St

A NEW HISTORY OF INVENTIONS.

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one

protection both against sun and rain, to the Macaronis, who were then in their glory in the gay purlieus of Bucklersbury.

The exact inventor is not known, but it has been satisfactorily ascertained that he realised a comfortable income by the exercise of his useful ingenuity, and was also able to lay by something for a rainy day.

CIENCE was yet in its
cradle, philosophy still in
its perambulator, no
had thought of envelopes
or egg-boilers, the idea of
the sewing-machine had not
occurred to the most daring
imagination, and asparagus
tongs were only known in
the marble halls of the
GONZAGAS and the porphyry
HOLINSHED tells us that QUEEN ELIZABETH knighted SIR WALTER,
palaces of the MEDICI, when that memorable afternoon when he, with all the grace of a polished
GALILEO GALILEI, weary of courtier and ease of a chivalrous, great-hearted gentleman, removed,
maintaining his claim to the wearing gloves of taffeta, the parcel-gilt cover from the first dish of
priority of the invention of potatoes (kidneys) ever tasted in this country, on the occasion of the
the Rule of Three over his entertainment given by HER MAJESTY, at Blackwall, to the Ambas-
great countryman DANTE, sadors from Westphalia, after the ratification of the treaty which
withdrew from the world secured to England a monopoly of the celebrated hams of that king-
about the time that COPER- dom at the expense of a war with the Low Countries-the commence-
NICUS discovered Night ment of those rasher enterprises which marked the latter portion of
Lights, to a humble cottage BACON's career, and the ultimate cause of his downfall, and residence
near Amsterdam, to revolve for so many years in exile at Hamburgh.

Of the hundreds and thousands of visitors who will gaze with admiration on the delightful picture of The Boyhood of Raleigh, with which MR. MILLAIS charms us in this year's Exhibition of the Royal Academy, how many will know or recollect that to RALEIGH we owe new potatoes, anchovy toast, opera-glasses (of course a very rude forerunner of the present lorgnette), and tobacco ?

in his mind through thirteen
cloudless years, undisturbed
by monks or missionaries,
unassailed by the Inquisition
and the Star Chamber, sub-
sisting mainly on prawns

and pound-cake, and contented with the congenial society of his favourite kangaroo-the deep problem which had turned KEPLER white, prematurely aged TYCHO BRAHE, and wrinkled, untimely, the capacious brow and benevolent form of our own NEWTON; but which was at last to be solved by the marvellous Florentine in the stillness of a Michaelmas night, in the solitude of a tapestried chamber, far from the voice of the nightingale, but not altogether free from the noise of rats, in his Oriental-dressing-gown and Eastern slippers, after a philosophic meal of porridge, flavoured with curaçoa, between the hours of one and two in the morning.

Sleep came not to the great astronomer's eyes that night. All through its watches he paced the apartment with eager, restless steps. Plans, diagrams, calculations, sketches, models employed his busy hands and brain till the stars went in and the milkman came out, when GALILEO, wrapt in thought and a light overcoat, glided noiselessly from his happy home, hurried through the unpeopled streets-embracing, by the way, in his joy, with a cry of "Eυрnка! Euрnка!" an amazed lamp-extinguisher-roused up an eminent cabinet-maker, and imparted to him his immortal invention of the telescope-dining-table.

The Reformation of the Calendar and the composition of the ecclesiastical chants that embalm his name in the service and ceremonial of the Western Church, have hitherto been supposed to be the brightest laurels around the brow of POPE GREGORY THE THIRTIETH; but recent researches in the Library of the Vatican, conducted under the joint superintendence of DR. CUMMING and MR. NEWDEGATE, have brought to light the very interesting discovery that to GREGORY the world is also indebted for the famous Powder which bears his venerable name, and was first compounded by his private physician in the Baths of DIOGENES towards the close of the proceedings.

The original Latin prescription, in the POPE's well-known autograph, was found serving as a book-mark in a volume of the works of METEMPSYCHOSIS, and at the foot of it is written a recommendation one which must for ever endear His Holiness to the young of all times, climes, and creeds-that, when administered to children, the powder should always be carefully concealed in currant-jelly.

In whose reign was the indispensable umbrella originally introduced into this damp climate? An unsettled question which has provoked never-ending dissension between contending antiquaries, who, while upholding their favourite theories, have showered abuse on each other with a steady malignity to which no parallel can be found except in the annals of extinct races.

The learned WATERLAND leans to the Protectorate as the period when the dandies of CROMWELL'S time first began to parade the then fashionable promenades of Pentonville and the Minories, under cover of their party-coloured umbrellas; but that great Batavian scholar WETSTEIN, who was often in England, and became a Fellow of the Royal Society, has disposed of WATERLAND'S notion completely, and takes his stand on a tradition which he found current among the Waldenses, that the Venetian envoys, who came to this country to negotiate the establishment of Italian warehouses in the closing years of CHARLES THE SECOND, set the fashion of using an umbrella, as a

ON PHOTOGRAPHY TO PHOEBUS.
PHOEBUS APOLLO, King of Light benignant,
In glory seated 'mid the solar blaze,
Lord of the Fine Arts, dost thou not, indignant,
Behold how mortal men profane thy rays?

O Phœbus, 'tis enough to drive thee furious
That we sun-pictures make of scoundrel thieves,
Whilst thine half-brother, eloquent Mercurius,
Nephew of Atlas, their Protector, grieves.

Thais, and Lais, and Phryne, and such creatures,
Bright Hyperíon, thou must needs portray.
On view, for sale, lo their audacious features
Beside the holiest Icons, god of day!

Vile notorieties, snobs, scenes of folly,

Displayed to gaping multitudes we see,
Dead brigands; objects yet more melancholy,

Live blackguards in shop windows drawn by thee!

THE PRIZE RING.

BRUSHES, better known as the "dashing young Painter," are matched LITTLE AMY, commonly called the "Coral-lip Pet," and BERTIE for £10,000 to £5,000.

The Pet comes from a good school, and is acknowledged to be all that
The event is expected to come off on some fine morning in June.
the "Fancy painted her."

Professor SMORLWITZ, better known by his sobriquet of the "
The long-talked-of match between the "Peony of Pansgrove" and
Calculating
Boy," for £5,000 to £50 is off.

LOTTY LAURELS, the "Admiral's Darling," is now in town. So also is DARCIE DUMLEY, over whom last Summer the Darling" achieved such a signal conquest in a private-box. DARCIE informs us that he would be happy to accommodate the "Darling" in a match for £20,000 a side. If DARCIE really means business, the "Darling may be heard of on Thursday Evening between eleven and three, at the Laughing Belles," May Fair.

TOM BOLA, who fell on his knees at his first meeting with BLANCHY BULBUL, the "Bird of Paradise," and has since been troubled with a slight heart-affection, is now ready to make a match with the Bird for £30,000 a side. Poor Tom was for some time in a strait, having lost his balance through the giving way of a bank, but we are glad to see that he is now coming round. May his shadow never grow less, is the cordial wish of his friends, who pronounce Toм BOLA the noblest champion that ever threw-as a heavy weight-his fortune into the ring.

+"SIR JOHN FORTESCUE alludes to the revels and pastimes of the Temple in the reign of HENRY THE SIXTH, and several ancient writers speak of the grand Christmasses, the readers' feasts, the masques, and the sumptuous entertainments afforded to foreign ambassadors, and even to Royalty itself. Various dramatic shows were got up upon these occasions, and the leading characters who figured at them were the Marshall of the Knights Templars, the Constable Marshall, the Master of the Games, the Lieutenant of the Tower, the Ranger of the Forest, the Lord of Misrule, the King of Cockneys, "The Constable Marshall came into the Hall on banqueting-days fairly mounted on his mule,' clothed in complete armour, with a nest of feathers of all colours upon his helm, and a gilt poleaxe in his hand. He was attended by halbardiers, and preceded by drums and fifes, and by sixteen trumpeters, and devised some sport for passing away the afternoon."

and Jack Straw!

"The Master of the Game, and the Ranger of the Forest, were apparelled in green velvet and green satin, and had hunting-horns about their necks, with which they marched round about the fire, blowing three blasts of venery.' "The most remarkable of all the entertainments was the hunt in the hall, when the Huntsman came in with his winding horn, dragging in with him a cat, a fox, a purse-net, and nine or ten couple of hounds! The cat and the fox were both tied to the end of a staff, and were turned loose into the hall; they were hunted with the dogs, amid the blowing of hunting-horns, and were killed under the grate!!"-ADDISON's History of the Templars.

SNOBS AT THE OPERA.

ELL-BELOVED AND
SYMPATHISING
MR. PUNCH,

I HAPPEN to be
gifted with a musi-
cal ear (only one,
you notice folks
have seldom two,
I fancy), and as
my wife is vain
enough to think
she has another,
we often pay a
visit and a guinea
to the opera. Not
being swells, we

But one glimpse of the blithe old times seemed granted to our day,
When to the site of the old Hall, upon a morn of May,

Judges, Serjeants, and Queen's Counsel,-a-gathering we saw :
The magnates of the land, y-mixed with magnates of the law,--
For feasting of a Royal Prince, and, ever pleased to please,
Of our Princesses fairest where all are fair, LOUISE-
They come as Kings and Queens had come to these old walls of yore,
And never Royalty, I ween, a fairer presence wore.
The times are hard and hasty; work drives play off the ground;
Life's field's all market-garden, where flowers are hardly found;
The ring of Temple revels sounds faint and far away;
The aureole round the Law's grey head grows dimmer day by day:
But one note of the old music from the old Hall, now laid low,
Through the bright beams and fresh panels of the new Hall seemed to flow;
One echo of the mirth where with the old Hall roof-tree rung,
Through the unmirthful silence of our time, methought, was flung,
That note was in LOUISE's voice, so musically clear,
That echo sounded in her laugh so sweet and so sincere.
If a blessing to Law's haunts and homes can any way be brought,
From such pure lips, such gentle heart, 'twas well it should be sought.

Again, there is the snob who makes pretence to be a musical enthusiast, and plagues you by his beating time quite audibly and visibly, often keeping up a noisy pedal accompaniment by stamping with his feet. This sort of snob is also a great waggler of his head to the rhythm of the music, and fidgets you by motions like those of the old-fashioned blue pot-bellied china figures, which inquiring little boys were sure to set a-shaking, and finally to smash.

Besides, there is the snob whose only music in his soul is that of vulgar music-halls and lamp-blacked nigger minstrelsy. Between the acts he hums the "toons," as he most probably would call them, which are now most popular with snobs of his persuasion, and, if he be not sharply checked, will murmur Walking in the Zoo in the garden scene of Faust.

In addition to these nuisances, the snob somniferous annoys me by snoring in the middle of La ci darem, for instance, and by distracting my attention to his nodding in his stall in a way that seems to threaten his tumbling headlong out of it. This stalled-ox is in general a beefy sort of person, but truth would not be wanting if I called him a stalled ass.

den don't mind owning Then I must denounce the enthusiastic snob who commits the vulgar that we go to hear outrage of applauding prematurely any singer he admires, and thus the music, and not robbing sober hearers of the last chords of accompaniment which the merely to show our-composer wrote to put a proper finish to the song. Snobs such as he selves, and chatter, annoy me by shouting "Bis! or "Bravo!" at the instant when a and be stared at. singer has uttered his last note, without waiting till the music of the Whatever inter- orchestra has ceased. rupts our hearing we consider a great nuisance, and one that robs us of a pleasure which we pay for pretty dearly and in justice should enjoy. Now, the small talk of the swells is most undoubtedly annoying, but in a measure one expects to hear it at the Opera, which has ever been regarded as a fashionable lounge. Other nuisances, however, I notice are increasing, and I think they should be checked. The swells are bad enough offenders in their way, but in some respects the snobs are certainly far worse. Let me describe one or two who have most recently annoyed me.

To begin with, there's the snob who makes believe to be a critic, and who worries me, by whispering to the friend who sits beside him about imaginary blemishes which he pretends he can detect. While you are drinking in your PATTI or your NILSSON with all your eyes and ears, you may overhear him muttering, "That flute's a half-tone flat!" or Trashy stuff, this music: won't do after GLÜCK!"

Then too there's the snob who pretends he's an habitué, and tries to act the character by lolling in his stall, and listening in a languid way, as though he knew each note of the opera by heart. This snob annoys his neighbours by giving himself more airs than they will hear from the performers, and by his fidgeting in his stall and staring round the house in the middle of a song, or going out for ices in the middle of an Act.

Finally, 1 come to the applausive snob who always applauds at the wrong time, and calls out" By Jove, that's fine!" at what is either not especially commendable, or indeed is something worthy rather to be hissed. This sort of snob is a great swindler in encores, which he seizes every opportunity to force. At such times he will nudge his neighbour with his elbow, and incite him to vociferate, and thus tire the ears of all who wish to keep their hearing fresh. The applausive snob is also pretty certain to be loud in his applause of a loud note, and thus encourage mere shouting in lieu of real song.

There are many other opera-and-concert-haunting snobs, who are nightly a great nuisance to persons like myself, whose nerves quiver to good music, and when beneath its influence cannot bear much irritation. Pray, Sir, help to pass an Act for the removal of such nuisances, and prevent the Would-be Critics, and the Lollers, and the Timethumpers, and the Hummers and the Head-wagglers and the Stampers and the Shouters and the Snorers and Encorers, from disturbing the serenity of quiet listeners like Yours,

Scientific Pedestrian. "Do YOU FIND ANY FOSSILS HERE!"
Excavator. "DUNNO WHAT YOU CALLS VOSSULS.' WE FINDS NOWT HERE BUT MUCK AND 'ARD WORK!"

Printed by Joseph Smith, of No. 24, Holford Square, in the Parish of St. James, Clerkenwell, in the County of Middlesex, at the Printing Offices of Messrs. Bradbury, Evans, & Co., Lombard street, in the Precinct of Whitefriars, in the City of London, and Published by him at No. 85, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, City of London.-SATURDAY, May 18, 1970,

He who wrote the first article in this Journal, who from its establishment has been its conductor, and whose provident suggestions take effect in the very pages now before the reader, has ceased from this and all other earthly care and labour. "I, pete cœlestes, ubi nulla est cura, recessus,

Et tibi sit, nullo mista labore, quies."

There is need that this record of his gain, but of grievous loss to those in whose name this is said, should be prepared too early to permit its being aught but a most imperfect and inadequate expression of our love and of our sorrow. The last rite has been this day paid, in the quiet burial-place by the village church, dear to him in his later years, where he was gladdened by the voices of his children, joining in the melodies of the religion never forgotten by him when and it was often-he had friend to aid, or when, and it was rarely-he had enemy to pardon.

Neither to the mental nor the loving nature of the man whom we are mourning, and shall, while we survive him, mourn, do we attempt to do justice here. We do but inscribe a memorial without which we should reluctantly permit our Journal of this date to issue.

But it is of no stranger that we are speaking to friends known and unknown. For nearly thirty years he has guided this periodical; and few who read it know not something of him, and of the firm, but gentle influence which he exercised as our director. But if this Journal has had the good fortune to be credited with habitual advocacy of truth and justice, if it has been praised for abstinence from the less worthy kind of satire, if it has been trusted by those who keep guard over the purity of womanhood and of youth, we, the best witnesses, turn for a moment from our sorrow to bear the fullest and the most willing testimony that the high and noble spirit of MARK LEMON ever prompted generous championship, ever made unworthy onslaught or irreverent jest impossible to the pens of those who were honoured in being coadjutors with him. Of the deep affectionateness of his character, of the kindliness of his counsels, of the brotherly regard in which he held us, of the gracious tact with which he encountered and smoothed away the difficulties incident to work like ours, of his genial nature and of his modesty and self-abnegation, this is indeed a time to think, but not a time to write.

Nearly enough, indeed, of words of him over whose mortal remains the turf is newly laid. We feel that the best homage which we can pay to him who is gone before, the one tribute which, had he foreseen this early summons to his rest, he would have desired or permitted, is to declare our united resolve that, to the best of our ability, our future work for this Journal shall be done in the spirit long and lovingly taught us by the loved and revered friend who has passed to the reward of a noble life.

May 27th, 1870.

He had been absent: but was with us still
In letters, messages of wonted cheer:

We drank a quick recovery from his ill;

Asked, and were answered, "He will soon be here."

His kindly eyes looked on us from the wall:
In spirit at our board he seemed to sit,
Back into bounds too reckless mirth to call,
To quicken seemly fun and decent wit.

Little we thought the time was near at hand,
When we no more should meet those honest eyes:
Return no more that welcome blithe and bland,
Take counsel of that spirit, kind and wise!

Death has been frequent in our fellowship:
Where is A'BECKETT'S Rabelaisian style ;

Where JERROLD's wrath 'gainst wrong, and lightning quip;
Where THACKERAY's half-sad, half sunny, smile;

Where LEECH's facile hand and faithful brain,
The truest, tersest, abstract of the time ?
All memories! And he that linked the chain,
Now theme of my obituary rhyme!

Never did brethren of the pen owe more
To elder brother, than we owed to him:

Still his wit's weapon like a Knight he bore-
Would never poison point, nor polish dim:
And 'twas his pride to teach us so to bear
Our blades as he bore his-keep the edge keen,
But strike above the belt: and ever wear
The armour of a conscience clear and clean.*
The while he sat among us there was none
But felt the kindlier for his kindliness:
Jealousy seemed his genial smile to shun;
Failure was soothed; more modest grew success.

Never self-seeking, keen for others' rise

And gain, before his own, he loved to see
Young wrestlers of his training win the prize,
Nor asked what his part of the prize should be.

His memory will not die out of ours

For many a year to come: the thought of him, Erewhile associate with our merriest hours,

Will be a sad one, till all thought grows dim.

But what our loss to theirs, who with sick hearts
Sit in the darkened house, whence he has past
Till new life shall unite whom death disparts,
Where tears are dried, and grief turns joy at last!