[Illustration:  Going it like Bricks—­]

a hope instantly gratified by the stalwart proprietor, who, wildly exclaiming, “Sit aisy!” hoisted the lordly burden on his shoulders, and gave him the full benefit of a shilling fare in that most unusual vehicle.

* * * * *

Q.E.D.

“Sir Robert Peel thinks a great deal of himself,” says the British Critic.  “Yes,” asserts PUNCH, “he is just the man to trouble himself about trifles.”

* * * * *

[Illustration]

ROEBUCK DEFYING THE “THUNDERER.”

    Roebuck was seated in his great arm chair,
        Looking as senatorial and wise
        As a calf’s head, when taken in surprise;
    A half-munch’d muffin did his fingers bear—­
    An empty egg-shell proved his meal nigh o’er. 
    When, lo! there came a tapping at the door: 
        “Come in!” he cried,
        And in another minute by his side
    Stood John the footboy, with the morning paper,
    Wet from the press.  O’er Roebuck’s cheek
      There passed a momentary gleam of joy,
    Which spoke, as plainly as a smile could speak,
      “Your master’s speech is in that paper, boy.” 
    He waved his hand—­the footboy left the room—­
    Roebuck pour’d out a cup of Hyson bloom;
    And, having sipp’d the tea and sniff’d the vapour,
    Spread out the “Thunderer” before his eyes—­
    When, to his great surprise,
    He saw imprinted there, in black and white,
      That he, THE ROE-buck—­HE, whom all men knew,
    Had been expressly born to set worlds right—­
      That HE was nothing but a parvenu. 
    Jove! was it possible they lack’d the knowledge he
    Boasted a literary and scientific genealogy! 
    That he had had some ancestors before him—­
    (Beside the Pa who wed the Ma who bore him)—­
    Men whom the world had slighted, it is true,
        Because it never knew
    The greatness of the genius which had lain,
    Like unwrought ore, within each vasty brain;
    And as a prejudice exists that those
    Who never do disclose
    The knowledge that they boast of, seldom have any,
    Each of his learned ancestors had died,
    By an ungrateful world belied,
    And dubb’d a Zany. 
        That HE should be
        Denied a pedigree! 
    Appeared so monstrous in this land of freedom,
    He instantly conceived the notion
    To go down to the House and make a motion,
    That all men had a right to those who breed ’em.

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