Chorus (forte). Over the garden wall! Patriot sentiment's pretty, and yet Where there's a will there's always a way, Over the Garden Wall! Chorus fortissimo). Your "Grand Old Man" may squall, Over the Garden Wall! THE LIGHTS O' LONDON. "The first practical constructive step towards lighting the City of London by means of electricity, was taken yesterday (Feb. 3), when the LORD MAYOR placed in position the first stone of the main junction-box for the electric conductors, at the top of Walbrook, close under the shadow of the western walls of the Mansion House."-Times. Bill Sikes." 'WELL, I HAM BLOWED! IF THEY'RE GOIN' TO 'AVE THIS BEASTLY 'LECTRIC LIGHT ALL OVER THE PLACEWOT'S TO BECOME OF HUS?" Mr. William Sikes, Junior, loquitur :WELL, I ham blowed! I say, look 'ere, you NANCY! Old Gog and Magog is woke up at last! Goin' to hilluminate the City. Fancy!! When this yer 'Lectric light is fairly cast On every nook and corner, hole and entry Of London, you and me is done, to-rights. A Slop at every street-end standin' sentry, Won't spile our game like lots o' 'Lectric Lights. The Lights o' London? Yah! That's bin all boko. Were London lighted, how could you and me Garotte a swell, or give a tight 'un toko? We ain't got arf a chance where coves can see. 'Tis darkness plays our game, and we've 'ad plenty, But this means mischief, or my name ain't BILL. QUEER QUERIES. DOMESTIC SERVICE.-My General Servant has just left me suddenly, on the ridiculous excuse that she was being "killed by overwork." She was not required to rise before 5 A.M., and she was generally in bed by twelve. Our house is not large, though rather lofty, and there are only fifteen in family. Of course I shall not pay her any wages, and shall retain her boxes; but how It's beastly, NAN, that's wot it is. Wy, can I really punish her for her shameful desertion ?-CONSIDERATE. Narrer ill-lighted streets is our best friends. Wy, not one pooty little plant in twenty Could we pull orf if light spiled pluck and ekill. blimy, Yer dingy nooks and slums, sombre and slimy, Is gifts wot Providence most kyindly sends To give hus chaps a chance of perks and pickins; 66 But if the Town's chockfull of "arc" and "glow," With you and me, NAN, it will play the dickens. We must turn'onest, NAN, and that's no go! 'Ang Science! Ile lamps and old Charliesbless 'em! Wos good for trade, our trade. Ah! if my dad Could see 'ow Larnin', Law, and Light oppress 'em, [mad. As for the Hartful Dodger and old Fagin, Our good old cracksmen-gangs, he'd gostark Ah! they're well hout of it. Wot could they do With Science and her bloomin' fireworks plaguin' Their hartfullest little games the whole Town through? Our only 'ope, my NAN, is in the Noodles, There's still some left in London I'll be bound. Tolurk a crib, prig wipes, sneak ladies' poodles, Gits 'arder every day; we're watched all round. Many a programme wot looks vastly pooty, Mucked by the mugs, leads on to wus and wus. But if they do light up the dim, cramped, sooty, Gog-ruled old Town-wot's to become of hus? HAIR FALLING OFF.-My hair is coming off, not slowly, but in one great circular MOST APPROPRIATE.-The Bishop of DURHAM has appointed Mr. T. DIBDIN Chancellor of patch at the top of the head. A malicious the Diocese of Durham. He already holds the Chancellorships of Exeter and Rochester. report has in consequence been spread abroad Three Chancellorships, all on the high sees too! "THOMAS DIBDIN" is the right man in the in the neighbourhood that I have been scalped! right place. What course ought I to adopt to (1) recover damages against my traducers, and (2) recover my hair?-LITTLE WOOL. PROVERB "UP TO DATE."-" Cumming events cast their shadows before." And let's hope the shadows will be speedily dispelled. HOW IT'S DONE. (A Handbook to Honesty.) No. VIII.-"SOLD AGAIN!" SCENE-An Auction-room, breathing an air of solid, if somewhat Philistinish suburban comfort and respectability. Amidst a labyrinthine accumulation of household furniture, a number of people are dispersed, many of them substantial-looking middle-class male and female buyers," with lists and leadpencils, on the look-out for "bargains," a sprinkling of the ancient race, and an outer fringe of casual, lounging, lookers bids.) Three-pounds! Three-five! (Thank you, Madam.) Threeten! Going at three-ten! Last time, three-ten! (To Paterfamilias.) Are you going to lose it, Sir? Worth double, I assure you! Ask your good lady! Materfamilias (aside). Bid three-fifteen, JOHN, but not a penny more! Paterfamilias (weakly). Three-fifteen! Auctioneer. Three-fifteen! Four! Going at four! Last time at four! All done, four! Going, going-gone! (Drops hammer.) Sold at four pounds, SAM! (Looks round.) Who bid four? [No response, as the last bid was imaginary. Sam (huskily). Gen'l'man as bid four jest slipped hout, Sir. The gentleman in the rostrum is a voluble personage, with a Auctioneer (tartly). Tut-tut-tut! Too bad, really. Well, Sir, rapidly roving eye, of preternatural quickness in picking up then I must take your bid. Sold to this Gentleman, SAM, at Three"bids." Attendants, shaggy men, in soiled shirt-sleeves, with saw-fifteen! dusty whiskers, and husky voices. A pleasant-faced Paterfamilias, and his "Good lady," are discovered inspecting a solidly-built, well-seasoned, age-toned chest of mahogany drawers. Paterfamilias (sotto voce). Just what you want, my dear, as far as I can see. What do you think? Materfamilias. I like the look of them much, JOHN. None of your new, cheap, thinly-veneered, blown-together rubbish, smelling [Paterfamilias, highly pleased, pays deposit, and arranges to 66 'MY PRETTY JANUS, OH NEVER LOOK SO SHY!" of shavings and French-polish. Solid ma'ogany, every bit; the or seemed to JANUS DRURIOLANUS. afford them, any plea- Suggestion for Costume at another Masked Ball. sure. To the first section, i.e., the "unco guid," DRURIOLANUS has nothing to offer, not even a course of sermons by popular preachers; but to the two others Paterfamilias. Two pounds! [Feels he has made an impression. he has much to say. For these, last Saturday, he commenced the Auctioneer. Two pounds! (Confidentially to P.) Your good first of his series of Lenten Oratorios at Covent Garden-it was the lady knows a good bit o' stuff when she sees it, Sir! Two pounds 14th of February, and this was his Valentine-and on the 17th, .e., for the chest! Two pounds! Any advance on a couple o' pounds? the Tuesday afterwards, having made, so to speak, a clean sweep of All done at two pounds? Going at two pounds! (Meeting silence, everything serious, out he comes with his Fancy Dress and Masked pretends to hear another bid.) Two-pun-ten! Quite right, Sir! Ball. Elijah the Prophet, on Saturday, in the Covent Garden Calendar, Very foolish to lose such a superior harticle for a pound or two. must be reckoned among the "minor profits," seeing that the biggest Going at two-pun-ten! Larst time, two-pun ten! Going-going-profit would be found in the Bal Masqué on Tuesday. Over the doors should be the motto, "Festina Lente," whereof the Druriolanian translation must be, "Keep it up in Lent." Ave g Paterfamilias (hastily). Two-fifteen! Auctioneer (cheerily). Two-fifteen! (Taking other imaginary Janus Druriolanus! OLD TIMES REVIVED. Horrible! Do you think our lower orders would become discontented, and strike, if they had not seen matches doing it first? Still more horrible! WHAT! when London Assurance is going off so well every night, isn't it a pity that it should go off altogether? CHARLES WYNDHAM Finally, you strike a match that never struck you, that never as Dazzle is offended you in any way. Is that just, or even manly? Yet, in delightfully nine cases out of ten, the law takes no notice of the offence. flashy, and "To get a light, or because others do it." Are you not convinced FARREN as now that, when you use these words, you are not speaking the the old beau, truth? Sir Harcourt, III. admirable. I Do not think I ever met anybody who was quite as moral, or BLAKELEY OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. WHAT is this the Baron reads in the D. T. of Feb. 9, and in the Daily Graphic of the same date? Here is a portion of the extract from the D. T.:-"The Monthly Meeting of that quaint Literary Society, 'Ye Odd Volumes,' at Limmer's Hotel, brought together not merely a goodly show of the Volumes themselves, but an unusually large array of visitors," and then follows the distinguished the crowning point being reached when we come to the name a perfect gem, of but the act- Graphic the daring reporter goes a step farther, as, after giving the ing! Tout est là. Oddsfish, your Majesty, CHARLES REX, Merry name of a certain honoured guest, he parenthetically explains that Monarch of the Cri, don't remove it altogether, but let us have this academical convive is the Baron de B.-W.!" Erreur! I, the it just once or twice a week during the season. CHARLES, our Baron de B.-W., being of sound mind and body, hereby declare that friend," do! It's worth while, if but to see you sitting carelessly the Baron himself was not present. And why? Well, do my at the end of the piece in that chair, R.HI., as if you didn't care for readers remember the honest milk-maid's retort to the coxcomb who anything or anybody. Only-cut the tag and come to the Curtain. said he wouldn't marry her? Good. Then, substituting "me" for you," and "he" for "she," the Baron can adopt the maiden's reply. After this, other reasons would be superfluous. piece itself is The Baron de BooK-WORMS of Punch," and in the Daily THE ETHICS OF MATCH-BOXES. (Intended for a Contemporary, but found to be too short.) I. 66 WHAT is the true explanation of the use which people make of matches-of safety matches, wooden matches, wax matches, and, less commonly, of fusees? Ask any man why he uses such things, and he will tell you that he does it to get a light, or because others do it. Is this true? You will probably think so. Let us examine the question. Why does a man hold his hand in front of a match when he lights it in the street? To screen it from the wind, or to hide it from the sight of passers-by? Why do ladies leave the dinner-table before the men begin to smoke? To avoid the smell of tobacco which is well known to be aromatic, healthy, and delightful-or because the natural modesty of women shrinks from witnessing the striking of a match? Why, in a railway-carriage, do you hold your fusee out of window when you light it? Is it because you do not care about being half-choked-a paltry plea-or is it to conceal from young persons who may be in the carriage the sparkle which must inevitably remind them of wicked and alluring eyes? "To get a light, or because others do it." Is that true? Do not trifle with the question. Read all my works. Do not get them from a contemptible circulating library, but buy them. II. SOME may not yet be convinced that the striking of matches is suggestive and immoral. To me nearly everything is suggestive, but there are some stupid persons in England. I will be patient with them, and give them more evidence. A wax match is called a vesta. Who was Vesta ? But this is too horrible. I cannot pursue this point in a periodical which is read in families. I can only refer you to the classical dictionary, and remind you that everything must infallibly suggest its opposite. Again, there are matches which strike only on the box. It distresses me to write these words. The idea of "onlyness," of restriction, must bring matrimony to the mind of everyone. If you do not know what I think about marriage, buy The Kreutzer Sonata. It is not customary to have more than one wife. Consequently, anything which has one in it-as, for instance, the date of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR-reminds me of marriage, and is, therefore, degrading. Why, the very word "match" suggests marriage; and yet we allow young children to sell whole boxes of them in the streets. 66 66 How came the reporter to fall into so great an error? Who misinformed him? A worthy henchman, as indignant as was Sam Weller when he found his beloved master's name trifled with, writes to ask me, Ain't nobody to be whopped for takin' this here liberty, Sir ?" With the immortal Mr. Pickwick, the Baron replies, "Certainly not. Not on any account." And, whatever that Bring sturdy henchman may murmur to himself, he at once obeys. me my books!" cries the Baron, "I am off to the review." The Baron's Deputy writes, that he has again been steeping himself in poetry, and reports as follows:-Ionica (GEORGE ALLEN) is a little volume, which no admirer of true poetry should fail to possess. The author now calls himself W. CORY, but he was known by a different name to many generations of Etonians. His Muse generally wears a classical robe, but her speech is always delightfully musical. She has beautiful cadences, that haunt the memory like some old Volkslied. In spite of a careless confusion between "thou" and you," I defy anybody to read "Heraclitus," to take only one instance, without a sense of pleasure which will compel him to learn the two verses by heart. But the Muse is pathetic, playful, and patriotic, too, when the occasion fits, and, whatever she sings, she sings with genuine taste and feeling. Would that we might hope for more of her pure music. So far the Deputy. 66 Was that eccentric character in David Copperfield nameless, who was represented as sitting in some sort of slop-shop, wheezing out fiercely, "O my lights and liver! O goroo, goroo!" I think DICKENS didn't give him a name, good or bad; but his constant repetition of the above outlandish exclamations has impressed upon him an awful and terrific personality, which places him among the more popular creations of Dickensian genius. Of what is this à propos? you will ask the Baron. "Well," he will make reply, it is à propos of cookery books, and bookery cooks; the latter being those who are not above teaching themselves from the sacred books of Cookery, and who can put in practice the lessons they learn therein. Now," quoth the Baron, "let me recommend you to ask at CHAPMAN AND HALL'S for Hilda's Where Is It' of Recipes, a work got up as simply and substantially as a good dinner should be, with pages in waiting,' quite blank, all ready for your notes, the book, like a dining-table, being appropriately interleaved; and there is, happy thought, a pencil in the cover-side most handy for the intending Lucullus." The season of Lent is an excellent one for cookery-books, because you can be studying for the dinner-giving season, and then-do not forget the generally excellent advice of your friend, THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. "THERE NOW, MR. Moss! THERE'S A PICTURE FOR YER! WHY, HE 'S REGULAR DOWNRIGHT BUILT FOR YER, THAT LITTLE 'ORSE IS SUIT YER TO A T,-AND DIRT-CHEAP AT A HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY GUINEAS!". "EXACTLY, MR. ISAACS. KNOCK OFF THE HUNDRED, AND HE'S MINE!" THE RIVAL "JARVIES;" OR, THE IRISH JAUNTING CAR. "Honest John" sings: WHEN first I knew CH-RL-S ST-RT, The Jaunting Car he drove in As we sit on the Jaunting Car, Seem little to care For a Grand Old Fare, CH-RL-S ST-RT at one rein, Sir, Give prospect small of progress As Honest JOHN my chance is gone Of helping ill-used PAT, If the Union of Hearts in Shindy starts, WILL and I on the Jaunting Car, But "Mr. Fox's" lethal darts Our ranks they thin (whilst our enemies grin), Though we cling to the Jaunting Car, I rather like this Car, Sir, [noise, But with squabbling bhoys, and a deuce of a [Car, Though we're perched on the Jaunting With a tear and a sigh, Hold on to the Jaunting Car. PAR ABOUT PICTURES.-Messrs. J. and W. VOKING, Great Portland Street, have an interesting loan collection of some of the Old Giants of the English Water-colour School on view. There may be found TURNER, DE WINT, WILLIAM HUNT, HOLLAND, COPLEY FIELDING, STANFIELD, MULREADY, J. D. HARDING, besides many others. How good are the Old Giants, and their works are as bright and fresh as the day they were painted. Their reputations have not faded, neither With proud and hostile SM-TH, have their pictures, and moreover. they are O'er Land or Tithe, our hearts were blithe, not likely to. And so say all of us! And so Till P-RN-LL sapped our pith. In battle's wild commotion, says, Yours paragonically, OLD PAR. THE HUNDRED-AND-TEN-TONNER! The Hundred-and-Ten-Tonner! And what, that matters made more hot, The Hundred-and-Ten-Tonner! Yet, much to the tax-payer's bliss, What is it, spite the First Lord's grace, The Hundred-and-Ten-Tonner! The Hundred-and-Ten-Tonner! PROPOSED TUNNEL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND IRELAND.-An Irishman observed this would bridge over a lot of difficulties; he begged pardon, he meant it would Leth-bridge them over. |