થી FASHIONABLE SUICIDE. EED to this morsel of Pari- "Since stays have gone out Small waists and large chignons are each of them a form of fashionable suicide; and although the former have gone out of Vogue in Paris, they are in fashion here in London to the deadliest extent. Ladies gradually kill themselves in striving to look killing; and, in order to obey the dictates of the dressmaker, they willingly make sacrifice of happiness and health. Torture and discomfort they will cheerfully endure, to enjoy the great distinction of showing a small waist. As for the assertion that chiguons breed brain-fever, one really may believe it when let into the secret of how chignons are now made : "All the hair purchased off doubtful heads, picked up here, there, and everywhere, cut off in the hospital, collected from the comb, or thrown into the street and caught up by the chiffonnier's hook, is sorted in shades, divided according to its length, and after a cleansing process which does not make it much nicer, it is sent to St. Pélagie, where prisoners pass their day in fixing it on silken threads, and clustering it according to the rules of art." He must be a bold man who could ask a fashionable beauty for a lovelock of her hair, which, the chance is, has been previously cropped off in a hospital, or swept up in the slums. The old joke of the cholera being in the hair might be found a grim reality in French fashionable life. A number of diseases as deadly as brain-fever might, we fancy, spring from chignons which have, bit by bit, been picked out of a gutter and put together in a gaol. SUCCESS TO SAMUEL! MAY difference of opinion never alter Churchmanship! That sentiment all sober, but not totally abstinent, members of the Church of England will concur in associating with the toast of Bishop SAMUEL WILBERFORCE'S jolly good health on his translation from Oxon to Winton. It is an aspiration suggested by a simile occurring in the admirable farewell visitation charge delivered by his Lordship the other day in Oxford Cathedral. Referring to the diversity of views inseparable from diversity of tempers, the Right Reverend SAMUEL declared that: "Instead of that divergeney in our Church being an evil, he held that it was a sign of life, and he would no more make every voice in a diocese speak in the same tone than he would abolish the music of nature by requiring the same note from every songster." It is not, however, hypercritical to point out that the feathered choir and surpliced body are just now very far from resembling each other in one very essential particular-harmony. There is the reverse of any analogy between the music of Nature and the hubbub in the Church. Nor even in the best old times of concord were our clergy ever supposed to be represented by Nature's songsters in general. They had, however, in the popular idea, their special representative in Parson, Rook. At present how delighted every body would be, except STIGGINS, BRADLAUGH, MANNING, and their partisans, respectively, if the sum of clerical voices, in every diocese, were a clamour as euphonical as the cawing of a rookery! With rooks jackdaws usually flock together in some proportion, birds of a Wouldn't they pitch feather, of the same order, relatively a sort of minor canons. But into one of their number that had pranked himself in peacock's feathers P that no jackdaw ever does; and here again the similitude between a diocese and a rookery fails. All's one for that. Here's the LORD BISHOP OF OXFORD-that is to be WINCHESTER's very good health! Let us drink it in a tumbler of GLADSTONE's best claret. BUMBLE DEFYING THE THUNDER. (Dedicated without respect to the majority of the St. Pancras Board of Guardians.) GIVE paupers full allowance of air, All the same as you 'd give their betters! On us, poor over-taxed Guardians,-- Of their GösCHEN aud GATHORNE-HARDY'uns! With their stuff about stenches and stiflin'- Didn't like their air, as they likes their grog Waru't worse than our wards, by a deal! Any more than they've feelin's to feel! They calls in old SAM SOLLY To testify to the stinks- Or a horspital's werry well, But a vurk-us must smell like a vurk-'us, And as for paupers grumblin' And a ketchin' cold and rheumatics, I say they 're a nasty, sarcy, Discontented, pampered lot; And there ain't a thing but's too good for 'em, Yet there's our doctors and nusses, And the master and coroner, too, And the Times and Punch and the Pall Mall Gazette, And the Poor-Law Board bullyrags us To spend rates on sick wards and schools, They say we're a public scandal, And St. Pancras a public scorn- So I means to uphold the Board and myself, Triplets. "TRIPLE BIRTH.-The wife of a MR. PILL was delivered of three children on Saturday." THREE pills at a time! What a dose for the poor man! The three sovereigns which it is customary for Majesty to send on these interesting occasions will, however, do something towards gilding the little pills. The Last Theatrical Phrase. Another Fine Old Institution Going! "SENSATIONAL" has become an admitted term in the theatrical bill. It is a stupid word, but there it is. "It is not at all improbable that the rank of ensign may But the last invention of the enemy" to the admirer of plain English in play-acting matters is "complexional." A "coloured" disappear from the Army List after the passing of the next estimates." the artist advertises his style of piece-Othello, The Black Doctor, and so on, as complexional drama." We shall bear soon, we suppose, of the Sartorial Drama, the Toiletteian Drama, the Piscatorial Drama, the Quadrupedal Drama and the Criminal Drama; the last being of course divided into Penal acts. 66 WHAT revolutionary times we live in! No class of society is safe from the iron grasp of innovation. Whose turn will it be to disappear next? Perhaps Beadles-or Deans! AN ELECTRIC LESSON. THE Wires are up, the instruments are being fixed, and in about six weeks, we suppose, LORD HARTINGTON will appear in the character of the Electric Spark. In other words, the new system of Telegraphs will come into play. The Post-Office expects every Man and Woman to do his and her Duty. We are bound to send Millions of Messages. Therefore-as we are to have only Twenty Words for a Shilling-will it not be well for everybody to study the art of condensation of language? Remember-your messages will not be sent if they contain too much; at least we imagine not, as the chances of a receiver liking to pay an extra shilling or two for a piece of chaff, or an intimation that AUNT MARIA's cold is rather better, are too small to justify LORD HARTINGTON in speculating on being paid at the door. Now, Punch has observed that many worthy people find much difficulty in tying up a message in a small parcel, and he thinks that these long evenings may be profitably spent in acquiring Electric Literature. It will be a pleasing recreation for the father of a family to assemble his Beloveds around the Moderator, and to encourage them to prepare in the neatest form a message suggested, at full length, by himself. For instance:-Paterfamilias. Now, my dears, all got pens, ink, paper? All right. Now attend. What I wish to say is this:-"In consequence of the great prevalence of indisposition, the extravagant prices of provisions, and the universal demands on charity, the dance and supper to which you were invited are postponed until next year." Materfamilias. What's the use of making up a ridiculous message like that, which nobody in their senses would send? P. F. Nobody, my love, is not plural, and it is a message which it is exceedingly likely that many reasonable persons will dispatch. Bob. What a lark! I hate dancing. with an elegant freedom that cannot fail to propitiate the admiration of any intellectual ears. P. F. Hand over the effort, and wipe up that ink-not, I submit, with your handkerchief. The Four Ladies. Horrible boy! Ring! P. F. A moment. I hate to be interrupted, though I ought to be used to it. Noses damp Helen. BOB! P. F. Grub dear Matilda. Vulgar child! P. F. Fellow-creatures destitute- Bob. Please to observe the alliteration-there's art! P. F. No times for hops and spreads. Spectatum non-admissi risum teneatis, amici? Bob. Notice that master-stroke. Some little familiarity in the English, relieved by the fortunate classical quotation. M. F. (rather proud of the monkey, for all the ink). What does it mean, dear? Bob (extempore). "If guests come here, and can't get in, I think they'll all begin to grin." P. F. (proud, too, but concealing the fact). ROBERT, you are not a fool, but your wisdom hath not appeared in this composition. The prize is with MATILDA, but here's half-a-sovereign for you. We'll try this again another night. Matilda and Bob. By all means, Papa. P. F. Papa never hints, my dears, and BOB will have the goodness to keep his ornithology for his schoolfellows. I am not thinking of put-parting Pastoral, wherein there is nothing particularly calling for Mr. ting off HELEN's party-(in a sly undertone) I am too happy to think that we are going to get rid of her. Helen. I will box your ears, dear, presently. P. F. I can wait. Now, go on, while I examine these most facetious pictures in our friend Punch's new Pocket-Book. with it. [4 pause of ten minutes-broken only by occasional mutterings of O, bother!" and chuckles from MASTER BOB. P. F. All done? Now, Mamma, you first. Let's see. M. F. It is such a silly message that I have scarcely had patience P. F. So it appears. (Reads.) I am sorry to say that Papa has thought proper to put off the party. He will explain. That does not, you see, come from me, and it does not comply with the condition, which was that the explanation should be in the message. Women cannot do what they are told. Louisa. See whether girls can. Here is mine. P. F. That looks better. Circumstances over which we have no control -well done, Loo-reluctantly compel us-no, the circumstances are not reluctant, dear-to postpone the party until next month. Next year, Miss, I said. Yours is better than Mamma's, but a failure for the same reason. Helen. Look at mine. P. F. HELEN has been writing such heaps of letters lately that she ought to be skilful in expression. Mr. Paterfamilias regrets-no, he does not-that indisposition and other causes compel him to postpone the party fixed for the 30th. But you should have mentioned the other causes, HELEN. Helen. They are too idiotic. The idea of your caring about the price of lobsters! Louisa. And the utter absurdity of the idea of giving up a party that you might buy soup-tickets for beggars! P. F. Still, I did myself the honour of requesting you to assign those reasons, and when we are playing a game, let us play by rule. Matilda. Well, I felt that, dear, so I have put it all in. Bob. Is that French, Governor ? P. F. Yes, Sir. Bob. All right. I only asked for information. P. F. Nobody wants information more. Take that, Sir. Well MATILDA, let us see. "Considerations of health, economy, and philanthropy necessitate the postponement of the festivity contemplated on the 30th instant." You are a credit to your governess, my love; and, by the way, here is the watch I promised you. Matilda. You duck! M. F. You goose! Why, a stiff and stilted stuck-up message like that a lump of starch, I may say-would make people think it was a hoax, or that you had gone cracky. Bob. Well, I feel that, as MATILDA says, so I have expressed myself ARCHBISHOP MANNING, O.CE. (off to the Ecumenical), has let fly a Punch's notice, except the amazing and exulting declaration by the Archbishop that England is rapidly returning to love and veneration for ST. THOMAS A'BECKETT, of Canterbury! We certainly had not heard of the fact. There is a very good scene of Canterbury Cathedral in MR. HALLIDAY'S excellent drama of Little Em'ly, which view, and the attractions of the play, crowd the Olympic; but we have inquired of the intelligent box-keepers (no fees) whether they hear any expressions of adoration of A'BECKETT, and they inform us that they do not. subject, and he states that there is only the average attendance of We have written to the admirable DEAN OF CANTERBURY on the visitors to the Cathedral, and nobody has prostrated himself over the little square bit of stone said to mark the spot where the turbulent and mischievous THOMAS ceased to be either. We think the Archbishop must have made a mistake in the name, and that it is the increasing admiration of English folk for the wholesome wit in the works of GILBERT A'BECKETT that has been mentioned to DR. MANNING. We overlook the mistake, as we always deal respectfully with a scholar, but we must trouble the Archbishop not to call THOMAS A'BECKETT a saint any more, inasmuch as DR. LINGARD, a Catholic historian, informs us that in 1538 a Catholic King solemnly deposed THOMAS from his saint-ship, stating that he had been "guilty of rebellion, contumacy, and treason, and had been killed in a riot excited by his own obstinacy and intemperate language." We are sorry to have to reprove the Archbishop for flying in the face of a Catholic decretal. NEW MAYORS. LOOKING through a list of Chief Magistrates elected on the ninth by various municipalities thoughout England, it is pleasant to find that Birmingham has a PRIME one, and to read of Joy reigning at Leeds, but a little depressing to note that the Mayor of Manchester is GRAVE, and of Ipswich GRIMWADE. Exeter is to be ruled by a KING, Colchester by a BISHOP, and Bideford by a PEDLER. There is a BERRY at Coventry, a NUTT at Droitwich, a THORNE at Barnstaple, and a BIRD at Stratfordon-Avon. St. Ives's Mayor is YOUNG, but then Nottingham trusts to OLDKNOW. At Newbury let us hope there will be no disturbances during 1869-70 compelling his Worship to read the RYOTT Act; at Torrington harmony must prevail while LOVEBAND is in office; and though Stock port's Chief Magistrate is WILD, at Honiton they have got a man of the right STAMP. Cambridge should be gay with BALLS, and Newport carefully instructed by PINNOCK. Portsmouth cannot go wrong with a SHEPPARD to look after the flock, and Reading has done well to provide itself with a SPOKES-man. Should we have a dry summer, Rochester may be glad of its FOORD, and Ripon of its WELLS; nor can Staley bridge be the worse for possessing a KIRK. But of all the municipalities in the kingdom Hull pleases Mr. Punch the most; that enlightened town wisely choosing a Mayor after his own hearta Mayor who is WITTY! Donkey Driver (to nobody in particular). "LOOK AT THAT LAZY FRENCHMAN, A MAKING OF THEM POOR DUMB ANIMALS WORK FOR 'IS LIVIN'! WOT A SHOIME!! (To his Donkey.) GEE UP!" WHACK!! BANG!!! I WON'T BE AN EDILE. (The Tower Hamlets Hustings.) SCENA. Air-Allegro. I'm not a Roman Edile, I am a British Beadile. Esteem my office humble, In so far unlike Bumble. Allegro, vivace. No Artist, Sculptor, Architect, Recitative. A certain sort of people in this nation, Air-Allegretto. I never was at College, I glory to declare; Of statues I've no knowledge, For fountains I don't care. I'm glad to say of Beauty I've not the slightest sense; I deem it my sole duty THE EMPEROR seems to have found out the real way to show up M. ROCHEFORT. He is allowing him to exbibit himself by the light of his own Lanterne. Here is a description of the Great Irreconcileable by a contemporary, the Gaulois : "Tall, thin-very thin, thin as a skeleton. Head more than pale-of a colour not to be defined between the creamy white and greenish blue of the electric light. Cheek-bones prominent, eyes hollow, forehead high, a chin terminated with what the Yankees call a barbiche-uncombed into the bargain; an irregular nose-everything angular-hair like independent brushwood-short jacket-black hat." The first part of this pretty pen-and-ink portrait 'reminds one of THOMAS CARLYLE's wonderful word-picture of ROBESPIERRE, "The Sea-green Incorruptible." Let us hope M. ROCHEFORT is as incorruptible as he is irreconcileable and sea-green. "I DON'T KNOW NOTHINK ABOUT HART, AND PAINTERS, AN' SCULPCHERS, AN' HARCHITEX, AN' MARKET GARDENERS, AN' SUCH LIKE. MY DOOTY'S TO TAKE CARE OF THE MONEY!" |