ODE TO THE BULLET THAT DID NOT SHOOT THE KING OF HANOVER. BY SIR TICKELEM TENDER. "At the King's late hunting party, the fowling-piece that was standing near His Majesty went off, in consequence of the jolting of the car O little ball, riage, and the ball passed but a few inches from the King's head."-Letter from Hanover. Fatal as forty-pounder though but small! Yet all-sufficient, lodged in brain or gullet, Whom hosts are hissing, Our hopes, as well as their's, alas! are wrecked. Thus easy ridded of a King in petto! Like to his head, Else hadst thou twigged that tyrant sternest, The Reverend Dr. Dionysius O'Lardner's style epistolary is a fine specimen of the effrontery which is characteristic of a large portion of his countrymen. "A number of ladies of the highest distinction were eager to enjoy the pleasure of his conversation." Yes, drivelling, pseudoscientific dotards, doubtless! No man ever sought his company, or thought of him otherwise than as a feebleminded fribble, and antiquated beau. What the gentler sex could see in an overdressed "forked radish," with green eyes, a sickly, whey face, a transparent wig, and a most disgust ing obtrusiveness of manner, we cannot perceive. But hold, gentle devil." Yes, they saw in him the man whose name was prefixed to a score of books! Ye, who aspire to be gay Lotharios, get distinguished for anything-we do not mean solid reputation-but " get your names up," if it were only for tenth-rate strutting in a barn, or the wholesale poisoning of a parish with Morrison's pills, and you are sure to be successful with the bulk of the sex, which is as easily captivated as a turkey by the dangling of, a showy rag! Yes, Colonel Hodges, to his words To pin the Viceroy try! The absurd minuteness of modern journalism has diffused the penny-a-lining system over the entire of our "broad-sheets." The most paltry particulars connected with Louis Napoleon's political farce have been noted down with as much infinitesimal fidelity of detail, as was employed in the olden time in commemorating the exploits of British valour in the Peninsula. The various uniforms of the prince's valets have been most accurately described, and soda-water and ginger-beer bottles have been summed up to a cipherin which respect, alas! they resemble the poor Prince! Vauban's will soon become a vulgar science. Every man in Paris will soon have artillery within his reach! In all the recent articles of the Journal des Debats upon the Eastern question, there is a ridiculous hankering after the good opinion of England. "What will the Chronicle say of this ?”—“ What will the Times say of this?"-such have been the questions which Bertin has put to himself daily and hourly in his bureau. This is quite as absurd in one extreme, as the Bombastes Furioso vein of the Thiersist Journals on the other. Let Palmy once to Mounseer truckle, To all the earth we soon must knuckle. Gadzooks! we've roses, shamrocks, thistles To prick French braggarts, brawlers, Pistols; If Palmy e'er to Mounseer truckle, Lord! how his hide we'll cuff and knuckle. When were our palmy days? Oh, damme, Ere protocols were writ by Palmy! BORING EXTRAORDINARY.The Paris papers assert that the greatest boring instrument in the world is now at work at the Abattoir de Grenelle, where the Artesian well is being constructed. It has already penetrated to the depth of 508 metres, or 1666 feet. It requires four horses and twelve men to keep the apparatus in action; and it is daily hoped to see water burst up. A mere gimlet like this the greatest bore! Pooh, pooh! They can never have heard of the Member for Kilkenny. True, he has not the depth of an Artesian well, nor the slightest pretension to depth at all; and equally true is it that he is utterly incapable both of penetration and penetrability; yet JOE is, nevertheless, the only veritable Brobdignag Bore in existence. We have a strong intention of reviving the Bore's Head in East Cheap, and employing our friend Leech to transfer the winning lineaments of the Member for Kilkenny to wood, as a most fitting sign-post (ligneum sacrum), which we have no doubt would be a capital financial arrangement; and assuredly we should be considered in the light of national benefactors, could we only seduce JOE to spend a few of his evenings in our comfortable back parlour over a pipe and a pot of heavy wet, instead of boring the Third Estate with his pseudo-arithmetical garbage. The Frenchman has bored nearly a mile without one burst of water, while JoE, although certainly "not" as profound as a drawwell, is a capital ready-made pump, that Cicero expresses his surprise that the Augurs of ancient Rome could meet each other without laughing outright in each other's face. We are equally surprised at the passive rencontres of those modern Augurs, or Bores (or Ogres, if you will), JOE HUME and SMITH O'BRAY-on. "Coolly spouts, and spouts, and spouts away, In one weak, washy, everlasting flood!" VOL. II. his late return from Eglintoun, re-Lord Waterford, shortly after suming his old tricks, was hauled up before the Marlborough-street magistrates, for knocking down a policeman, when, as usual, he had "the devil's luck and his own," and escaped with the payment of three or number waz E 50, and out of this he four sovereigns. The policeman's manufactured a very passable joke. Upon driving home to breakfast in his cab, which remained for him at the police-office door: "Well, Watty," said his fine old venerable uncle, "what new scrape have you got yourself into now?" Oh, nothing, nothing (was the reply) a mere trifle! Got among only knocked down FIFTY!" some saucy fellows last night, and ROCK IN LONDON.-An individual, named Rock, has created a terrible sensation amongst the members of the Corporation of London, by blowing them up in petitions to the House of Commons, and otherwise, for exclusive trading. The secret of Rock's patriotism is, that he is not permitted the privilege of Rock exclusive dealing himself. threatens to deprive the corporation of the conservancy of the Thames. The next thing Rock will do will be to set fire to the river! R FASHIONABLE ennui, which, being interpreted, means universal apathy and disgust, reminds one hugely of the story of the soldier undergoing the punishment of the lash, whom," strike high, strike low," nothing could please. In the West End world, during the season, one meets almost every where the same persons. Go from park to park, from square to square, the drawing room population in èlite circles is almost always the same. Ask a friend whether Lady So-and-so's ball was a pleasant affair! The answer is disdainful: "Why, nothing extraordinary-the same faces that one meets every where else." The very same person, criticizing the next ball, will probably apply to it a most contradictory reproach: "It was a frightful affair -not a soul of my acquaintance was there." This it is to be au courant of fashionable life. If you know every one there, your curiosity is not in the least stimulated-you are unexcited-unamused; if you know no one, you are overwhelmed with ennui. It is extraordinary with what ra [1840. pidity any striking new cant term travels over the Continent of Europe. The expression used by young men on meeting each other, "Old fellow!"-" Old boy!" had no sooner come into general use in London than it was imported to Paris, and flourishes there still in the familiar phrases, "Vieux garçon !" "Vieux gamin!" "Comment ça va, vieux garçon !" The phrase, "You're another," has been also recently imported to Paris, and is now in general use there-" Vous en êtes un autre !"-"How's your mother?" has likewise been transplanted to the soil of France, where it flourishes in somewhat of a politer form; "Comment se porte Madame vôtre mère ?" The "order of merit" which Her Majesty was said to entertain the intention of instituting, to be conferred upon individuals who have done service to their country in forwarding the Arts and Sciences (Literature, we presume, as a matter of course to be included), has not, we trust, been quite lost sight of. It was announced for the occasion of the Royal Marriage. How gracefully would it not commemorate the Royal Christening. Let us also ask what has become of the projected restoration of the female branch of the illustrious Order of the Garter? I WENT TO THE VALE. BT THEODORE DE BRUNNE. I went to the vale where the nightingale dwells, But where was that presence, that spell of delight, I said to the birds, and the trees, and the flowers, "Though winter comes on and the summer fleets by, I felt then how false was refinement and art, I wept, too, to think that those joys when possessed, A NOBLE SMUGGLER: We Lord Duffus re into Barrogill Castle, and wrote an THE WORKHOUSE FAIR. 66 Few persons, who, with legs stretched on the fender, yawn and stare at the ceiling, whistling at intervals "for want of thought," have a notion that the virgin white (as the case may be) or stained and smoky plaster, should suggest religious thoughts. Yet so it is in the eyes of a philologist. The word ceiling" is derived from the Italian "cielo," which is interpreted to mean heaven or paradise, but which that pious people also use to denote not only the ceiling of a room, but the tester of a bed. "Cielo del letto," is the only expression known in Italy for " tester." By the way, as I am in the mood philological, I may as well give the derivation of this latter word, which is very little known. It comes from an old French word "testier," derived from "teste," the old form of “tête,” and thus means "what is placed over Our fair readers will be enchanted with a waltz dedicated to the lovers of dashing execution in piano-forte music, and adorned with an exceedingly clever frontispiece from the brilliant pencil of Leech, representing "Liszt, Liszt, oh Liszt," seated at the piano, and calling in his left foot in aid of his magical 10-we had almost written 100-fingers. The music is a a very pleasing waltz, by Valentine, but the illustration is in itself a gem., without which no musical album is complete. |