HAPPY THOUGHTS. HIS morning, by first post, "Dear Colonel, Small cup fifty guineas, Your little "ENGLEMORE." This decides me. Evidently the Nook must be seen to be appreciated, and must be seen at once. If appreciated to be taken. Nook sounds well. Rural retreat, old house, gables, panels, date sixteen hundred, small pond with gold fish, of same date probably, swimming about in it. Well wooded, old out-buildings, &c. See it all in an impulsive sort of Englemoreish sort of way. I feel that I must, as he says, jump at it. Happy Thought.-Telegraph back in same style. Jumping at it. Back directly." 66 Leave my Aunt to go through her course of galvanism (she'll be "jumping at it" too), sulphur, and baths. Don't want to see the MOMPISONS again. BERTHA has evidently no heart. Happy Thought (Agricultural).-No Heart, like a neglected lettuce, or cabbage: but am not clear which. Shall know soon, when I begin gardening in earnest. KOPFEN, on my last day here, drives me out to see a farm. He says that he knows the owner, and that it's a private farm. I find afterwards that it's a regular show place, and open to all comers for a small charge. There's nothing remarkable about it, except its untidiness. As I see no farm labourers about, no "peasants" in costumes as there would have been on a stage for instance, the want of anything like order is perhaps accounted for. A slatternly maid takes us over the place. First of all into a large stable. "Here," she says, "are the Pigs." This is evidently meant as a surprise for the visitor, who has naturally expected to see horses. They are gigantic pigs, too, of a quick, irritable, and suspicious temperament. Nothing lazy about them; no indolence here: and generally I should say unpromising as to pork. The Maiden does not like my stopping to inspect, and stands at the door of the piggery, as much as to say, "Come along. Here'll be another party here presently." In truth there is not much to stop for. The piggery isn't sweet, and we pass out. Across the yard into an enormous cow-house. All the cows here just the same as any other cows, anywhere else. Note. Must get up Cows, with a view to keeping-one, at all events. On consideration, when on the subject of Cows, one can't well keep less than one. Happy Thought.-Unless it's a Calf. What have I learnt from seeing the German Farm? That's the question for me, and I ask it myself again. I don't know, except that Pigs can be kept in stables; and that, under these circumstances, which I should consider decidedly unfavourable to pigs, as pigs, they increase, not in breadth and pig-like qualities, but, by degrees, in height. Happy Thought.-Not growing by degrees of latitude, but of longitude, and altitude. If one stopped here long enough to watch the process, perhaps they would, under the stable confinement, develope into horses. Happy Thought.-Send this to DARWIN. See what he thinks of it. Perhaps he won't think of it, or has thought of it, and rejected it as a theory. A sort of a cob-pig, of fourteen hands, would not this be a variety? Wonder how the pigs like it? This is an important question, i there is anything in the desire of acting so as to "please the pigs." In some farmyards I've seen cocks, hens, and pigs mixed together, wandering about in company, the pigs turning up their noses with a disdainful grunt at some choice morsels, which, afterwards, the chicken would peck at with pleasure. Happy Thought.-In this mixture of Poultry and Pigs, one sees the first germ of the idea of Eggs and Bacon. I bid farewell to KOPFEN and my Aunt, who is glad that the weather has settled into something like warmth, as she detests the German feather-beds, which are not," she says, "half so comfortable as a good Blatney winket." 66 Meeting MRS. MOMPISON and QUORTESFUE, I politely ask them if I can do anything for them in England. When I hear them thank me very much, and when I see them reflecting deeply on what they do want done for them in England, I wish I hadn't volunteered the services. While they are thinking over it, so am I,-how to get out of it. Nothing I hate more than having to execute commissions. MRS. MOMPISON commences. The narration of "what she wants me to do for her, if I kindly will," occupies about a quarter of an hour. It is a sort of brief to begin with, with instructions for Counsel. The object is a lost trunk with, she is afraid, her wrong address on it, or the address of where they were, before they went to Ramsgate, some months ago. The lines on which this trunk has been carried, and the complications in which it has been involved, are materials for a novel in three volumes. Will I, she asks, kindly call and inquire of the people (this is a trifle vague)-the people at the London and North Western, or, if not there, at St. Pancras Station, whence it might have been sent on to Charing Cross. At all events if I'd only kindly find out how it has been delayed (because it's go she says, three of our dresses in it), and just direct it on to them at Aachen, she would be so much obliged. O, and by the way another commission) she left a parasol to be repaired at the man's (whe I'm supposed to know) in Bond Street, and if it's finished it would be no trouble just to put it into the box and send it. Happy Thought.-Not to ask how box is to be opened. See (s to speak) in the closed box, an opening out of the difficulty. She has some other little matters, with which, however, she will not trouble me, because it will really be imposing too much on my good-nature. Unluckily, I smile, and look as pleased as pos sible, which encourages her to confide in me so much further as to request, that, if I am passing by Portland Place, would I be so very kind just to look in and see how they're getting on with the house, and ask if they've tuned the piano since they've been away, or not. I promise and vow, and she thanks me as heartily as if it were all done. Hope she'll take the will for the deed. Rather think she have to. FORTESCUE wants me to go to his Club, and ask about som letters, and to him I reply (having had a dose of commissions by the time) that I will if I've time. Happy Thought.-Shan't have time. Once at a distance cu write and apologise. The Chickens are what my farming friend TELFORD would call a "measly lot." They are all over the place, in a desultory sort of way. Well, what next? What are we going to see now? I ask KOPFEN. He's surprised. What can I want to see, when, in fact,-that's all. All? Is this the Farm? This is the Farm. Well, but how about the Granaries, the Dairy, the Haystacks, the Horses, the implements of It rains as I quit Aachen: it generally does rain at Aachen, s agriculture, the' I pause, at a loss for the names of the things I does it thoroughly too, perhaps providentially, to keep the sulph want to see. I suppose I mean the ploughs, the harrows, the thresh-cool. Music is going on in the garden of the Kurhaus, and wate ing-machines, but I am not quite sure. The Maid, in answer to are carrying umbrellas and coffee to the visitors under the alcoves KOPFEN, who repeats my question to her, simply answers that there There is to be a grand illumination in those gardens to-night, is nothing more, and is evidently quite astonished that we're not at least three extra gaslights have been added to the attractions highly delighted and perfectly satisfied. She hints, too, that she will As I drive to the Station, I see Polytechnic students, with seared be much obliged by our dismissing her as soon as possible, as there's faces, in small caps (how they keep them on their heads is a per another lot of sight-seers just driven into the court-yard. We settle wonder), swaggering, with small ivory-knobbed canes, about with her for twenty gröschen, which is a sum exceeding by one clear half what she is accustomed to, a generosity on our part so startling, that she reciprocates it by smilingly informing us that we walk about the grounds as much as we like," to eke out, as it can were, the extra ten gröschen. Having thus relieved her mind of the idea of being under any obligation to us, she retires, and we stroll into the meadows, where As KOPFEN doesn't know any particulars of its history, and as, without a history, there is nothing particularly interesting about it, we return to our fly and drive back. there is the ruin of some old castle. place. They affect tight breeches and high riding-boots: their h object, apparently, is to deceive the public into the idea th they've just come off horseback. I never saw, to my knowledge student on horseback. Perhaps they keep one among them by st scription, and mount him outside the town for practice. Offers are swaggering, too; anyone, in any sort of uniform, swagger Policemen swaggering, until there's a sign of a row, when carefully absent themselves. Two drunken men are hugging on another in the middle of the road (not an uncommon thing Aachen either), and just manage to struggle into safe there evidently being a difference of opinion between them, up to the last moment, as to whether they shall have themselves run over, or not. The majority-the bigger man-settles it, and they choose the gutter. 66 66 Nearer the Station. There's a handsomely proportioned church: it is usually more or less full, and often crowded. They are a devotional people; and in order to make the churches like a home to the worshippers, they are fitted up with spittoons and sawdust. The Germans," says my friend FORTESCUE in his easy-going, gloomy way, se divisent en deux parties; ceux qui crachent, et ceux qui ne crachent pas. Only," he adds, "the latter I've never met." I rebuke him for this sweeping allegation by commencing a review of Continental manners and customs, and am about to ask him what, on this particular point, he has to say to America, when the train surprises us-by its punctuality-and in another four minutes I am off. Happy Thought.-Germany, farewell! Belgium again. More Happy Thoughts.-England. Now, then, for Mister Pigs! MY CAT'S NINE TALES. APROPOS of PETER TAYLOR Late I heard my Puss a-purring, Of his tail, in graceful play, "It strikes me that he who to whipcord's abrasion Of the back of a brute in the shape of a man, Prefers the soft workings of mild moral suasion, Though a Taylor, can scarce be the ninth of a man; "That because the most hardened garotting offender "When one thinks of the style of garotters' attacking, And that Justice for Mercy finds place more and more, "There are ruffians whose sole terror terror of blows is, Whose skins are as soft as their hearts are of stone, Who can gammon the chaplain with piety's poses, And, with tongues in their cheeks, ape repentance's groan: For whom word without blow will be ne'er verbum sat.And that's the fifth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat. "Instead of this squeamish abhorrence of flogging, sore: Would so much of their dues coward ruffians but gat!And that's the sixth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat. "If lex talionis might plead for a hearing, And there's something in lex talionis, no doubt,The triangles, I think, we should oftener be rearing, And the cat from the bag would be oft'ner let out, If garotted to sentence garotters but satAnd that's the seventh tale of my nine," quoth the Cat. "There's an old Latin proverb, for charity fitting, But as well to the lash, when deserved, it applies: I maintain that the Judge to some purpose is sitting, Who, with ruffians to doom, at the Cat never shies, But rather than once bis' and 'cito,' too, datAnd that's the eighth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat. RULY GREAT MR. PUNCH, I AM not a great man. I am glad that I cannot be called upon to lay a first stone, or preside at a charity dinner, or sit for a full-sized portrait, or receive deputations, or address constituents, or distribute prizes, oraward them. I lay particular stress on this lastmentioned misfortune of greatness, from having recently read in the Athenæum the following announcement:-"MR. PEEK'S offer of three prizes for as many original essays on the Estab lished Church of England has been responded to by no fewer than 103 candidates. The perusal and consideration of these MS. exercises, many of great length, are now occupying the judges, the Master of the Temple, the REV. DR. HESSEY, and LORD SALISBURY; but so laborious is this work of examination, that the writers must not expect the final decision for six or eight months at least from this time." I hope, Mr. Punch, your greatness has never exposed you to such hardships as the Master of the Temple, DR. HESSEY, and the MARQUIS OF SALISBURY, must now be undergoing. If the Athenæum had said that the final decision was not to be expected "for six or eight years at least," I should not have been at all surprised. One can imagine that, after perusing and considering, say sixty essays, even such pillars of the Church as DR. VAUGHAN, DR. HESSEY, and LORD SALISBURY, might feel their zeal for the Establishment relaxed, and be disposed to take a more lenient view of the proceedings of MR. MIALL and MR. MORLEY. They can have no leisure, no rest, no enjoyment of life while the examination of these 103 MS. exercises (many of them, probably, badly written in two senses) is in progress" in the intervals of business" they must be always, not essay writing, as another great man once was, but essay reading. It requires no very lively fancy to depict the three Judges as reading essays at breakfast, reading essays in bed, reading essays in railway carriages and other public and private conveyances, reading essays in their walks, reading essays in their dreams, until, if such a thing were possible, they must almost wish themselves Nonconformists, or inhabitants of some ideal state, where prize. essays are as much unknown as prize cats or prize fighters. But perhaps the Judges do not read the essays, only meet together from time to time for coffee, and hear the exercises read aloud by a chaplain or secretary, for whose sufferings one feels compassion, but in a less degree, because there is probably some attempt made to remunerate him for his labours. If so, let us hope that sleep never overtakes his listeners, and that they are as cheerful, as goodhumoured, and in as full and perfect possession of their judicial faculties after the tenth essay as they were at the conclusion of the first. I will only add one more reflection. There are but three prizes; there are one hundred and three candidates. There will, therefore, be exactly one hundred aggrieved and disappointed essayists going about in Society, who for the rest of their lives, or, at all events, until some other benevolent individual calls their literary powers again into being, will consider the Master of the Temple, the REV. DR. HESSEY, and the MARQUIS OF SALISBURY, as utterly incompetent to discern true merit, and three of the most over-rated persons they ever knew. I conclude as I began. I am glad I am an obscure person, and not a great man, to have my photograph in the shop windows, and my will in the newspapers, and to be liable to be called upon to adjudicate on one hundred and three Prize Essays. Mr. Shoddy. "I ALWAYS SAY, MRS. SHARP, THAT I NEVER FEEL REALLY SAFE FROM THE UBIQUITOUS BRITISH SNOB TILLIN SOUTH OF THE DANUBE !" Mrs. Sharp (innocently). "AND WHAT DO THE-A-SOUTH DANUBIANS SAY, MR. SHODDY!" ΑΝΤΙΠΟΔΕΣ ΣΥΜΠΑΘΕΙΣ. A SAINT FOR A SOVEREIGN. Messages exchanged by Electric Wire between Adelaide and London. instanced our EDWARD THE SIXTH as a virtuous monarch who pro THE telegraph people did blunder in reporting the POPE to have October 21, 1872. THE way to compass Puck's grand feat we 've found A girdle round about the earth we've bound, From the Antipodes that, sole to crown, The tie that hitherto has bound us fast Was one of gold, but, thank the electric fire, Our bond henceforth is likelier to last, Though 'tis but a few strands of copper wire. Henceforth one spirit couples pole with pole, One British heart beats through our severed mettle: With you, Antipodes, we 're one in soul; You still at home, howe'er far off you settle. From Hellas when her colonists went forth, They took a brand from their home's temple fire: You, happier, 'twixt your South and our North, Can flash your warmth of kindred through the wire. From that wide world of mighty fates unread, moted the happiness of his people. Here, from the Correspondent of the Post, at Rome, is a correct account of what His Holiness really said about another sovereign on the occasion when he wa stated to have commended that one : "The POPE then went on to laud the virtues of St. Edward, Kingd England, whose festival was registered in the calendar on that day, th founder of Westminster Abbey, who wrote to Pope NICHOLAS THE SECIN on its completion, professing his obedience and subjection. But beside meritorious works in favour of the Church, this king relieved his subjects He found too many duties, too many taxes, so he abolished them, obtaining thereby the respect, esteem, and love of his people. He was a model to kin of all virtues, and especially that of chastity. Although a king sitting o throne, he was chaste to such a degree that, with the consent of the Queen, never occupied the conjugal couch.' By leaving no heir St. Edward promoted the happiness of subjects in a measure which they failed to appreciate. They di not thank their childless king for the Norman conquest so much & the POPE, apparently, thinks they ought to have done. They b to thank EDWARD, dying without issue, for WILLIAM THE FIR and for RUFUS, and did not thank him at all-unless His Holiness has decided that they did, and then they did of course. But droll that the telegraph' should have made the POPE confound EDWARD THE CONFESSOR with EDWARD THE SIXTH, who probaby in the Papal estimation, differ from one another considerably m than ALEXANDER THE GREAT differs from ALEXANDER the Coppersmith. RAILINGS FROM THE EMBANKMENT. "RICH Benchers, why this hideous boarding; So full of wealth, why take to hoarding?" SIR OLIVER SURFACE (MR. BULL). "HERE COMES THE INCARNATION OF ALL THE VIRTUES. OF COURSE, SIR PETER, YOU'LL PRAISE THE NEW LORD CHANCELLOR ? " SIR PETER TEAZLE (MR. PUNCH). "WAIT A BIT, SIR OLIVER. FEWER PEOPLE WE PRAISE THE BETTER." THIS IS A D-D WICKED WORLD, AND THE |