The Comic Almanack, Volume 1 / An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities

Beware of false prophets, who predict of the times, which, but for thy simplicity, would be for them "out of joint"—of the seasons, of which they know not, save that they yield them a profitable harvest,—and of the winds, for which they care not, so that they blow them good; but turn from them awhile, and regard the Hieroglyphicum in Obscuro I here set before thee, and the interpretation thereof; and, if it come not as I predict, thou may'st guess the reason why. Unlucky planets rule the State Kitchen; and the great kettle being filled by Aquarius, with Sol in opposition, an unfriendly boil is produced, which maketh the place so hot that the Cooks find it hard to stay within, though loth to go out. Moreover, being of one mind as to the making of a mess, but differing as to the manner thereof, they have fallen to fighting, to settle the question, and are all going to pot together. By a touch of my wand, behold them transmogrified into a Lamb's head, served with a plentiful dressing of strong Durham mustard, a little Jack clinging to the side, as though he wished himself out of this pretty kettle of fish, and a fowl, though, by his looks, no chicken, attempting his escape in the form of a winged Cupid. He does not like his company, and has made his bow—behold it in his hand. Another fish, more like a Sir John than a sturgeon, seems as though his berth was far from pleasant. The Mistress, alarmed by the noise, comes to the window to see what is the matter; an ancient Master Cook, from Arthur's, stands, ladle in hand, his fingers itching to skim the scum off as it rises. An old Kitchen Maid, who, though pensioned off, will still have a finger in every pie, hath been stirring the fire with a worn-out broom-handle, (perchance she hath slyly put in a pinch of gunpowder) and is now playing the part of blow-bellows. She seemeth, by the satisfactionated curl of her nose, to be happy to see them all in hot water.

Now, as to the application hereof, every man must judge for himself; but of a verity it doth to me appear, that too many cooks will spoil any broth. And, while I speak of cookery, let me advise thee as to thy treatment of that which a departed wiseacre denominated the "worse than useless root." If, rejecting his advice, none but this fruit will content thee, let me counsel thee to follow my example—having well roasted my Murphy, I take him "cum grano salis." Now, touching other mundane matters, thou wilt herein find copious instructions, sage predictions, and wholesome advice, on which thou mayest surely rely, though I am no M.N.S., which can but mean Member of No Society.

CHRISTMAS PIECES.
A Soliloquial Care-all.

Here come December and the brats again! what pain! rushing like untamed kittens o'er a cataract. Tables turn'd, bottles broke, cups crack'd—All conspire to add to my distractions, to shew their skill in Christmas pieces, and in fractions.

Mamma had kept the house in Duke Street for more than two years. I recollected some of the chairs and tables, from dear old Squiggle, and the bowl in which I had made that famous rum-punch, the evening she went away, which she and my sisters left untouched, and I was obliged to drink after they were gone; but that's not to the purpose.

Think of my sister Mary's luck! That chap, Waters, fell in love with her, and married her; and she now keeps her carriage, and lives in state near Squiggle. I offered to make it up with Waters; but he bears malice, and never will see or speak to me. He had the impudence, too, to say that he took in all letters for mamma at Squiggle; and that, as mine were all begging letters, he burned them, and never said a word to her concerning them. He allowed mamma fifty pounds a year, and, if she were not such a fool, she might have had three times as much; but the old lady was high and mighty, forsooth, and would not be beholden, even to her own daughter, for more than she actually wanted. Even this fifty pounds she was going to refuse; but when I came to live with her, of course I wanted pocket money as well as board and lodging, and so I had the fifty pounds for my share, and eked out with it as well as I could.

Old Bates and the Captain, between them, gave mamma a hundred pounds when she left me (she had the deuce's own luck, to be sure—much more than ever fell to me, I know), and as she said she would try and work for her living, it was thought best to take a house and let lodgings, which she did. Our first and second floor paid us four guineas a week, on an average; and the front parlour and attic made forty pounds more. Mamma and Eliza used to have the front attic; but I took that, and they slept in the servants' bed room. Lizzy had a pretty genius for work, and earned a guinea a week that way; so that we had got nearly two hundred a year over the rent to keep house with,—and we got on pretty well. Besides, women eat nothing; my women didn't care for meat for days together sometimes,—so that it was only necessary to dress a good steak or so for me.

Mamma would not think of my continuing in the Post-office. She said her dear John, her husband's son, her gallant soldier, and all that, should remain at home, and be a gentleman—which I was, certainly, though I didn't find fifty pounds a year very much to buy clothes and be a gentleman upon; to be sure, mother found me shirts and linen, so that that wasn't in the fifty pounds. She kicked a little at paying the washing too; but she gave in at last, for I was her dear John, you know; and I'm blest if I could not make her give me the gown off her back. Fancy! once she cut up a very nice rich black silk scarf, which my sister Waters sent her, and made me a waistcoat and two stocks of it. She was so very soft, the old lady!

I'd lived in this way for five years or more, making myself content with my fifty pounds a year (perhaps, I'd saved a little out of it; but that's neither here nor there). From year's end to year's end I remained faithful to my dear mamma, never leaving her except for a month or so in summer, when a bachelor may take a trip to Gravesend or Margate, which would be too expensive for a family. I say a bachelor, for the fact is, I don't know whether I am married or not—never having heard a word since of the scoundrelly Mrs. Stubbs.

I never went to the public house before meals; for, with my beggarly fifty pounds, I could not afford to dine away from home; but there I had my regular seat, and used to come home pretty glorious, I can tell you. Then, bed till eleven; then, breakfast and the newspaper; then, a stroll in Hyde Park or Saint James's; then, home at half-past three to dinner, when I jollied, as I call it, for the rest of the day. I was my mother's delight; and thus, with a clear conscience, I managed to live on.

How fond she was of me, to be sure! Being sociable myself, and loving to have my friends about me, we often used to assemble a company of as hearty fellows as you would wish to sit down with, and keep the nights up royally. "Never mind, my boys," I used to say, "send the bottle round: mammy pays for all," as she did, sure enough; and sure enough we punished her cellar too. The good old lady used to wait upon us, as if for all the world she had been my servant, instead of a lady and my mamma. Never used she to repine, though I often, as I must confess, gave her occasion (keeping her up till four o'clock in the morning, because she never could sleep until she saw her "dear Bob" in bed, and leading her a sad anxious life). She was of such a sweet temper, the old lady, that I think in the course of five years I never knew her in a passion, except twice; and then with sister Lizzy, who declared I was ruining the house, and driving the lodgers away, one by one. But mamma would not hear of such envious spite on my sister's part. "Her Bob" was always right, she said. At last Lizzy fairly retreated, and went to the Waterses,—I was glad of it, for her temper was dreadful, and we used to be squabbling from morning till night.

Ah, those were jolly times! but ma was obliged to give up the lodging-house at last—for, somehow, things went wrong after my sister's departure—the nasty uncharitable people said, on account of me; because I drove away the lodgers by smoking and drinking, and kicking up noises in the house; and because mamma gave me so much of her money:—so she did, but if she would give it, you know, how could I help it? Heigho! I wish I'd kept it.

No such luck.—The business I thought was to last for ever; but at the end of two years a smash came—shut up shop—sell off everything. Mamma went to the Waterses: and, will you believe it, the ungrateful wretches would not receive me! that Mary, you see, was so disappointed at not marrying me. Twenty pounds a year they allow, it is true; but what's that for a gentleman? For twenty years I have been struggling manfully to gain an honest livelihood, and, in the course of them, have seen a deal of life, to be sure. I've sold segars and pocket-hand-kerchiefs at the corners of streets; I've been a billiard-marker; I've been Director (in the panic year) of the Imperial British Consolidated Mangle and Drying Ground Company. I've been on the stage (for two years as an actor, and about a month as a cad, when I was very low); I've been the means of giving to the police of this empire some very valuable information (about licensed victuallers, gentlemen's carts, and pawnbrokers' names); I've been very nearly an officer again—that is, an assistant to an officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex: it was my last place.

On the last day of the year 1837, even that game was up. It's a thing that has very seldom happened to a gentleman, to be kicked out of a sponging-house; but such was my case. Young Nabbs (who succeeded his father) drove me ignominiously from his door, because I had charged a gentleman in the coffee-rooms seven-and-sixpence for a glass of ale and bread and cheese, the charge of the house being only six shillings. He had the meanness to deduct the eighteen-pence from my wages, and, because I blustered a bit, he took me by the shoulders and turned me out—me, a gentleman, and, what is more, a poor orphan!

How I did rage and swear at him when I got out in the street!—There stood he, the hideous Jew monster, at the double door, writhing under the effect of my language. I had my revenge! Heads were thrust out of every bar of his windows, laughing at him. A crowd gathered round me, as I stood pounding him with my satire, and they evidently enjoyed his discomfiture. I think the mob would have pelted the ruffian to death (one or two of their missiles hit me, I can tell you), when a policeman came up, and, in reply to a gentleman, who was asking what was the disturbance, said, "Bless you, Sir, it's Lord Cornwallis." "Move on, Boots," said the fellow to me, for, the fact is, my misfortunes and early life are pretty well known—and so the crowd dispersed.

"What could have made that policeman call you Lord Cornwallis and Boots?" said the gentleman, who seemed mightily amused, and had followed me. "Sir," says I, "I am an unfortunate officer of the North Bungay Fencibles, and I'll tell you willingly for a pint of beer." He told me to follow him to his chambers at the Temple, which I did (a five pair back), and there, sure enough, I had the beer; and told him this very story you've been reading. You see he is what is called a literary man—and sold my adventures for me to the booksellers: he's a strange chap; and says they're moral.

I'm blest if I can see anything moral in them. I'm sure I ought to have been more lucky through life, being so very wide awake. And yet here I am, without a place, or even a friend, starving upon a beggarly twenty pounds a year—not a single sixpence more, upon my honour.

"Well, I never!—this the Great Western Railway: the Paddington Station? What a beautiful place:—ugh! ugh! ugh!—and that's the engine: did I ever!—What a funny noise it makes; and what elegant carriages—all plate-glass and silk-lace!" Thus rattled a lively little matron, as fine as a milliner's pattern-doll, to her dapper lord and master, as they seated themselves vis-à-vis, in the nine-o'clock down train, first-class, on the morning of the last anniversary of Ascot Cup Day. Anon they were darting onwards for their destination, and again the dame's loquacities were at high pressure. "It is charming, and that's all about it: for all the world like travelling by balloon; and as free from dust and dirt as if one was borne through the air. Why, we shall get down, I do declare, as clean as new pins." "No danger of being soiled on this line, marm," remarked a stout personage in nankeen leggings, a wig, and a very red face, "'cause why, we escape Staines and avoid Slough, you know: ha! ha!"

At the end of five-and-forty minutes, bump, bump, bump, and a hissing, as of a universe of boa-constrictors, were succeeded by the interrogatory, from officials in green and much brass, of—"Now Windsor?" and all the crew bound for the races descended of course. Then rose the clamour of 'bus cads and go-cart touters—

when, after a scuffle, and some energetic demonstrations, our little dame and second-self found themselves once more in company with the gentleman in the leggings and red face. The trio were seated in a lateral inconvenience on enormous wheels, the charioteer, with his behind before them, urging to utmost speed a gaunt but sinewy bit of blood, who flew onwards as if a herd of hungry wolves were at his haunches. Our travellers were soon on the best of terms: good fellowship generally results when people are thus thrown together. Windsor was quickly reached, and as they turned the corner beyond the White Hart, which leads to Ascot, an equipage at the door of the hostelry attracted, by its splendour, the go-carter's attention. "That's L——'s carriage," said the married male; "he that cut such a dash last season; gave balls to one half of London;"—"and rifled the other," rejoined the man with the rosy countenance: it was manifest that he was a wag. "A correct list of all the wonderful high-bred horses, and how they will come in for every heat during the day." "The modern Hercules, ladies and gentlemen; the modern Hercules: he will take and tie that ere donkey to this here ladder, and balance the astonishing conjunction on the tip of his nose. Waiting for a ha'penny, ladies and gentlemen; make it another brown, and—up—he—goes." Such is the chorus of the Olympic song, chanted what time Ascot celebrates her right-royal revels; but we tarry not for the ladder, or the staves.

Through streets of canvas caravanseras, all soliciting their custom, our tria juncta reach the ropes as the word runs along the lines, "The Queen is coming!" "Let me see her," ejaculated the lady voyager: "bless her heart! it was for that I came here; and is that Her Majesty? She is a darling, that's what she is! so amiable, so kind-looking, and so little to be a queen!" "And who is that in green, with the costly golden couples over his shoulders?" "Oh, that's the master of the dear hounds." "And all those lovely, smiling ladies?" "More of the sweet." "Clear the course, clear the course!" and straightway there is a movement of gold, precious stones, silk, and paradise plumes, enough to astonish the Genii of the Wonderful Lamp.

"Here they come!" Grey Momus, and Epirus, and Caravan, with "little Pavis, the rara avis." "Another round for it. Well done, grey; hurrah! dismal jacket." "Who's the favourite?" "The belles are all for Bowes; I'm for Suffield, he's such a good fellow." "I'm for Lord George, he's a better." "Hurrah! splendid race." "Oh! you villain, you've stolen my watch; but I've got you, and I'll give it you." "That ere's never no prigging. Didn't I hear you promise to give it him?" "Get away, do—you'll break the springs: you're not to climb up my steps for a stare." The Royal Stand is now vacated, and the cause reaches our little inquisitive friend. "Her Majesty has retired to luncheon." "Law, is she, indeed! how I should like to see her eat: I'm dying to know what sort of meals they provide for her." "All the delicacies in season," explained the wit, with a sinister smile, "and Lamb the whole year round." The matchless cavalcade has passed in all its gorgeous simplicity, bearing the cynosure of all eyes, where waves the banner of St. George a welcome to

This, and a rain, descending à l'Anglaise, gave notice to quit to all save those who, by the grace of Mackintosh and neat brandy, had set the elements at defiance. "Let us return to our conveyance," said the lively little matron, "and make our way back to the station of the Great Western Railway; my parasol is wet through already." "Here is the spot where we left it," ejaculated her spruce and dapper lord and master, "and no trace of it can I discover: what is to be done now? And the rascal was paid beforehand for stopping." "You could hardly have expected he would stay, however," remarked the stout personage in the nankeen leggings, the wig, and the very red face, proving thereby that he was not only a wit but a philosopher; "you could hardly, in reason, expect the vehicle to stop so long. You should remember it was a Go-cart."

January 15.—A tradesman at the West End was thrown into convulsions, by the surprise of receiving payment of a Christmas bill!

February 9.—An elderly "Signer of Fives," who has, for thirty years past, walked from Walworth to the Bank, without picking up one new idea by the way, hearing that a deputation of paper-makers had applied to Mr. Murphy for a little more rain to make their wheels go round, exclaimed, "Don't tell me, they never can need it; have I not wanted my umbrella every morning for above a week?"

March 15.—The City Forensic Club applied to the Court of Aldermen for a contribution; the grant was opposed by one of the Court, on the ground that they could have nothing to spare for any Foreign-sick Society while there was so much illness at home.

The same gentleman thought it his duty to inform the Court, that there was a report on 'Change of an alarming rise in Sperma-City. He said he had been taken from school so long ago, that he had forgotten its locality, and requested the Remembrancer to remind him. That learned gentleman, after referring to a map, said he could not exactly find the place, but he believed it was somewhere in Wales.

April 1.—At the annual meeting of the Humane Society, medals were offered for the quickest method of putting disappointed authors out of their misery—for the means of supplying aldermen, at city feasts, with hot dinners, and—for the best plan for relieving the baronets from the agonies they are suffering, on account of their neglected claims.

May 15.—Legacy extraordinary.—A poor old woman, living at Clapham, a few weeks ago, was given over by the doctor. Her only anxiety was for her grandson, a scapegrace lad whom she had brought up, and of whom she was the only relative. He had been placed under the care of a neighbouring waggoner, and the man was sent for. "Thomas," said the old woman, "I feel that I'm not long here, and I fear for Dick when I'm gone. He's a wild lad, and I've nothing to leave him, but I hope you'll look after him,"—the man nodded assent,—"and try to make a good lad of him,"—nod—"and do your duty by him,"—nod again,—"and now and then do give him a cut or two!" The authorities at Somerset House have not yet been troubled to fix the duty payable on this bequest.

June 15.—The following advertisement having appeared in the daily papers, "Found—The wig and gown of a barrister unknown," the place of reference was next day blocked up with applicants answering the description.

July 21.—Lord Durham, in the midst of the cares of his government, has not been unmindful of the promotion of science. Among other of his original projects was one for exporting Canada geese, and domesticating them in the Bermudas. It was discovered, however, that the attempt was not likely to succeed, since his Lordship, though he might send them, could not make them stay there.

August 9.—The recent default in Clerkenwell parish has been the cause of the following notice on the Church doors:—"The inhabitants are requested to remember when their taxes were collected, or they will be recollected."

October 1.—The Greenwich Pensioners who have lost their legs, this day presented a petition to the Commissioners of Woods and Forests praying to be re-membered.

November 15.—The Linendrapers' Shopmen held a public meeting to agitate for earlier hours. Some of the masters, who attended, manifested a very unaccommodating spirit, and seemed inclined to subject their complaint to that dangerous system of treatment, counter-irritation.

December 7.—Lord Durham safely arrived at his house in Cleveland Row this day. We can vouch for the accuracy of the following particulars. His Lordship, as he alighted, was observed to look up and down the street, in an impressive manner, and nodded his head significantly to the porter who stood to receive him—there seemed to be something in it. His Lordship passed rapidly through the hall, upstairs, and shortly after his dressing-room bell was heard to ring. Our reporter, who was stationed at the window of the opposite house, was not able to ascertain who answered it, but he observed servants pass out in various directions, and one of them, by his anxious looks, seemed to manifest peculiar solicitude. Soon afterwards, a butcher's boy presented himself at the area, with a tray containing three mutton chops; he received some communication from within, and disappeared rapidly, but shortly returned, bearing a leg of mutton. No movement of importance being observed for the next seven minutes, our reporter withdrew to the nearest public-house for refreshment, and had scarcely taken his seat, when a servant, in his Lordship's livery, entered, and whispered to the man at the bar. The words were not heard, but the pot-boy was observed to leave the house in great haste, having in his tray three pints of half-and-half. It was rumoured in the private public room, where our reporter was making his notes, that his Lordship's return was not attributable to political causes solely, but to the dread of a Canadian winter; for that, though he was amply furnished with warm feather beds, he had been disappointed in receiving a supply of bolsters from home.—[Intended for a Morning Paper.]

The principal novel publishers at the West End announce that, in the course of the ensuing season, they will publish a great many fictions on reduced terms. These will all be derived from the most authentic sources of information, arrangements having been made with several retired lady's-maids for original communications, and the contents of all slop-pails, sent under cover, will be considered confidential, and used with discretion. Gentlemen's gentlemen, who have dismissed their masters, and are of a literary turn, will meet with every encouragement.

The Marquis of Waterford is preparing for publication a new edition of Wild Sports of the West, with original illustrations.

Early in the new year will be published,