TO THE EDITOR OF "THE COMIC ALMANACK."

Sir,—I reside near a place of popular amusement "al fresco." I am of a cheerful though quiet disposition, and should be perfectly happy but for one circumstance. During the entire summer season I am in a continual state of terror from Balloons.

It was into my front garden that the Ourang-outang descended in a parachute, in 1836. I then said nothing of the annoyance caused by the mob rushing into my lawn and scrambling for fragments of the machine, of the destruction effected among my crockery by the animal attempting to escape through my scullery, nor of the alarm which his sudden appearance in the dining-room excited in the bosoms of myself and family.

I thought the Balloon mania had reached its highest pitch—no such thing, sir. After that, came the Nassau Balloon, which used to take a dozen people up at once exactly over my house, about once a week; till a terrible dream haunted me of seeing the whole party discharged into my premises.

Then, Balloons with Fireworks, waking me up every other night, and gazing at one of which, out of window, I received a severe blow in the eye from a firework-case, descending fifteen hundred feet perpendicularly.

My next alarm was occasioned by a hamper of champagne, which, during a "perilous descent," when a valve gave way, some intrepid aeronaut pitched through my roof at midnight.

Now, folks go up on horseback. Can I walk at ease in my garden, and know that the veteran Green is three miles above me, performing equestrian feats in the air? Pray, sir, exert your influence in my behalf, or we shall shortly hear of a "Terrific Ascent in a Cab," to be eclipsed by "First Ascent of the Monster Balloon, taking up the Pimlico Omnibus."

OVER-POPULATION:
A MALTHUSIAN LAMENTATION.

Oh! what a sight for those who cook

Affairs of state in clover,

To see, whichever way they look,

Our country boiling over!

So many heads, and hands, and hearts,

(Unless the blue-book mis-count)

Of nature's very finest parts,

At such a dreadful discount!

Though Malthus cries, "Celibacy,"

McCulloch, "Emigration,"

Folks stay at home and wed, we see,

Then swell the Population!

The Army numbers here "at home"

Of thousands double twenty;

But many not "at home" are found,

When creditors are plenty;

And more than those—by thousands five—

"On shore" there are of seamen,

But some of them are "all abroad,"

And shock tee-total tea-men!

We need a million Malthuses,

'Tis plain, to save the nation;

And myriads of McCullochs scarce

Can check the Population!

We've full a million Servants, and

To make their fortune harder,

They've fifteen thousand "P'licemen" brave

To furnish from the larder;

Yet should this number as too great

By statists be rejected,

We've fourteen thousand Lawyers, so

Our purse must be protected!

McCulloch well may advocate

His schemes of "Emigration:"

Fourteen thousand Lawyers sure

Must harm our Population!

Of Authors we have thirty score,

Besides the present Writer;

And forty thousand Butchers, to

Employ when things look brighter;

We've fifteen hundred Actors, who

Our patience try most sadly;

Besides the nation's Ministers,

And they act just as badly!

In such a case, Malthusian plans

Must meet with approbation:

Of Actors we have certainly

An over-Population.

OVER POPULATION

Four thousand Artists, most of whom,

When seen in fullest feather,

Wear beards, or whiskers, or moustache,

Or else all three together;

But let the bearded youths beware,

Nor, too self-trusting, slumber—

Their native foes, the Barbers, like

Themselves, four thousand number!

Unless in wearing beards we soon

Observe an alteration,

The Barbers they must clearly be

An over-Population!

Distillers—we have hundreds seven,

To make our men unsteady,

And full three thousand Auctioneers

To knock them down all ready;

We've ninety thousand Blacksmiths, and,

Of one the work's a wonder—

He forges chains at Gretna Green

Which none can break asunder!

The last, indeed, may well excite

Malthusian consternation—

This Blacksmith's work by no means checks

The over-Population.

We've houses where for half-a-crown

One gets a shilling dinner;

We've sixty thousand Publicans,

And not a single Sinner!

At least we can't believe there is,

Until we see some new book,

For certainly there's no return

Contained within the blue book.

But tho' the book of Sinners makes

As yet no revelation,

'Tis said by some, of these there is

An over-Population!

But while these Publicans abound,

(Young gentleman, take warning!)

But twelve men Soda-water make

To sober you next morning!

And as for Sinners—bills are "done"

In public by twice twenty—

The number's small—but if correct,

E'en then we've more than plenty!

So Malthus and Macculloch both,

Pray rise and save the nation!

Of bill discounters sure we have

An over-Population!

Of Tailors we in thousands count

Six score and something over—

Of these some drive a roaring trade,

And live, 'tis said, in clover;

But some, I fear, are victimized,

And paid upon a plan, sir,

As if nine tailors really were

But equal to a man, sir!

'Tis hoped, indeed, their present state

Is but one of probation,

For, surely, of the under paid—

There's over-Population!

But naming every class that throng

Our country and our cities,

Would occupy, I fear, too long,

And need a dozen ditties.

So many Bootmakers—and yet

So many people bootless!

So many Clergymen—and yet

So many sermons fruitless!

I fear, indeed, howe'er we laud

The grandeur of the nation,

Of poverty and crime we have

An over-Population!

The "Independent" are returned,

But nothing said of toadies—

And there appears an item which

A very heavy load is;

We've twenty thousand (rather more)

Of Doctors, all in action—

And surely we should view this as

A common benefaction;

For more than eighteen millions now

Survive within the nation,

And without doctors think how great

Would be the Population.