The hip-po-po-po——(dear me, love, you know)
The hippo-pot-pot-pot——('pon my word I'm quite ashamed of myself).
The hip-pip-pop——the hip-po-pot.
To see the Hippop——potamus.
THE CENSUS OF 1851.
The earnest care of the Government to know the exact number of people that the parish of Clumpley-cum-Bogglesmere contained on an especial night—how many folks slept in 43, Parson's Court, Upper Bloater Street, Chandler's Market, on the same occasion: who populated the police-cells; who put up at hotels; who dozed the night away in cabs and coffee-shops—on billiard-tables and heaps of cabbages—anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere—this great investigation of those who cannot believe their Census any longer, is about to come off again, and again to furnish its utterly false returns.
We say utterly false, for the means taken to insure correctness, as to the number of persons who slept in a particular place on a particular night, are contemptibly inefficient. With the smallest foresight, we can furnish a number of tables proving its inaccuracy; and from the mass of evidence taken by the Census Committee of Inquiry after the last return (which evidence has never been made public) we can also bring forward conclusive facts. To show the futility of expecting a correct return from houses we subjoin the following information, taken quite at random, from different individuals.
