TO HENRIETTA,*

ON HER DEPARTURE FOR CALAIS.

WHEN little people go abroad, wherever they may roam,
They will not just be treated as they used to be at home;
So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance,
Of how a little English girl will perhaps be served in France.

Of course you will be Frenchified; and first, it's my belief,
They'll dress you in their foreign style as à-la-mode as beef,
With a little row of beehives, as a border to your frock,
And a pair of frilly trousers, like a little bantam cock.

But first they'll seize your bundle (if you have one) in a crack,
And tie it with a tape by way of bustle on your back;
And make your waist so high or low, your shape will be a

riddle,

For anyhow you'll never have your middle in the middle.

Your little English sandals for a while will hold together,
But woe betide you when the stones have worn away the

leather;

For they'll poke your little pettitoes (and there will be a

hobble!)

In such a pair of shoes as none but carpenters can cobble!

What next?-to fill your head with French to match the native girls

In scraps of Galignani they'll screw up your little curis ;

• The daughter of my father's old friend William Harvey, the artist.

And they'll take their nouns and verbs, and some bits of verse and prose,

And pour them in your ears that you may spout them through your nose.

You'll have to learn a chou is quite another sort of thing
To that you put your foot in; that a belle is not to ring;
That a corne is not the nubble that brings trouble to your

toes;

Nor peut-être a potato, as some Irish folks suppose.

No, no, they have no murphies there, for supper or for

lunch,

But you may get in course of time a pomme de terre to

munch,

With which, as you perforce must do as Calais folks are

doing,

You'll maybe have to gobble up the frog that went a wooing!

But pray at meals, remember this, the French are so polite, No matter what you eat or drink, "whatever is, is right!" So when you're told at dinner-time that some delicious stew Is cat instead of rabbit, you must answer "Tant mi-eux !”

For little folks who go abroad, wherever they may roam,
They cannot just be treated as they used to be at home;
So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance,
Of how a little English girl will perhaps be served in France!

THE POLYPICNIC.

[My father's contributions to the "Athenæum" this year were confined to some remarks on the Art Union system which was just coming into vogue.]

THE POLYPICNIC.

We hope to be excused if we are this week a little prosy in our gossip, profitable rather than pleasant. The truth is, that, following the example of the great "National schemers, who thought it becoming in them to libel those who at a public meeting protested against their selfish project, as alike injurious to art and artists," the projectors of the 'Little-go,' finding public opinion running desperately against them, have been pleased to throw suspicion on our motives; as if our motives had, or could have, anything to do with the question at issue. But the parties know well, that private and personal feelings would have led us to remain silent, had we not felt that it was public duty to denounce the moral pestilence which is fast spreading over the country, and they were forewarned that it was our intention to do so. They are shocked, it appears, at our presuming to call the Polytechnic Union a 'Little-go.' Why the word is not ours, -the offence is so described in the 42 Geo. 3, cap. 119; and for the further information of the parties, extracts from the Act are given among the miscellaneous paragraphs at the end of this day's paper. However, we are not wedded to a name, -we will call it, if they please, Polypicnic,' and this will serve to distinguish it from the Parent Institution. Polypicnic, indeed, will well characterise it, seeing that it is a sort of chance-medley affair, to which Art and Science contribute prizes of prints, drawings, paintings, sculptures, bronzes, mathematical, astronomical, and "all kinds" of philosophical apparatus, working models, etc.—the last comprehensive

phrase leaving open to the imagination of provincial subscribers all that is associated with dips into lucky bags, and ventures with Mr. Merryman. The writer in question, too, is not a little indignant that in the face of such a lottery scheme we should have associated the Polypicnic with Derby sweeps, Twelfth Cake raffles, and other sporting speculations, which do not even profess to encourage Art, or Science, geology, conchology, or indeed anything in particular except the love of gambling. The Polypicnic, it is admitted, resembles a lottery, inasmuch as it proposes to give prizes; but then it does not resemble one, in as far as it does not encourage rash and improvident ventures when the chance success is remote and uncertain. But where is the essential difference? The chance of winning one of the great government prizes may have been remote and uncertain, but they were described and supposed to be quite otherwise, or Messrs. Bish, Goodrich, Swift, and Co. might have shut up their offices. In fact, the bribe of a bird in the hand with the prospect of the bird in the bush-say an improved fiddle or a patent mangle-all prizes and no blanks-is strictly in the style of the old contractors, and admirably adapted to excite the spirit of speculation. But we are told that Art Unions are a "fait accompli," otherwise the writer "would put forth opinions" not very "palatable to those concerned in the project "that is to say, would denounce them as we have done. Now, that the cause of public morals may not lose the support of any man, let us remind the writer that lotteries were at one time quite as well established as Art Unions-had "assumed the form, and were endowed with all the prerogatives, of that combination of circumstances which diplomatists call a fait accompli;" nevertheless they were put down by law, and were denounced as "public nuisances," because it was universally admitted

that they did encourage gambling-"rash and improvident ventures."

Our association of the Great-go with the Little one was, therefore, perfectly natural. We can no more disconnect them, than some of the Polypicnic prizes from the working models, philosophical apparatus, etc. etc., in the Polytechnic Exhibition. But are we, therefore, averse to mere trading speculations? Certainly not, except where they may tend to demoralise the public, or are carried under false colours. We will suggest a case. The Polly, freighted by a private company of merchant adventurers, arrives on a savage coast, inhabited by a rude and barbarous race, as ignorant as unlearned pigs of Painting, Sculpture, Astronomy, Mechanics, Music, and as ignorant as Adam of the Parisian fashions. However, a profitable traffic is established on the terms, that for each ounce of gold dust the naked savage subscriber shall receive, instanter, a string of cut steel buttons with a ticket, giving him a chance of obtaining, by raffle, a pair of shoe buckles, a pocket looking glass, or a gold-laced cocked hat. Now, the introduction of the ardent spirit of gambling, with, or without, that of firewater, is objectionable enough: but what can or ought to be said if, looking up at the masthead of the Polly, we behold a large flag or bunting Prospectus, inscribed, "For the promotion of Morals and Civilisation!" Why, what can be said, but that the trading voyage has as much to do with the diffusion of moral or intellectual enlightenment as the Polypicnic with the encouragement of art and science? Of what avail to a civilised savage as ignorant of the fine arts as a fine-drawing tailor-who knows no more of painting in oil than a whale, of water-colours than a water kelpie, of sculpture than a stone blind, of bronzes than the green man in Hyde Park, of conchology than a shell-fishmonger, or of statuary than a parish stone-breaker