THE NEW MAGAZINE MACHINE.
This novel application of mechanism, to the purposes of periodical publications, is the invention of an ingenious littérateur. The hoppers above being fed with subject of all sorts, from "Criminal Trials" to "Joe Millers," the handle is turned, and the fountain-pens immediately begin to write articles upon everything. The idea has been taken from the Eureka, but very much elaborated. The demand for "Virtuous Indignation" is very great just now; hence all blue-eyed, shoeless infants, taken up for stealing, street-vagabonds, and rascally poachers (whose punishment it is the fashion to call "the wrongs of the poor man"), will fetch good prices, by applying to publishers generally.
TUBAL CAIN.
BY CHARLES MACKAY.
[To be sung by Mr. H. Russell.]
Old Tubal Cain was a cunning file,
In the days when men were green;
But not till night, when the gas burnt bright,
Was he ever to be seen.
And he fashioned reports for the daily press,
Of sudden deaths and fire;
But a penny a line by his industry
Was all he could acquire.
And he sang, "Hurrah! for my handiwork
Hurrah! for the street called Bow;
Hurrah! for the tin that its office brings,
When pockets run rather low!"
But a sudden thought came into his head,
As he gazed on the Evening Sun;
And he thought, as its lists of new lines he read,
That a great deal might be done.
He saw that men whom nobody knew
Soon swallowed up every share;
And he said to himself, "I will do so too,
And date my note 'Eaton Square!'"
And he sang, "Hurrah! for my handiwork;
As he posted it then and there;
Not for wealth and trade were the new lines made,"
And he stagged the first railway share!
And for many a night did Tubal Cain write,
In the tap of the "Cheshire Cheese;"
And the penny stamp, with paste still damp,
Procured him his scrip with ease.
And he rose at last, with a cheerful face,
To seek his own house and grounds;
For he very soon made, by his capital trade,
Above twenty thousand pounds!
And he sang, "Alas! how I ever could think
Of my newspaper work to brag;
The only use of a pen and ink
Is to bring all the scrip to the Stag!"
FIRST ANNUAL REPORT OF THE ASTLEY'S
ASSOCIATION
FOR THE DIFFUSION OF GENERAL INFORMATION.
This meeting, first established by Professor Widdicombe, the father of the Antiquarian Society, promises to become a most important institution. Through the urbanity of the Professor, who has spent a very long life—in fact, so long as to be almost fabulous—in collecting information on various points not apparently properly understood, we have been favoured with the "Report;" and from it we propose to make various extracts, premising, that "The Bride of the Nile," "The Conquest of Amoy," "The Battle of Hastings," "The ditto of Waterloo," with other dramas, have furnished the authorities.
THE WONDERS OF ANCIENT EGYPT.
The mysteries of Isis, amongst the ancient Egyptians, were more simple than they are generally supposed to be; the sacred fires being trimmed with tow and turpentine every evening, and not being perpetual, but lighted with a lucifer, when wanted to juggle the multitude. The High Priests received six shillings a week for keeping them in order; and when the ceremonies were over, they frequently changed their costume and mingled with the crowd, to assist the deception. Celibacy was not insisted on, as several were married men, with families, residing in Lambeth.
Although in the chariot and gladiatorial contests of the Egyptians desperate struggles took place, yet all animosity ceased when the fight was over. Many of them, as they prepared for the contest, shared the Memphian baked potato, or the cold without, with much good-fellowship; and it was not uncommon, after the fight, to see the victor tending the foe whom he had forced to bite the dust until his mouth was full of it, and it required washing down with beer.
THE WAR IN CHINA.
A little circumstance connected with the taking of Amoy was not mentioned in the despatches. After Sir Henry Pottinger had addressed the troops they rushed away cheering, whilst he remained and made his horse dance a hornpipe for five minutes to the band, although he was directly under the ramparts. This is an unparalleled instance of coolness and self-possession in a moment of danger.
EARLY WIT, ETC.
Jokes were common amongst the Normans. Before "The Battle of Hastings," when Harold's envoy came to know on what principle William invaded Britain, William replied, "Tell your master we will return his wrongs with interest, and teach him principle." The barons did not laugh, probably from etiquette; but this must have been a good joke in those days.
Harold was killed by an arrow, as is commonly believed. It was, however, a species of suicide, as he stuck it into his head himself, on the sly, not choosing to trust to the archery of the soldiers. Considering the lightness of the dress in which he went to battle it is a wonder he was not killed before. His armour was simply rings of tin, tacked upon cotton velvet.
The story of the old chroniclers that Harold survived the battle, receives some confirmation from the fact that half an hour after the contest he was seen, muffled in a Tweed, asking the price of some sausages in the New Cut. These were probably to subsist on in his retirement.
The Norman William celebrated his conquest by taking a pipe and a glass of grog, with one particular friend, at an hostelry adjoining the scene of action, when it was all over.
TREACHERY AT WATERLOO
According to the latest Astley authorities, dated last June, the Battle of Waterloo occupied six minutes exactly. Several French soldiers walked undisguisedly into the quarters of the English army before the fight commenced; and some, at the extreme back of the scene, fought indiscriminately on either side, as occasion required. But the gravest circumstance is, that in the heat of the action the Duke of Wellington, approaching Marshal Soult, said to him, "Don't let your fellows fire until mine have!" a course which must have led them to destruction, had not General Widdicombe roared, with a voice of thunder, "What the devil are you doing there, you stupid asses?"—which produced the last grand charge. The story of the ball at Brussels is an idle invention. The officers were at no ball at all; except two, who had visited Mr. Baron Nathan's assembly at Kensington but a little time previously: and as to their being taken by surprise, they knew for weeks what was coming, even to the very hour and minute of the attack, and the precise manner in which it would be made. The following beautiful lines are but little known, and well deserve a place in this report. They are the production of Lord Byron, and were written at the request of the late Andrew Ducrow, Esq., describing the scene immediately before the commencement of the battle.
"There was a sound of revelry by night;
And Astley's manager had gathered then
His supers and his cavalry; and bright
The gas blazed o'er tall women and loud men.
The audience waited happily; and when
The orchestra broke forth with brazen swell,
Apples were sold for most extensive gain;
And ginger beer popped merrily as well!—
But hush! hark! what's that noise, just like our parlour-bell?
"Did ye not hear it?—No, sir!—Never mind;
P'raps 'twas the Atlas bus to Oxford Street.
Strike up, you fiddlers!—Now, young feller, mind!
Don't scrouge, or you shall go where police meet,
To chase the knowing thieves with flying feet!—
But hark! that sound is heard again—once more!
And boys, with whistle shrill, its note repeat;
And nearer, clearer, queerer than before!—
Hats off!—It is, it is—the bell from prompter's door!
"Ah! then was hurry-skurry, to and fro;
And authors' oaths, and symptoms of a mess;
And men as soldiers, who, two nights ago,
Went round the circus in a Chinese dress!
And there were rapid paintings, such as press
On those who ply the arts, with choking size,
Which ne'er might be completed! Who could guess
How all would look before the public eyes,
When on that 'Street in Brussels' the act drop would rise!"
STANZAS SUGGESTED BY A VIEW OF
ROSHERVILLE.
BY A BANK CLERK.
Oh, Rosherville! thou bringest all good things
Home to the Gravesend beaux and city "gents:"
A dinner for a shilling, rifles, swings,
Baronial halls, arbours, and canvas tents!
Where comic gentleman, or lady, sings,
And Baron Nathan some fresh dance invents;[[1]]
Or brave toxophilites the longbow draw,
And strive to hit the Albert Tell of straw.[[2]]
Sweet Eden! which for fivepence we may gain,
Or there and back for ninepence by the Star;
Upon whose deck, released from sacks and grain,
Mark Lane Lotharios smoke the light cigar:
Stock Exchange Stags, and clerks from Mincing Lane,
Who prate of "consols," "shares," and "scrip," and "par,"
Crowding towards the gangway, as they near
The Thames-washed steps of Rosherville's fair pier.
Enchanted chalk-pit! from thy lonely tower
Signor Gellini,[[3]] amidst flames of fire,
Glides on the single rope, by magic power,
When Chiarini Cocoa-nuts retire;[[4]]
And as it darker grows, in every bower
Soft whispered nothings—tales of love, transpire—
All this for sixpence! Can such misers be!
Who'd grudge that sum, sweet Rosherville, to thee?
Yes, Gravesend! to thy shrimps my memory clings,
And to that loved one—would I could forget her!—
Who tied in double knots my heart's young strings;
Dating from Parrock Street each scented letter,
But flew from me, one day, on fancy's wings,
All for another gent as she loved better;
And left me lonely, in a dark dilemma,
On Windmill Hill, to warble "Faithless Emma."[[5]]
But as, in La Sonnambula, the man
In love sings, "Still so gently o'er me stealing,"
Although I combat with it all I can,
I find that "memory will bring back the feeling."
But love, at any time, lasts but a span;
And so, in "spite of all my grief revealing,"
I will revisit Rosherville's domain,
And drown in "tea with cresses"[[6]] all my pain.
[1]. Nathan, Lord Rosherville, and Baron of Kennington, has been immortalized in Punch. His Terpsichorean ingenuity is remarkable. Perhaps his "Polka Hornpipe, in chain armour and handcuffs," is his most remarkable dance.
[2]. "The Albert Tell of straw."—This work of art is an appropriate mark for the archers to shoot at. It is a species of cross-breed between Guy Fawkes and a bee-hive.
[3]. "Signor Gellini, amidst," &c.—This accomplished foreigner, amongst other acquirements, speaks English equal to any native.
[4]. "When Chiarini Cocoa-nuts," &c.—The Chiarini family are a race of animated castanets; and their evident self-satisfaction at this cocoa dance has originated the saying of being "nuts" on anything.
[5]. Flirtations of all kinds thrive at Rosherville and Gravesend, "which it is well beknown," as Mrs. Gamp would say.
[6]. "Tea with cresses," or "Tea with shrimps," each at ninepence, forms the staple meal of Gravesend. The tea is usually the "strong rough congou," at three-and-four. One trial will prove the fact.
SAGITTARIUS—The Archer—(Not "Venus' Son divine.")