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

FAT CATTLE SHOW.

December should be a cheerful month, weather or no. It should be a warm one too, though never so cold. People blow their fires and use their bellows within, while the wind bellows without. Lawyers are glad over Coke. Men take measures to secure the comfort of their bodies, and preserve the coats of their stomachs. Though the Legislature does not sit, the middle classes rejoice in the carrying of many of their bills. Pastrycooks begin to mince matters; and "eyes" are turned towards "pies." Politicians affect sincerity; and Peel, tout sweet, becomes candid. Gross acts of plum-puddingizing are effected by means of a grocer; and Plum-tree-street is then the sweetest locality in St. Giles's. The Irish daily find fresh raisins for flocking there. With the sale of plums money gets current; but the sovereign is just now more valued than ever, and, at the great theatres, Stirling is all the go. The markets grow lively, and Smithfield puts forth its show. Pigs have lots of stuffing, and get so heavy that it is quite common to ask for a pig of lead. About oxen and sheep there is a decided ignis fat-you-us. Beasts visit beasts, and human fat cattle—to survey the quadrupedal—walk in, plump. Butchers display fine traits. Boxing day arrives, and with it the knocks of tradesmen, but they only make a hit when they are paid. People are obliged to wait for their own Nox till night. Merry drinks and games then stir not the fire, but the fire-side. The younger branches of families are indulged in wine that is elder, universal supperage supplies the place of universal suffrage; and the only ballot is for the bean in the cake. Christmas is as brave a fellow on land as ever Admiral Winter was at sea, and should be toasted accordingly. He lights our fires, and leaves few without fuel:—he tows up our colliers to warm our toes; and, though he is too kind to sink the barges, he always scuttles the coals! He is no revolutionist, for, whilst warming the little, he has a respect for the grate. "He is," says the Frenchman, "our defender, by de fender; and if he do seem cold, it is only because he is neither a bore nor a muff."

Tuggeridge vowed that I should finish my days there, when he put me in prison. It appears that we both had reason to be ashamed of ourselves, and were, thank God! I learned to be sorry for my bad feelings towards him, and he actually wrote to me, to say,—

"Sir,—I think you have suffered enough for faults which, I believe, do not lie with you, so much as your wife; and I have withdrawn my claims which I had against you while you were in wrongful possession of my father's estates. You must remember that when, on examination of my father's papers, no will was found, I yielded up his property, with perfect willingness, to those who I fancied were his legitimate heirs. For this I received all sorts of insults from your wife and yourself (who acquiesced in them); and when the discovery of a will in India proved my just claims you must remember how they were met, and the vexatious proceedings with which you sought to oppose them.

"I have discharged your lawyer's bill; and, as I believe you are more fitted for the trade you formerly exercised than for any other, I will give five hundred pounds for the purchase of a stock and shop when you shall find one to suit you.

"I enclose a draft for twenty pounds, to meet your present expenses. You have, I am told, a son, a boy of some spirit; if he likes to try his fortune abroad, and go on board an Indiaman, I can get him an appointment; and am, Sir, your obedient servant,

It was Mrs. Breadbasket, the housekeeper, who brought this letter, and looked mighty contemptuous as she gave it.

"I hope, Breadbasket, that your master will send me my things, at any rate," cries Jemmy. "There's seventeen silk and satin dresses, and a whole heap of trinkets, that can be of no earthly use to him."

"Don't Breadbasket me, mem, if you please, mem. My master says that them things is quite obnoxious to your spere of life. Breadbasket, indeed!" and so she sailed out.

Jemmy hadn't a word; she had grown mighty quiet since we had been in misfortune: but my daughter looked as happy as a queen; and Tug, when he heard of the ship, gave a jump that nearly knocked down poor Orlando. "Ah, I suppose you'll forget me now," says he, with a sigh; and seemed the only unhappy person in company.

"Why, you conceive, Mr. Crump," says my wife, with a great deal of dignity, "that, connected as we are, a young man born in a work——"

"Woman!" cried I (for once in my life determined to have my own way), "hold your foolish tongue. Your absurd pride has been the ruin of us, hitherto; and, from this day, I'll have no more of it. Hark ye, Orlando, if you will take Jemimarann, you may have her; and if you'll take five hundred pounds for a half share of the shop, they're yours; and that's for you, Mrs. Coxe."

And here we are, back again. And I write this from the old back shop, where we are all waiting to see the new year in. Orlando sits yonder, plaiting a wig for my Lord Chief Justice, as happy as may be; and Jemimarann and her mother have been as busy as you can imagine all day long, and are just now giving the finishing touches to the bridal dresses; for the wedding is to take place the day after to-morrow. I've cut seventeen heads off (as I say) this very day; and as for Jemmy, I no more mind her than I do the Emperor of China and all his Tambarins. Last night we had a merry meeting of our friends and neighbours, to celebrate our re-appearance among them; and very merry we all were. We begun with quadrilles, but I never could do 'em well; and, after that, to please Mr. Crump and his intended, we tried a gallopard, which I found anything but easy: for since I am come back to a life of peace and comfort, it's astonishing how stout I'm getting; so we turned at once to what Jemmy and me excels in—a country dance; which is rather surprising, as we was both brought up to a town life. As for young Tug, he showed off in a sailor's hornpipe; which Mrs. Coxe says is very proper for him to learn, now he is intended for the sea. But stop! here comes in the punchbowls; and if we are not happy, who is? I say I am like the Swish people, for I can't flourish out of my native hair.

Jan. 9.—Discovery of the real Vegetable Pills:—A patient hoaxed the vendor, and, instead of taking them, sowed them in his garden. A fine crop of peas was the result. The man had been selling those pleasant vegetables, in boxes, disguised as pills by being covered with an outer coating of flour; but, from having been always in flower, they were now thoroughly blown!

In the north, a Coroner's inquest was held upon the body of a man who died from taking another kind of Vegetable Pills. On opening the body the interior was discovered to be one huge cabbage, of great dimensions, but dead, to its heart's core, of confinement and want of water—a beverage which the patient unfortunately never drank. The jury returned a verdict of "quits." "Quits, gentlemen!" exclaimed the dismayed Coroner—"never heard of such a thing! What do you mean?" "Why," replied the foreman, with some warmth, "we find that if the cabbage killed the man, the man most certainly killed the cabbage; and if that ain't quits, blow me!"

Jan. 24.—Her Majesty went on to the stage of Drury Lane Theatre, to inspect Van Amburgh and his beasts. The Queen was mistaken by many for the Lady of Lyons.

Feb. 18.—Maroto did a bit of important slaughter, and murdered twelve generals, upon the plea of the general welfare. Rather a contradictory reason; but Don Carlos entered France in consequence. They say his chiefs were bribed by a palmer's stone, and it is certain there was some palming, any way. The only commander that now sticks to him is Cabrera, and he's not unlikely to be upset.

March 3.—Vestris attempted to be blown up. A private box given her in her own theatre—loaded with combustibles. Drawing cover—and discovery in consequence.

May 21.—Procession of the Temperance Society.

May 23.—Queen Adelaide returned:—

June 30.—The Sultan of Turkey died of delirium tremens; the Father of the Faithful going drunk to the seventh heaven! His son—scion of the same die-nasty—ascended the throne; but taught, by example, not to wine, hid his grief and drowned his father's cellars in the Bosphorus. Shortly after this his whole fleet abstained from Port—and absconded to Mehemet Ali.

July 2.—Birmingham riots. A smart fire, but no "Burns's Justice,"—down-fall of much uphold-stery. Beds in flames—among the mattresses great destruction of tick—credit vanishing. Sacrifice of property not unlike sacking. Town in a storm.

July 21.—Rage for publishing portraits of the Queen—some in the Lane and some in the line-manner: some done by Doo, and some engraved by Cousins—not by Cousin George, or Cousin Albert,—not by a Prince man, but a man of Prints. But muzzy-tinto seems the favourite style.

Aug. 30.—The Cinque Ports gave a banquet to the Duke of Wellington, where they did not sink port at all; on the contrary, the feast was carried on with much wine, and a great deal of spirit; and, although the room was surrounded with banners, nothing was found to flag. There were plenty of rations, and orations, and Lord Brougham's Waterloo Eulogy was a eulogy of the first water.

Sept. 7.—The Secretary of War dated a letter from Windsor Castle, mistaking it for his Home Office. As it was, it was only a blunder, but he might as well have kissed Her Majesty by mistake, and then it would have been a blunder-buss.

Sept. 12.—Poulett Thomson went to Canada, in the Pique frigate; and many people were much piqued at the circumstance. The ejaculation of "Shiver my timbers!" became prevalent, at the same time, with the great wood-dealers of British America.

Sept. 22.—Pump locked up at Ramsgate, during divine service.

Sept. 28.—The Lord Mayor's chaplain preached his annual sermon before the Corporation; and took for his text, "A citizen of no mean city." The Corporation, however, got offended at the discourse, which induced them to withhold the usual fifty-pound donation. The sermon contained such a dressing that they considered themselves overdone; and, refusing to be rated after that fashion, took their own notes, but withheld the fifty. The reverend gentleman is now of opinion that they are citizens of a very mean city indeed; and, if he has not a text, he has, at least, a pretext for saying so.

Nov. 8.—Post-office arrangements proposed. Treasury issues one minute, which it takes twenty to read. Postage, not uniform, but promoted to a groat, to promote the circulation of fourpenny-pieces. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, having looked at the question in its every Baring—declines throwing the letters more open—to distribution. Nevertheless, correspondence will be so much increased, that this may be called a post age—and Lord Lichfield, A MAN OF LETTERS.

ASSOCIATION OF BRITISH ILLUMINATI, HELD AT
BIRMINGHAM, IN AUGUST, 1839.

[We have been requested to insert the following selections from the proceedings of the Institution, in consequence of the unhandsome conduct of some of the newspapers, in refusing to publish any further reports unless they were paid for as advertisements.]

A great feature, in the meeting this year, has been the elegant and intelligible simplicity of the subjects and papers discussed; the following are a few of the most interesting:—

Mr. Bewdlite's paper "On the retrograde Progression of vegetable Ærolites, supposed to be caused by the flowing Stagnation of diurnal Currents, coming in Contact with a Board of Guardians," was much admired; as well as Dr. Terncow's admirable paper "On the Tendency of extreme Nervous Filaments to form Photogenic Conventions," and "The Advantages derived from forcing condensed Air into the Brain, to sharpen the Powers of Hearing," by which means a whisper at Dover could be distinctly heard at Boulogne.

Under the head of Section W, an interesting report was read by Dr. Buckleband, on some important geological and antiquarian discoveries, which were made, in the neighbourhood of Holborn, by the workmen employed in a lying down gas-pipes. It appeared that, at the depth of six feet below the mud formation, having passed through a stratum of London dirt, teeming with interesting reliquiæ of blacking-bottles and tobacco-pipes, in a fine state of petrifaction, together with traces of decayed vegetable matter, interspersed with bones of feline mammalia, they struck upon a mass of regular brickwork, which was, at first, supposed to be the remains of the Roman road which formerly ran from King's Cross to Evans's Hotel, in Covent Garden. On carefully removing the masonry, they arrived at a curiously constructed apartment, or cella, containing several dozen bottles, of modern form, reclining in sawdust round the walls. The wine in the bottles was found to be perfectly unimpaired by its long repose, and tasted fresh and sweet. One gentleman pronounced it to be the Massican wine so lauded by Pliny. Another, who had hitherto pretended to be a judge of old wine, stated that it was merely a compound of inferior port (fine rough flavour, 30s.) and red currant, with a small admixture of English brandy. The learned professor merely mentioned this absurd opinion as a matter of entertainment. One of the most singular features of this gratifying discovery, was one of the everlasting lamps, of which curious light a small jet was burning over the bins, with a flame exactly resembling gas. He expected a further report of their proceedings by the seven o'clock train. While the learned gentleman was speaking, the communication arrived. Much excitement prevailed as he read the paper; and one of the audience, in his nervous agitation, took another's snuff-box by mistake. It appeared that the workmen had descended, in company with several contributors to the "Gentleman's Magazine," and, following a long passage, similarly adorned with bottles, began to contemplate the idea of bringing to light an entire subterranean Roman city; probably destroyed by one of the early volcanic eruptions of the Mons Primula, or Primrose Hill, of the ancients. On ascending a flight of steps they came to a small door, which they eagerly forced open, and the astonished group found themselves in the "bottling department" of what had been apparently an early Roman "wine vaults."

Mr. Lyme Stone produced a fine fossil specimen of the claw of some extinct animal, which had been discovered by the excavators of the Southampton Railroad. He had shown it to the learned professor, who had drawn the entire animal from this single specimen; and, on comparing it with the Munkorsensauros, it was found to be correct, with the exception of the tail being curly instead of straight. Mr. Planecence inquired if it was not likely to be the claw of an eagle, in composition similar to those displayed in the New Road, where the two gentlemen, without any clothes, are represented as playing at single-stick. He was strengthened in this idea by observing an iron pin running through the claw, probably to fix it to the pedestal. Mr. Lyme Stone was sorry that the honourable and learned gentleman was such a confounded fool. The pin with which it was transfixed was evidently a weapon of chase, proving the existence of man upon the earth to be coeval with his desire for food.

An angry discussion would doubtless have taken place had not the hour sounded for dinner. The company speedily separated, and proved the superiority of the attraction that ducks and salmon possessed over inorganic incomprehensibles.

Hold thy breath lightly, while I outpour to thee, in gentle diction, my prediction of events. Behold the Hieroglyphic Interpreter of the symbols of the present and the future; and what a posse of things—both in posse and in esse—it closes and discloses under its mystic mantle. Imagine thyself, for a moment, like the topmost sails of some goodly vessel,—the moon-raker—the star-gazer—the sky-scraper of the Firm-i-meant; and peruse what my prophecy doth, by a ruse, foretel. See the signs of my designs. Now, high in the mid-heaven, behold Albertus Sagittarius as the Cupid Archer, driving his love-dart through the window of that constellatory hotel, known in great and little Britain by the sign of the Virgo and Crown. Behold the Miss is hit. This is portentous of hymen; but other high men, lo! are typified in those dejected falling stars, pursuing their downward decadence from the court-yard of the palatial Inn. Now, then, shall marriage spread wide its pinions among people of all opinions, and the cord of con-cord shall be tied. See that gorgeous hecatomb of hearts, which the young trump, Love, fires and inspires with fame and flame. He, behold, is the rightful Duke of Victoria; husbanding his resources, and yet setting the tide of conquest through the world. Baby linen becomes shortly at a premium, and my art foresees a prevalence of Sun and Air!

Whirled into fire, see the political world, and ire burst from the soil of Ire-land. In fancy, I behold the flames, now in in-fancy, mount and swell. Jack Frost sits melancholy mad, and burns his fingers by the blaze he essays to raise; but there are other Jacks that want roasting, which the courteous Reader will smoke. The broils are not over; and, though the fierceness of the fire of politics will not evaporate the Thames, yet, from Westminster to the Tower, it shall send forth a hissing noise.

But sit thou lightly on thy throne, Victoria! for the tumult shall be tumultum in parvo; and thy people, convinced that it was infra dig. to abandon the spade for the pike, and assume the habits of the rake, will leave the fields of speculation for those of agriculture; and their sons and daughters, emulating thy good example, will betake them to arts of husbandry, cast away their divisions for multiplication, and thus enjoy the Irish sunshine of a genial reign.