ed to the tutelage of the professors of sweet sounds; and therefore Waters was a high authority, declared in the peculiar _patois_ attendant upon the pronunciation of a foreign mode of speech--that "Too-ral-loo" was to catch him wind! And "Whack! fol-de-riddle lol-de-day," to let "um rosin up him fuddlestick!" These deductions are practical, if not poetical; but these are but the emanations from the brain of one--hundreds of other commentators differ from his view. The most erudite linguists are excessively puzzled as to the nation whose peculiar language has been resorted to for these singular and unequalled introductions. The "Too-ral-loo" has been given up in despair. The nearest solution was that of an eminent arithmetician, who conjectured from the word too (Anglice, _two_)--and the use of the four cyphers--those immediately following the T and L--that they were intended to convey some notion of the personal property of Giles Scroggins or Molly Brown (he never made up his mind which of the two); and merely wanted the following marks to render them plain:-- T--oo (_two_)--either shillings or pence--and L--oo: no pounds! This may or may not be right, but the research and ingenuity deserve the immortality we now confer upon it. The other line, the "Whack! fol-de-riddle lol-de-day!" has, perhaps, given rise to far more controversy, with certainly less tangible and satisfactory results. The scene of the poem not being expressly stated in the original or early black-letter translation, many persons--whose love of country prompted their wishes--have endeavoured to attach a nationality to these gordian knots of erudition. An Hibernian gentleman of immense research--the celebrated "Darby Kelly"--has openly asserted the whole affair to be decidedly of Milesian origin: and, amid a vast number of corroborative circumstances, strenuously insists upon the solidity of his premises and deductions by triumphantly exclaiming, "What, or who but an _Irish_ poet and an Irish hero, would commence a matter of so much consequence with the soul-stirring "whack!" adopted by the great author, and put into the mouth of his chosen hero?" Others again have supposed--which is also far more improbable--that much of the obscurity of the above passage has its origin from simple mis-spelling on the part of the poet's amanuensis--he taking the literal dictation, forgetting the sublime author was suffering from a cold in the head, which rendered the words in sound-- "Riddle _lol_ the lay;" whereas they would otherwise have been pronounced-- "Riddle--_all the day_"-- that being an absolute and positive allusion to the agricultural pursuits of Giles Scroggins, he being generally employed by his more wealthy master--a great agrarian of those times--in the manly though somewhat fatiguing occupation of "riddling all the day:" an occupation which--like this article--was to be frequently resumed. * * * * * A NEW THEORY OF POCKETS. DEFINITION _Pocket_, s. the small bag inserted into clothes.--WALKER (_a new edition, by Hookey_). We are great on the subject of pockets--we acknowledge it--we avow it. From our youth upwards, and we are venerable now, we have made them the object of untiring research, analysis, and speculation; and if our exertions have occasionally involved us in contingent predicaments, or our zeal laid us open to conventional misconstructions, we console ourselves with Galileo and Tycho Brahe, who having, like us, discovered and arranged systems too large for the scope of the popular intellect, like us, became the martyrs of those great principles of science which they have immortalized themselves by teaching. The result of a course of active and careful (s)peculations on the philosophy and economy of pockets, has led us to the conviction that their intention and use are but very imperfectly understood, even by the intelligent and reflective section of the community. It is, we fear, a very common error to regard them as conventional recesses, adapted for the reception and deposit of such luxurious additaments to the attire as are detached, yet accessory and indispensable ministers to our comfort. Now this delusive supposition is diametrically opposed to the truth. Pockets (we must be plain)--pockets are not made _to put into_, but to _take out of_; and, although it is of course necessary that, in order to produce the result of withdrawal, they be previously furnished with the wherewithal to withdraw, yet the process of insertion and supply is only carried on for the purpose of assisting the operation of the system. And having, we trust, logically established this point, we shall hazard no incautious position in asserting that the man who empties a pocket, fulfils the object for which it was founded and established. And although, unhappily, a prejudice still exists in the minds of the uneducated, in favour of emptying their own pockets themselves, it must be evident that none but a narrow mind can take umbrage at the trifling acceleration of an event which must inevitably occur; or would desire to appropriate the credit of the distribution, as well as to deserve the merit of the supply. We perceive with concern and apprehension, that pockets are gradually falling into disuse. To use the flippant idiom of the day, they are going out! This is an alarming, as well as a lamentable fact; and one, too, strikingly illustrative of the degeneracy of modern fashions. Whether we ascribe the change to a contemptuous neglect of ancestral institutions, or to an increasing difficulty in furnishing the indispensable attributes of the pocket, it is alike indicative of a crisis; and we confess that it is matter of astonishment to us, that in these days of theory and hypothesis, no man has ventured to trace the distress and the ruin now impending over the country, to the increasing disrespect and disuse of--pockets. By way of approving our conjecture, let us contrast the garments of the hour with those of England in the olden time--long ago, when boards smoked and groaned under a load of good things in every man's house; when the rich took care of the poor, and the poor took care of themselves; when husband and wife married for love, and lived happily (though that must have been very long ago indeed); the athletic yeoman proceeded to his daily toil, enveloped in garments instinct with pockets. The ponderous watch--the plethoric purse--the massive snuff-box--the dainty tooth-pick--the grotesque handkerchief; all were accommodated and cherished in the more ample recesses of his coat; while supplementary fobs were endeared to him by their more seductive contents: _as_ ginger lozenges, love-letters, and turnpike-tickets. Such were the days on which we should reflect with regret; such were the men whom we should imitate and revere. Had such a character as we have endeavoured feebly to sketch, met an individual enveloped in a shapeless cylindrical tube of pale Macintosh--impossible for taste--incapable of pockets--indefinite and indefinable--we question whether he would have regarded him in the light of a maniac, an incendiary, or a foreign spy--whether he would not have handed him immediately over to the exterminators of the law, as a being too depraved, too degraded for human sympathy. And yet--for our prolixity warns us to conclude--and yet the festering contagion of this baneful example is now-a-days hidden under the mask of fashion. FASHION! and has it indeed come to this? Is fashion to trample on the best and finest feelings of our nature? Is fashion to be permitted to invade us in our green lanes, and our high roads, under our vines and our fig-trees, without hindrance, and without pockets? For the sake of human nature, we hope not--for the sake of our bleeding country, we hope not. No! "Take care of your pockets!" is one of the earliest maxims instilled into the youthful mind; and emphatically do we repeat to our fellow-countrymen--Englishmen, take care of your pockets! * * * * * PUNCH'S THEATRE. [Illustration: C]Critics, as well as placemen, are occasionally sinecurists, and, like the gentlemen of England immortalised by Dibdin, are able, now and then, to "live at home at ease"--to dine (on dining days) in comfort, not having to rise from table to give authors or actors their dessert. This kind of novelty in our lives takes place when managers produce no novelties in their theatres; when authors are lazy, and actors do not come out in new parts but are contented with wearing out old ones--when, in short, such an eventless theatrical week as the past one leaves us to the enjoyment of our own hookahs, and the port of our cellar-keeping friends. The play-bills seem to have been printed from stereotype, for, like the laws of the Medes and Persians, they have never altered--since our last report. This unexpected hot weather has visited the public with many a "Midsummer night's dream," _although_ it is--and Covent Garden has opened _because_ it is September; Sheridan's "Critic" has been very busy there, though PUNCH'S has had nothing to do. "London Assurance" is still seen to much advantage, and so is Madame Vestris. The Haymarket manager continues to wade knee-deep in tragedy, in spite of the state of the weather. The fare is, however, too good for any change in the _carte_. "Werner" forms a substantial standing dish. The "Boarding School" makes a most palpable _entr\'c8e_; while "Bob Short," and "My Friend the Captain," serve as excellent after-courses. The promises recorded in the Haymarket bills are, a new tragedy by a new author, and an old comedy called "Riches;" a certain hit, if the continued success of "Money" be any criterion. It is with feelings of the most rabid indignation that we approach the _Strand Theatre_, and the ruthless threat its announcements put forth of the future destruction of the only legitimate drama that is now left amongst us; that is to say, "PUNCH." When Thespis and his pupil Phynicus "came out" at the feasts of Bacchus; when "Roscius was an actor in Rome;" when Scaramouch turned the Materia Medica into a farce, and became a quack doctor in Italy; when Richardson set up his show in England--all these geniuses were peregrinate, peripatetic--their scenes were really moving ones, their tragic woes went upon wheels, their comedies were run through at the rate of so many miles per hour; the entire drama was, in fact, a travelling concern. Punch, the concentrated essence of all these, has, up to this date, preserved the pristine purity of his peripatetic fame; he still remains on circuit, he still retains his legitimacy. But, alas! ere this sheet has passed through the press, while its ink is yet as wet as our dear Judy's eyes, he will have fallen from his high estate: Hall will have housed him! Punch will have taken a stationary stand at the Strand Theatre!! The last stroke will have been given to the only ancient drama remaining, except the tragedies of Sophocles, and "Gammer Gurton's Needle." With feelings of both sorrow and anger, we turn from the pedestrian to the equestrian drama. The Surrey has again, as of yore, become the Circus; she has been joined to Ducrow and his stud by the usual symbol of union--a _ring_. "Mazeppa" is _ridden_ by Mr. Cartlitch, with great success, and the wild horse performed by an animal so highly trained, that it is as tame as a lap-dog--has galloped through a score or so of nights, to the delight of some thousands of spectators. The scenes in the circle exhibit the usual _round_ of entertainment, and the _Merryman_ delivers those reliques of antique faceti\'ca which have descended to the clowns of the ring from generation to generation, without the smallest innovation. Thus the Surrey shows symptoms of high prosperity, and properly declines to fly in Fortune's face by attempting novelty. The Victoria continues to kill "James Dawson," in spite of our prediction. The bills, however, promise that he shall die outright on Monday next, and a happy release it will be. The proprietor of "Sadler's Wells" is making most spirited efforts to attract play-goers to the Islington side of the New River, by a return to the legitimate drama of _his_ theatre, viz.--real water; while his box check-taker has kept one important integer of the public away; namely, that singular plural _we_--by impertinence for which we have exhausted all patience without obtaining redress. There are, we hear, other theatres open in London, one called the "City of London," somewhere near Shoreditch; another in Whitechapel, both _terr\'ca incognit\'ca_ to us. The proprietors of these have handsomely presented us with free admissions. We beg them to accept our thanks for their courtesy; but are sorry we cannot avail ourselves of it till they add the obligation of providing us with _guides_. * * * * * THE CORN LAWS AND CHRISTIANITY. Doctor Chalmers refused to attend the synod of Clergymen gathered together to consider the relative value of the Big and Little Loaf, on the ground that the reverend gentlemen were beginning their work at the wrong end. Wages will go up with Christianity, says the Doctor; cheap corn will follow the dissemination of cheap Bibles. "I know of no other road for the indefinite advancement of the working classes to a far better remuneration, and, of course, a far more liberal maintenance, in return for their toils, than they have ever yet enjoyed--it is a _universal Christian education_." Such are the words of Doctor CHALMERS. We perfectly agree with the reverend doctor. Instead of shipping Missionaries to Africa, let us keep those Christian sages at home for the instruction of the English Aristocracy. When we consider the benighted condition of the elegant savages of the western squares,--when we reflect upon the dreadful scepticism abounding in Park-lane, May-fair, Portland-place and its vicinity,--when we contemplate the abominable idols which these unhappy natives worship in their ignorance,--when we know that every thought, every act of their misspent life is dedicated to a false religion, when they make hourly and daily sacrifice to that brazen serpent, SELF!-- when they offer up the poor man's sweat to the abomination,--when they lay before it the crippled child of the factory,--when they take from life its bloom and dignity, and degrading human nature to mere brute breathing, make offering of its wretchedness as the most savoury morsel to the perpetual craving of their insatiate god,--when we consider all the "manifold sins and wickednesses" of the barbarians in purple and fine linen, of those pampered savages "whose eyes are red with wine and whose teeth white with milk,"--we do earnestly hope that the suggestion of Doctor Chalmers will be carried into immediate practical effect, and that Missionaries, preaching true Christianity, will be sent among the rich and benighted people of this country,--so that the poor may believe that the Scriptures are something more than mere printed paper, seeing their glorious effects in the awakened hearts of those who, in the arrogance of their old idolatry, called themselves their betters! "A universal Christian education!" To this end, the Bench of Bishops meet at Lambeth; and discovering that locusts and wild honey--the Baptist's diet--may be purchased for something less than ten thousand a year,--and, after a minute investigation of the Testament, failing to discover the name of St. Peter's coachmaker, or of St. Paul's footman, his valet, or his cook,--take counsel one with another, and resolve to forego at least nine-tenths of their yearly in-comings. "No!" they exclaim--and what apostolic brightness beams in the countenance of CANTERBURY--what celestial light plays about the fleshy head of LONDON--what more than saint-like beauty surprises the cowslip-coloured face of EXETER--what lambent fire, what looks of Christian love play about and beam from the whole episcopal Bench!--"No!" they cry--"we will no longer have the spirit oppressed by these cumbrous trappings of fleshy pride! We will promote an universal Christian education--we will teach charity by examples, and live unto all men by a personal abstinence from the bickerings and malice of civil life. We will not defile the sacred lawn with the mud of turnpike acts--we will no longer sweat in the House of Lords, but labour only in the House of the Lord!" Their Christian hearts sweetly suffused with sudden meekness, the Bishops proceed--staff in hand, and Bible under arm--from Lambeth Palace. How the people make way for the holy procession! Hackney-coachmen on their stands uncover themselves, and the drayman, surprised in his whistle, doffs his beaver to the reverend pilgrims. With measured step and slow, they proceed to Downing-street; the self-deputed Missionaries, resolved to give her Majesty's ministers "a Christian education." Sir ROBERT PEEL is immediately taken in hand by the Bishop of EXETER; who sets the Baronet to learn and exemplify the practical beauties of the Lord's Prayer. When Sir ROBERT comes to "give us this day our daily bread," he insists upon adding the words "_with a sliding scale_." However, EXETER, animated by a sudden flux of Christianity, keeps the baronet to his lesson, and the Premier is regenerated; yea, is "a brand snatched from the fire." Lord LYNDHURST makes a great many wry mouths at some parts of the Decalogue--we will not particularise them--but the Bishop of London is resolute, and the new Lord Chancellor is, in all respects a bran-new Christian. Lord STANLEY begs that when he prays for power to forgive all his enemies, he may be permitted to except from that prayer--DANIEL O'CONNELL. The Bishop is, however, inexorable; and O'Connell is to be prayed for, in all churches visited by Lord STANLEY. Several of the bishops, smitten by the heathen darkness of the great majority of the Cabinet--affected by their utter ignorance of the practical working of Christianity--burst into tears. It will not be credited by those disposed to think charitably of their fellow-creatures, that--we state the melancholy fact upon the golden word of the Bishop of EXETER--several Cabinet ministers had never heard of the divine sentence which enjoins upon us to do to others as we would they should do unto us. Sir JAMES GRAHAM, for instance, declared that he had always understood the passage to simply run--"_Do_ others;" and had, therefore, in very many acts of his political life, squared his doings according to the mutilated sentence. All the Cabinet had, more or less, some idea of the miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes. Indeed, many of them confessed that with them, the Loaves and the Fishes had, during their whole political career, contained the essence of Christianity. Sir EDWARD KNATCHBULL, Lord ELLENBOROUGH, and GOULBURN declared that for the last ten years they had hungered for nothing else. We cannot dwell upon every individual case of ignorance displayed in the Cabinet. We confine ourselves to the glad statement, that every minister from the first lord of the treasury to the grooms in waiting, vivified by the sacred heat of their schoolmaster Bishops, illustrate the great truth of Doctor CHALMERS, that the poor man can only obtain justice "by a _universal_ Christian education." The Bench of Bishops do not confine their labours to the instruction of the Cabinet. By no means. They have appointed prebends, deans, canons, vicars, &c., to teach the members of both houses of Parliament practical Christianity towards their fellow-men. Lord LONDONDERRY has sold his fowling-piece for the benefit of the poor--has given his shooting-jacket to the ragged beggar that sweeps the crossing opposite the Carlton Club--and resolving to forego the vanities of grouse, is now hard at work on "The Acts of the Apostles." Colonel SIBTHORP--after unceasing labour on the part of Doctor CROLY--has managed to spell at least six of the hard names in the first chapter of St. Matthew, and can now, with very slight hesitation, declare who was the father of ZEBEDEE'S children! "An universal Christian education!" Oh, reader! picture to yourself London--for one day only--operated upon by the purest Christianity. Consider the mundane interests of this tremendous metropolis directed by Apostolic principles! Imagine the hypocrisy of respectability--the conventional lie--the allowed ceremonial deceit--the tricks of trade--the ten thousand scoundrel subterfuges by which the lowest dealers of this world purchase Bank-stock and rear their own pine-apples--the common, innocent iniquities (innocent from their very antiquity, having been bequeathed from sire to son) which men perpetrate six working-days in the week, and after, lacker up their faces with a look of sleek humility for the Sunday pew--consider all this locust swarm of knaveries annihilated by the purifying spirit of Christianity, and then look upon London breathing and living, for one day only, by the sweet, sustaining truth of the Gospel! Had our page ten thousand times its amplitude, it would not contain the briefest register of the changes of that day! There is a scoundrel attorney, who for thirty years has become plethoric on broken hearts. The scales of leprous villany have fallen from him; and now, an incarnation of justice, he sits with open doors, to pour oil into the wounds of the smitten--to make man embrace man as his brother--to preach lovingkindness to all the world, and--without a fee--to chant the praises of peace and amity. _Crib_ the stockbroker meets _Horns_ a fellow-labourer in the same hempen walk of life. _Crib_ offers to buy a little Spanish of _Horns_. "My dear _Crib_," says _Horns_, "it is impossible; I can't sell; for I have just received by a private hand from Cadiz, news that must send the stock down to nothing. I am a Christian, my dear _Crib_," says _Horns_, "and as a Christian, how could I sell you a certain loss?" A mistaken, but well-meaning man, although a tailor, meets his debtor in Bow-street. A slight quarrel ensues; whereupon, the debtor (to show that the days of chivalry are _not_ gone) kicks his tailor into the gutter. Does the tailor take the offender before Mr. JARDINE? By no means. The tailor is a Christian; and learning the exact measure of his enemy, and returning good for evil, he, in three days' time, sends to his assailant a new suit of the very best super Saxony. How many quacks we see rushing to the various newspaper offices to countermand their advertisements! What gaps in the columns of the newspapers themselves! Where is the sugary lie--the adroit slander--the scoundrel meanness, masking itself with the usage of patriotism? All, all are vanished, for--the _Morning Herald_ is published upon Christian principles! Let us descend to the smallest matters of social life. "Will this gingham wash?" asks _Betty_ the housemaid of _Twill_ the linen-draper. _Twill_ is a Christian; and therefore replies, "it is a very poor article, and it will _not_ wash!" We are with Doctor Chalmers for Christianity--but not Christianity of _one side_. "Pray for those who despitefully use you," say the Corn Law Apostles to the famishing; and then, cocking their eye at one another, and twitching their tongues in their mouths they add--"for this is Christianity!" Q. * * * * * ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIVE TALENT. Her Majesty has, it seems, presented the conductor of the _Gazette Musicale_ with a gold medal and her portrait, as a reward for his constant efforts in the cause of music (_vide Morning Post_, Sept. 9). From this, it may be supposed, foreigners alone are deemed worthy of distinction; but our readers will be glad to learn, that Rundells have been honoured with an order for a silver whistle for PUNCH. His unceasing efforts in the causes of _humbug_, political, literary, and dramatic, having drawn forth this high mark of royal favour. * * * * * PUNCH'S PENCILLINGS--NO. X. [Illustration: THE DINER-OUT.] * * * * * THE OMEN OUTWITTED: OR, HOW HIS REVERENCE'S HEELS TOOK STEPS TO SAVE HIS HEAD. "So, Dick, I mean your 'reverence,' you like the blessed old country as well as ever, eh, lad?" "As well, ay, almost better. My return to it is like the meeting of long-parted friends--the joy of the moment is pure and unalloyed--all minor faults are forgotten--all former goodness rushes with double force from the recollection to the heart, and the renewal of old fellowship grafts new virtues (the sweet fruits of regretted absence) upon him who has been the chosen tenant of our 'heart of hearts.'" "His reverence's health--three times three (empty them heeltaps, Jack, and fill out of the fresh jug)--now, boys, give tongue. That's the raal thing; them cheers would wake the seven sleepers after a dose of laudanum. Bless you, and long life to you! That's the worst wish you'll find here." "I know that right well, uncle. I know it, feel it, and most heartily thank you all." "Enough said, parson. By dad, Dick, its mighty droll to be calling you, that was but yesterday a small curly-pated gossoon, by that clerical mouthful of a handle to your name. But do you find us altered much?" "There is no change but Time's--that has fallen lightly. To be sure, yesterday I was looking for the heads of my strapping cousins at the bottom button of their well-filled waistcoats, and, before Jack's arrival, meant to do a paternal and patriarchal 'pat' on his, at somewhere about that altitude; a ceremony he must excuse, as the little lad of my mind has thought proper to expand into a young Enniskillen of six feet three." "He's a mighty fine boy--the lady-killing vagabone!" said the father, with a kind look of gratified pride; and then added, as if to stop the infection of the vanity, "and there's no denying he's big enough to be better." Here a slight scrimmage at the door of the dining-room attracted the attention of the "masther." "What's the meaning of that noise, ye vagabones?" "Spake up, Mickey." "Is it me?" "It is." "Not at all, by no means. Let Paddy do it, or Tim Carroll; they're used to going out wid the car, and don't mind spaking to the quality." "Take yourselves out o'that, or let me know what you want, and be pretty quick about it, too." The result of this order was the appearance of Tim Carroll in the centre of the room--a dig between the shoulders, and vigorously-applied kick behind, hastening him into that somewhat uneasy situation, with a degree of expedition perfectly marvellous. "Spake out, what is it?" "Ahem!" commenced Tim; "you see, sir (_aside_), I'll be even wid you for that kick, you thief of the world--you see, Paddy (bad manners to him) and the rest o' the boys, was thinking that, owing to the change o' climate, Master Richard--that is, his new riverence--has gone through by rason of laving England and comin' here--and mighty could, no doubt, he was on the journey--be praised he's safe--the boy, sir, was thinkin', masther dear, it was nothing but their duty, and what was due to the family, to ax your honour's opinion about their takin' the smallest taste of whiskey in life, jist to be drinking his riverence's Masther Richard's health, and"--"Success to him!" shouted the chorus at the door. "That's it!" said the masther. "And nothing but it!" responded the chorus. "Nelly, my jewel! take the kays and give them anything in dacency!" "Hurrah! smiling good luck to you, for ever and afther!" "That'll do, boys! but stay: it's Terence Conway's wedding night--it's a good tenant he's been to me--take the sup down there, and you'll get a dance; now be off, you devils!" "Many thanks to your honour!" chorused the delighted group; and "I done that iligant, anyhow," muttered the gratified, successful, and, therefore, forgiving orator. "I'll try again. Ahem! wouldn't the young gentlemen just step down for a taste?" "By all manes!" was chimed at once; their hats were mounted in a moment, and off they set. Terence Conway's farm was soon reached; the barn affording the most accommodation for the numerous visitors, was fitted up for the occasion. It was nearly full, as Terence was a popular man--one that didn't grudge the "bit and sup," and never turned his back upon friend or foe. Loud and hearty were the cheers of the delighted tenantry, as the three sons of their beloved landlord passed the threshold. The appearance of the "stranger" was received with no such demonstrations of welcome; on the contrary, there was a sullen silence, soon after broken by suppressed and angry murmurs. These were somewhat appeased by one of the sons introducing his "cousin," and endeavouring to joke the peasants into good-humour, by laughingly assuring them his "reverence" was but a bad drinker, and would not deprive them of much of the poteen; then passing his arm through the parson's, he led the way, as it afterwards turned out, rather unfortunately, to the top of the barn, and there, followed by his brothers, they took their seats. The entrance of the Catholic priest (a most amiable man) at this moment attracted the entire attention of the party, during which time Tim Carroll elbowed his way to the place where his master was seated, and calling him partially aside, whispered, "Master John, dear, tell his riverence, Master Richard, to go." "What for?" "Sure, is not he entirely in black?" "Well, what of it?" "What of it? Houly Paul! the likes o' that! If my skin was as hard as a miser's heart, I wouldn't put it into a black coat, and come to a wedding in it; it's the devil's own bad omen, and nothing else!" "You are right! What a fool I was not to tell Dick! Cousin, a word!" Here the clamour became somewhat louder, the priest taking an active part, and speaking rapidly and earnestly in their native tongue to the evidently excited peasantry. He suddenly broke from them, and hastening to the Protestant clergyman, grasped his hand, and, shaking it heartily, wished him "health, long life, and happiness:" and lifting a tumbler of punch to his lips, drank off nearly half its contents, exclaiming the customary, "God save all here!" He then presented the liquor to the stranger, saying in a low earnest voice, "Drink that toast, sir!" This order was instantly complied with. The clear tones of the young man's unfaltering voice and the hearty cordiality of his utterance had a singular effect upon the more turbulent; the priest passed rapidly from the one to the other, and endeavoured to say something pleasant to all, but, despite his attempts at calmness, he was evidently ill at ease. Tim Carroll again sidled up to his young master. "The boys mane harrum, sir," said Tim; "but never mind, there's five of us here. We've not been idle, we've all been taking pick o' the sticks, and divil a stroke falls upon one of the ould ancient family widout showing a bruck head or a flat back for it." "What am I to understand by this?" inquired the young stranger. "That you're like Tom Fergusson when he rode the losing horse--you've mounted the wrong colour; and, be dad, you are pretty well marked down for it, sir; but never mind, there's Tim Carroll looking as black as the inside of a sut-bag. Let him come on! he peeled the skin off them shins o' mine at futball; maybe, I won't trim his head with black thorn for that same, if he's any ways obstropolis this blessed night." "Silence, sir! neither my inclination nor sacred calling will allow me to countenance a broil! I have been the first offender--to attempt to leave the room now would but provoke an attack; leave this affair to me, and don't interfere." "By the powers! if man or mortal lifts his hand to injure you, I'll smash the soul out of him! Do you think, omen or no omen, I'll stand by and see you harmed?--not a bit of it! If you are a parson and a child of peace, I have the honour to be a soldier, and claim my right to battle in your cause." Maugre the pacific tone of the unfortunately-accoutered ecclesiastic, there was something of defiance in his flashing eye and crimson cheek, as he turned his brightening glance upon what might almost be called the host of his foes; and the nervous pressure which returned the grasp of his cousin's sinewy hand, spoke something more of readiness for battle than could have been gathered from his expressed wishes. "If, Jack, it comes to that, why, as human nature is weak--excuse what I may feel compelled to do; but for the present pray oblige me by keeping your seat and the peace; or, if you must move and fidget about, go and make that pugnacious Tim Carroll as decent as you can." "I'll be advised by you, Dick; but look out!" So saying, the stalwart young officer bustled his way to the uproarious Tim. It was well he did so, or bloodshed must have ensued, as at that moment a tall and powerful man, brother-in-law to the bride, lifted his stick, and after giving it the customary twirl aimed a point-blank blow at the head of the ill-omened parson. The bound of an antelope brought the girl to the spot; her small hand averted the direction of the deadly weapon, and before the action had been perceived by any present, or the attempt could be resumed, she dropped a curtesy to the assailant, and in a loud voice, with an affected laugh, exclaimed-- "You, if you plaise, sir;" and, turning quickly to the fiddler, continued: "Any tune you like, Mr. Murphy, sir; but, good luck to you, be quick, or we won't have a dance to-night!" "Clear the floor!--a dance! a dance!" shouted every one. In a few seconds the angry scowl had passed from the flushed cheeks of Dan Sheeny, and there he was, toe and heeling, double shuffling, and cutting it over the buckle, to the admiration of all beholders. The bride was seated near the stranger--he perceived this, and suddenly quitting his place, danced up to her, and nodding, as he stopped for a moment, invited her to join him. She was ever light of foot, and, as she said afterwards, "would have danced her life out but she'd give the poor young gentleman a chance." Long and vigorously did Dan Sheeny advance, retire, curvette, and caper. The whiskey and exertion at length overcame him, and he left the lady sole mistress of the floor. By this time murmurs had again arisen, and all eyes were turned upon the intruder, who had been intently engaged observing the dancers. It was an accomplishment for which he had been celebrated previous to his taking orders, and the old feeling so strongly interested him, that he was absorbed in the pleasure of witnessing the activity and joyousness of the performers. He turned his head for an instant--a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. On his starting up, he saw nothing but the smiling Norah pressing the arm of a tall peasant, and curtseying him a challenge to join her "on the floor." He paused for a moment, then gaily taking her hand, advanced with her to the centre. All eyes were bent upon them, but there was no restraint in the young parson's manner. The most popular jig-tune was called for--to it they went; his early-taught and well-practised feet beat living echoes to the most rapid bars. A foot of ground seemed ample space for all the intricate compilation of the _raal_ Conamera "capers." The tune was changed again and again; again and again was his infinity of steps adapted to its varying sounds: to use a popular phrase, you might have heard a pin drop. Every mouth was closed, every eye fixed upon his rapid feet; and, when at length wearied with exertion, the almost fainting girl was falling to the earth, her gallant partner caught her in his arms, and, like an infant, bore her to the open air, one loud and general cheer burst from their unclosed lips; a few moments restored the pretty lass to perfect health. Her first words were, "Leave me, sir, and save yourself." It was too late; borne on the shoulders of the admiring mob, who, despite his suit of sables (now rendered innoxious by the varying colour of the crimson kerchief the young bride bound round his neck), he was soon seated in the chair of honour, and there, surrounded by his friends, finished the night the "lion of the dance." And thus it was that his "Reverence's heels took steps to preserve his head."--FUSBOS * * * * * TRANSACTIONS AND YEARLY REPORT. OF THE HOOKHAM-CUM-SNIVEY LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, AND MECHANICS' INSTITUTION. (_Continued from our last._) An important and advantageous arrangement in the transactions of the society, since its foundation, has been the institution of the classes "for the acquisition of a general smattering of everything," more especially as concerning the younger branches of society. It is, however, much to be regretted, that the public examination of the juvenile members, upon the subjects they had listened to during the past course, did not turn out so well as the committee could have wished. The various professors had taken incredible pains to teach the infant philosophers correct answers to the separate questions that would be asked them, in order that they might reply with becoming readiness. Unfortunately the examiner began at the wrong end of the class, and threw them all out, except the middle one. We sub-join a few of the questions:-- State the distance, in miles, from the Hanwell Lunatic Asylum to the Tuesday in Easter week, and show how long a man would be going from one to the other, if he travelled at the rate of four gallons a minute. Required to know the advantages of giving tracts to poor people who cannot read, and how many are equivalent to a sliding-scale penny buster, in the way of nourishment. "Was Lord John Russell in his Windsor uniform, ever mistaken for a two-penny postman; if so, what great man imagined the affinity? [Illustration: Best Pigtail] The School of Design and Drawing has made very creditable progress, and the subscribers will be gratified in learning, that one of the pupils sent in a design for the Nelson Testamonial, which would in all probability have been accepted, had not the decision been made in the usual preconcerted underhand manner. Following the columnar idea of Mr. Railton, our talented pupil had put forth a peculiarly appropriate idea: the shaft would have been formed by a sea-telescope of gigantic proportions, pulled out to its utmost extent. On the summit of this Nelson would have been seated, as on the maintop, smoking his pipe, from which real smoke would have issued. This would have been produced by a stove at the bottom of the column, whose object was to furnish a steady supply of baked potatoes, uninfluenced by the fluctuations of the market, to the cabmen of Trafalgar-square, and the street-sweepers at Charing-cross. The artist who designed the elegant structure at King's-cross, which partakes so comprehensively of the attributes of a pump, a watch-house, a lamp-post, and a turnpike, would have superintended its erection, and a carved figure-head might have been purchased, for a mere song, to crown the elevation. It would not have much mattered whether the image was intended for Nelson or not, because, from its extreme elevation, no one, without a spy-glass, could have told one character from another--Thiers from Lord John Russell, George Steevens from Shakspere, Muntz from the Duke of Brunswick, or anybody else. THE MUSEUM. The museum of the institution has been gradually increasing in valuable additions, and donations are respectfully requested from families having any dust-collecting articles about their houses which they are anxious to get rid of. The first curiosities presented were, of course, those which have formed the nucleus of every museum that was ever established, and consisted of "South Sea Islander's paddles and spears, North American mocassins and tomahawks, and Sandwich (not in Kent, but in the Pacific Ocean) canoes and fishing-tackle. In addition, we have received the following, which the society beg to acknowledge:-- The jaw-bone of an animal, supposed to be a cow, found two feet below the surface, in digging for the Great Western Railway, near Slough. Farthing, penny, and sixpence, of the reign of George the Fourth. Piece of wood from the red-funnel steam-boat sunk off the Isle of Dogs, in August, 1841, which had been under water nearly six days. A variety of articles manufactured from the above, sufficient to build a boat twelve times the size, may be purchased of the librarian. A floor-tile, in excellent preservation, from the old Hookham-cum-Snivey workhouse kitchen, before the new union was built. Specimens of pebbles collected from the gravel-pits at Highgate, and a valuable series of oyster-shells, discovered the day after Bartholomew-fair, near the corner of Cock-lane. A small lizard, caught in the Regent's-park, preserved in gin-and-water, in a soda-water bottle, and denominated by the librarian "a heffut." LIBRARY. Advertisement half of a _Times_ newspaper for March, 1838. Playbill of the English Opera during Balfe's management, supposed to be that of the memorable night when 16l. 4s. was taken, in hard cash, at the doors. View of the Execution of the late Mr. Greenacre in front of Newgate, published by Catnach, from a drawing by an unknown artist. (_Very rare!_) MS. pantomime, refused at the Haymarket, entitled "Harlequin and the Hungarian Daughter; or, All My Eye and Betty Martinuzzi," with the whole of the songs, choruses, and incidental combats and situations. Presented by the author, in company with a receipt for red and green fire. Bound copy of Sermons preached at Hookham-cum-Snivey Church, by the Reverend Peter Twaddle, on the occasions, of building a dusthole for the national schools; of outfitting the missionaries who are exported annually to be eaten by the Catawampous Indians; on the death of Mr. Grubly, the retired cheesemonger, who endowed the weathercock; and in aid of the funds of the "newly-born-baby-clothes-bag-and-basket-institution:" printed at the desire of his, "he fears, in this instance, too partial" parishioners, and presented by himself. * * * * * OUR FOREIGN RELATIONS. The treaty of the four powers, to which Chelsea, Battersea, Brompton, and Wandsworth are parties, and from which Pimlico has hitherto obstinately stood aloof, has at length been ratified by the re-entry of that impetuous suburb into the general views of Middlesex. We have now a right to call upon Pimlico to disarm, and to cut off its extra watchman with a promptitude that shall show the sincerity with which it has joined the neighbouring powers in the celebrated treaty of Kensington. It is already known that, by this document, Moses Hayley is recognised as hereditary beadle, and Abraham Parker is placed in undisturbed possession of the post of waterman on the coach-stand in the outskirts. We are not among those who expect to find a spirit of propagandism prevailing in the policy of the powers of Pimlico. The lamplighter who lights the district is a man of sound discernment, and there is everything to hope from the moderation he has always exhibited. * * * * * SIBTHORP ON THE CORN LAW. Sibthorp came out in full fig at Sir Robert Peel's dinner. While he was having his hair curled, and the irons were heating, he asked the two-penny operator what was his opinion of the corn-law question. The barber's answer suggested the following con.:-- "Why am I like a man eating a particular sort of fancy bread?"--"Because," answered the tonsor, "you are having [Illustration: A TWOPENNY TWIST"] This reply made the Colonel's hair stand on end, taking it quite out of curl. * * * * * FISH SAUCE. The boy Jones, in one of his visits to the Palace, to avoid detection, secreted himself up the kitchen chimney. The intense heat necessary for the preparation of a large dish of white-bait for her Majesty's dinner compelled him to relax his hold, and in an instant he was precipitated among the Blackwall delicacies. The indignant cook immediately demanded "his business there." "Don't you see," observed the younker, "I'm [Illustration: ONE OF THE FRY?"] * * * * * PUNCH'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE. NO. 4. NATURAL HISTORY. _Definition._--The history of "naturals"--which chiefly include the human species--and of "simples" (herbs), occupies the branch of science we are about to enlighten our readers upon. It treats, in fact, of animated nature; while physical history--instead of being the history of Apothecaries' Hall, as many suppose--deals exclusively with inanimate matter. _Of genus, species, and orders._--If, in the vegetable world, we commence with the buttercup, and trace all the various kinds and sizes of plants that exist, up to the pine (Norwegian), and down again to the hautboy (Cormack's Princesses); if, among the lower animals, we begin with a gnat and go up to an elephant, or select from the human species a Lord John Russell, and place him beside a professor Whewell, we shall see that nature provides an endless variety of all sorts of everything. Now, to render a knowledge of everything in natural history as difficult of acquirement as possible to everybody, the scientific world divides nature into the above-mentioned classes, to which Latin names are given. For instance, it would be vulgarly ridiculous to call a "cat" by its right name; and when one says "cat," a dogmatic naturalist is justified in thinking one means a lion or tiger, both these belonging to the _cat_egory of "cats;" hence, a "cat" is denominated, for shortness, _felis \u8710 gyptiacus;_ an ass is turned into a horse, by being an _equus_; a woman into a man, for with him she is equally _homo_. Of this last species it is our purpose exclusively to treat. The variety of it we commence with is, THE BARBER (_homo emollientissimus_.--TRUEFIT). _Physical structure and peculiarities_.--The most singular peculiarity of the barber is, that although, in his avocations, he always is what is termed a "strapper," yet his stature is usually short. His tongue, however, makes up for this deficiency, being remarkably long,--a beautiful provision of nature; for while he is seldom called upon to use his legs with rapidity, his lingual organ is always obliged to be on the "run." His eyes are keen, and his wits sharp; his mouth is tinged with humour, and his hair--particularly when threatening to be gray--with _poudre unique_. Manner, prepossessing; crop, close; fingers, dirty; toes, turned out. He seldom indulges in whiskers, for his business is to shave. 1. _Habits, reproduction, and food._--A singular uniformity of _habits_ is observable amongst barbers. They all live in shops curiously adorned with play-bills and pomatum-pots, and use the same formulary of conversation to every new customer. All are politicians on both sides of every subject; and if there happen to be three sides to a question, they take a triangular view of it. 2. _Reproduction._--Some men are born barbers, others have barberism thrust upon them. The first class are brought forth in but small numbers, for shavers seldom pair. The second take to the razor from disappointment in trade or in love. This is evident, from the habits of the animal when alone, at which period, if observed, a deep, mysterious, melo-dramatic gloom will be seen to overspread his countenance. He is essentially a social being; company is as necessary to his existence as beards. 3. _Food._--Upon this subject the most minute researches of the most prying naturalists have not been able to procure a crumb of information. That the barber does eat can only be inferred; it cannot be proved, for no person was ever known to catch him in the act; if he does masticate, he munches in silence and in secret[1]. [1] Not so of drinking. Only last week we saw, with our own eyes, a pot of ale in a barber's shop; and very good ale it was, too, for we tasted it. _Geographical distribution of barbers._--Although the majority of barbers live near the _pole_, they are pretty diffusely disseminated over the entire face of the globe. The advance of civilization has, however, much lessened their numbers; for we find, wherever valets are kept, barbers are not; and as the magnet turns towards the north, they are attracted to the east. In St. James's, the shaver's "occupation's gone;" but throughout the whole of Wapping, the distance is very short [Illustration: "FROM POLE TO POLE."] * * * * * A LECTURE ON MORALITY.--BY PUNCH. Moral philosophers are the greatest fools in the world. I am a moral philosopher; I am no fool though. Who contradicts me? If any, speak, and come within reach of my cudgel. I am a moral philosopher of a new school. The schoolmaster is abroad, and I am the schoolmaster; but if anybody says that _I_ am abroad, I will knock him down. I am _at home_. And now, good people, attend to me, and you will hear something worth learning. The reason why I call all moral philosophers fools is, because they have not gone properly to work. Each has given his own peculiar notions, merely, to the world. Now, different people have different opinions: some like apples, and others prefer another sort of fruit, with which, no doubt, many of you are familiar. "Who shall decide when doctors disagree?" My system of morality is the result of induction. I am very fond of Bacon--I mean, the Bacon recommended to you by the "Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge"--_Lord_ Bacon. I therefore study the actions of mankind, and draw my inferences accordingly. The people whose conduct I attend to are those who get on best in the world; for the object of all morality is to make ourselves happy, and as long as we are so, what, my good friends, does it signify? The first thing that you must do in the study of morals is, to get rid of all prejudices. Bacon and I quite agree upon this point. By prejudices I mean your previous notions concerning right and wrong. Dr. Johnson calls morality "the doctrine of the duties of life." In this definition I agree. The doctor was a clever man. I very much admire the knock-down arguments that he was so fond of; it is the way in which I usually reason myself. Now the duties of life are two-fold--our duty to others and our duty to ourselves. Our duty to ourselves is to make ourselves as comfortable as possible; our duty to others, is to make them assist us to the best of their ability in so doing. This is the plan on which all respectable persons act, and it is one which I have always followed myself. What are the consequences? See how popular I am; and, what is more, observe how fat I have got! Here is a corporation for you! Here is a leg! What think you of such a cap as this? and of this embroidered coat? Who says that I am not a fine fellow, and that my system is not almost as fine? Let him argue the point with me, if he dare! Happiness consists in pursuing our inclinations without disturbance, and without getting into trouble. Make it, then, your first rule of conduct always to do exactly as you please; that is, if you can. I am not like other moralists, who talk in one way and act in another. What I advise you to do, is nothing more than what I practise myself, as you have very often observed, I dare say. Be careful to show, invariably, a proper respect for the laws; that is to say, when you do anything illegal, take all the precautions that you can against being found out. Here, perhaps, my example is somewhat at variance with my doctrine; but I am stronger, you know, than the executive, and therefore, instead of my respecting it, it ought to respect me. Be sure to keep a quiet conscience. In order that you may secure this greatest of blessings, never allow yourselves to regret any part of your past behaviour; and whenever you feel tempted to do so, take the readiest means that you can think of to banish reflection, or, as Lord Byron very properly terms it-- "The blight of life, the demon Thought!" You have observed that, after having knocked anybody on the head, I generally begin to dance and sing. This I do, not because I am troubled with any such weakness as remorse, but in order to instruct you. I do not mean to say that you are to conduct yourselves precisely in the same manner under similar circumstances; a pipe, or a pot, or a pinch of snuff--in short, any means of diversion--will answer your purpose equally well. Adhere strictly to truth--whenever there is no occasion for lying. Be particularly careful to conceal no one circumstance likely to redound to your credit. But when two principles clash, the weaker, my good people, must, as the saying is, go to the wall. If, therefore, it be to your interest to lie, do so, and do it boldly. No one would wear false hair who had hair of his own; but he who has none, must, of course, wear a wig. I do not see any difference between false hair and false assertions; and I think a lie a very useful invention. It is like a coat or a pair of breeches, it serves to clothe the naked. But do not throw your falsifications away: I like a proper economy. Some silly persons would have you invariably speak the truth. My friends, if you were to act in this way, in what department of commerce could you succeed? How could you get on in the law? what vagabond would ever employ you to defend his cause? What practice do you think you would be likely to procure as a physician, if you were to tell every old woman who fancied herself ill, that there was nothing the matter with her, or to prescribe abstinence to an alderman, as a cure for indigestion? What would be your prospect in the church, where, not to mention a few other little trifles, you would have, when you came to be made a bishop, to say that you did not wish to be any such thing? No, my friends, truth is all very well when the telling of it is convenient; but when it is not, give me a bouncing lie. But that one lie, object the advocates of uniform veracity, will require twenty more to make it good: very well, then, tell them. Ever have a due regard to the sanctity of oaths; this you will evince by never using them to support a fiction, except on high and solemn occasions, such as when you are about to be invested with some public dignity. But avoid any approach to a superstitious veneration for them: it is to keep those thin-skinned and impracticable individuals who are infected by this failing from the management of public affairs, that they have been, in great measure, devised. Never break a promise, unless bound to do so by a previous one; and promise yourselves from this time forth never to do anything that will put you to inconvenience. Never take what does not belong to you. For, as a young pupil who formerly attended these lectures pathetically expressed himself, he furnishing, at the time, in his own person, an illustration of the maxim-- "Him as prigs wot isn't his'n, Ven 'a's cotch must go to pris'n!" But what is it that does _not_ belong to you? I answer, whatever you cannot take with impunity. Never fail, however, to appropriate that