* * * * *
A GREAT CARD.
MR. WAKLEY begs to inform the Lords of the Treasury, the editor of the Times, and the Master of the Mint, that ever anxious to rise in the world, he has recently been induced to undertake the sweeping of Conservative flues, and the performance of any dirty work which his Tory patrons may deem him worthy to perform. Certain objections having been made as to his qualifications for a climbing boy, Mr. W. pledges himself to undergo any course of training, to enable him to get through the business, and to remove any apprehension of his ever becoming
[Illustration: A POTTED BLOATER.]
* * * * *
THE POETICAL JUSTICE.
SIR PETER LAURIE, in commenting upon the late case of false imprisonment, where two young men had been unjustifiably handcuffed by the police, delivered himself of the following exquisite piece of rhetoric:—“He did not think it possible that such a case of abuse could pass unnoticed as that he had just heard. The general conduct of the police was, he believed, good; but the instances of arbitrary conduct and overbearing demeanour set to flight all the ancient examples brought forward to enrich by contrast the serious parts of the glorious genius of Shakspeare.” We never understood or imagined there was an Anacreon among the aldermen, a Chaucer in the common council, or a Moliere at the Mansion-house. We have now discovered the Peter Lauriate of the City—the poet of the Poultry. Who, in the face of the above sentence, can deny his right to these titles, if, like ourselves, they are
[Illustration: OPEN TO CONVICTION!]
* * * * *
THE EVIL MOST TO BE DREADED.
A clergyman, lately preaching to a country congregation, used the following persuasive arguments against the vice of swearing:—“Oh, my brethren, avoid this practice, for it is a great sin, and, what is more, it is ungenteel!”
* * * * *
WHAT WILL THE WORLD SAY?
The family of the “Sponges” distributes itself over the entire face of society—its members are familiar with almost every knocker, and with nearly everybody’s dinner-hour. They not unfrequently come in with the eggs, and only go out with the last glass of negus. They seem to possess the power of ubiquity; for, go where you will, your own especial sponge (and everybody with more than two hundred a-year has one), is sure to present himself. He is ready for anything, especially where eating, love, duelling, or drinking, is concerned. To oblige you, he will breakfast at supper-time, or sup at breakfast-time; he will drink any given quantity, at any time, and will carry any number of declarations of love to any number of ladies, or of challenges to whole armies of rivals: thus far he is useful; for he is obliging, and will do anything—but pay.