LETTERS FROM THE BOSPHORUS.
Mr. William Taylor, of Her Majesty's Bomb, the Thunder, to Mrs. William Taylor of Wapping Wall.
VELL, u see, Polly, ve wos a getting sicker and sicker of lyin' in Besicker Bay, wen ve got our sailin' horders, an cum here has fast has we could drive to help the Muzzlehims. And a rummer lot than them Muzzlehims, hi never set hies on. For has soon has hever we cum'd to a hanker, a feller called a Capstan Bashy, wich is all as one as our Port hadmiral, cums on bord to pay his respex to our capting. And, hinstead of sayin 'How air yer, old Boy?' or 'Tip us yer daddles my buck,' as a gentleman would, he makes a bob and stix his great beerd out, and he sez, sez he 'Sally may lick 'em.' Vell, in coorse you'll think he got mast-edded for his himperence, but no, he warn't, for our capting were perwented by resins of state, like the tiger has couldn't get his por thro the bars of his cage to curry the monkey's hide; so the captin honely looked sivvil and sez, quite cheerful like, 'Lick' em Sally' wich wos taint a mouse with tellin the Turk to lick 'em hisself. An then wun can't be hangry with the poor hignorant fellers as nose no better than to call their hone hemperor a Paddyshaw, when he haint a Hirishman, nor his name haint Shaw. And their primeer, who is wun Wretched Pashur, they calls a Grand Wheezy, and all their chief hossifers they calls Agurs, so you see they've grate rume for himprovement in the names they gives peepul. Howsumever their hall werry hot for fitin just now, and goes about braggin theyr has brave has Roostum, who was a grate cock of the walk in these parts formerly. Their reglar harmy they calls Nishan, wich I spose is the short for hammunishan, as I hear their werry strong in the hartillery line. But they puts most faith in a lot of hold women called High Ma'ams, which is their parsons, and a parcel of yung fellers called Softers, wich ansers to hour Hoxfora coves, and hever so many of these High Ma'ams and Softers air goin to jine the army, and fite for their profit, as they sez, from wich I conclude they gets good pay. And if theyr honely harf as plucky as our Chaplin, they may purtect the Golden Horne, as they calls this place, werry well. But has for us, our fear is that if they thrashes the Rooshans, the Rooshans wont come here, an then we shant get no fitin. Howsumdever we kepes up our spirits, and opes for the best, so no more at present from your luvin husband,
"B. Taylor."
FORTUNE-TELLERS FOR NATIONS.
What the Edinburgh Review—in a highly superior article on "Church Parties"—calls the "Prophetic Press," is now in a state of violent eruption. The volcano in labour, however, brings forth only the bottle of smoke. You can hardly take up your morning paper without being invited, in the advertising columns, by some half-dozen several expositors, to take so many new walks into futurity. The Overthrow of the Papacy, the Destruction of the Ottoman Empire, the Battle of Armageddon, the Millennium, demand your attention together with the last novel, and Soyer's Pantropheon, and the Propriety of Legalising Marriage with a Wife's Sister. It is a remarkable circumstance that the gentlemen who announce these awful things, so calculated to wean the soul from all earthly solicitudes, do not omit to affix prices to their productions. Like common Gipsies, these reverend Romany require their hands to be crossed with silver. This shows that whilst they direct the attention of others to future certainties, they give no small share of their own to the main chance. On that account we hesitate to compare them to Mother Shipton, who was an old woman, or to Nixon, who was an idiot. Otherwise we should regard them as common asses, pretending to rank with the ass of Balaam.
French, Italian, German, without a Master, are studies not very generally successful; and the language of prophecy must be rather more difficult, independently of proper direction. Those who are inclined to entertain the idea that Mr. Stiggins and Mr. Chadband are illuminated expositors of Daniel and the Apocalypse had better pay a visit to Mr. Wyld's Great Globe, to acquire, if possible, some enlargement of the views of the world and the destinies of the human race. The patrons of the "Prophetic Press" will find it best to await that explanation of prophecy which is afforded by its fulfilment; but they will have to wait a long time for any such thing in reference to the commentaries of Chadband and Stiggins.
To infer the future from the past, however, is to prophesy with some security. At all crises of the world's history have Chadbands and Stigginses applied their prophetic wisdom to the question of the day. At all those times they have made money—and mistakes. On all similar occasions in future will they, in precisely the same manner, succeed, and—fail.