are alike, or nearly alike, in sound, but different in spelling and signification." It must be evident that this table is neither more nor less than an early provocation to punning; the whole mystery of which vain art consists in the use of words, the sound and sense of which are at variance. In order, if possible, to check any disposition to punning in youth, which may be fostered by this manual, I have thrown together the following adaptation of Entick's hints to young beginners, hoping thereby to afford a warning, and exhibit a deformity to be avoided, rather than an example to be followed; and at the same time showing the caution children should observe in using words which have more than one meaning.

"My little dears, who learn to read, pray early learn to shun
That very silly thing indeed which people call a pun:
Read Entick's rules, and 'twill be found how simple an offence
It is, to make the self-same sound afford a double sense.

"For instance, _ale_ may make you _ail_, your _aunt_ an _ant_ may
kill,
You in a _vale_ may buy a _veil_, and _Bill_ may pay the _bill_.
Or if to France your _bark_ you steer, at Dover, it may be,
A _peer appears_ upon the _pier_, who, blind, still goes to _sea_.

"Thus one might say, when to a treat good friends accept our
greeting,
'Tis _meet_ that men who _meet_ to eat should eat their _meat_ when
meeting.
Brawn on the board's no _bore_ indeed, although from _boar_ prepared;
Nor can the _fowl_, on which we feed, _foul_ feeding be declared.

"Thus _one_ ripe fruit may be a _pear_, and yet be _pared_ again,
And still be _one_, which seemeth rare until we do explain.
It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care:
For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow _hair_?

"A fat man's _gait_ may make us smile, who has no _gate_ to close:
The farmer sitting on his _style_ no _stylish_ person knows:
Perfumers men of _scents_ must be; some _Scilly_ men are bright;
A _brown_ man oft deep _read_ we see, a _black_ a wicked _wight_.

"Most wealthy men good _manors_ have, however vulgar they;
And actors still the harder slave, the oftener they _play_:
So poets can't the _baize_ obtain, unless their tailors choose;
While grooms and coachmen, not in vain, each evening seek the
_Mews_.

"The _dyer_ who by _dying_ lives, a _dire_ life maintains;
The glazier, it is known, receives--his profits from his _panes_:
By gardeners _thyme_ is _tied_, 'tis true, when spring is in its
prime;
But _time_ or _tide_ won't wait for you, if you are _tied_ for
_time_.

"Then now you see, my little dears, the way to make a pun;
A trick which you, through coming years, should sedulously shun.
The fault admits of no defence; for wheresoe'er 'tis found,
You sacrifice the _sound_ for _sense_: the sense is never _sound_.

"So let your words and actions too, one single meaning prove,
And, just in all you say or do, you'll gain esteem and love:
In mirth and play no harm you'll know, when duty's task is done;
But parents ne'er should let ye go un_pun_ish'd for a _pun_!"

FASHIONABLE PARTIES.[57]

The season of festivities is arrived--the balmy breath of Spring has called the dormant vegetation into life--the flowers are bursting from their buds, the blossoms hang on every tree--the birds sing melodiously, and the sun shines brightly over the fresh foliage; in consequence of the completion of which arrangements, everybody is coming to London, in order to take the dust in the Parks, or pace the burning pavement in the streets. Such is the order of things, and shady groves and cooling grots are abandoned for drawing rooms at ninety-six, and half-a-score sickly orange-trees tubbed on the top of a staircase.

Thursday last was a fruitful day in the annals of our town. Lord Dudley had a grand dinner--so had the Bishop of London--so had Lady Sykes--so had Mrs. Bethel, and so had half a score of the leaders of Ton. The Society for the Relief of Foreigners in Distress (to which his Royal Highness Don Miguel borrowed fifty pounds of Lord Dudley to subscribe) had their anniversary feast at the City of London Tavern; and the Chimney Sweepers of the metropolis held theirs--contrast is every thing--at the White Conduit House!

This last was amongst the most elegant affairs of the season--every thing which could possibly have reference to the profession was interdicted; black puddings and black strap were banished; and when the amiable and excellent Mr. Duck, after doing what few Ducks can do (we mean stuffing himself with sage and onions), called attention to Non nobis Domine--sung, the newspapers say, "by some professional vocalists"--the grace was received by the fraternity with _sootable_ attention; that they did not exactly understand it, Mr. Duck said was a misfortune, not a fault; but as he could almost see from the windows the chimneys--(loud cries of Order interrupted the speaker)--the roof, he meant, of that noble pile, the London University, he did hope that before many years had gone over their heads, he should find the younger branches of the profession to which he had the honour to belong, bringing the dead languages to life, and conversing _flue_-ntly--(Order, order!)--he meant easily, in Latin and Greek."

"The immortal memory of Marshal Saxe and Sir Cloudesly Shovel," were then given by Mr. Figgins, and were shortly followed by the health of Mr. Brougham, who was expected to have favoured the party with his presence, but he was unable to get away from the House of Commons.

Mr. Duck felt it necessary to rise, in order to endeavour to do away with an impression which had got abroad, that the gentlemen of the profession disliked the introduction of machines to supersede the necessity of climbing-boys--he repelled the insinuation, although, added the Honourable Gentleman, "if machines had been invented in my time, I, perhaps, should not have had the honour of being here, for I began at the bottom of the chimney and climbed my way to the very top"--(loud cheers). "I dare say, gentlemen," said Mr. Duck, "you have heard the story of the humane man who proposed to supersede the necessity of climbing-boys by letting a goose down the chimney by a string, which would, by the fluttering of its wings, effectually clean the whole flue--the lady to whom he proposed this plan replied that she thought it would be very cruel treatment of the goose. 'Lord love your eyes, Ma'am,' said the professor, 'if so be as you are particular about the goose, a couple of ducks will do as well!'--and, gentlemen, I never hear that professional anecdote but I think of myself when I was but a duckling, as I may say, and the laudable ambition into which I climbed and climbed, and rose, as I may say, like a phonix out of the hashes, until I reached my grand climacteric."

Mr. Duck sat down amidst shouts of applause.

In the Old Times of yesterday we find the following report of some part of the entertainment, which we were unfortunate enough to miss--we take the liberty of borrowing it:

"Mr. Watson said that he was present, a few evenings since,
at a Lecture delivered by Dr. Birkbeck, on the utility of the
machine to supersede the necessity of the climbing-boy. The
Doctor, he admitted, argued candidly and fairly on the subject,
and produced an improvement in Glass's machine, which was
unquestionably the best invention of the kind; yet, with all
its perfections, he (Mr. Watson) was convinced that it would
never answer the expectations of those who entertained such a
favourable opinion of its efficacy in cleansing chimnies. In
the course of the lecture the Doctor said that the machine must
succeed in all cases where it is used, if the prejudices of the
master chimney-sweepers did not interfere with the trial. It was
true that the machine so eloquently eulogized by the Doctor would
answer in cleansing perpendicular chimnies, but where there were
impediments from various causes, no machine, however pliable,
would overcome them.

"Several master chimney-sweepers addressed the chair in the
course of the afternoon. One of them commenced 'I'm blowed,
but if we had Dr. Bucbuck, or whatever you may call him, here
at our dinner, I think we should soon make a conwert of him to
our opinions. Gemmen, I say it is impossible that ere chimney
(pointing to the chimney in the room) can be swept unless one
of us goes up it; and I'll give you a proof of it now.' The
speaker here began to doff his long coat, and would have run up
the chimney in earnest, had he not been prevented by some of his
brother tradesmen, who caught hold of him by the legs just as his
body was about disappearing from the company. When he alighted
on the floor, he said that he did not mind a fig getting a sooty
shirt, so that he succeeded in showing the strangers present,
how little danger was to be apprehended in doing the work as it
should be done, and that was by encouraging climbing-boys. He had
ascended upwards of 5,000 chimnies in his life, of all sorts and
sizes, and never yet met with an accident."

"Archdeacon Pott and the Clargy of Middlesex," were then given.

Mr. Duck then rose and said, "Gentlemen--we all of us have known what it is to climb; and as my honourable friend on the left says--I may say I have been up five thousand chimnies, long and short, and never failed in doing my duty to my employers--but what was it repaid me for my toil--what was it that cheered me in my labour--the sixpence as I got when I kimm'd down?--or the bread and cheese the kitchen-maid would give me afore I went out?--No, sir; it was not that--no--neither the one nor the other;--it was the smile of ooman--lovely ooman, which rules us all;--in her favour there is indeed a sweeping-clause; and I have the pleasure to tell you, that there is a splendid assembly of the dear creechurs a waiting in the next room, ready to trip it on their fantastic toeses--so, if you please, gemmen, we'll wind up the arternoon, by drinking--'Success to the brush and shovel all over the world'--and then join the fair."

To this proposal no possible objection could be made; and the doors being thrown open, a most splendid collection of the dear creechurs appeared ready for the quadrilles, which commenced about five. The principal dancers were--

MR. WILLIAM DUCK, MISS GRIGSON,
MR. WATSON, MISS HAWKINS,
MR. ROBERT TOTTIE, MRS. TOM DUCKS,
MR. WILKINSON. MISS ANNE SMITH.

The refreshments were of the first quality, and the whole day passed off with the greatest hilarity.

A DAY'S PROCEEDINGS OF A REFORMED PARLIAMENT.

IMPERIAL PARLIAMENT,

Anno ----.

HOUSE OF COMMONS, THURSDAY, FEB. 28.

Several new Members took the oaths and their seats; amongst them we observed the Hon. Member for the District of Field Lane and Saffron Hill, whose entrance was greeted with huzzas, clapping of hands, and other demonstrations of joy.

PRAYERS.

Mr. Snob rose and said as how he thought it were a great waste of time to okipy the Ouse with a lot of praying--he thought that it would be quite as well and ample sufficient that every member, on entering the Ouse, should poke his face in his at and mutter a short jackerlation, sich as was done in his parish church.--(Hear.)--He never did no more when he was a churchwarden--(hear, hear)--and he always found that it answered the purpose; and he gave notice that, on Monday next, he intended to move that the present practice be done away with--(cheers).

Mr. Ketch said he would sartinly second the motion whenever it came before the Ouse.

WAYS AND MEANS.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer intimated that on the 22nd of next month he should be prepared to submit his plan of Ways and Means for the year. He could not then, with propriety, enter into details--he would merely state that it was in contemplation to repeal most of the existing taxes (cheers from all sides), and this object would be easily attained by suspending for the present the payment of the interest on the funded debt--(immense cheering)--by the sale of several supernumerary ships of war, and the materials of some of the dockyards.--(Hear, hear.)--He anticipated also a considerable sum from the disposal of superfluous military equipments, cannon, &c., which it would be the height of folly to retain in these "piping times of peace;" it would follow of course that very extensive reductions would take place in the military establishments--(cheers)--_all_ pensions will forthwith be abolished--(Long-continued cheering).--He laid particular stress upon the word _all_, in order that there might be "no mistake"--(a laugh)--and, although there might be an apparent hardship in some few cases, yet his Majesty's ministers had wisely resolved not to incur censure from any person or party by using even the semblance of partiality.--(Cheering, which lasted several minutes.)

A Member, whose name we could not learn, rose, and in the exuberance of his joy exclaimed, "Blow my wig if ever I heard such a speech in all my life."--("Order! Order!")

The Speaker begged to remind the Hon. Gentleman that such expressions were not _strictly_ in accordance with the dignity of the House.

The Member apologized for having been led away by his feelings, but this he would say, that whoever should now venture to assert that His Majesty's Ministers had any other than the benefit of their country in view, told a thundering lie.--(Loud laughter.)

Mr. Gubbins said that he wholly and totally agreed with the G'elman what spoke last--he thought that the thanks of the community and the country at large are due to the Right Hon. G'elman (the Chanciller) for his expozee; and in order that their ancestors might see--(a laugh)--he begged pardon, their posteriors--(roars of laughter)--well then, their children's children and them as comes arter them, might see the estimation in which that House had held him, he would move that its freedom be presented to him in a snuff-box of the value of five sovs., and he would subscribe his bob.--(Cheers, and some laughter.)

The Speaker interposed, and endeavoured to explain to the Hon. Member that there was no such thing as freedom in that House, consequently his motion could not be put.

Mr. Gubbins said he supposed it would be unreglar to argufy that pint with the Right Hon. Speaker, he would therefore bow to the Cheer; he would not however be done out of doing nothing, and with reference to the place represented by the Right Hon. G'elman the Chanciller, he would propose to bestow upon him the title of "The Bermondsey _Screw_."--(Laughter.)

(As _all_ our readers may not understand the point of this pun, we should explain that in the Clink liberty, represented by the Right Hon. G'elman the Game of Skittles is a favourite amusement, and some of the Amateurs have a particular mode of delivering the Bowl, which amongst the cognoscenti is termed "A Bermondsey Screw.")

NEW SOUTH WALES.

Mr. Cobbett having given notice, that on Thursday next he should bring forward his motion (postponed on a previous occasion) for a Committee of that House being appointed, with instructions to proceed to New South Wales, for the purpose of enquiring into the Administration of Religion in that Colony,--