When he beheld the hand of him he had so loved raised against him, Cæsar's
heart was filled with anguish, and uttering the deep reproach--"And thou,
too, Brutus!" he shrouded his face in his mantle, and fell at the foot of
Pompey's statue, covered with wounds. Thus, in the zenith of his glory,
perished Caius Julius Cæsar, the conqueror of the world, and the eloquent
historian of his own exploits; spiflicatus est (says my original), he was
done for: he got his gruel, and inserted his pewter in the stucco, B.C.
44.
Perhaps you may not receive the above; but "sticking his spoon in the
wall" reminds me of a hint I have to offer you. Did you ever see any
Apostle spoons--old things with saints carved on their handles, which used
to be presented, at christenings, &c. Now I think you might make your
fortune with His Royal Highness of Cornwall, on the occasion of his
christening, by getting together a set of spoons to present to him; and I
would suggest your selection of the most notorious _spoons_, such as the
delectable Saddler Knight, Peter Borthwick, Calculating Joey, _the_
Colonel, Ben D'Israeli, &c. You might even class them, putting Sir Andrew
Agnew in as a grave(y) spoon; a teetotal chief as a _tea_ spoon; Wakley,
being a _deserter_, as a _dessert_ spoon; D'Israeli, being so amazingly
soft, as a _pap_ spoon, &c. &c. Send them with Punch's dutiful
congratulations, and you will infallibly get knighted; but don't take a
baronetcy, my respectable friend, for I hear that, like my friend Sir
Moses, you are inclined to Judyism (Judaism)[5]. May the shadow of your
nose never be less; and Heaven send that you may take this up after
dinner! Farewell!
[5] Have I "seen that line before?"