The Marquis of Waterford and party visited Vauxhall Gardens on Monday. The turnpike man on the bridge was much struck by their easy manner of dealing with their inferiors.
Alderman Magnay laid the first shell of an oyster grotto one night this week in the Minories. There was a large party of boys, who, with the worthy Alderman, repaired to a neighbouring fruit-stall, where the festivity of the occasion was kept up for several minutes.
The New Cut was, as usual, a scene of much animation on Saturday last, and there was rather a more brilliant display than customary of new and elegant baked-potato stands. The well-known turn-out, with five lanterns and four apertures for the steam, was the general admiration of the host of pedestrians who throng the Cut between the hours of eight and twelve on Saturday.
A BITTER DRAUGHT.
SIR R. PEEL, in the celebrated medicinal metaphor with which he lately favoured his constituents at Tamworth, concludes by stating, “that he really believes he does more than any political physician ever did by referring to the prescriptions which he offered in 1835 and 1840, and by saying that he sees no reason to alter them.” This is, to carry out the physical figure, only another version of “the mixture as before.” We are afraid there are no hopes of the patient.
“Why are the Whigs like the toes of a dancing-master?”—“Because they must be turned out.”
“Why are Colonel Sibthorp and Mr. Peter Borthwick like the covering of the dancing-master’s toes?”—“Because they are a pair of pumps.”
“Why are the Whigs and Tories like the scarlet fever and the measles?”—“Because there’s no telling which is the worst.”