A PANIC AT THE BANK.
It was the 11th of November. It had been raining since three o'clock. A thick fog enveloped London. Horses smoked, as if in a terrible passion with the weather; and omnibuses rolled along, breaking for once their daily custom of stopping at every lamp-post on the way. I had a secret presentiment something strange would happen.
St. Paul's struck one—two—three—four o'clock. I counted them distinctly, one by one. They sounded like a death-knell. A dead silence ensued, invaded only by the cries of "Cl'pam!" "M'l'end!" that broke forth in fitful shouts from contending cads. I did not feel well. I was leaning against a lamp-post at the corner of the Bank—wet to the skin. My mind was very uneasy. I had that day accepted a bill. I was vowing within myself never to accept another, when a sudden noise—a fearful rush—recalled me to my senses. I looked around, and saw a large stream of human beings pouring, in fearful force, from the principal door of the Bank. Man seemed leagued in enmity against man—clerk looked on fellow-clerk with the lowering eyes of a malignant fiend. Their looks alarmed me. Not a policeman was in sight! What should I do? Was the Bank on fire? I had no money there, still there are moments when we can feel for others. It was like a human river broken from its bank, carrying ruin and terror wherever it went. Could it be a panic? I recollected my Julia had 500l. standing there in the suitable name of Smith. I dashed the drops of perspiration from my fevered brow. I endeavoured to recollect myself. It was but one effort. I determined, let it cost me what it would, to follow them to the end.
There were full two hundred beings. They formed one unbroken, moving mass. They were running, as if with one will, frantically together. Their speed was unnatural. The rain only made them run the faster. Not an umbrella had they amongst them. At last they reached the corner. The clerks behind ran as if for their very lives. I was alarmed, and ran after them, the agent of some mysterious fear. I lost sight of them for a moment. Again I saw them—and, oh! what a scene presented itself to me! A band of at least two hundred desperate clerks were struggling, fighting madly, to get admission all into one omnibus. Their screams were dreadful. One fat cashier was lying, dead or wounded, under the door-step, bathed in mud. Another was shouting in agony, at the door, unable to work his way out or in. Twenty or thirty clerks were climbing, to the imminent peril of their lives, on to the roof. At the same time a severe engagement was taking place amongst a determined dozen on the box, to decide by brutal force who should remain master of the one seat. In the algebraical fraction of a minute every place was invaded, and the omnibus rolled away before me, like some frightful dream. How many lives were lost I cannot tell. The subject was too painful to inquire into. I felt a degree of pity for the pettiness of human nature, and had a strong glass of brandy-and-water.
Never, as long as I live, shall I forget the 11th of November!
[This phenomenon, we have been told, is not so strange as it may appear. Let the curious reader only be present at the Bank, on the first rainy day, when the clock strikes four, and he will infallibly—should there be only one omnibus in waiting—witness the same desperate struggle for places as occurred to our German-minded correspondent on the memorable 11th. It is a very amusing sport, we have been told, to be a spectator (under an umbrella) of this animated clerk-race.]
LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM.
BY THE LATE DANIEL LAMBERT.
FINE ART DISTRIBUTION.
GARDENING FOR LADIES.
THE MAMMA'S CALENDAR FOR JULY.
Your daughters now demand your serious attention. Dress and plant them in rows for evening parties. Weed poor relations. Sift "Debrett's Peerage" well through, and do your best to nail the oldest branches. Lay traps for bets at races, and hoe young gentlemen for gloves. Calculate the advantages of foreign, as compared with English husbandry, and cultivate whichever promises to turn out best. Remove younger daughters to the nursery, and towards the 30th transplant young sprigs to narrow beds at preparatory schools. Cut your box at the opera, and look forward to spa watering for the autumn. Trim your old man well, if he does not come out handsomely: if the trimming should fail, forcing must be resorted to. Put your frames in muslin bags, and cart away loose furniture to the Pantechnicon. Graft slips on window-panes, labelled "To Let," and harrow your servants with board wages. Clear out your husband's purse, or if he is rather backward this year, transplant him to back kitchen; and, screening yourselves from exposure, drill policemen to say "the family have gone out of town."
THE HORTICULTURAL FATE.
NOTES OF A CONTINENTAL TOUR,
IN THE SUMMER OF 1844.
Happening to be at Ramsgate in the summer of 1844, and being much out of spirits at the loss of 4l. 10s. in raffles, for which I had won a card-rack—my mind, by-the-bye, has been upon the rack ever since—I determined on availing myself of an opportunity to visit the Continent, which the starting of an excursion boat to Calais on the following day held out to me.
I retired to my apartment at the hotel, and was soon wrapped in the arms of Morpheus and a pair of Witney blankets, from both of which I emerged at six, for our vessel was chartered to start precisely at seven. Having swallowed a hasty pint of shrimps and a rapid plate of bread and butter, washed down by a cup of tolerable Twankay, I threw my zephyr over my arm, lashed my hat to my button-hole by a piece of string, and flung myself on to a camp stool near the binnacle of the packet. Our captain was a thorough tar, with a white hat and a cotton pocket-handkerchief. He had served (as a witness) in the action between the Thunder and the Bachelor, off Westminster Hall, and was continually quoting the words of Nelson to the crew who acted under him. These consisted of a steward, a stoker, a boy, and a common sailor; the steward steering the ship, the common sailor taking the tickets on landing, and the boy throwing the rope to the people on the pier at the termination of each voyage. The gallant old captain, in quoting the exclamation of the hero of the Nile, always interpolated two words to adapt the invigorating sentence to the exigencies of his own craft, and was continually shouting—
By this happy device of our captain the boy was inspired with the same enthusiasm that animated the men, and the result was that the captain was the idol of his little crew of mariners.
We left Ramsgate with a stiff hurricane all around us, steaming up in the teeth of the wind, and a good biting breeze it seemed to promise us. On getting outside the harbour, we lurched up to the right, then tumbled over to the left, and pitched heavily with the vessel's head smack into the wave, as if, like a thirsty bird, she was dipping down into the sea to take a deep drink of it. Several of the passengers performed the same extraordinary manœuvre, and I threw myself in helpless misery flat on the deck, where I continued to roll backwards and forwards between the mast and an iron grating which covered the part of the vessel containing the machinery. I had little opportunity of cultivating the acquaintance of my fellow-passengers, one or two of whom occasionally tumbled over me, and I hoped if I ever tumbled over either of them in after life, that it would be under more favourable auspices. The chief part of the voyage was passed by me in a state of unconsciousness, and I was roused from a sort of swoon by the information that we had arrived at the mouth of Calais harbour, which there would be no possibility of entering. After beating about for a space of time that I subsequently ascertained was four hours, though it had appeared to me about forty, we put back, and hopped, skipped, jumped, toppled, sidled, ambled, pitched, tossed, and tumbled over the briny deep—a great deal too deep for me to trust it again—into the harbour of Ramsgate. After getting safely on shore we all began to abuse the captain; but the jolly old tar, placing his thumb on the end of his nose, gave a puff at his cigar, and went below to his dinner. One of the party, a London attorney, who had come to Ramsgate in pursuit of health and a runaway cognovit, threatened the proprietors of the packet with an action for not taking us to Calais, according to agreement; but he had no sooner served process on the agent than he was referred to the little words "Weather permitting," at the bottom of the bill announcing the intended landing at Calais. This made all the difference in the contract, for the words should have been "Weather or no," in order to sustain the threatened action.
PROSPECTUS OF THE
MUTUAL PLATE PRESENTATION AND FRIENDLY
TESTIMONIAL ASSOCIATION.
The principle of plate presentation has never yet been thoroughly understood, or, at all events, it has never been completely and satisfactorily acted on. The great advantage of obtaining credit for public and private virtues through the medium of inscriptions on cups and snuff-boxes cannot be too seriously or emphatically insisted on. It is therefore proposed that a society should be formed on the plan of the United Brothers, the Associated Sons of Harmonious Freedom, and other similar institutions, the object of the projectors being the presentation of testimonials in honour of the private and public virtues of the various members.
It is proposed to issue ten thousand shares of one pound each, one shilling deposit being paid at the time of allotment. The holder of ten shares will be entitled to a snuff-box on the death of his wife, with an inscription eulogistic of his virtues as a "tender husband." On the death of each child he will receive a pencil-case, with a brief allusion to his qualities as the "best of fathers;" and on the decease of himself, his widow will be presented with a tooth-pick in albata, having a consolatory motto engraved on the back of it.
Applications for shares to be made at the offices of the Electro-Mosaic-Nickel Continental and Birmingham Gold and Silver Establishment, 0½, Houndsditch.
GOLDEN RULES FOR MENDICANTS.
1. Always carry a box of lucifers in your hand. It is the Ægis of a beggar's life, and shields him from the invasion of policemen.
2. Never be lame and blind together in the same town. One infirmity at a time is enough for the coldest sympathy.
3. Run sedulously after Quakers and fat ladies, especially if you have with you at the time a wife and a large family.
4. Never fail to sing out well in cold weather. If you have three or four little boys and girls, of mixed sizes, to sing with you, all the better. Always choose the middle of the street to give effect to your voices.
5. You must be "frozen out" regularly ever winter, and mount duty in the streets, with a pitchfork, tipped with a cabbage, over your shoulder.
6. Your costume in each season must be the opposite of that usually worn; that is to say, during the winter, a pair of very thin trousers and a corazza will be all you require. Shiver violently, and chatter your teeth as often as a person passes you. A sailor's hat, striped shirt, and canvas trousers, are not bad in a country town.
7. Mind, in your orations, you "haven't tasted food for three days," and make a practice of picking up bones, or old crusts, out of the gutter, and gnawing them, if there is any one looking at you.
8. Never be too modest, if any one has relieved you, to ask for "an old coat, or a pair of old shoes." Recollect, Holywell Street is not too proud to purchase the most worthless of wearing apparel.
9. Take care, if you are deaf and dumb, not to answer any one. Suffer yourself to be taken into custody rather than notice the impertinent questions of an officer of the Mendicity Society.
10. Take care of long crossings, if you are very lame. It is extremely unpleasant, as well as infra dig., to carry your crutches and run all of a sudden, if you happen to have at your heels a mad bull or a racing omnibus.
11. Chalk writing is unprofitable, and belongs to the old school. If you are driven to it, don't mind about spelling incorrectly, and be sure you are "starving." Quiet spots, like Gower Street or Russell Square, are the best markets for this branch of the profession. In great thoroughfares you will have your fresco or calligraphy rubbed out by every unfeeling passer-by, and be obliged ultimately to "walk your chalks."
SUMMERY JUSTICE.
OCCUPATIONS OF THE PEOPLE.
The returns under this head are extremely interesting, and some curious calculations may be made from them. It appears that there is, in England and Wales, about one lawyer to four lunatics; thus giving him a chance of at least a couple of clients. The tables are, however, very incomplete; for we find no account of the number of omnibus cads, who are lumped under the head of "other educated persons." We presume that convicts come home from transportation are included among persons returned as independent.
RULES FOR MEDICAL STUDENTS WALKING
THE STREETS.
Take as much room on the pavement as you possibly can: if you are with four or five friends, walk all arm-in-arm together. Don't make way for a lady; the road is plenty wide enough for her. Joke smartly with the cabmen, and hail every omnibus which is passing, and then walk a different way. Ask each policeman "How's G 149?" and enter into playful conversation with every beggar who asks you for a penny. Enter newspaper shops to inquire the price of the "Penny Magazine," and stop outside cookshops to imitate the action of the carver. Shriek out "Lur-li-e-ty" as often as you please, and compliment cooks and housemaids standing at area-gates. Stop private carriages to inquire if they are "hired," and tap stout gentlemen on the off shoulder to enjoy their surprise when they turn round and see no one there. Buy baked potatoes in the street to keep your hands warm, and play at catch-ball with them as you go along. Pelt dogs with stones, or anything else you can get; and cry "Balloon" when there is none. Converse freely with old clothesmen, and laugh openly at persons in distress. Stare young ladies out of countenance, and quiz aged people on their very juvenile looks. Ring bells vigorously as you go home of an evening, and rattle your stick violently against the area-railings, taking good care to remove all pewter pots that may be hanging on them.
HISTORICAL QUESTIONS:
À LA MANGNALL.
When was ginger-beer first invented?
In whose reign did the British highlow first come into use?
Who built the Elephant and Castle?
Who was the originator of the arrangement which placed "a sandwich and a glass of ale for fourpence" within the reach of the whole population of London?
When was the House of Hanover first brought over to England, and what is its present address?
When was the fantail first worn, and by whom?
What were policemen invented for?
In whose reign was the unicorn attached to the British arms?
When was the Battle of the Constitution fought in the Registration Courts?
Upon what occasion did policemen first wear Berlin gloves?
Who was the last of the outlaws, and state a few of the actions in which he distinguished himself?
CHINESE PROVERBS,
DRAWN FROM BO-HE AND SUE-CHONG.
Never do anything hastily: remember it is the last cup of tea which is the strongest.
Be not too prodigal: the kettle when too full puts out the fire.
A little scandal is to tea what an olive is to wine.
Butter not your bread on both sides, lest in your old age you be left without bread to butter.
It is a wise washerwoman who knows her own twankay.
Measure your green according to your black.
Happy is he who can take the rough with the smooth—the strong hyson with the fine pearl gunpowder.
Delays are dangerous: remember the hottest toast will get cold by standing.
REASONS FOR CLOSING ATTORNEYS' OFFICES
AT SIX.
The lawyers' clerks, having been bitten by the linendrapers' shopmen, have caught the fashionable mania for "shutting up at six," in order to give them time for that mental cultivation which filling up writs, attending before the Master, and copying bills of costs, are not likely to facilitate.
At a recent meeting of some influential articled clerks, and a numerous body of common-law journeymen, the following resolutions, embodying reasons for closing attorneys' offices at six, were unanimously agreed to:—
"1. That the study of history is conducive to the cultivation of the mind. That the performances at Astley's begin at half-past six, and it is desirable that the clerks who are anxious to profit by the dramatic representation of the great historical events of our own time, should have an opportunity of doing so.
"2. That it is perfectly true the Cider Cellars and the Coal Hole (where the noblest study of mankind, which is universally allowed to be man, can be effectually carried on) do not present many attractive features till after nine in the evening. That, nevertheless, the cigar divans are in full operation before that hour; and it is therefore expedient that six should be the time appointed for the cessation of business.
"3. That stout and devilled kidneys, when introduced into the animal system too late at night, are liable to impede the action of the digestive organs, and impair the intellectual faculties, thus depriving the employer of the full benefit of the clerk's shrewdness and activity. It is, therefore, of the last importance that, by an early release from business, the stout and kidneys may be absorbed by the gastric juices, and the gases given off, by evaporation, in sufficient time to enable the clerk to devote a mens sana in corpore sano by ten o'clock in the morning, to the best interests of his principal.
"4. That the Surrey Zoological Gardens afford opportunities for the study of natural history, which can only be followed up by daylight. That the habits of the bear, the tiger, and other animals, cannot be said to be without interest to an attorney's clerk; and that the knowledge of how certain savage creatures secure their prey may hereafter be of great service in the practice of the legal profession. It is consequently obvious that the lawyers' clerks should be enabled to profit by so valuable a lesson.
"5. That the shooting galleries are seldom open after eight, and that the knowledge of the use of powder and shot is essential to a lawyer, as he will often be called upon by a client to decide whether a defendant is worth the articles alluded to.
"6. That there are many other occasions when, by an early closing of the office, the lawyer's clerk will have an opportunity of being present at some—"
THE GREAT FIRE OF LONDON.
Among the events for which the past year will for ever remain a marked twelvemonth on the page of history, is the Great Fire of London, which broke out, for a considerable period, three nights every week, as a public prediction had declared it should, regularly, till further notice.
We are fortunately enabled to give the particulars of this great conflagration on the occasion of one of its grandest eruptions. It commenced a little after dusk, and there can now exist no doubt that it was the work of more than one incendiary.
Flames were distinctly seen to issue from one of the windows of Old St. Paul's (which seemed to have been renovated only to be re-consumed). They evidently proceeded from a torch, which, we are assured, was applied by a man in a seal-skin cap.
No less than three individuals were observed, busy in assisting the progress of the flames, by tossing ignited straw, &c., about with pitchforks. The glare distinctly revealed their shirt sleeves, thus proving them to be without coats: but, owing to the confusion, their faces were not identified.
The devouring element was brought, by a lad in a short jacket (said to have been out at elbows), with aid of a lighted stick, into contact with the touch-hole of a howitzer, which exploded with a loud noise. This proceeding was frequently repeated during the evening,—it is believed out of mere wantonness. The same heartless principle induced others to throw squibs, crackers, and other fireworks into the blazing ruins.
Neither the crowd nor the attendant policemen offered in the smallest degree to interfere. The cries and shouting of the multitude were tremendous, but seemed to partake of an exulting character.
By a little past ten o'clock the flames got under, apparently of their own accord; and, though several towers and steeples had been seen to fall with a tremendous crash, which was heightened by the frequent tocsin of gongs and the explosion of artillery, little damage is imagined to have been done, the destruction having principally extended to the fireworks and other combustibles already mentioned.
The motive assigned for this act of incendiarism is sheer self-interest on the part of the perpetrators, who received a shilling a head from people who came to witness it. The fiendish project, we fear, was crowned with the most complete success.
THE CONTEST FOR AN ALDERMANIC GOWN.
ANTIPATHIES OF REMARKABLE CHARACTERS.
Almost every person who has lived in history has had some particular antipathy. Julius Cæsar couldn't eat a periwinkle, and Alexander always fainted at the sight of a blackbeetle.
Chaucer would be unwell for days if he heard the cry of "mackerel!" and Spenser never saw a leg of mutton without shivering all over.
Boadicea hated red whiskers: it nearly cost Caractacus his life, because he came into her presence one day with a tremendous pair on.
The smell of pickles always sent Cardinal Wolsey into hysterical fits. He called upon Henry the Eighth once while the monarch was lunching off some cold meat, and Wolsey fell down under the table as soon as he smelt there was pickled cabbage in the room. Henry, thinking the cardinal was intoxicated, had him locked up in the Tower immediately.
Cleopatra couldn't look at a person with freckles: Antony had all his soldiers who were at all freckled painted black to please her.
Napoleon took a violent hatred against any one who didn't take snuff: it is said the cause of his separation from Josephine was because she never would take a pinch from him.
Alfred the Great could not bear the taste of suet-dumplings.
Artaxerxes had such an intense horror of fleas that he would not go to bed without a suit of armour, made like a night-gown, to fit close to his skin. He would lose his reason for days when bitten by one. There was a reward of ten talents, during his reign, for the apprehension of every flea, dead or alive; and merchants would come from far and near to claim the reward.
Queen Elizabeth had the strongest antipathy to a sheriff's officer: she would run away as fast as she could directly she saw one, and continue running for miles, until her guards, who knew her weakness, stopped her.
Old Parr would turn pale if he touched a piece of soap: this is the reason he never shaved. Cicero had such an antipathy to the Wednesday that he used to remain in bed all that day; and Anna Bolena could not hear the word "potato" pronounced without turning violently red, and feeling low-spirited for weeks afterwards.
Charles the Second never could go through Temple Bar. It used to take the whole strength of Villiers, with Rochester and Nell Gwynne, to push him through it. Cromwell never could pass a tripe shop without bursting immediately into tears.
AN ESSAY ON COMETS.
BY OUR OWN ASTRONOMER.
The word "comet" has been derived by some from the Latin coma, a tail; but the better derivation is comma, because it never can come to a full stop.
Every comet has a tail, or train, which may be compared to some of those monster trains which are occasionally the subjects of newspaper paragraphs.
What a comet is we do not exactly know. It is certainly an eccentric body, but there are so many eccentric bodies in these days, that this hypothesis affords us no assistance.
A comet has a curious propensity to cut and come again, at very long intervals.
Astronomers talk of the mean distance of a comet from the earth, but as no comet ever came nearer than several thousands of miles, which is anything but a mean distance, we should be glad to know the meaning the astronomers attach to the word alluded to.
There is a comet due in 1848, being the same one that favoured us, or rather our ancestors, with a visit at half-past eight P.M., on the 21st of April, 1556. As the "oldest inhabitant" will not have had the honour of a previous acquaintance, it is very possible that some other eccentric body may be mistaken for our old acquaintance of the sixteenth century. Perhaps an inferior planet, disguised in a long tail, may endeavour to pass himself off for the expected visitor.
The safest mode of predicting a comet is to prophesy its appearance at least a century hence, and something luminous is pretty sure to turn up, to enable posterity to find something like a realization of the prediction. Any astronomer desirous of naming an earlier day for the appearance of a comet should stipulate for its being visible at some outlandish locality, where no witnesses will be in attendance to test the accuracy of the prediction.
The comet of 1770 has very shamefully broken its appointments with the astronomers, and shown a degree of unpunctuality which is no less perplexing than it is unbusinesslike. The comet ought to have entered an appearance, according to the law of comets, every five years and a half; but the eccentric body has been non inventus ever since, and we should be glad to see it regularly outlawed from the solar system.
Comets are generally called periodical bodies because their tails are so exceedingly lengthy, like those which are continued from month to month in some of the periodicals. They differ, however, in one respect, the former being very luminous, and the latter utterly destitute of brilliancy.
Between the years 1771 to 1780 there happened a regular glut of comets; no less than five having appeared in the period alluded to. This extraordinary assemblage was no doubt the first regular specimen of a monster meeting.
THE FALL OF THE LEAF.
NEW LITERARY ASSOCIATION OF THE
FRIENDS OF FRANCE.
Professed patriots being always addicted to abusing their own country, it is presumed that the height of patriotism would consist in an Englishman writing leading articles for a French Radical newspaper. With this view a few literary friends of freedom have associated for the purpose of supplying the Parisian Press with Anti-English leaders at a cheap rate, and the following is submitted as a specimen of the article it is proposed to manufacture.
The subject is a particularly happy one, being no less than the solemn declaration of the King of the French (while being invested with the Order of the Garter) that he would never make war upon the Sovereign of the Order alluded to.
The circumstance that the oath taken includes no promise or declaration of the kind can of course be of no consequence, as the leader is intended for a French newspaper. The following is the specimen:—
"Nous voyons [We see] que perfide Albion (we don't translate perfide Albion, for everybody knows the meaning of that) a donné une Jarretière [has given a Garter] à Louis Philippe [to Louis Philippe]. Mais, pourquoi cette Jarretière? [But why this Garter?] Nous voyons dans cette Jarretière [We see in this Garter] une autre chaîne [another chain] pour France [for France]. Oui, oui! [Yes, yes!] cette Jarretière infâme [this infamous Garter] tiera Louis Philippe par la jambe [will tie Louis Philippe by the leg] plus que jamais [more than ever]. En recevant ce Jarretière honteuse [In receiving this infamous Garter] on lui a fait jurer, [they made him swear,] qu'il ne fera pas la guerre [that he will not make war] sur le Souverain de l'Ordre [on the Sovereign of the Order]. Hein, hein! [Alas, alas!] notre pauvre campagne [our poor country] est trahie [is betrayed].
"Mais on a donné cette Jarretière déshonorante [But they have given this degrading Garter] au Roi de la Prusse aussi bien, [to the King of Prussia as well,] et aussi à l'Empereur de Russie [and also to the Emperor of Russia]. Tous ont juré la même chose, [All have sworn the same thing,] de ne pas faire la guerre contre le Souverain de l'Ordre [not to make war on the Sovereign of the Order]. Et qui est le souverain contre qui on a juré de ne pas faire la guerre? [And who is the sovereign against whom they have sworn not to make war?] Pourquoi, la Reine Victoria, pour être certain. [Why, Queen Victoria, to be sure]. Et qui est elle? [And who is she?] Pourquoi, perfide Albion, comme une matière du courant. [Why, perfidious Albion, as a matter of course]. Laisser les Anglais aller se pendre [Let the English go and hang themselves] dans leurs jarretières, [in their garters,] comme cette misérable Mademoiselle Bailey, [like that unfortunate Miss Bailey,] de qui on chante quelquefois [whom they occasionally sing about]. Mais ne laissez pas les Français [But do not let the French] suivre l'exemple [follow the example] de la demoiselle à qui nous avons fait allusion [of the young lady whom we have alluded to]. Laissons les rappeler [Let them remember] le sort horrible [the horrible fate] de cette jeune dame, [of that young lady,] qui peut avoir été [who might have been] une decoration à sa sexe [an ornament to her sex] mais pour les jarretières [but for the garters]."
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON WASHHOUSES
FOR THE PEOPLE.
The committee appointed to select a site for a great National Washhouse, vacillated for some time between the Fleet Prison and Covent Garden Theatre; but at length, for the reasons hereinafter stated, gave the latter the preference.
Covent Garden Theatre has had cold water thrown upon it so long, that no expense need be gone to in laying on any more of the salubrious element. The genius of the place is also favourable to such an experiment as the one proposed, for in the event of water being scarce, recourse might be had to some of the old pumps, which, though rather out of use, could easily be made to act again. These pumps possess the advantage of never causing an overflow.
It is proposed to turn the pit into a drying-ground, the backs of the seats being used for hanging clothes upon.
Persons bringing their own soap cannot, on any account, be admitted into the dress circle with mottled; and a moderate quantity of starch will be expected in the private boxes. Tickets for single tubs may be had at the doors, and family coppers to admit six may be had at all the libraries.
One advantage connected with the scheme for turning the theatre into a washhouse, is the opportunity that would be afforded for employing some of the regular company of actors, who, in the mangling department, would be invaluable. The style in which they have occasionally got up and mangled some of Shakspeare's fine things ought never to be forgotten.
With reference to the Fleet Prison, it is suggested by the committee that it is scarcely adapted to ordinary washing, though for purposes of whitewashing, it has always been found to answer.
Should Covent Garden Theatre be fixed upon, due notice will be given of its being open for the season.