A CHANT TO THE COUNCIL. AIR-" Sam Hall," with a needful variation.

NINTH PIUS is my name,

Is my name, is my name.
NINTH PIUS is my name;

Is my name;

NINTH PIUS is my name,
Supremacy I claim;

On all who doubt the same
Anathema!

I own St. Peter's Chair,
Peter's Chair, Peter's Chair,

I own St. Peter's Chair,
Peter's Chair;

I own St. Peter's Chair,
Whate'er I thence declare,

Be they, deny who dare,
Anathema!

If any man shall say,

Man shall say, man shall say,

If any man shall say,

Man shall say;

If any man shall say

That Church should State obey,
Let him be put away :

SHILLING TELEGRAMS.

ROME AND RAMSBOTHAM.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

WENTY Words for One Shilling,
all over the United Kingdom, But far away in a foreign climb one can't help thinking of friends at
I MUST write to you, though I didn't intend to this week.
and names and addresses not home round the fireside, or "all round the Rigging," as the English
charged for! The wire-workers

will have plenty of employment. south-country prophet has it. Yes, dear Mr. Punch, to quoit again-
The nimble needles will not rust
"Though lost to sight to mummery dear,"
through disuse.

Already the telegrams are more
numerous, more interesting, more
condescending to what DUGALD
STEWART, in his Essay on the
Sublime and Dutiful, aptly desig-
nates "the trifles that make up there is an abundance of snips. We had a peasant boiled with white
There is shooting also in the Punting marches, where I have heard
the sum of human happiness," and
far better worth the cost of a know. I have been rather invaded lately owing to cold, and what one
archduke sauce the other day, but whether shot here or not I don't
messenger by cab, or the expense easily catches here, as you may judge by the name, that is, Romeytism.
of a horse express, than the latest
report of the weather at Green- lives to learn; and she is a lucky woman who learns to live. It attacks
I didn't know this place was the urchin of that complaint; but one
castle, or the closing quotation the knees and the soldiers, and then gets into the arms.
of that sensitive article, saltpetre.
By the pardonable connivance of his one amusement; but he plays, my nephew tells me, without
Do you know that the Pope is very fond of a game of billets ? It is
the Telegraphmaster-General, and
that most energetic and satisfac- any pockets, and only with canons (of his own Church, I suppose);
tory public servant, MR. SCUDA- these tables. His great Carnaval, AUNT O'NELLY, the Pope's tee-
and therefore, so he says, you can't play either pool or periwigs on
MORE, Mr. Punch is enabled to lay totum, (I've eluded to him before,) is very much afflicted to getting
and has large dealings with the virtuous of his acquaintance, which Í
mosaics, which, I suppose, he picks up in the Jews' quarter here,
am delighted to hear.

Home-not even Rome, which rhymes to it. If the Consul is dull (and is the case with me; for wherever I wonder there's no place like what can you expect? for sitting every day for so many hours must be very mutinous), sport is lively, and hunting tracks all the nobility and gentry here.

before his readers a few of the

messages which have been flashing about the last ten days, not one of which, it will be observed,-and it seems necessary to say something on this score, exceeds twenty words. The first is given in the spaces prescribed by the official form; the rest, out of humane consideration for the compositors, will be set out in the ordinary manner :

Festers, a name I don't like at all. For instance, there was a great The Italians, and all here, call The Great Holydays of the Church Fester the other day, and a large gathering in St. Peter's and other Churches, when every one carried candles at the different funguses. It was a very beautiful sight, and the wax must bring in an enormous profit to the Chandler of the Exchequer. Praps in Rome there is a tax on Wax. I am fond of seeing Factories, and so shall take the first opportunity of seeing the Waxworks here, which of course would be unlike MADAME CRUSOE's in London. I recollect a Waxworks years ago done by clock-works, where a Roman wax shoulder in armour was lost in the snow, with a Lion and his family, and would ring a bell and pull corns out of his feet. You looked down at it from a gallery above; but I'm not quite sure, now, if it wasn't Scriptural, and NATHANIEL in the Lion's Den.

Talking of that, what a deference between Pegging Rome and Babel Rome of to-day! I have lately been reading all about it-that is, about Ramilies and Rompus, and Nimrod, with the lovely Miss Diphtheria. Of course that's all falibus. But Rome must have been grand under the Trumpers and Decembers. I remember a lovely Influenza, or the Last of the Tributes. novel by SIR EDWARD BULLER LITTLE, now LORD LITTLE, about

Later on, the Romans became very feeble and effervescent (I don't think that's the word I want, but it means weak and womanly), and were overrun by Moths and Sandals. You'll see all this in GUBBINS'S Decline and Fall of the Roman Umpire, which was written while the monks were singing their hymns. However, you don't want me to tell that; only laterally there has been nothing to tell you about the Economical Consul, for on this subject all the Roman Candlesticks are

Miss Minnie has left her doll behind her. Send it by the first train. It is as close as wax. in my top drawer.

4.

From Miss Ridgley, Combermere Cottage, St. Leonard's-on-Sea,
To Charles Bobbinson (Footman), Miniver Lodge, Newcastle-on-Tyne.
Something has disagreed with Muff. He is very bad. Tell the doctor to
come immediately, I cannot trust any one here.

I request that this Telegram may be forwarded by horse express from the Terminal Telegraph Office of the Post Office, and I have deposited six shillings for that purpose. Arabella Maria Ridgley.

5.

From George Henry Mablethorpe, Rev. Horace Cribbe,
Whippingham,

To Mrs. Mablethorpe, 1, Upper Brummel Place, London.

Some of the undersappers, the clerks of the Consul, did let out a few things they oughtn't to, but they were immediately oiled over the coals, as the saying is, and were warmed by the Residing Carnaval against nition. As I do not portend to write about what I don't know, and ever doing it again; so I have no doubt they will profit by this ammuwhat nobody else can know, though there are clever people who, being tention and rivet imagination for anything which is all guess and not paid to say something in the papers, rely upon their own brilliant intrue. You may always depend upon me, whenever, that is, you hear Yours sincerely,

from

LAVINIA RAMSBOTHAM, JUN.
P.S. Talking of religion in this cold weather, one is inclined to turn
Parson in Persia, and be a fire-worshipper and a disciple of Slowroaster,
the chief of the Majors. Dear, dear! all these cisterns of religion are

The Hamper is not come, and my birthday is to-morrow. Do send it. very confucious, as the Chinese say.
I have won the long jump.

6

From J. Cornblower, Mark Lane,

To Mrs. Cornblower, Odessa House, Dantzic Road, Regent's Park. Uncle Splaydes dines with us to-day. Roast the mutton. Get whiting and widgeon. Children must not notice his nose.

N.B. In one or two instances the intelligent Post-Office Clerks have altered, for the better, the spelling and grammatical construction of the messages.

LINES ON A WEAK PIECE WITH A SHORT-SKIRTED BALLET.

THIS piece is like TOM NODDY-
"All legs and no body."

HERE WE ARE AGAIN!

Or what violent Reformer are London powdered footmen probably the followers ?-JOHN KNOX.

.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

MORE HAPPY THOUGHTS.

I VISIT the Cathedral again, and I am confirmed in my first im-
pression. My theory (the heretical theory mentioned before) is, that
Man is made in moulds; not of mould, but in moulds.
Now I arrive at this, thus:-

On going into the Cathedral, High Mass is just commencing. I struggle into a good place. We are all standing, and seats are an impossibility. Duchesses and draymen elbowing one another, but this by the way; only I do approve of this religious equality, and think it worth noticing.

Before mass, all the canons, choristers, deans, and precentors walk into the body of the church, and commence versicles and responses. What they are I do not know, nor can I attend to the service, for, to my utter amazement, I find that, from the chief dean or head canon, or whatever he is, to the smallest man chorister (not boy) all are tho roughly well known to me. Yes, I recognise every one of their faces. They are as familiar to me as possible. Yet I have never been to Aachen before. Never. I have never been inside this Cathedral prior to this occasion. No. But I know every one of the ecclesiastics here by sight.

I find myself staring at one in particular. He is short and sharp-shelves, but with a skylight above. looking, with a large mouth. He catches my eye: he can't help it; nor can I help keeping mine fixed on him. We are mesmerising each other. I feel that he is chanting his verses mechanically, and, as it were, addressing them chiefly to me. I wonder whether he is too much mesmerised to move with the procession when it gets in motion again. But who is he? Who are they? I have known only one foreign priest in my life, and he was a Frenchman, and not a bit like It breaks upon me, on my second visit, all at once. any of these. They are all well-known theatrical faces, some familiar to me from childhood, and indelibly engraved on my memory, and others known to me in later years.

This small mesmerised priest (a minor canon he is), in a short surplice and a tippet, is MR. DOMINICK MURRAY-neither more nor less. The Chief Dean is MR. PAUL BEDFORD, in a cope, assisted by MR. BUCKSTONE of the Haymarket, and MR. ROGERS of the same company, who hold two candles for him to read small print by. MR. BARRY SULLIVAN, in a collar with lace, is scowling at his breviary; and MR. HONEY, with his hair cut, is chanting, hard at it, at the bottom of his voice. The others are all well known to me, only I can't remember their names, except, by the way, MR. HORACE WIGAN, who stands out from the rest, because he has lost his place in a large book he is carrying, and has got into difficulties with his spectacles.

In this closet is the case of, as it were, a small quaint old-fashioned
I step in. I see that I am to sit down over where the steam is coming
piano, only without the works and key-board. This is the Vapour
Bath. The Bath-man opens it: I see at once that I am to step in.
the front, and putting up a sort of slanting shutter, which only
up. I do, nervously. The Bath-man then boxes me in by closing
leaves my head out of a hole at the top. I fancy the Bath-man rather
opposite me and says, "fifteen minuten in der bad."
enjoys this, as his only chance of a practical joke. Hope he won't
think it fun, or do something stupid. He hangs my watch on a nail
Happy Thought." Nein. Fünf."

He won't hear of such a thing. I don't like being left alone. He
smiles and nods, "Nice varm?" he asks, and shuts the door on me.
It is varm, but it is not nice. How horribly slow the time passes. This
is like a Chinese punishment. I try to distract my mind. Let me see
what can I think about? Odd, I can't think of anything except the
time and the bath. Yes, one thing, "Can any one see through this
skylight?" No-ground glass. Suddenly I become aware of myriads
run all over my face and hair? I can't do anything. What is Ant in
of little insects on the wall by my watch. Ants. They are nowhere
else. They are very busy. Suppose they were to forsake the wall, and
He does re-appear on the instant-that is his head re-appears
German? I will complain when Bath-man re-appears.
smilingly, and asks "Nice varm?" I reply, "Jah." He adds "Time,
no?" and retires.

Hence my theory of Moulds. I find MR. DOMINICK MURRAY (let us say, for example, as he was my chief attraction: he did sing so I have forgotten the Ants. Who was it, BRUCE or WALLACE who energetically, and knew his part without a book!) in Germany as a Minor Canon, in England as an excellent comedian. The same with scientific discovery about the pendulum while watching a church-lamp MR. BUCKSTONE, WIGAN, &C. Well, why not in India find the same type of man among the Brahmins ?-that is, another lot out of the same became King of Scotland by watching a spider? GALILEO made a mould. Odd: the Vapour Bath doesn't seem to be taking anything out of DR. CASPAR has just called in late at night, and finding me at during a stupid sermon. These Ants might lead me to turn my attenmy notes (above) on my new theory, has ordered me not to write any tion to natural history, if I stay here long enough. more for a day or two, and to go to bed at once. CASPAR is an excelBath-man's head again, "Nice varm? Time, no?" and disappears. lent fellow, and really takes a personal friendly interest in a patient. me. I thought it would be something fearful, and that I should yell, At the expiration of a quarter of an hour, he enters with a warm He is much struck with my theory of "moulds," and says he will call half suffocated and parboiled, for help. in and talk it over in the morning. In the meantime (that is, between this and breakfast) I am to go in for a hotter bath up to 28° Réaumur. be very careful in diet, rely upon Friedrichshallerbitterwasser, and not linen mantle. He unpacks the box (I could have travelled from here watch-box or something is struck by harlequin's wand and out steps a write a line about this new theory till he gives me permission. Should to London in this case, labelled "with care," and "this side upperboy dressed like NAPOLEON (only I'm dressed like nobody), and am like to telegraph to my wife and tell her. Have sent to POPGOOD AND most") and I come out, like a character in a pantomime, when a immediately clothed in the warm garment. GROOLLY a telegram to this effect:

Great Idea. Write "New theory. Moulds. Upset everything. Great Idea. again. Will you publish?" DR. CASPAR insists on seeing me into bed. He says "the sulphur is doing its work well." Something is coming out of me. What? DYNGWELL looks in. "Well, old Cockalorum, got the papsylalls, after all, eh? Doctor given you something golopshus. Rub it in." This is his general idea of a prescription. "Good night."

DR. CASPAR prescribes douche and vapour baths. It'll be all out of me, whatever it is, in another week or so. I ask him if I may employ my leisure in writing Typical Developments and the Theory of Origination, for POPGOOD AND GROOLLY.

That instead I must devote myself He says "No, decidedly not.' to kagelspiel-Kagelspiel is skittles. I remember that DR. WHATELY used to relax his mind by swinging on the chains of the post in front of the archiepiscopal palace. CASPAR is right. Baths in the morning, dinner mid-day, kagelspiel in the afternoon; tea in the evening, and attendance at a concert or any musical meeting.

Plenty of music in Aix. I have now been here long enough to obs erve that my first impressions were remarkably superficial.

I note down that for recovery of health, and generally for getting anything out of you, there is no better place, I should imagine, than Aachen.

Then I follow Bath-man back to bed-room. "Heiss," I reply. "So 66 Der Here I am tumbled into a hot bed at once. Bath-man savagely "Nice varm?" he asks again. tucks me up. ist goot," he answers. He surveys me in bed. I am helpless. He says this in an encouraging tone, as much as to impress upon andere Mann," he informs me, "take dampf bad to-day." me that in all matters connected with the baths I can't do better than follow the example of Der andere Mann.

THE ARCHBISHOP OF WESTMINSTER an advocate for mob-law !
If not, why does he want to bring in the Rule of the Masses?
Of one thing he may rest assured. England won't have it, any more
than France or Germany-however determined MANNING may be to

A THOROUGH holiday for a man of business ought not to be marked in his calendar as a Red Letter-day, but as an Unread Letter-day.

"SEE THEM Two COVES WITH THE RUMMY 'ATS ON? WELL, THEY'RE PARSEES. THAT'S WHAT THEY CALL 'EM; AND THEY WORSHIPS THE SUN!" "WORSHIPS THE SUN, DO THEY? WELL, I SHOULD SAY THEY 'AD A PRECIOUS EASY TIME OF IT IN THIS COUNTRY!"