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In this dull season of the year,

With evenings long and mornings dusky, I often have a dreadful cold,

And find my voice get very husky.

I mentioned this to JONES one day, Who answered me in accents solemn, "Whenever this occurs, my boy,

Just try BROWNE'S Bronchial 'What-d'ye-call'em."

"But what's the name? One couldn't go
TO DIETRICHSEN's (the shop with columns,)
And tell 'em that you want to buy

A box of Bronchial 'What-d'ye-call'ems.""

Says JONES, "I don't quite comprehend
The name BROWNE calls 'em, I confess ;
But here it's printed on the lid,

It's T. R. O. C. H. E. S.

I went into a chemist's shop,

Who clearly thought me cutting jokes, When I inquired, in accents mild,

If he'd a box of Bronchial "trokes."

I sought another shop, and growled,

"To call the things French names what bosh!

Alas, my French availed me not

When I demanded Bronchial "trosh."

I've pretty well forgot my Greek,

But doubt if anybody sees

A reason why cough lollipops

Should take the name of light trochees.

I asked that charmer, JONES's niece,

(With whom I caught my cold at croquet), But her advice found no response

At druggists' shops. She said, "Try Troky."

What does it mean? BROWNE, you must feel
You're bound your customers to tell
What, in the name of common sense,
T. R. O. C. H. E. does spell.

STATECRAFT.-Her Majesty's Ships of War.

"As to St. Peter, it is true that he also had no army, but he possessed such power that, by one word from his mouth, he struck dead calumniators and revolutionists, as instanced in the case of ANANIAS and SAPPHIRA. But, power, and therefore they are obliged to defend themselves by bayonets from the attacks of impiety."

THE Special Correspondent of the Times at Rome informs those unhappily, the successors of St. Peter are not endued with this supernatural whom it may concern that :

"The Council, which has hitherto separated by 11, did not issue from the Hall this morning till a quarter to 1-a very unwonted trial, I am told, to the physical endurance of most of the Fathers."

Does not this information particularly concern the British House of Commons? Might not Honourable and Right Honourable Gentlemen at St. Stephen's advantageously take a lesson from Right Reverend Fathers at St. Peter's? For the context of the above-quoted passage shows that a quarter to one did not mean 12:45 A.M., but 12:45 P.M. To be sure Parliamentary debates are liable to be protracted, for one reason, because they are free; but freedom of debate need not be abused.

According to the same writer:

"The POPE had commanded prayers for fine weather in all the churches. Late in the afternoon there came word that the Tiber was in the streets." "But," he observes farther on, the next day :"Everything was bright and glorious in the morning sun."

And DR. MANNING perhaps exclaimed "All right!"
Another Correspondent of the Times says:-

"A Roman_wit has discovered, he says, the habits of all the Western Bishops. The English are always taking out something to eat; the American Bishops are retiring to smoke."

Time does indeed work wonders more wonderful than those of Chassepôt rifles at Rome. Fancy ATHANASIUS with a cigar in his mouth or CYPRIAN with a short pipe, which may have been preferred by the Yankee analogues of ATHANASIUS and CYPRIAN. Or imagine the Nicene Fathers continually tucking in sandwiches.

A letter in the Pall Mall Gazette gives the POPE's apology for his army. Here is part of it :

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The following paragraph also appeared in the Pall Mall:

"A Roman Correspondent notes the exploit of two English 'misses,' who, mounted on the benches above the kneeling multitude, surveyed with their opera-glasses the POPE as he pronounced the benediction in the Council. The POPE, with a mild smile, pointed them out to some of the cardinals, but no alarming consequences have overtaken them."

Of course not. It is easy to understand what the POPE's mild smile meant. No doubt his Holiness took the beautiful beings who presented themselves to his enraptured vision for angels.

To Alms! To Alms!

STATISTS tell us that recruiting goes on more vigorously at Christmas than at any other season of the year, for then it is that our sympathies are most enlisted.


To just miss the train when you are going to dine with your most opulent and punctual Uncle, to have three-quarters of an hour to wait, and then to be asked whether you won't have your weight taken.

JANUARY 15, 1870.]



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PUNCH,-I wish there were
some easy means of getting
anybody mesmerised so as to
acquire the temporary power
of clairvoyance.

I am out of town, as usual
at this season of the year.
As usual I have my letters
forwarded to me, because I
want to keep myself posted
As usual the post
brings me no end of cir-

give me a needless shock. But I have the satis-
faction of flinging them into the fire, and con-
sidering that the sender has thrown away a

But, Sir, that is just what I am made to do
myself, through my servant, when she posts me
circulars not knowing what they contain. Now,
could she be rendered clairvoyante, she would
then be enabled to distinguish between letters
of some consequence, and letters of none. It is
true she would also become acquainted with
their contents. But clairvoyantes, when demes-
merised, are said to forget everything that they
have experienced in their lucid state.

If advertisers of all kinds, and clergymen who
apply for subscriptions, would only be so consi-
derate as to write on the back of their envelopes
'Circular," or "Appeal," they would enable my
servant to know what to do, and what not to do;
they would assist her to light her fire, and would
save considerable expense to


My name happens to
stand on a professional list"
accessible to all men. The
consequence of this is that
my letter-box is the daily
receptacle of circulars and
prospectuses sent me by all
manner of cheap wine-mer-
chants, coal-merchants, puff-

Yours, truly,

P.S. "Ilka little maks a muckle," as DR.
I am not sure

ing tradesmen of all descrip- CUMMING's countrymen say.
tions, joint-stock companies about the Scotch of that proverb, quoted from
(limited), foreign lottery memory. But I am sure of the sense.

offices, charitable institu-
tions, and appeals, chiefly
clerical, to the benevolent.

Now, Sir, I have not
enough money wherewithal
to buy things which I want;
of course, therefore, I have
too little for buying things
which I don't want, too
little to risk, and none at all
to give away.

When I am at home, however, the receipt of all these With the postman's rap of other days, one communications is merely an annoyance of a certain nature. There was a time when it would have been an annoyance of another kind. expected good news. Now one fears bad. Then, one would have been disappointed with a circular when one expected a Valentine. Now one never expects anything better than an or something to pay." Circulars invitation, worth accepting, to dine. The double rap no longer indeed raises expectations. But it creates alarm. "Somebody dead," it suggests to me,


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PHILOSOPHIC PUNCH, HERE we are again, the idiotic clowns say-at that saddening time of year, which cynics have sarcastically called the festive season. Ugh! how mentally I shudder at the roast beef and boiled turkey, the mince-pies and plum-puddings, on which I am condemed to dine for the next few weeks! Why cannot people take a leaf out of French cookery books, and vary the monotony of Christmas fare-and fowlwhereby the festive season to my mind is made hideous? I declare I think next Christmas, if I survive the present, I shall desert my wife and children, and go over to Paris to escape the beef and turkeys. Even there, however, I perhaps may find them rampant, for my newspaper informs me that

"Taken all in all, France may be no worse in point of cookery than England or Germany, but it is hardly better. Amongst British travellers there are still a few enthusiasts who go into raptures over the fare provided at the monster hotels and the more famous restaurants. But Frenchmen themselves are of a different opinion, and it is a significant fact that the restaurants most popular with French barristers, journalists, artists, officers, and well-todo bachelors in general are precisely those where the dinner is of an English kind; that is, where a cortège of solemn-looking joints is wheeled in at six o'clock and made to do duty as the staple article of the evening's dinner." If Frenchmen take to dining daily off the joint, perhaps they next may copy us in limiting their Christmas fare to roast beef and boiled Pantomimes may also be transplanted to their stage, and turkey. when the clown makes the remark of "Ici nous sommes encore!" he may be greeted with a burst of hearty quasi-British merriment. The sight of Frenchmen gravely-or gravy-ly, if you prefer it so-dining off the joint is one that may indeed provide food for reflection. It is generally conceded that the dinner makes the man, and if Frenchmen leave off dining upon light and airy kickshaws, and eat solid solemn-looking and substantial food, we shall soon cease to regard them as our lively neighbours. They will become as sensible, sedate, and snobbish as ourselves: and who knows but that Frenchmen, after dining à l'Anglaise off the joint, may not by their joint endeavours infuse some British blood into

A GOOD APPRENTICESHIP. THE Pall Mall Gazette, referring to the Liberal party in the House of Lords, says :

"We hear that the EARL OF CORK and the DUKE or ST. ALBAN's are to be the new Whips."

Whether the Duke's experience as Hereditary Grand Falconer (by the way, it is a vulgar error to suppose that his second title is LORD HAWKE) will be of service to him in his new office, it is impossible as yet to say; but there cannot be a the Buckhounds, the Lords ought to have a doubt that in the EARL OF CORK, the Master of first-rate Whip.


the body of their State, and feebly imitate the strength of the British

With all the compliments of the season, and much good may they do
The Hermitage, Friday.
you! believe me, yours respectfully,


THE following bit of news, we fear, is too good to be true :-
"A brilliant idea has been put forward by a Frenchman, who proposes to
unite England and France by filling up the British Channel with rubbish."

A brilliant idea, truly! But how can it be realised? And what is to become of France, supposing that this bright idea be really carried out? France is every day becoming more and more like England. Frenchmen eat roast beef, keep bulldogs, and drink beer, and even Our French friends have their Clubs, where they actually play whist aspire, some of them, to drive a four-in-hand. There are London fogs They even venture-some of in Paris as thick as any that we Londoners can boast about at home. their Derby as well as on our own. (although they cannot quite pronounce it), and where they bet upon them to risk their lives and limbs in the deadly game of "cricketsmatch," or in the dangerous "regates des rowing-botts." France is well nigh England, even though the British Channel still separates the countries, and, if this is to be filled up, there will really be no telling who are English and who French. Port wine and Magna Charta will be paramount in Paris, and the Tuileries will receive the name of "Liberty Hall."

In short,

Who will start the Great Anglo-Gallic Amalgamation Company? If merely "rubbish" be required for filling up the Channel, both French and English Parliaments might furnish a supply.


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