HOW BRITANNIA SALUTES HER BABIES!
Britannia—like a most careful mother—expends a world of powder on her babies. A week ago she flourished the powder-puff regardless of expense; and regardless of noise. Her three youngest royal babies—the Princess Louisa, aged five years; the Prince Arthur, aged three; and the dear little poppet Prince Leopold, aged not one—were all of them brought down from the nursery at Osborne, and—with their nurses—embarked on board the Fairy to cross to Portsmouth, on their way to Windsor Castle, to be smothered with kisses by one of the best of mammas, and one of the tenderest of fathers.
Well, the precious babies passing through Spithead "were saluted by the Blenheim, by the garrison, and by the Victory, flag-ship;" and this was ordered by Grannam Britannia, who, we think, by such smoke and pother rather exposes her dotage than shows her affection. Why should the "adamantine lips" of sixty-eight pounders salute those little babies? Louisa, being five years old, may be a little seasoned to the custom; and Arthur—(as godson to the Duke)—may have a precocious taste for gunpowder; but consider the tender months of baby Leopold! A suckling, and saluted with a smack of thunder.
Poor little heart! No doubt Granny Britannia means the noise as an evidence of her love; but, we needs must think it a proof of her foolishness. Dear little rose-buds! Why not go to be kissed at Windsor in all their innocent freshness? Why should they be forwarded to their parents, new too from Scotland, smelling of gunpowder in which is so much brimstone?
OUR TRAVELLING CONTRIBUTOR, AFTER A SEVERE ATTACK OF INN-FLUENZA.
Retaliation.
Photography, it was erroneously stated, had enabled forgers to commit frauds upon the Bank of England. Had it been true, the retribution would have been just. The Bank issues light sovereigns—why not repay it with Light five-pound notes?