SERAPHINA POPPS;
OR, THE BEAUTY OF BLOOMSBURY.
Seraphina Popps was the daughter of Mr. Hezekiah Popps, a highly respectable pawnbroker, residing in —— Street, Bloomsbury. Being an only child, from her earliest infancy she wanted for 0, as everything had been made ready to her
.
She grew up as most little girls do, who live long enough, and became the universal ![1] of all who knew her, for
“None but herself could be her ||.”[2]
Amongst the most devoted of her admirers was Julian Fitzorphandale. Seraphina was not insensible to the worth of Julian Fitzorphandale; and when she received from him a letter, asking permission to visit her, she felt some difficulty in replying to his ?[3]; for, at this very critical .[4], an unamiable young man, named Augustus St. Tomkins, who possessed considerable £. s. d. had become a suitor for her
. She loved Fitzorphandale +[5] St. Tomkins, but the former was ∪ of money; and Seraphina, though sensitive to an extreme, was fully aware that a competency was a very comfortable “appendix.”
She seized her pen, but found that her mind was all 6’s and 7’s. She spelt Fitzorphandale, P-h-i-t-z; and though she commenced ¶[6] after ¶, she never could come to a “finis.” She upbraided her unlucky ∗ ∗, either for making Fitzorphandale so poor, or St. Tomkins so ugly, which he really was. In this dilemma we must leave her at present.
Although Augustus St. Tomkins was a
[7], he did not possess the universal benevolence which that ancient order inculcates; but revolving in his mind the probable reasons for Seraphina’s hesitation, he came to this conclusion: she either loved him −[8] somebody else, or she did not love him at all. This conviction only ×[9] his worst feelings, and he resolved that no ℈℈[10] of conscience should stand between him and his desires.
On the following day, Fitzorphandale had invited Seraphina to a pic-nic party. He had opened the &[11] placed some boiled beef and ^^[12] on the verdant grass, when Seraphina exclaimed, in the mildest ``´´[13], “I like it well done, Fitzorphandale!”
As Julian proceeded to supply his beloved one with a §[14] of the provender, St. Tomkins stood before them with a †[15] in his
.
Want of space compels us to leave the conclusion of this interesting romance to the imagination of the reader, and to those ingenious playwrights who so liberally supply our most popular authors with gratuitous catastrophes.
[NOTES BY THE FLY-BOY.]
1. Admiration. 2. Parallel. 3. Note of Interrogation. 4. Period. 5. More than. 6. Paragraph. 7. Freemason. 8. Less than. 9. Multiplied. 10. Scruples. 11. Hampers-and. 12. Carets. 13. Accents. 14. Section. 15. Dagger.
NEWS OF EXTRAORDINARY INTEREST.
A mechanic in Berlin has invented a balance of extremely delicate construction. Sir Robert Peel, it is said, intends to avail himself of the invention, to keep his political principles so nicely balanced between Whig and Tory, that the most accurate observer shall be unable to tell which way they tend.
The London Fire Brigade have received directions to hold themselves in readiness at the meeting of Parliament, to extinguish any conflagration that may take place, from the amazing quantity of inflammatory speeches and political fireworks that will be let off by the performers on both sides of the house.
The following extraordinary inducement was held out by a solicitor, who advertised last week in a morning paper, for an office-clerk; “A small salary will be given, but he will have enough of over-work to make up for the deficiency.”
“MORE WAYS THAN ONE,” &c.
The incomplete state of the Treasury has been frequently lamented by all lovers of good taste. We are happy to announce that a tablet is about to be placed in the front of the building, with the following inscription:—
TREASURY.
FINISHED BY THE WIGS,
ANNO DOM. MDCCCXLI.
A CON. BY TOM COOKE.
Why is the common chord in music like a portion of the Mediterranean?—Because it’s the E G & C (Ægean Sea).
MONSIEUR JULLIEN.
“One!”—crash!
“Two!”—clash!
“Three!”—dash!
“Four!”—smash!
Diminuendo,
Now crescendo:—
Thus play the furious band,
Led by the kid-gloved hand
Of Jullien—that Napoleon of quadrille,
Of Piccolo-nians shrillest of the shrill;
Perspiring raver
Over a semi-quaver;
Who tunes his pipes so well, he’ll tell you that
The natural key of Johnny Bull’s—A flat.
Demon of discord, with mustaches cloven—
Arch impudent improver of Beethoven—
Tricksy professor of charlatanerie—
Inventor of musical artillery—
Barbarous rain and thunder maker—
Unconscionable money taker—
Travelling about both near and far,
Toll to exact at every bar—
What brings thee here again,
To desecrate old Drury’s fane?
Egregious attitudiniser!
Antic fifer! com’st to advise her
’Gainst intellect and sense to close her walls?
To raze her benches,
That Gallic wenches
Might play their brazen antics at masked balls?
Ci-devant waiter
Of a quarante-sous traiteur,
Why did you leave your stew-pans and meat-oven,
To make a fricassee of the great Beet-hoven?
And whilst your piccolos unceasing squeak on,
Saucily serve Mozart with sauce-piquant;
Mawkishly cast your eyes to the cerulean—
Turn Matthew Locke to potage à la julienne!
Go! go! sir, do,
Back to the rue,
Where lately you
Waited upon each hungry feeder,
Playing the garçon, not the leader.
Pray, put your hat on,
Coupez votre bâton.
Bah
Va!!
CLAR’ DE KITCHEN.
It is now pretty well understood, that if the Tories come into office, there will be a regular turn out of the present royal household. Her Majesty, through the gracious condescension of the new powers, will be permitted to retain her situation in the royal establishment, but on the express condition that there shall be—
NO FOLLOWERS ALLOWED.
A PARTY OF MEDALLERS.
A subscription has been opened for a medal to commemorate the return of Lord John Russell for the city of London. We would suggest that his speech to the citizens against the corn-laws would form an appropriate inscription for the face of the medal, while that to the Huntingdonshire farmers in favour of them would be found just the thing for the reverse.