Slowgoe. And so this patriot—this hurdy-gurdy politician—this minstrel boy of Westminster—won’t stand, eh, for Parl’ment?
Nosebag. P’r’aps he may sing, then. Shouldn’t wonder if he was to canvass the voters’ wives with his guitar, with pink ribbons about ’is neck, dust like Mr James Wallack, for the Brigand, with a new sort of song—“Gentle Electors;” or, “The Minstrel Boy to the Poll is gone.” If he was only to try that dodge, and the women had votes, I’m blest if, in my opinion, he wouldn’t chant plumpers out of all of ’em. I’m certain on it, a man with one of them twangling guitars is a more dangerous cretur about a house than with a double-loaded blunderbuss.
Nutts. And so I’ve been reading Mr Charles Lushington’s speech, and my mind’s made up; if he sticks to what he says, I shall prime him with my vote for Parl’ment.
Slowgoe. I’m very happy—very proud to see—that his Royal Highness Prince Albert consents to be the Chancellor for Cambridge. Here it is from the Post. The deputation went to the palace on Tuesday. (Reads.) “His Royal Highness expressed himself in the warmest terms for the distinguished honour conferred upon him by the University of Cambridge, and the sincere gratification he felt in accepting it. His Royal Highness conversed with the deputation on the subject of English university discipline, and evinced considerable knowledge of the Oxford and Cambridge systems.” What do you think of that, eh?
Nutts. Why, nothing; princes always do “evince considerable knowledge” on the very shortest notice upon anything.
Peabody. Quite true, Mr Nutts. If they’d made the Prince the King of M. Leverrier’s new planet just discovered, his Royal Highness would have evinced “considerable knowledge” of all its plains and mountains, besides a very intimate acquaintance with some of the principal inhabitants.
THE HEDGEHOG LETTERS.
Containing the opinions and adventures of Juniper Hedgehog, cabman, London; and written to his relatives and acquaintance in various parts of the world.