INQUEST EXTRAORDINARY ON A CORONER.
Last night an inquest was held on the Consistency of Thomas Wakley, Esq., Member for Finsbury, and Coroner for Middlesex. The deceased had been some time ailing, but his demise was at length so sudden, that it was deemed necessary to public justice that an inquest should be taken of the unfortunate remains.
The inquest was held at the Vicar of Bray tap, Palace Yard; and the jury, considering the neighbourhood, was tolerably respectable. The remains of the deceased were in a dreadful state of decomposition; and although chloride of lime and other antiseptic fluids were plentifully scattered in the room, it was felt to be a service of danger to approach too closely to the defunct. Many members of Parliament were in attendance, and all of them, to a man, appeared very visibly shocked by the appearance of the body. Indeed they all of them seemed to gather a great moral lesson from the corpse. “We know not whose turn it may be next,” was printed in the largest physiognomical type in every member’s countenance.
Thomas Duncombe, Esq., Member for Finsbury, examined—Had known the deceased for some years. Had the highest notion of the robustness of his constitution. Would have taken any odds upon it. Deceased, however, within these last three or four weeks had flighty intervals. Talked very much about the fine phrenological development of Sir Robert Peel’s skull. Had suspicions of the deceased from that moment. Deceased had been carefully watched, but to no avail. Deceased inflicted a mortal wound upon himself on the first night of Sir Robert’s premiership; and though he continued to rally for many evenings, he sunk the night before last, after a dying speech of twenty minutes.
Colonel Sibthorp, Member for Lincoln, examined—Knew the deceased. Since the accession of Sir Robert Peel to power had had many conversations with the deceased upon the ministerial bench. Had offered snuff-box to the deceased. Deceased did not snuff. Deceased had said that he thought witness a man of high parliamentary genius, and that Sir Robert Peel ought to have made him (witness) either Lord Chamberlain or Chancellor of the Exchequer. In every other respect, deceased behaved himself quite rationally.
There were at least twenty other witnesses—Members of the House of Commons—in attendance to be examined; but the Coroner put it to the jury whether they had not heard enough?
The jury assented, and immediately returned a verdict—Felo de se.
N.B. A member for Finsbury wanted next dissolution.
A CURIOUS ERROR.
A member of the American legislature, remarkable for his absence of mind, exhibited a singular instance of this mental infirmity very lately. Having to present a petition to the house, he presented himself instead, and did not discover his mistake until he was
ORDERED TO LIE ON THE TABLE.
SIR ROBERT PEEL (LOQUITUR).
When erst the Whigs were in, and I was out,
I knew exactly what to be about;
Then all I had to do, through thick and thin,
Was but to get them out, and Bobby in.
And now that I am in, and they are out,
The only thing that I can be about
Is to do nothing; but, through thick and thin,
Contrive to keep them out, and Bobby in.
SONGS FOR THE SEEDY.—No. 3.
Oh! think not all who call thee fair
Are in their honied words sincere;
And if they offer jewels rare,
Lend not too readily thine ear.
The humble ring I lately gave
May be despised by thee—well, let it;
But Mary, when I’m in my grave,
Think that I pawn’d my watch to get it.
Others may talk of feasts of love,
And banqueting upon thy charms;
But did not I devotion prove,
Last Sunday, at the Stanhope Arms?
My rival order’d tea for four,
The waiter at his bidding laid it;
He generously ran the score,
But, Mary, I did more,—I paid it.
I know he’s dashing, bold, and free,
A front of Jove, an eye of fire;
But should he say he loves like me,
I’d, like Apollo, strike the lyre.
He says, he at your feet will throw
His all; and, if his vows are steady,
He cannot equal me—for, oh!
I’ve given you all I had, already.
Mary, I had a second suit
Of clothes, of which the coat was braided;
Mary, they went to buy that flute
With which I thee have serenaded.
Mary, I had a beaver hat,
Than this I wear a great deal better;
Mary, I’ve parted too with that,
For pens, ink, paper—for this letter.
PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.
Dear PUNCH,—Will you inform me whether the review of the troops noticed in last Saturday’s Times, is to be found in the “Edinborough,” “Westminster,” or “Quarterly.”
Yours, in all mayoralties,
PETER LAURIE.
P.S.—What do they mean by
SALUTING A FLAG?
“GO ALONG, BOB.”
Sir Bobby Peel, who, before he got into harness, professed himself able to draw the Government truck “like bricks,” has changed his note since he has been put to the trial, and he is now bawling lustily—“Don’t hurry me, please—give me a little time.” Wakley, seeing the pitiable condition of the unfortunate animal, volunteered his services to push behind, and the Chartist and Tory may now be seen every night in St. Stephen’s, working cordially together, and exhibiting an illustration of the benefits of a
DIVISION OF LABOUR.
CONS BY OUR OWN COLONEL.
Why is a loud laugh in the House of Commons like Napoleon Buonaparte?—Because it’s an M.P. roar (an Emperor).
Why is a person getting rheumatic like one locking a cupboard-door?—Because he’s turning achy (a key).
Why is one-and-sixpence like an aversion to coppers?—Because it’s hating pence (eighteen-pence).