Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE

COMIC ALMANACK.

1st Series, 1835-1843.

NOTICE.

A SECOND SERIES of "THE COMIC ALMANACK," embracing the years 1844—53, a ten years' gathering of the Best Humour, the Wittiest Sayings, the Drollest Quips, and the Best Things of Thackeray, Mayhew, Albert Smith, A'Beckett, Robert Brough, with nearly one thousand Woodcuts and Steel Engravings by the inimitable Cruikshank, Hine, Landells—

may also be had of the Publishers of this volume, and uniform

with it, nearly 600 pages, price 7s. 6d.

The Cold Water Cure

THE
COMIC ALMANACK
AN EPHEMERIS IN JEST AND EARNEST, CONTAINING
MERRY TALES, HUMOROUS POETRY,
QUIPS, AND ODDITIES.

BY

THACKERAY, ALBERT SMITH, GILBERT A. BECKETT,

THE BROTHERS MAYHEW.

"FULL INSIDE, SIR, BUT PLENTY OF ROOM ON THE ROOF."

With many Hundred Illustrations

By GEORGE CRUIKSHANK

AND OTHER ARTISTS.

FIRST SERIES, 1835-1843.

London:

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY.

CONTENTS

[NOTICE]

[PRELIMINARY]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1835.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1836.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1837.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1838.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1839.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1840.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1841.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1842.]

[THE COMIC ALMANACK For 1843.]

PRELIMINARY

The "Comic Almanacks" of George Cruikshank have long been regarded by admirers of this inimitable artist as among his finest, most characteristic productions. Extending over a period of nineteen years, from 1835 to 1853, inclusive, they embrace the best period of his artistic career, and show the varied excellences of his marvellous power.

The late Mr. Tilt, of Fleet Street, first conceived the idea of the "Comic Almanack," and at various times there were engaged upon it such writers as Thackeray, Albert Smith, the Brothers Mayhew, the late Robert Brough, Gilbert A'Beckett, and it has been asserted, Tom Hood, the elder. Thackeray's stories of "Stubbs' Calendar, or the Fatal Boots," which subsequently appeared as "Stubbs' Diary;" and "Barber Cox, or the Cutting of his Comb," formed the leading attractions in the numbers for 1839 and 1840. The Almanack was published at 2s. 6d., but in 1848-9 the size was reduced and the price altered to 1s. The change did not produce the increased circulation expected, and in 1850 it was again enlarged and published at 2s. 6d. In this year some very spiritedly designed folding plates were added, and this feature continued until 1853, when Mr. Tilt's partner, the late Mr. Bogue, thought proper to discontinue the work.

For many years past, sets of the Almanack have been eagerly sought after by collectors, and as much as 6l. and 7l. have been given for good copies.

THE
COMIC ALMANACK
For 1835.

PRELUDIUM.

SCENE.—An Apartment in the House of Francis Moore, in which that renowned Physician and Astrologer is discovered, lying at the point of death. The Nurse is holding up his head, while a skilful Mediciner is dispensing a potion. Sundry Old Women surround his couch, in an agony of grief. The Astrologer starteth up in a paroxysm of rage.

Moore. "Throw physic to the dogs," I'll gulp no more.

I'm done for: my prophetic life is o'er.

Who are these hags? and wherefore come they here?

Old Women. Alack! he raves, and knows us not, poor dear!

To think he should his only friends forget!

Who've fostered him, and made him quite a pet.

Moore. Begone, ye beldames! wherefore do ye howl?

Old Women. We've come to comfort your unhappy sowl.

Nurse. 'Tis the Old Women,—pr'ythee, do not scare 'em,—

Who to the last have bought your Vox Stellarum;

They're sorely griev'd, and fear that you will die;

And then, alack-a-day! who'll read the sky?

Moore. Oh, ah!—yes—well,—just so—just so,

I see—I feel—I smell—I know—I know.

Nurse. Poor soul! he's going fast. Oh! shocking shock!

So kind a master.... Bless me! there's a knock!

Enter Rigdum Funnidos, in deep mourning.

Rig. Fun. "Ye black and midnight hags! what is't ye do?"

Nurse. Speak softly, Sir; my master's turning blue.

He's not been sensible since last November.

Rig. Fun. (aside) Nor ever was, that I can e'er remember.

But we must talk before his course is run.

Moore. Who's that?—my sight grows dim—Is't Rigdum Fun?

Rig. Fun. The same, great Moore!

Moore. But, bless me! all in black!

What! mourn a living man! Alack! alack!

Rig. Fun. I wear prospective mourning, thus to shew

The solemn grandeur of prophetic woe.

Moore. The thought is lively, though the subject's grave;

And, therefore, you my free forgiveness have.

Rig. Fun. How can I serve you, ere you vanish hence?

Moore. I wish you'd cut the throat of Common Sense.

To him I owe my death. That cruel wight

Long on my hopes has cast a fatal blight.

I knew I had receiv'd the mortal blow,

When first he wounded me, six years ago;

And every year the knave has stronger grown,

While ev'ry year has sunk me lower down.

Rig. Fun. I will avenge you;—nay, I'll go much further:

The "Crowner's quest" shall find him guilty "Murther."

The common hangman shall cut short his breath;

And, by a shameful end, avenge your death.

Moore. 'Tis kindly said; and I in peace shall die.

Say, is there aught that you would ask of I?

Rig. Fun. Oh, Francis Moore! who soon no MORE wilt be;

I came, a precious boon to beg of thee:—

One gracious favour, ere you breathe your last,—

On ME your Prophet's mantle deign to cast!

Let me be raised to your deserted throne,

And call your countless subjects all my own.

Then let the mirth, they levell'd once at thee,

Fall, if it will, with tenfold force on me.

If all will laugh at me, who laugh'd at you,

The frowns of fortune I no more shall rue;

Nay, with such temper would I bear their jeers,

I could endure them for a hundred years.

Moore. Life's ebbing fast; my sands are nearly run;

But you shall have what you request, my son!

Now, sit you down, and write what I shall say,—

The last bright glimmerings of the taper's ray.

I'll shew you how to pen those strains so well,

Of which the meaning no one e'er could tell.

Send forth the women;—draw a little nigher;

My brain is heating with prophetic fire.

Rig. Fun. Matrons, abscond! (They depart glumpishly; carrying

off the Mediciner.) Now, Dad, I'm all attention,

To learn the wisdom that's past comprehension.

Moore. "The fiery Mars with furious fury rages."

Rig. Fun. I've penn'd that down, most erudite of sages!

Moore. "The Dog-star kindles with inflaming ire."

Rig. Fun. Just wait a moment, while I stir the fire.

Moore. "Terrific portents flame along the sky;

"I know the cause,—but dare not mention why."

Rig. Fun. (aside) Which shews your prophecying's all my eye.

Moore. "The planets are the book in which I read,—"

Rig. Fun. I'm very glad to hear that you succeed.

You've better luck than when you went to school;

For there, I guess, they perch'd you on a stool.

Moore. I read this solemn truth, as in a glass,—

'Whate'er will happen's sure to come to pass;'

"And if it don't, why 'set me down an ass.'"

Rig. Fun. That's done already; for to me 'twas plain,

An ass you were, and ever would remain.

Moore. Avaunt! I'll speak no more to ears profane.

[The scene openeth, and discovereth the Shade of the great Astrologer, Lilly, enveloped in a fog, who claspeth Francis Moore in his arms, and mizzleth off with him in a mist.—N.B. The renowned Physician droppeth his threadbare mantle, which falleth on Rigdum Funnidos, who maketh his exit therewith joyfully.

JANUARY.

ASS-TROLOGICAL PREDICTIONS.

I now proceed to put on my conjuring cap, and shew forth the wonders of the stars.

On looking at the moon, through my 500-horse power telescope, which magnifieth the planets 97,000,000 of times larger than life, I discern, that the march of intellect hath already travelled to that luminary; for I do distinctly perceive divers juveniles, of eighty years old and upwards, seated on stools, with horn-books in their hands. The Man in the Moon is also very busy, striving to metamorphose his sticks into brooms, to sweep away the cobwebs of ignorance therewith. Moreover, I do observe about half a million miles of cast-iron rail-road, in the direction of the earth, by which I do opine an inclination towards this planet. But there doth appear a great consternation amongst the other constellations, more especially in the Upper House, where Libra hath got into fiery opposition with Mars; and Saturn (who hath grown Grey) hath, in striving to part them, lost the skirts of his coat, and is glad to put up with a Spencer, whereby is clearly shadowed forth a fierce encounter between two great commanders. Let those, who think little of law and justice, read the 10,000 volumes of the Abridgment of the Statutes, and tremble!

Touching the affairs of Europe in general, I can say nothing in particular; excepting that I observe, that the Pope of Rome hath been furiously dealing forth his anathemas,[^[1]] wherein he doth betray a most marvellous lack of wit; for doth he opine, that Christian folk are such calves as to be cow'd by a bull? Verily, it toucheth me sore, to note the silly doings of the crazy old beldame, who hath turned the world topsy-turvy for so many centuries, when she might gather her petticoats about her, and sit down in peace and quietness, by merely—my old friend and gossip, Poor Humphrey, sagaciously observeth,—just turning Protestant. And, in good sooth, when we come to think of it, there need be no quarrellings and bickerings on religious grounds, nor scruples for conscience' sake, in any part of the world, if all the Pagans, Hindoos, Mahometans, Jews and folks of every religion, and of no religion at all, were only just to make up their minds to do the same thing. And, pray, let me ask, what can be a more simple piece of advice?

[1]. The Abbé de la Mennais has roused the thunder of the Vatican by his Paroles d'un Croyant. The Pope has addressed an evangelical letter to the prelates of the Catholic world, in which the Abbé is compared with John Huss and Wickliff, and his Holiness says:—"We damn for ever this book of small size but huge depravity."—Morning Post, June, 1834.

THE GREAT COMET.

Though, touching Comets, Tycho Brahe, Kepler, Halley, Sir Isaac Newton, and others of that stamp, do deny their malign influence on mundane affairs, yet I, Rigdum Funnidos, holding in far greater reverence the wisdom of our ancestors, and the sage opinion of my renowned defunct predecessor, Francis Moore, do maintain, that they cast a sinister aspect on this terrestrial globe; yea, and do mightily, in a most adverse fashion, affect the same. Where-fore, I say, look, when the Great Comet cometh, for a sufficient reason, in the coming thereof, for every thing which shall happen contrariwise; whether it be the falling of kings, or the falling of stocks; the quarrels of nations, or the squabbles of matrimony; the crash of empires, or the smash of crockery; the tyranny of despots, or the scolding of wives:—yea, I do say again, place them all to the account of the Great Comet.

Hereafter do follow sundry matters, both pleasant and profitable.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

MATRIMONY.—A highly respectable Gentleman, who has, for many years, distinguished himself as an important Public Functionary, is desirous of haltering his condition, and tying the knot of wedlock with a Lady of congenial sentiments. Having, himself, a very tender disposition, he stipulates for the same on the part of the object of his attachment; and as he is partial to good spirits, he hopes she will always have a stock. She must be duly impressed with a regard for the dignity of her husband's station, and must never associate with her inferiors, and whatever pledges she makes, she must be careful to redeem. The Advertiser is not very particular as to personal attractions; and with regard to money, he has seen so many people in a state of dependence, that he merely trusts she will come provided against such an unpleasant contingency. On these conditions, which are the gaol of his wishes, he will give the fair object of his affections her full swing, and be perfectly resigned to his fate. He anxiously looks for a line, addressed "John Ketch, Esq., opposite the Debtors' Door, Old Bailey."

N.B. The Schoolmaster in Newgate, who drew up the above advertisement, for his respected friend, Mr. Ketch, takes this opportunity of contradicting a report, which has been current for some time past,—that the Schoolmaster is abroad, which is quite foreign from the fact. Arrangements were certainly made to that effect, which, had they been carried into execution, he would have been quite transported; but he regrets to state, that he is under the necessity of remaining at his old abode, the large stone house in the Old Bailey.

FEBRUARY.

HUMBUGGUM ASTROLOGICUM, PRO ANNO 1835.

VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: The Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons.

Courteous Reader,

Stepping in the steps of my late worthy and much-lamented Prototype, Francis Moore, deceased, I herewith present you with my Hieroglyphic, "adapted to the Times." "Its interpretation is in the womb of time," and those who do pry with curious eyes into the mysteries of the stars, will, in due season, divine the hidden meaning thereof. Yet may I observe, that by the rules of art, I have discovered, that a fiery planet, which has been for some time located in the upper house, and has been for a long while lord of the ascendant, has come in fiery opposition with Scorpio; while Taurus hath flung a quartile ray at both of them.

MARCH.

MY GRANDMOTHER'S LAMENT;
or,
THE SETTLING DAY.

It was a drear November morn; the rain was pouring fast;

I underneath a gateway stood, in hopes it would not last;

And forthwith I began to muse, and to myself did say:

I hope the rain will soon give o'er, for this is "Settling Day."

If I don't stand for shelter here, I shall be wetted thro';

I at the Stock Exchange shall be black-boarded if I do:

And while I thus was fidgetting, the sun shot forth a ray;

And then I hoped to be in time all for the "Settling Day."

The rain clear'd off, and gladsomely I did prepare to go,

When up there came an Ancient Dame with visage full of woe:

She laid on me her skinny hand, and mournfully did say:

"To my lament you must give ear, altho' 'tis 'Settling Day.'"

"Good lady," I began to say, "my time is very short,"—

And fain I would have slipp'd away, but she my button caught.

"Oh! listen to your Grandmother! for she has much to say,"—

(She surely held me by some spell, although 'twas "Settling Day.")

"From morn till eve I wander forth; I roam like one distraught;

"Which ever way I turn my eyes, with ruin it is fraught.

"The good old times are quite forgot; all things do fade away;

"And when I mourn, the people laugh, and cry: ''tis Settling Day.'

"'Twas in the Court of Chancery I oft did take my nap;

"And many doubting Chancellors I've dandled in my lap;

"But now the Broom, that sweeps the room, it brushes me away;

"And says, for me, and all such crones, it is the 'Settling Day.'

"'Twas in the Commons House I sat, when Billy Pitt was young;

"I listen'd to his twelve-hour speech, and blest his fluent tongue.

"They us'd to sit from night till morn; and how they talk'd away!

"But now they sit from morn till night: oh! what a 'Settling Day!'

"They've London pull'd about one's ears; 'tis London now no more;

"They've swallow'd up poor Swallow Street; behind is now before;

"They've metamorphos'd Charing Cross; the Mews has pass'd away,

"And Lewkner's Lane I seek in vain: 't has had its 'Settling Day.'

"St. Dunstan's Church they've built anew; oh! what a Gothic feat!

"The Savages, who beat the Bells, have beaten a retreat;

"They've built another London Bridge; the old one's clear'd away;

"For such destructive knaves I wish a speedy 'Settling Day.'

"The Watchmen mustn't cry the hour, nor in their boxes snore;

"Their occupation's gone, and time with them is now no more.

"They tell me, too, the little Sweeps no more must 'Soot, ho!' say:

"I hope for such black deeds there'll come a sweeping 'Settling Day.'

"Another thing doth sorrow bring, and maketh me to fret;

"They talk about abolishing Imprisonment for Debt;

"And next, alas! the time may come, there'll be no costs to pay,

"For ev'ry man will get his own upon the 'Settling Day.'

"I mind me, when a little girl, I travell'd once to York;

"And slow and stately did we ride; it was a three days' work;

"But now they do it all by steam, so very fast, they say,

"To Brummagem you'll go, and back, in half a 'Settling Day.'

"I heard them talk, awhile agone, about an air-balloon,

"To come from France, and carry us a journey to the moon.

"When folks become so impious, our duty 'tis to pray,

"That such presumptuous doings soon may meet a 'Settling Day.'

"That horrid March of Intellect has prov'd a perfect bore;

"I fear it killed poor St. John Long: his rubbing days are o'er;

"But 'twas a gracious sight to see his funeral array,

"And lords and ladies join the train, upon his 'Settling Day.'

"They've made the babes at infant schools so very wise indeed,

"That they can read before they speak, and write before they read:

"They're wiser than their grandmothers! you hear the people say,

"I can't survive this awful shock;—this cruel 'Settling Day.'"

While thus the crone did make her moan, I pitied her full sore,

And much I strove to comfort her, when she had given o'er;

I begg'd of her to list to me, and I'd be bound to say,

Some snug abuses I would find, without a "Settling Day."

For dirty courts and narrow lanes, I told her not to fret;

To 'mind us of the good old times, there was a plenty yet:

At East and West, 'mong gents and cits, there's many a crooked way,

And holes and corners dark enough, without a "Settling Day."

I bade her look at Temple Bar,—that venerable pile;

Its mould'ring stones and rotten gates, and then she gave a smile

She thought upon the bleeding heads, and plaintively did say:

"I hope for that dear obstacle there'll be no 'Settling Day.'"

Tho' St. John Long (I said) is gone,—that curer of all ills,—

We still have modest Morison's fam'd Vegetable Pills;

Then think upon the Pension List, where stand, in grand array,

A splendid train, who take their cash on ev'ry "Settling Day."

I own'd that, for the London Cries, we now must ring a knell:

But if we've lost the 'Sweep soot-ho!' we've got the dustman's bell;

Tho' in the street, it is not meet that folks should preach or pray;

Yet Punch may bawl, and singers squall, without a "Settling Day."

My Granny grinn'd a ghastly smile, and let my button go;

"We'll meet again," she said, "and then I'll tell you all my woe:

"You have not heard a twentieth part; but you'll no longer stay."

She vanish'd straight; but all too late;—I lost my "Settling Day."

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

A GENTLEMAN, who is about to proceed to New South Wales, on the public account, for fourteen years, is desirous of providing a confidential situation for an active YOUTH, previously to his departure. He is exceedingly light-fingered, and very dexterous in the conveyance of property; and, among his other accomplishments, the advertiser can confidently recommend him for considerable skill in opening locks without the aid of a key. He has been brought up to the bar; and is lineally descended from the renowned Jerry Abershaw. Most of his relations have been raised to exalted situations, far above the ordinary crowd; and, indeed, there is little doubt, that the force of his genius, if suffered to take its course, will, in time, procure for him the same degree of elevation. He can refer with confidence for a character to any of the gentlemen composing that respectable body, the Swell Mob Association; and the advertiser will be happy to reply to any inquiries, addressed—Peter Prig, Esq., at the Stone Jug Hotel, Old Bailey.

APRIL.

ABSTRACT of an ACT, intituled an Act for the Amendment of an
Act for the Amendment of the Poor Laws.

[To be passed on the 1st of April next.]

Preamble.—Abuses all former Acts, and repeals them accordingly.

Clause 1.—Empowers paupers to act as Churchwardens and Overseers; to form their own vestries, and pass laws for their own relief.

Clause 2.—Provides for weekly tavern dinners for the same; and stipulates for a bountiful supply of turtle-soup, venison, burgundy, champagne, hock, claret, and rose-water.

Clause 3.—Enacts that pensions, of not less than £1000 per annum, shall be granted to all former Churchwardens and Overseers, as a compensation for their loss of office; and that they shall each be raised to the rank of baronet, as a compensation for their loss of dignity.

Clause 4.—Enacts that every able-bodied pauper, who can work, shall be allowed five guineas per week each, and two guineas for each of their children, illegitimate or otherwise; and should any refractory pauper refuse this allowance, and prefer breaking stones at a penny per bushel, he shall be forthwith committed to the custody of the keeper of the London Tavern, if in the City of London, or of some inn or hotel, if any other part of the kingdom, and be compelled to feast like an alderman, till he show symptoms of contrition.

Clause 5.—That as many paupers may prefer being boarded and lodged, suitable mansions shall be erected for the purpose, in cheerful and airy situations; to which governors shall be appointed, to be elected by the paupers, for the due regulation thereof. And if, on complaint of one or more of the said paupers, it shall appear, that the said governor hath, on any occasion, omitted to provide them with all due necessaries, such as silver forks, doileys, finger-glasses, napkins, or other indispensable matters; or hath omitted to serve their tea, coffee, or chocolate, in silver pots, and china cups and saucers; or substituted plain lump for double-refined lump sugar, or milk for cream, or tallow for wax candles, or a feather-bed for a down-bed: or neglected to keep the harp or piano in proper tune, or to furnish clean linen once a day, (if they desire it, but not otherwise); or presumed to call them out of bed before twelve at noon, unless specially directed so to do; or behaved disrespectfully, or omitted to stand uncovered in their presence, &c. &c. &c. for each and every such offence, the said governor shall be committed to the tread-mill for not less than six calendar months.

Clause 6.—Each pauper, who is a boarder as aforesaid, shall be at liberty to invite as many friends as he pleases, to a grand dinner party, to be holden once a week; a concert and ball to be holden twice a week; and a grand concert and ball to take place four times in the year; on which occasion, the said paupers, or a committee thereof, shall be at liberty to engage any of the Italian singers, provided their terms do not exceed 100 guineas each per night.

Clause 7.—Allows a premium of 50 guineas to the mother of every illegitimate child born in the said mansion.

Clause 8.—Enacts that the halt, the maimed, and the blind, together with all aged, infirm, diseased, idiotic, and insane persons, and all who are unable, through mental or bodily incapacity, to maintain themselves, shall be allowed the liberty of begging their bread on the king's highway; by which, public sympathy will be powerfully awakened, and pauperism effectually discouraged.

Clause 9.—Enacts that all the moneys, necessary for carrying the foregoing provisions into effect, shall be disbursed from the pockets of the honest and industrious.

Clause 10.—Enacts that this Act shall neither be altered, amended, nor repealed.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

FOUND on a suspicious person, stopped by the Police, the following articles, viz.:—

1. The clock of old St. Dunstan's Church, with the Cross of St. Paul's and the steeple of the church in Langham Place, which he had converted into a seal and key, and appended thereto by a chain cable.

2. The images of Gog and Magog from Guildhall. N. B. He begged hard to have these restored to him, alleging that he had bought them as playthings for his children.

3. The "collective wisdom" of St. Stephen's Chapel, which he had purloined from the Members' skulls, before the late fire, and had artfully concealed in a nut-shell.

4. The conscience of the legal profession, which, at first, was scarcely perceptible, but on its being accidentally placed in a bag of sovereigns, became extremely vociferous.

5. A cart-load of Billingsgate abuse, and a bag of moonshine. Should these articles not be claimed, they will be sold to the best bidder. N.B. They would admirably answer the purpose of some of our "best public Instructors."

There were several other articles of less value, all of which will be restored, to the right owners, on application to the Mansion House.

MAY.

PROCEEDINGS OF LEARNED SOCIETIES.

At the Philosophical Institution, held at the Pig and Tinder Box, in Liquorpond Street, a letter was read by Sawney Suck-Egg, Esq., on the possibility of extending the realms of space, and adding to the duration of eternity. In the same essay, he also satisfactorily proved, that two and too do not make four; that Black is very often white; and that a Chancery suit has shewn to many a man, that what has a beginning does not necessarily always have an end.

A new mode of raising the wind was also communicated to this society by Jeremy Diddler, Esq.; a very useful invention for broken-down gamblers, ruined spendthrifts, insolvent tradesmen, and 'Change Alley waddlers.

Geological Society of Hog's Norton.—The fossil remains of an antediluvian pawnbroker have been dug up, within a mile of this place. This is not regarded as a very remarkable circumstance, as many recent instances have been known of the hearts of several persons of this class being in a petrified state while alive.

A successful method of converting stones into bread has been transmitted to the New Poor Law Commissioners, and a three-and-sixpenny medal presented to the ingenious discoverer thereof.

Zoological Society at Hookem Snivey.—A new animal has been transmitted from No-Man's Land, which has been named the Flat-Catcher. It bears some resemblance to the human species, as it walks on two legs, and has the gift of speech. It seems quite in its element when among pigeons, and preys ravenously on the gulls that hover about watering-places, getting hold of them by a kind of fascination, which throws its unconscious victims entirely off their guard, when it never fails to make them bleed profusely; after which, it suffers them to depart.

A laborious investigator has discovered that there are exactly nine millions, one hundred and sixty-four thousand, five hundred and thirty-three hairs on a tom-cat's tail, which he defies all the zoologists in Europe to disprove. He also maintains that a bull sees with its horns, and a rat with its tail, although he admits the possibility of their doing so without them.

It was stated at the last meeting of this institution, that one of its members had observed a tremendous water-spout from one of the plugs in Thames Street; and sensible shocks of an earthquake had been felt at Puddle-dock.

Society of Antiquaries.—Among the antiquities presented at the last meeting, was one of Cleopatra's corns, and the celebrated Needle with which she darned her hose; also, a gas-pipe, found at Herculaneum, and the fragment of a steam-carriage, dug out of the ruins of Palmyra.

Entomological Society in Grub Street.—A very animated conversation took place on the natural history of the flea, involving many curious conjectures, such as, whether it had ever been known to have attained the size of the elephant; whether it was of the same species with the hog-in-armour and the rhinoceros, or was to be classed among the Jumpers; how high and how often it leaped; whether it always looked before it leaped; and whether it leaped highest in Leap Year; the farther discussion of all which queries was deferred till the said Leap Year.

The Horticultural Society of Seven Dials has been presented, by the Society of Antiquaries, with the identical pumpkin converted by the fairy into Cinderella's chariot.

Premiums have been awarded by various learned bodies to the following:—

To Henry Broom, for the application of the crab motion, and the "do-as-little-as-possible" principle, to the state engine.—To Lord Durham, in conjunction with the above, for an improved mode of progression for the said engine, namely, by each pulling the opposite way.—To Signor Paganini, for an improved mode of extracting gold from catgut scrapings, and of skinning flints.—To Miss Harriet Martineau, for a new preventive check-string for the regulation of the fare (fair).—To the proprietor of Morison's Pills for the discovery of the perpetual motion.—To the Society for the Confusion of Useful Knowledge, for their successful endeavours in be-Knight-ing the public intellect.

JUNE.

THE "WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS."

Rigdum Funnidos lamenteth, that there are, in this our day, among those who do seek to subvert the venerable usages of our ancestors, divers vauntings and boastings as to what they do most affectedly and erroneously term "the growing intelligence of the age,"—"the march of intellect," and such-like absurd phraseologies. This irreverent spirit doth manifest itself in unseemly comparisons, between the times which are past, and those which are present, which do end in a preferring, to the wisdom of the olden time, their own newfangled and presumptuous theories. Nay, there be even those who do maintain, that what the lamented Francis Moore did, and other equally wise admirers of the by-gone past do, venerate as the olden time, is, in very sooth, the juvenile time; inasmuch as time groweth older every day, and, as a necessary consequence thereof, every succeeding generation groweth wiser. It profiteth not to waste words on such manifest absurdity; suffice it therefore to say, that Rigdum Funnidos hath, with much cost and travail, assemblaged what may be most worthily intituled, a fair sample of 'collective wisdom' wherein will be found, most conspicuously shown forth, the worthiness of our ancestors to the designation of Wise.

"Concerning the superstitious use of what is called the Glorious Hand, or Hand of Glory, by housebreakers in their robberies, we have the following account:—The pretended use of this glorious hand is to stupify or stun all those who are present, and render them perfectly insensible. This glorious hand is the hand of a hanged criminal, prepared in the following manner:—It is wrapped up in a bit of winding-sheet, very tight, to force out the small remainder of blood, then put into an earthen vessel with zimat, saltpetre, salt, and long pepper, all well pulverised, after which, 'tis left fifteen days in that pot, then taken out and exposed to the hottest sun of dog days, till it becomes very dry; and if the sun be not hot enough, they dry it in an oven heated with fern and vervain; then they make a sort of candle of the grease of the hanged man, virgin wax, and Lapland sefanum, and they make use of this glorious hand as a candlestick, to hold this candle when lighted; and in all places wherever they come with this fatal instrument, everybody they find there becomes immoveable. We are also told, that it is to no purpose for thieves to make use of this glorious hand, if the threshold of the door, or other places by which they may enter, be rubbed over with an unguent, composed of the gall of a black cat, the fat of a white hen, and the blood of an owl, and that this composition be made in the dog days."—Tr. of Little Albert, p. 34.

"John Weer, in his Book de Prestigus, has drawn up an inventory of the diabolical monarchy, with the names and surnames of seventy-two princes, and the seven million four hundred and five thousand nine hundred and twenty-six devils, errors of computation only excepted, adding what qualities and properties, and to what purposes they may serve when invoked."—Bodin, p. 404.

"Thrasillus, a Heathen author, cited by Stobœus, says, that at the Nile was a stone like a bear, which cured those who were afflicted with dæmons for as soon as ever it was applied to the noses of dæmoniacks, the devil immediately left them."—Bodin, p. 301.

"The way to be certainly loved, is, to take the marrow of a wolf's left foot, and make of it a sort of pomatum, with ambergris and cyprus powder, carry it about one, and cause the person to smell of it from time to time."—Albertus, p. 12.

"To prevent differences and a divorce betwixt a man and his wife, take two quails' hearts, the one of a male, the other of a female, and cause the man to carry about him the male, and the woman the female."—Thiers, tome 1, p. 389.

"Place a Toad's heart on a woman's left breast when she sleeps, to make her tell her secrets."—Thiers, tome 1, p. 389.

From "Markham's Horsemanship."

How to doe with a Jaded Horse.—When that your horse is thoroughly tired, and hath yet much of his journey to do, alight from him, and cut, from the nighest hedge, a short wande, which you shall jag in notches with your knife, and, making a hole in the thinnest of his ear, when he dothe flag in his pace, then saw the stick to and froe in the hole, which will revive him soe that, until he be entirely spent, he will not faile to goe.

Another way, with the horse of a friend, or that is hired, and soe that the proper owner shall not know thereof.—When that your beast is muche wearied, and hath yet far to travel, get down from his back, and choose from the road side six smooth round pebbles, of which you shall put three in his right ear, and tye up the ear with binde-weed, or long grass, purse-wise; then mount him again and put him on his mettle, and with the motion of his head the stones in his ear will rattle seemingly to him like thunder, which will soe inspirit him that while he hath life in him he will not fail to goe; and when he doth, after that, slacken of his pace, then tye up three in his left ear also.

From "One Thousand Notable Things."

To Staunch the Bleeding of a Wound.—Write these four letters, A O G L, with the blood of the wound, about the wound.

A Medicine for the Toothache.—Take a live Mowle, and put him in a brass pot, and there let him die, then cut him asunder and take out the guts, and dry the blood with a cloth, then cut him in quarters, and hang him on a thred drying by the fire's side; when ye would use it, lay the fleshy side of it, with bladders of saffron, with a cloth to your sore.

Pare the nails of one that hath the Quartan Ague, which, being put into a linen cloth, and so tied about the neck of a quick eel, and the same eel put into the water, thereby the ague will be driven away.

It is certainly and constantly affirmed, that on Midsummer eve there is found under the root of mugwort a coal which preserves and keeps safe from the plague, carbuncle, lightning, the quartan ague, and from burning, them that bear the same about them: and Mizaldus, the writer hereof, saith that he doth hear that it is to be found the same day under the root of plantane; which I know to be of truth, for I have found them the same day under the root of plantane. It is to be found at noon.

You shall stay the bleeding of the nose, if you write with the same blood, in the forehead of the party that bleeds, these words following, Consummatum est.

If one do buy Warts of them that have them, and give them a pin therefor, if the party that hath the warts prick the same pin in some garment that he wears daily and commonly, the wart or warts, without doubt, will diminish and wear away privily, and be clear gone in a short time.

If you take an oak apple from an oak tree, and in the same you shall find a little worm, which if it doth fly away, it signifies wars; if it creeps, it betokens scarcity of corn; if it run about, then it foreshews the plague.

Whosoever eateth two walnuts, two figs, twenty leaves of rue, and one grain of salt, all stamped and mixed together, fasting, shall be safe from poison or plague that day; which antidote King Mithridates had used so much, that when he drank poison purposely to kill himself, it could not hurt him.

From "The Accomplished Gentlewoman's Companion."

To Cure the Toothache.—If a needle is run through a wood-louse, and immediately touch the aching tooth with that needle, it will cease to ache.

To Cure the Jaundice.—Take a live Tench, slit it down the belly; take out the guts, and clap the Tench to the stomach as fast as possible, and it will cure immediately.

From "Natura Exenterata, or Nature Unbowelled."

For the Falling Sicknesse.—Take the jaw bone of a man or a woman, and beat it into fine powder, and if a woman have the falling sicknesse, then use the jaw bone of the man; and if it be a man, then use the jaw bone of the woman; so much of the powder as will cover a sixpence, put it into wine or any other liquid thing which you shall like of, and drink it; you may use it as often as you will, but especially at spring and fall.

For the Stone.—Take the blood of a Fox, and make it into powder, and drink it in wine, and without doubt it shall destroy the stone; and if you will not believe, take a stone and put it into the blood of a fox, and it will break.

For the Falling Evil.—Take the skull of a dead man, whereon moss groweth, being taken and washed very clean, and dryed in an oven, and then beaten to powder; the skull must be of one that hath been slaine, or died suddenly, or of one that was hanged.

To take a Corn out of the Toe.—Take a black snail, roast it in a white cloth, and when it is roasted, lay it hot to the corn, and it will take it away.

Before death this is a sign, if the tears run down of a man's right eye, and a woman's left eye.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

THE WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF WISEACRES, having for nearly two centuries, by the aid of Francis Moore, Richard Partridge, Poor Robin, and Co., done great service to the community, particularly to the agricultural portion thereof (by their seasonable directions for getting in the harvest, &c.), and occasioned great delight and satisfaction to all the old women of the empire; and having, moreover, employed the most diligent endeavours to cause good sense and universal intelligence to remain, as the said Company's craft and mystery do clearly indicate they should remain—Stationary:—for all these reasons, the said Worshipful Company do take great credit to themselves for the improvements in their business and calling, which other folks have originated; and confidently expect the public will, as in times past, always deal at their shop, and give them full credit for all the wonderful wonders which they promise henceforth to perform.

(By order of the Court)

GEORGE GREENHORN, Secretary.

JULY.

AUGUST

THE GARDENER'S CALENDAR.

As I sat at my window a few evenings ago, a loud rattling in the street drew my attention, and at the same instant an omnibus stopped at my nextdoor neighbour's, the poulterer. First alighted a servant-maid and lad—then two or three half-grown boys and girls, intermingled with a torrent of chattels, consisting of shrubs, flowers, enough live animals to stock a menagerie, packages past counting, and lastly, Mrs. Giblet in full feather, arrayed in lily-white, and bearing in each hand a full-blown balsam. All was safely landed, when a hackney coach drove up at a quiet pace, and from it descended, with the help of his shopmen and a pair of crutches, my neighbour, Simon Giblet himself. His legs were swathed up, his back, for which broadcloth was formerly too narrow, seemed considerably shrunk, and he looked care-worn and in pain. After him was borne his second son Dick, apparently disabled too. I had scarcely seen my neighbour or any of his family for some months past, but as I had often gossipped in his shop, I determined to go down and inquire what had befallen him. He had just arrived at his great wooden chair. His eyes were gleaming with complacency on a goodly row of fatted fowls, all placed with their delicate, dainty, floury broad behinds before, and as he plumped into the seat he ejaculated, with a grunt, "Thank heaven!" A shopman sat in a corner plucking a snow-white pullet. Giblet looked at him wistfully, and then, "Bring it here, Sam," he cried. He took it, plucked a few handfuls of feathers, and as he returned it to Sam, "Thank heaven!" he grunted again. My foot kicked against something at the threshold. I stooped and picked up a clasped book, which I presented to him, as I tendered my sympathy. "Oh!" said he, "nothing but disasters. I've made ducks and drakes of my money, and a goose of myself; upon my sole, it's a blessing that I got away before Michaelmas. I'm in too much pain to tell you now. Ah! I see you've picked up my journal. Work or pleasure, I've always made up a day-book every night. I'll lend it you if you wish to see how I've been pigeoned. While I stuck to the fowls all went fair with me, but when I took to that river-bank I was like a duck out of water." I saw my neighbour was excited, so, after a few consoling words, I retreated, carrying off his calendar; and here are some extracts, by permission, for the benefit of all amateur ruralists.

DIARY.

March 21, 1834.—Mrs. G. bent on a rural retirement, and declaring this a dog-cheap bargain,—meet Mr. Grabbit to-morrow, pay premium, and take lease of his snug place at Strand-on-the-Green.—Wife insists on calling it Cherub Lodge, Paradise Bank.—N.B. Original sum, £600; Grabbit seeming to like us, abates a hundred entirely as a favour.

27th.—All safe arrived: only one pier-glass split into four, and best tea-set, bought as 32 pieces, converted into 32 dozen. However, Mrs. G. observes, that being by the river side, we must have a marine grotto, and the pieces of looking-glass, mixed with the bits of blue and gold china, will make a fine glitter among the moss and shells.

28th.—Grabbit recommends Isaac Snail as head gardener, and his son Isaac to help him—says old Isaac was his right hand, and begged to be left in the house, he was so attached to the garden.

31st.—Two days' rain, without ceasing; planning with Isaac on the large kitchen table covered an inch thick with mould—laid down gravel walks of red garter, and stuck up skewers for fruit trees.

April 1.—Rain falling, river rising, cellars filling.

2nd.—Ducks swimming into the parlour—moved to the first floor for safety—Musical Tom (my youngest) splashing about bare-legged in the kitchen, and shouting "four feet water in the hold." A leak sprung in the next onion field—all my land under water. Dick, perched on window-sill, angling for roach in the garden. Isaac says we shall get used to it, and the waters always go off again. Daughter Julia tells me the people of Egypt would think it quite a blessing—beg to differ.

7th.—Can just see land.—House left rather slimy.—Isaac and I commence gardening in earnest.—Distrained on for forty odd pounds, taxes left unpaid by Mr. Grabbit.—To keep my goods, parted with the money, and started to town for an explanation—found Grabbit sailed last week for Swan River. Isaac says he was a worthy gentleman, but had a bad memory—begin to be of the same opinion.

9th.—Buried an old hen at the foot of a plum-tree by the light of the full moon—am told it will then bear egg-plums.

19th.—Potato eyes always an eye-sore, so have planted a bed with every eye nicely cut away, by which I hope to grow a crop as smooth as my hand and as blind as moles.—Look for the Horticultural Society's gold medal for this bright idea.

27th.—Wondered my ranunculuses did not come up; just tried one, found I had planted them all bottom topmost, and they were shooting away down to what Dick says is the centre of gravity.

May 3.—Grubbing for grubs among the rose-trees—cucumbers in full flower—Mrs. Giblet and Julia come to help me—all busy setting the blossoms—puzzled to tell the male flowers, till Mrs. G. discovered it all by the book.

12th.—Tulips splendid yesterday, but flagged this morning; and after dinner all napping with their heads on the bed—Isaac said it was the east wind. Thought there might be a grub at the roots, so drew one up—found no bulb—all the rest the same—somebody had taken away the roots and stuck the flowers into the ground again.

13th.—Finished my new hot-water pipes for the conservatory, all heated by the kitchen fire—a scheme of my own—Cook had a regular flare-up with so much company yesterday, so the water was boiling hot all day—by night the plants looked like scalded goose-berries. This morning, all my pipes united in a joint-run on the cistern, which answered their draughts to the last, and the spare water from the green-house floor was soaking into the breakfast parlour. The inventor just arrived—says it's all quite regular—the cracked joints will close of themselves in time—I wonder when.

23rd.—Wrote to the editor of The Gardener's Journal an account of my plan for growing potatoes without eyes, and the experiments for making an egg-plum tree.

June 2.—Vines cut last month, all bled to death.—Surprised that my new potatoes without eyes have not seen daylight yet.—My letter to the magazine in print.—Encouraging notice by editor, "Thanks S. G. for communicating his ingenious discoveries; hopes to hear from him again, with samples of the new potato and egg-plum." Think I shall disclose myself, and name the new sort, the Cherub Giblet potato. Most of the neighbours spoke to me coming out of church yesterday, but little thought who S. G. was.

12th.—Suppose I want exercise.—Wife blows me up, and says I get puffy; so, to keep all smooth with her and the garden walks, drag the great roller about for two hours, morning and night.

19th.—Insects in green-house devouring all my new plants; searched book for a remedy, and last night popped in a pan of burning brimstone. This morning all the grubs shrivelled to shreds, and every plant dead and stripped as naked as a plucked chicken. Tom begs to have the green-house to keep his pigeons in.

23rd.—Fill up odd time in watching fruit trees with a rattle, for the birds perch on the sham cats and build nests in the mawkins. What with opening and shutting the cucumber-frames, according to the sun, wind, and clouds, plenty to do.—Charged the garden-engine with lime water—set Dick and Tom to play upon the caterpillars. They have so whitewashed the three Miss Blackets, that I have two velvet bonnets, a silk pelisse, and a cashmere shawl to pay for.

July 3.—Tool-house robbed last night; all cleared out but the garden roller. Isaac's list for a new outfit—spades, forks, dibbers, trowels, traces, hoes, rakes, weeders, scrapers, knives, pruners, axes, saws, shears, scythes, hammers, pincers, lines, levels, sieves, watering-pots, syringes,—he would have gone on, but I stopped him.

9th.—Set nooses for wild rabbits, which are devouring everything green, even the bays. This morning found we had strangled Dick's lop-eared doe. Tom, who is learning to joke, observed that she had wandered for a change of food, and had found a halter-ation.

18th.—The Cherub Giblet potatoes not coming up to time, tried the ground and found them rotting—all gone off without a single shoot.—Mem. To forget them in my next to The Gardener's Journal.

24th.—Half my time taken up in driving the butterflies off the gooseberry trees. Left my weeding-gloves stuck on a stick last night—put them on this morning, and smashed five slugs in one, and seven earwigs in the other.—Mem. Old gloves the best slug-trap.

August 5.—My cucumber frames yield plenty of fruit—have gathered not less than twenty, worth twopence each—cost me only five pounds six shillings and sevenpence.

9th.—Strolled into shrubbery this evening with a lanthorn, for the pleasure of viewing things in a new light—up started two figures from among the bushes, tumbled me, lanthorn, and all, into a bed of roses, and escaped. Mem. 'Stablish a spring gun to-morrow.

15th.—Wall-fruit ripening—must have a few friends while there is something for them—fresh-gathered peaches always a treat.

19th.—Up at six to look after the fruit—all hope of a dessert had deserted my walls—every ripe plum, peach and nectarine, clean gone, as though the rogues knew that I had asked ten to dinner. Said nothing, but sent off Isaac to Covent Garden. Obliged to do it liberally, having unfortunately been boasting. Looked in book for best man-trap—found it called the humane, because it only breaks the leg. Mem. Set up a man-trap to-morrow.

25th.—My egg-plums ripe at last—sent off a loaded branch to my correspondent the editor—Letter of thanks in return, saying that my tree would have produced egg-plums whether I had buried the old hen or not.—Envious, no doubt.

September 2.—Terrible outcry in the garden, this morning, before I was up—ran down in my shirt—unlucky Dick had stolen a march on the egg-plum tree for a private regale. Branch broke—there he was on his back, kicking—hives upset—could not see Dick for bees—got help and rescued him at last—all stung a little—Dick poulticed from head to foot, and laid up for a month at least. Isaac says it is a thousand pities, as the honey was almost ready for taking.

18th.—Went to the Bank to-day—lot of garden tools at old iron-shop in the City Road—very cheap and ready marked S. G., so bought and despatched them home—looked up, and saw "Jacob Snail" over door—thought it rather suspicious.

19th.—Could not sleep for thinking of Isaac and the tools—bright moonlight at two—looked through the window—something moving on the garden wall—saw two men among the bees—seized my musket—called Harry to follow me—crept down through the shrubs, and there was old Isaac, plain enough, tying the hives in sacks and handing them to young Isaac on the wall—made sure of the old fox, so fired at the young one; down he fell into the ditch outside. Sprung forward, forgetting the spring gun, caught the wire and all the shot in my legs—never made such a jump in my life—took me plump, head and shoulders, into the man-trap. There I was locked fast across the chest. How I blessed myself that it was a humane man-trap!—Old Isaac escaped.—Here I am in bed and likely to be lame for life—plenty of time for reflection—begin to think myself an ass.

23rd.—Old Isaac not to be found—tracked the young fox—brought him to confession—both been plundering me every night from the beginning. Old Isaac stole my tools, and his brother sold them to me again. Young Isaac stole my tulips—together they stole my peaches and nectarines the night before my party, and the old knave, when I sent him to town for more, fetched my own from his cottage, and charged me with them.

25th.—A notice to-day, by which I learn that I have been imposed on by a swindling knave who had no right to sell me the place or take a premium—that the owner is coming from the continent and wants instant possession—never so thankful in my life—better already—pack up—send for van—hire omnibus for wife, children, and light luggage—go gently myself with poor Dick in a coach.

26th.—Here comes the omnibus. Huzza!

SEPTEMBER.

OCTOBER.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

BRUTISH HUMBUG COLLEGE OF HEALTH.—The wonderful efficacy of the Morising Pills becomes every day more perspicuous. The discerning Public swallows 'em 'like winking;' and we defies all opposition, and the Weakly attempts of our enemies to Dispatch us. We tells those as calls us quacks, that, under the blessing of Divine Providence, we glories in our ignorance; and takes every opportunity of exposing it, for the benefit of our suffering fellow-creatures. And we have found them a sovereign remedy for ourselves; having, for a long while, been afflicted with an emptiness of the chest, and a great deficiency of the yellow-stuff, all which terrible symptoms have speedily disappeared; so we feels in duty bound to propagate our pills to the remotest prosperity.

The following are selected out of several millions of cases, furnished by a single agent, in a most sensible letter, to prove the never-to-be-enough-wondered-at wonderful efficacy of the Hy-gee-wo-ian Medicines.

Most Respected Sir,

Being clearly convinced, from a proper use of my reasoning faculties, that it is perfectly consistent with probability and good sense to believe that one medicine, made of I don't know what, by I don't know who, is certain to cure every disorder, and is equally efficacious in all ages and constitutions, from the infant of a week old, to the old man of eighty; and being, moreover, equally well convinced that it is quite unreasonable to place any sort of trust or dependence on the prescriptions of men of scientific education, who have merely devoted their whole lives to the medical profession;—and, further, being struck with the astounding fact, and exceeding likelihood, that an universal panacea could only be reserved for those who are quite innocent of all medical knowledge, and whose perfect disinterestedness is manifested by their being contented with the trifling remuneration derived from the credulity of the British public;—I say, Sir, for all these reasons I have become a zealous advocate of the Hy-gee-wo-ian medicines.

Having been appointed your agent, and, therefore, influenced, like yourself, by the most disinterested motives, I make it a point to recommend them on all occasions, and always in sufficiently large doses, on which I observe you lay peculiar stress; and very justly: for does it not follow, as a matter of course, that if six pills do a certain quantity of good, six thousand must, as a natural consequence, do six thousand times as much more good, and the patient must be six thousand times the better for them? There are some censorious folks who insinuate that the more pills I sell the more money I get by them; but I need not assure you that, in this respect, my motives are quite as disinterested as your own.

Yours ever to command,

FRANCIS FLEECE'EM.

P.S.—Please to send me a dozen wagon loads of No. 1 Pills, and the same of No. 2 Pills, as early as possible. I hand you the following cases, which have come under my own knowledge:—

To the Haygent for the Morising Pils.

Onerr'd Sur,

This hear kums 2 akwaint you that havein lost my happytight i tuk to takein your Morising Pils witch i only begun with takein 5 hundred hat a time witch had the blessed defect of turnin me inside out and I felt in a wery pekooliar citywation witch discurraged me 2 parsewere and i tuk 1 thousen hat a doze by witch I was turned outside in by witch my happytight was kwite discuvvered witch was a grate blessin for my whife who is bigg in the famylyar way with 12 smal childern with grate happytights all threw your pils and I ham now Abel to wurk and yarn my 12 shillin a weak So no more hat presnt from your

umbel Serv't to command

GREGORY GUDGEON.

No. 9,

Nobody-knows-where Street,

Jericho,

Feb. the 32nd, 1836.

Sir,

A most respectable friend of mine, at the suggestion of a worthy magistrate of Surrey, felt himself constrained to take steps for his improvement at that celebrated place of fashionable resort, Brixton Tread Mill.

For a considerable period he was greatly delighted with this elegant mode of recreation; and was much struck with the ingenuity of an invention by which a person might walk fifty or sixty miles a day, without the inconvenience of changing the scene. But, somehow or other, being a man of very ardent temperament, he entered so much into the spirit of the amusement that—but I scarcely know how to describe it, lest I should be suspected of exaggeration, a fault I hold in the greatest abhorrence—in short, we have all of us heard of pedestrians, after a hard day's travel, complain of having nearly walked their feet off; but my unfortunate friend literally did so; and so intent was he on his salubrious pastime that he kept walking on upon his bare stumps; nor would it have been discovered, had not his feet, on finding that they had no longer the power of motion, determined that nothing else should have that power; and spitefully stopped the mill, by getting entangled in the machinery.

The kind-hearted governor, who witnessed the occurrence, told my friend not to mind such a trifle, but to morris on. This happy expression brought to his mind your justly famous Morrissing Pills; and being naturally desrious of recovering his footing, a messenger was morrissed off for a supply. At the first dose, he only swallowed a dozen boxes, which had no very visible effect; a thing not to be wondered at; because, as you justly observe in your advertisements, it is impossible to take too many. The following night, however, he trebled the quantity; and, next morning, being awakened by what seemed the shooting of his corns, he put his hand down, and found a pair of full-grown handsome feet, more than twice as big as his old ones. I should observe, there was one trifling deviation,—the heels were foremost; and, on getting out of bed, and attempting to walk towards the mill, he found an invariable tendency to proceed in an opposite direction. On the circumstance being observed by the governor, he very kindly told him not to afflict himself on that head, as he found all his pupils at first had a similar propensity; but, by a strict attention to a bread-and-water regimen, and a small quantity of blood being drawn from the back by one of his amiable assistants, they soon so far recovered, that the mere presence of himself, or one of his assistants, was quite sufficient to prevent a relapse. My friend suggested that a dose, or even the promise of a dose, of the Morrissing Pills would be much more certain to prove efficacious; and the governor very politely promised to give them a trial, as he confessed, he said, that the operation of bleeding was particularly painful to his tender feelings.

As to the inconvenience of the matter in the ordinary business of life, my respected friend seems to think that it can make but little difference, as he has always gone backward all his life-time; indeed, it is a question with him whether it is not an advantage; as, instead of mixing in mobs and frays, as he was very much in the habit of doing, his feet will now carry him in a clean contrary direction, quite out of harm's way.

I remain, respected Sir,

Your gullible Servant,

GILES GOSLING.

No. 1,

Find-it-out-if-you-can Lane,

No-where Street.

Sir,

I beg to inform you that a poor man was blown to atoms by the explosion of the Powder Mills on Hounslow Heath. His affectionate wife, who happened to be passing at the time, carefully picked up the fragments, and placed them together; and, by administering a dose of the Universal Medicine, he was able to walk home, and eat a hearty dinner of bacon and cabbage.

If any person should doubt the truth of the above statement, I beg you will refer them to me, when I will fully satisfy all inquiries. I am easily found out,—as everybody knows me.

Your obedient Servant,

GILES GAMMON.

No. 1, Blarneygig Place,

Salisbury Plain,

next door to Stonehenge.

P.S.—I forgot to add, that the poor woman, in the hurry of the moment, made a small mistake, by placing the head of a donkey, which had been blown off by the explosion, upon her husband's shoulders, instead of his own; but she says it is of very little consequence, as very few of his acquaintance could perceive any difference.

NOVEMBER.

DECEMBER.

VALEDICTION.

Farewell, my merry gentlemen,—let nothing you dismay;

But take good heart, for tho' we part, we'll meet another day;

I hope, next year, when, never fear, I'll have enough to say,

And bring tidings of comfort and joy.

To start fair game has been my aim, and make imposture smart;

To raise a laugh at many a calf the object of my heart,

And "shoot at Folly as she flies," and fix her with my dart;

And it's all for your comfort and joy.

Now don't despise my prophecies, and think 'em only jokes,

They're just as true, I promise you, as those of other folks;

And while old Moore is such a bore, 'tis harmless sure to hoax,

For it's all for your comfort and joy.

"Let Turkey fear the Christmas near"—and ducks, if they are young,

And apropos of Quacks,—the game is up with Doctor Long,

But tho' we've lost the rubber, we've in tricks been pretty strong,

And it's all for your comfort and joy.

We've toll'd the bell that rings the knell of Morison and Co.,

And floor'd the funny Chancellor, with all his Penny Show,

Who veers about to show the folk which way the wind doth blow,

And it's all for your comfort and joy.

Our most uncommon Commons, and our very peerless Peers,

In clearing off old scores, have burnt the house about their ears;

Of such a nest of phœnixes I own I had my fears,

But 'twas all for their comfort and joy.

Now let not those who've 'scaped my blows believe that I am fickle,

For many a "Pure," who looks demure, I've put a rod in pickle,

And if I'm here another year their backs I'll smartly tickle,

So there's tidings of comfort and joy.

Moral.

WHILE WE VENERATE

WHAT IS DESERVING OF VENERATION,

LET US NOT FORGET, THAT

QUACKERY, KNAVERY, BIGOTRY, AND SUPERSTITION,

ALWAYS MERIT

EXPOSURE AND CASTIGATION.

THE
COMIC ALMANACK
For 1836.

PROCLAMATION.

Whereas some evil-minded folks,

It ill becomes to crack such jokes,

Have made a most unseemly rout,

By spreading false reports about,

That Francis Moore, the fam'd Physician,

Is still alive, in sound condition;

And all we said about his dying,

Last year, was nothing else but lying;

Our gravity was all a hoax,—

Our sober sayings only jokes—

'Twas but a trick to gain his pelf,

And lay the Conj'ror on the shelf,

That he might be as much forgotten

As tho' in earnest dead and rotten;

And thereby fill with consternation

The ancient female population.

To prove this true, they say that Moore,

Who, they assert, is not "NO MORE,"

Gives out predictions quite as clever,

And full of sense and truth,—as ever!

Shade of the mighty Seer! look down,

And blast the wretches with thy frown!

Thou know'st on us thy mantle fell;

Thou know'st, too, that it fits us well.

But baser caitiffs go much further,

And tax us with committing murther!

They swear we burst into his room,

And quickly seal'd his dreadful doom;

For that we hocuss'd first his drink,

Then poison'd him with writing ink;

And having thrown him on the floor,

We basely burk'd the gracious Moore!

They vow we did this bloody deed

That we might to his fame succeed;

But good, they say, can't come of ill,

For let us do whate'er we will,

We never shall,—and that is plain,—

The fools or the old women gain.

Now, to confirm this idle talk,

They swear they've seen his spectre walk;

And that he's got a strange vagary,

At times, to be quite Stationary,

And haunt a certain place, where he

Affects Old Women's Company,

Who, spite of all we've sung or said,

Cannot believe that he is dead,

But to persuade themselves they try

That Francis Moore can never die!

Now, having gather'd facts like these

(Enough to cause one's blood to freeze),

We've issued forth this Proclamation

To all the lieges of the nation,

(Surmounted by Moore's arms and crest,

Of which by right we've 'come possest,)

To seize the knave, and maul him sore,

Who passes off for Francis Moore;

(That is, if any such there be,

Of which we're much in dubity)

For Francis Moore, whom we succeed,

Is very—very dead, indeed.

But should it prove a real ghost,

Who, with a Fool's-cap, takes his Post,

To grasp the Crown we've fairly got,

We warn him he shall go to Pot,

And in the Red Sea soon be laid;

Or to his warm berth posted back,

Where he'll be hotpress'd in a crack,

Unless his exit's quickly made;

For none but nincompoops and fools

Let "dead men push them from their stools."

(Signed) Rigdum Funnidos.

JANUARY.—"Hard Frost."

SLANGOLOGY.

"With many holiday and court-like phrase—"

Shakespeare's Henry IV., Part I.

Miss Arabella Wilhelmina Wiggins is the pattern of gentility:

She never utters vulgar words, but talks just like nobility.

I met her at Vauxhall, last year, and she gave me a sad relation

About Miss Briggs: I recollect it every word;—but here's her own narration:

"Oh, dear! my dear Miss Popkins! have you heard what befel Miss B.?

(I wish, Papa, you'd get up to snuff the lights; one can hardly see:

Oh, la! you've made 'em flare up so, I declare we are quite in a blaze:

And, bless me! there's all the people staring at us, all in amaze!)

I'll tell you, while Papa is taking his punch; his pipkin he calls the bowl,

(You make yourself scarce any punch at home, Papa; so I suppose you'll drink the whole).

I'm sure he will, Miss P.; and even then he wont have quench'd his drouth.

(I really wonder, Pa', how you can pour so much punch down in the mouth.)

But how I rattle on! quite forgetting all about Miss B.

You must know we were on a visit at a country cousin's; and after tea

We stroll'd about with Mr. Timbs, and Mr. Figgins, and Mr. Oddy;—

I declare there he goes with his eye out-staring every body.

Poor fellow! he has but one, for the other's made of glass;

'Twas a sad accident; and I'll tell you how it came to pass:—

One night, he went out rabbit-shooting; the moon was shining bright;

His gun was overloaded and bursted; and so one eye lost its sight.

Well, Miss Briggs is a very bold girl; as bold a girl as one knows;

And as we were walking along, the laundress caught my eye; and

'Betty Martin,' says Miss B., 'where do you hang out your clothes?'

She came to a well after that; and, really, I am almost ashamed to tell,

But, upon my word, she behav'd exceedingly ill about that well.

She began to kick the bucket; and to a man who was chopping down a tree,

She said: 'What are you with that axe about?' which was very rude indeed of Miss B.;

And when he left off chopping, she said, 'Why don't you cut your stick?'

The man was just then chopping a piece of wood that was thick.

Now this made him quite confus'd; and in his hurry his skill to show off,

He made a slip with his axe, and chopped poor Miss Brigg's little toe off.

The shock gave me such a terrible pain all over my eyes and limbs,

That I really should have fainted, if it hadn't been for that dear Mr. Timbs.

Poor Frederick Figgins was so affected that I vow he began to cry;

I'm sure he did, for I was close to him, and I saw a drop in his eye.

He's a nice young man; and I shouldn't wonder if he soon married Miss Briggs:

Her father is a coarsish man, and says he shall, please the pigs.

He wasn't very gracious, tho', at first, to Mr. Figgins;

For when he ask'd his consent, he said to him (I had the whole story from Mr. Higgins)

'How are you off? for soap and candles, and such-like, got me all my money;

And for my daughter to marry a poor man wouldn't be vastly funny.

How's your mother left you; or have you your fortune to get?

If you have I wish you may get it soon; but I can't let you marry Miss Bet;

But while I'm describing his bluntness, I'm wand'ring away from my point.

The limbs of my relation are indeed terribly out of joint.

Well, Mr. Figgins help'd Miss B. home to hop: the twig, which happen'd to lay across her foot,

Sav'd her other toes, to be sure, but there was a terrible large gash in her boot.

But poor Mr. F.! how he fretted! his fat cheeks than a mummy's were thinner;

He never could eat any breakfast, and seldom could eat any dinner.

His eyes were once bright as a star: the glaze on them now was quite ghostly;

A cloud seem'd to darken his day—lightsome and gay he'd been mostly.

A party he join'd at Vauxhall; but its gaieties fail'd to delight him:

He did nothing but swallow rack-punch; as to eating, 'twas vain to invite him.

He call'd to his friend: 'Jemmy Johnson, squeeze me a lemon;' and turning to me then,

He said, in a voice that quite shock'd me, and looking as wild as a heathen:

'My spirits I cannot keep up; your pluck'd flowers droop slower than I do;

I'm sure that I make no mistake,—my fate will be that of poor Dido.'

(I declare I am talking pentameters; quite forgetting you're not a Blue Stocking;

But that I am sure you'll excuse.)—Well, isn't the story quite shocking?

Miss Briggs, tho', got quite well at last; to the dolefuls he bade adieu quickly;

Yet a long while he talk'd of her death, though he no longer look'd mournful and sickly.

'All round my hat, while I liv'd,' he said, 'a crape hatband I should have worn,—

A shocking bad hat, to be sure; but just fit for a lover forlorn.

Think what would have been my despair, with no consolation to go to!

But tho' I have not lost her quite, yet, alas! I have lost her in toe-toe.'"

Paragraphs Extraordinary.

[Advertisement.]—We never admit puffs into our paper in any disguise or under any circumstances, for we are sure that "the man who would make" a puff "would pick a pocket." It is a love for veracity alone that induces us to state, that Monsieur Charlatan's TUSKOLATUM MYSTIFICATUM for renewing decayed TEETH is the most wonderful and surprisingly efficacious invention ever invented. How will those ancient maidens rejoice, who have only a colt's tooth in their heads, when they are told, that by sowing this panacea in their gums overnight, a fine crop of full-grown grinders will sprout up by the following morning! We speak from our own experience; and whereas, before we used this extraordinary invention, our great anxiety was how to get teeth for our food, the only matter that now troubles us is how to get food for our teeth.

Accidents.—We are happy to state that there is a great diminution in the number of accidents in the past week. Only 250 persons have been drowned by steam-boats; 320 women and children burnt to death by their clothes catching fire; 560 run over by omnibusses and cabs; 252 poisoned by taking oxalic acid instead of salts; 360 scalded to death by the bursting of steam-boilers; 200 blown to atoms by the explosion of powder-mills; and about 100—there or thereabouts—stabbed by drunken soldiers, off duty; all which evinces a great increase of vigilance, carefulness, and humanity, highly creditable to all parties concerned.

FEBRUARY.—"Transfer Day at the Bank."

Humbuggum Ass-trologicum, pro Anno 1836.

VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: the Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons.

Courteous Reader,

I DO herewith, present thee with an hieroglyphic, after the accustomed usage of my lamented precursor and prototype, Francis Moore, defunct. It prefigureth a mighty change now lying in the womb of futurity, and which doubtless will be brought forth in due season by the great man-midwife, Time.

And now do I most entreatingly invite thee to cast a Parthian glance at my foregone prophetic lucubrations, and especially towards that symbolical prefiguration or hieroglyphic, by which I brightly shadowed forth a certain notable event, the fulfilment whereof did so closely follow the heels of the prediction as to cause the multitude to marvel;—and when thou hast sufficiently pondered thereupon, I would ask thee whether thou dost not in verity deem me a fit and worthy successor of the renowned Francis Moore, defunct?

I do thus throw myself on thy candour, because certain of mine adversaries do most unworthily insinuate, that my astrological skill is stark naught; that I hold no correspondence with the stars; that I am no more acquainted with the Great Bear than with the Great Mogul; that I gather no signs of the Times from the signs of the Zodiac; and, in brief, that I am no conjuror! My only familiar, they affirm, is a little, insignificant, diminutive thing, called Common Sense, whose aid any one may have if he chooses; that the said Common Sense collects together certain things called Past Events, with which he compares Present Appearances, and they help him to Future Probabilities; they are then put into the crucible of Ordinary Judgment; and my sagacious and veracious prophecies and hieroglyphics are the result of this simple alchemy!

Candid Reader! Let thine own discretion decide, whether logical judgment or astro-logical fudgement be the art which influenceth my lucubrations.

INVITATION OF "THE SELECT"
To
Bartholomew Fair.

Come, buffers and duffers, and dashers and smashers,

Come, tag, rag, and bobtail, attend to my call;

Ye pickpockets, sally from court, lane, and alley,

The Lord Mayor in person has open'd the ball.

Come, Billingsgate sinners, and cat and dog skinners,

And play up a game to make Decency stare:

A fig for propriety, sense, and sobriety!

They never were known at fam'd Bartlemy Fair.

Come, nightmen and dustmen, and rovers and drovers;

Come, Whitechapel butchers, and join in the throng!

With marrow-bones and cleavers, delight the coal-heavers,

While broken-nose Billy shall snuffle a song.

Ye lazy mechanics, who dearly love one day,

For wives and for children who never know care;

Who reckon Saint Monday more holy than Sunday,

Come and spend all your earnings at Bartlemy Fair.

Ye wives and ye widows! here's plenty of bidders;

Come hither, and each get a swain for herself;

To deck yourselves gaily, and grace the Old Bailey,

The pawnbrokers' shops will lend plenty of pelf.

Ye youth of the city! ye servant-maids pretty!

Ye unmarried damsels with characters rare!

Come here and be jolly, for virtue's a folly;

So, come and be ruin'd at Bartlemy Fair.

MARCH.—"Day and Night nearly equal."

"THE LAY OF THE LAST" ALDERMAN.

I.

The feast was over on Lord Mayor's Day;

The waiters had clear'd the viands away;

The Common Councilmen all were gone,

And every Alderman,—saving one;

Who to gorge and guzzle no longer able,

Had sunk to repose beneath the table,

And, sooth'd by his own melodious snore,

Lay calmly stretch'd on the Guildhall floor.

But he lay not long in the arms of sleep,

Ere a sound, that caus'd his flesh to creep,

Startled him up from his downy bed,

And caus'd him to raise his aching head;

When oh, what a sight then met his eyes,

And chill'd his soul with sad surprise!

* * * * *

He bawl'd aloud when the scene was o'er,

Which awoke the porter, who open'd the door.

When a bottle of sherry had loosen'd his tongue,

'Twas thus the latest Alderman sung:—

II.

I was rous'd from my sleep by a frightful crash,

As if all the crockery'd gone to smash;

And I straight beheld a terrible form,—

At the end of the hall it took its stand,

With a swingeing besom in its hand,

And shouted out "REFORM!"

III.

Then stalking to me, it thus did say,

"Gone is the glory of Lord Mayor's Day!

Gone—gone, for ever!

To come back never.

The Corporation Reform Bill's past,

And ev'ry ward is Cheap;

The City of London they'll squeeze at last,

And scatter her golden heap.

IV.

"Portsoken no more Port shall soke,

For guzzling they'll aBridge it."

(I thought this quite beyond a joke,

And it put me in a fidget.)

"No 'fair round bellies with capon lin'd

Your Aldermen shall sport;

They may double the Cape, if they feel inclin'd,

But they never must touch at Port.

V.

"The Worshipful Court—so fate ordains—

Shall look like skeletons hanging in chains;

They'll need no gowns, for they'll get so thin,

They may wrap themselves round in their own loose skin;

And then in vain

Shall they complain,

Who cannot bear the shock;

Champagne shall turn to real pain,

And Turtle change to mock.

No calipash or calipee

Their longing eyes again shall see;

No more green fat!

To them shall ven'son still be deer;

Their stout shall turn to thin small beer,

Sour and flat.

VI.

"No lamps shall blaze in this spacious hall,

But farthing rushlights, lank and small,

Some cook-shop's dining-room shall grace,

Where Mister Mayor, with sword and mace,

And all the Corporation sinners,

By city contract clothed and fed,

Shall dine at eighteen pence a-head,

And feel quite grateful for their dinners.

While the armour-man, like a turtle starv'd.

Shall rattle his bones in his iron shell,

And no more shall feast on baron of beef,

But stand content with the cook-shop smell!"

VII.

Thus having said his terrible say,

The horrible spectre stalk'd away,

And left me in the blues;

And as across the Hall he pass'd,

E'en Gog and Magog stood aghast,

And trembled in their shoes.

VIII.

Oh, dreadful night!

Oh, fearful sight!

To see that sight, and hear that say,

An Alderman's soul it may well dismay.

I felt as opprest

With a pain in my chest,

And as brimful of terror and ills,

As if I had eaten some venison old,

Or swallow'd a gallon of turtle cold,

Or been poison'd by Morison's Pills.

IX.

I tried to rise, and I scream'd a scream,

The man at the gate came staggering in—

"To be sure I did, for I heard a din;

And your worship gave such a terrible snore,

While you laid on your back on the Guildhall floor,

That it woke you up from your dream!"

Wine in a Ferment and Spirits in Hot Water.

APRIL.—Greenwich Park.

Advertisements and Paragraphs Extraordinary.

Extraordinary Circumstance.—Yesterday, a shabbily-dressed, half-genteel, poetical-looking sort of man, suddenly fell down in one of the gin-palaces in St. Giles's; after having, as it was supposed, put an end to his existence, by swallowing a quartern of Deady's Best. On taking him, however, to the Station House, and administering large doses of cold water (to which his stomach manifested a particular antipathy by repeatedly serving it with an ejectment), he was sufficiently recovered to give some account of himself; but the following lines, written on the back of a dirty tobacco paper, found in his pocket, will sufficiently explain the cause of the rash act. It will be seen that he was a man of letters, tho' (judging from his reservedness) of very few words.

To Robert Short, Esq. M.P.

Dear Bob,—I know that U'll XQQQ

The wailings of a mournful MUUU.

While U, my friend, are at your EEE,

My creditors I can't apPPP:

I'm CD,—drooping to DK,

With not a sous my debts to pay.

So lean a wight you ne'er did C,—

I look just like an F-I-G.

My purse is MT, it is true;

But don't suppose I NV you:

I O U nothing but good-will,

And that I mean 2 O U still.

But if my motive U'd descry

For writing this, I'll tell U Y:

B 4 'tis long, I hope for peace;

And when U hear of my DCCC,

I beg, to show your love for me,

U'll write your Poet's L-E-G.

I'm sure that U'll indite it well,

For in such matters you XL.

Say, "E was once a R T fellow,

"But all his 'green leaves soon turn'd yellow,'

"He didn't mind his PPP and QQQ,

"But Plutus left, to woo the MUUU:

"And tho' he courted all the IX,

"He found them far too poor to dine;

"Nay, more, the very Graces III

"Could scarce afford a cup of T.

"So here he lies, for want of pelf,

"Who'd but one NME,—himself."

An Extraordinary Turnip, of the Dwarf species, was lately dug out of a field on the estate of Major Longbow, who caused the inside to be scooped out, and gave a grand entertainment therein to a party of 250 persons.—American Paper.

Falls of Niagara.—Congress has passed a resolution that a premium should be offered for a machine by which the Falls of Niagara might be rendered portable, to afford those persons who live at a distance the opportunity of viewing them at their own houses.—American Paper.

MAY.—"Old May Day"

A DRAMATIC FACT.

"Macbeth by Mr. Higgs!"—

They sometimes used to let him play it in the country;

And then, odds wigs!

How very great he felt!

One night, while he was at it,

The pot-boy, from the public-house at which he dealt,

Being at the wing, quoth Higgs, aside, "Od 'rat it!

I do lack spirits,—but that sha'n't fret me,

Here, boy, take thou this coin, and go get me"—

"Some bread and cheese, and porter, innions, Sir, or what?"

"Nay, no prog!

Expend the shilling all in glorious grog!"

"With sugar, Sir?" "Ay, and very hot;

Thou knowest, lout!

I only take sixpenn'orths cold without!"

The pot-boy took the grog into the green-room,

And left it there for Higgs:—but, as it came to pass,

Lady Macbeth and Banquo having twigged it,

First she took a very leetle sup,—

He fairly swigged it;

And so between them both, alas!

Lady Macbeth and Banquo mopped it up,

And hid the glass!

Higgs, who all this time

Had been upon the stage,—

In that great scene where Macbeth's urged to crime

By those foul witches,—

Now strutted in,—but, oh! (excuse the rhyme,)

Odds philibegs and breeches!

How he did foam and rage,

And writhe his face,

And call the potboy hog, and dog, and log,

On not perceiving his expected grog

In its accustomed place.

The potboy, being summoned, vowed

That he had duly brought it,

And, if to speak his mind he was allowed,

He thought it

Might have vanish'd,

Being partly spirits,—like the witches,

"'Tis false!" roared Higgs, "Avaunt! Be banish'd!

Visit no more this realm of milk and honey!

Base caitiff! YOU'VE ABSCONDED with the money!"

JUNE.—"Holiday at the Public Offices"

THE SERVANT OF ALL WORK.

"He Hood if he could."

Roaming along, the other day, in those regions of Cockney retirement, the vicinity of the Cat and Mutton Fields, about a mile from the Ultima Thule of Shoreditch, I was struck by the appearance of a row of neat little houses; and my attention was so particularly arrested by one of them, that I incontinently paused to look at it. It seemed to have all the ostentatious assumption of a little man who strives to look big. It had a portico, that might have belonged to the Colosseum, with a flight of stone steps that would have graced the new palace at Pimlico; and the drawing-room windows were ambitiously overshadowed by a verandah, not unworthy of Worthing.

While I was meditating on its appearance, and admiring the extraordinary air of cleanliness which distinguished it from its neighbours, a paper parcel, tied round with thread, and sealed with a thimble, fell at my feet. I looked above and around me, but no one was visible; and conceiving it to be intended for myself, I picked it up, and walked on. At a favourable opportunity I opened it, and read as follows:—

"This cums Hopping that sum boddy in the Street Walking may pick me up and put me into the Square box at the Circling librey, the Place where the Post is. It is the haughty bioggrify of a unfortnit yung cretur who's in servis. Let the supperscripshun be to the Mournin Herald or the Currier or the Trew Son or the Stand Hard, or the Spekt Tatur, or any of 'em, for one's just as good as tother. I think the noospapers would take it inn, for they takes in a good many servants as wants places.

"My pappa was a Baker, and he meant I shuld be Bread up like a lady, for tho I was the least of the Batch, i was the Flour of the flock. But pappa Dying, i had to git my Living, for he didn't Roll in ritches, and his guds and chappels were Saddled with detts, witch Spurred me on to Bridel my greef, tho i seldom had a Bit in my mouth, wich was hard; and when our Blow got Wind, i lost my sweethart, wich Blow was Harder. He was sitch a nice yung man; and when i walkt past his Door, he used to prays my Gate, and tell me when we were marryd we should live in Stile. But I am Loth to say, he turned out a Willing, and wanted te tak advantidge of my citywashun. But I had 2 strings to my Beau in a yung mit-chipman, but he got prest and sent on board a Tender, witch was a grate Hard Shipp for him, and I felt it.

"But to cut a Long Tail Short,—when my dear Ben Bannister left me, miss fortin Staired me in the face, and every boddy turn'd their Backs on me, and I culd not bare such a Front, so i got a place as a servnt of all work, and my mind was maid up to be in duster house: but it was a Grate fall for me down into the Kitchen, tho when i got there i found a Grater; for my first missus was a Dresser, and often and often when I've bin all over greece she has calld me up to her Rome to help her on with her gownd, witch was very humblin to 1 as was used to have her own made to wait upon her. Butt i left her bekause we lived at a Fishmongers & itt Smelt so; and i had more than twenty Plaices in the first 12 months, wich Maid me quite Crabby, for I was going Backwards. But mississes are as proud as my lord Mare, and makes you work like an Horse; so I turned myself Out, for i culd not In-Door itt.

"I wont trubbel you with all my trubbels, but will skipp over the hole to give you my Last, wich dont Fit me at all; and its Jest no Joke, I can ashure you, for its like as if my 20 mississes was turnd into one. I've bin in the plaice almost a month, soe I have had a pritty gud experense.

"First, i Seconds all the close, & theres 13 of us in fammaly. Theres missis & master, thats 2, but misses says as how theyre 1: theres the 3 young ladys is 5; and the 3 boys from skool, where i am sure they never larnt no manners, & I dont love em at all, that's Hate; & the 2 yung babbys in harms is 10; and mr. Phipps the frunt parler loger is 11, and mr Snooks the back parler loger is 12 & i am just thirteen. So i leaves you to juge when i Hang em all out if there isnt enuff to Do for.

"Missis is what they calls a not Abel womman, & keeps 1 scrubbin & doin all day long, & is so pertickler, that when master cums home on a wet day, i has to lift him into the hous for fear he shuld dirty the steps. To be shure he's a werry littel man, but then its so shockin indillikat. Missis is verry fond of Bruin too, witch i cant Bear, and i hates Hops, xcept when i goes to a dance; besides, the Hopperation quite puts one into a fomentation, and sets one all of a Work. Then the fammaly is so verry unreglar, & we keeps a deal of cumpany, tho they dont alow any follerers, and missis is always snubbin me if the Butcher or the Baker stopps a minuet att the gait. But if i were even to liv in a garratt, i shuld be abuv sitch peepel & shuld look down uppon em. I no one of the yung ladys casts a sheeps eye on the Butcher herself, but i hop he wont giv her his Hart, for i am shure she would be a gay Liver, & i no she has plenty of Tung.

"Wile i am uppon theas yung ladys i culd pick a hole in em, but i abhor Back bitin. Howsomdever, tho they are Twins all Three of em, theres no Unity in One of em, and when a gentilman is interdeuced to the fammaly, they all fall in luv with him, wich must be verry embrasing to the party, and they try all their harts of captywashun. Miss Carryline rites a billy dux anomilously and folds it like a trew lovyers not, to puzzel him. Miss Matilda makes annoys on the harp with her bigg Fistis, and says she had her lessons from a Boxer; and miss Jimmima thumps away on the piney Forty, Fifty times a day, to git pirfict for the heavening. I often wishes thare was locks to them keys.

"But all their Harts wont do, & theyve none of them got a Deer yet, for they make themselves 2 Chepe, & they are all of em verry jellus of me, bekause the 2 gentilmen logers has a grate licking for me; & they carrys their spit so Fur that I mustnt ware a Bore, and they sets their mama Hat me if they sees a bit of lace on my Cap. They makes quite a Furze too if i incloses my Waste with a ribbon tho its so Common; & I'm shure they had better pay what they Hose than find fault with my Stockins; for they stands over me while i am Pinking em, witch shose they aint well Red in their manors, and they wont lett me Ware em no Ware. I shuld lik to no why servnts aint to doo what they likes with their hone; for Ive red theyve as big a steak in the common unity as their Betters, who're many of em nothin else but Gamblers.

"But i dont mind the Hitts of sich Misses: for its all Shear envy, becaus they wants to Cut me out with the 2 logers, & had rayther see me Hangd than Halter my condishun. But the gentilmen dont lik none of em, for theyre as tall and as pail as 2 hapenny Rushlites and a grate deal more Wicked. Mr. Snooks, the loger as walks the Horsepittels in the back parler, says theyre more like ottomies than wimmen, for they've none of em got no hannimashun; and mr. Phipps the clark as hokkipies the frunt parler says theyre quite Ciphers to me, for i am a better Figger, & more uprighter than any 1 of em. He sometimes carrys his devours to such a Pitch, that if i culd forgit my Tar, I see no resin why i shuld not marry him, & then the miss Rushlites would be very much Put Out when they'd lost one of their Flames.

"Mr. Phipps is a littery man, and nose a Grate many Tongs, and has maid a bigg book of Pottery, full of Plates. He tells me not to be jellus because he Courts the Mews, & has sent me the histry of his life & a coppy of verses on my mississes yousidge of me; and i hop you'll tell the noospaper man he mustnt take my life without takin his'n & he may have the pottery into the bargain.

"Notty Benny.—My life shall be conclooded att the first hopportunitty.

"So no more at presnt from yours humbely to comand

"Moldydusta Moggs."

"Post Scripp. I forgot to tell you that i cant git enuff to heat, missis is sitch a skin Flint, unless I Steel it, & that's unpossebel, for she always takes care to lock upp the Cold Heatabels."

JULY.—"Dog Days"

STANZAS, addressed to Mrs...., of ... Terrace
Cat and Mutton Fields.

You 'cat,' that would 'worry a rat!'

You 'cow with the crumpled horn!'

I wish you were squeez'd,—and that's flat,—

For ill-using a 'Maiden forlorn.'

You're as bad as a slave-driver quite,

Altho' you subscrib'd to the tracts;—

If the linen's wash'd ever so white,

You always complain of the blacks.

A servant is worthy her hire;

You pilfer one-fourth of her due,

For tho' she does all you desire,

She only gets ire from you.

A fit she had, one afternoon,

When you set her a-cleaning the paint;

And while she was off in a swoon,

You said it was only a feint.

A party you had yesterday,—

No wonder so often she swoons,—

For as soon as the folks went away,

You began to be missing the spoons!

She was cleaning the windows last week

(Such savings are very small gains),

You scolded her while you could speak,

And told her she didn't take panes.

She cleans all the boots and the shoes;

When she's done 'em she sits down to cry:

Warren's Jet is the blacking you choose;

But od 'rabbit that Warren! say I.

For this you can make no excuse:—

You'd a party at whist t'other day,

And you scolded away like the deuce,

'Cause the sandwiches dropp'd from the tray.

You tell her she dresses too gay

(You're afraid that she'll cut out your gals),

You strip lace and ribbons away,

And say she shan't wear such fal-lals.

'Tis in vain her attempting to speak,

For your heart is as hard as a stone;

But she means to be married next week;

Then she'll 'do what she likes with her own.'

AUGUST.——Bathing at Brighton.