"He HOOD if he could."
Roaming along, the other day, in those regions of Cockney retirement,
the vicinity of the Cat and Mutton Fields, about a mile from the _Ultima
Thule_ of Shoreditch, I was struck by the appearance of a row of neat
little houses; and my attention was so particularly arrested by one of
them, that I incontinently paused to look at it. It seemed to have all
the ostentatious assumption of a little man who strives to look big. It
had a portico, that might have belonged to the Colosseum, with a flight
of stone steps that would have graced the new palace at Pimlico; and the
drawing-room windows were ambitiously overshadowed by a verandah, not
unworthy of Worthing.
While I was meditating on its appearance, and admiring the extraordinary
air of cleanliness which distinguished it from its neighbours, a paper
parcel, tied round with thread, and sealed with a thimble, fell at my
feet. I looked above and around me, but no one was visible; and
conceiving it to be intended for myself, I picked it up, and walked on.
At a favourable opportunity I opened it, and read as follows:—
* * * * *
"This cums Hopping that sum boddy in the Street Walking may pick me up
and put me into the Square box at the Circling librey, the Place where
the Post is. It is the haughty bioggrify of a unfortnit yung cretur
who's in servis. Let the supperscripshun be to the Mournin Herald or the
Currier or the Trew Son or the Stand Hard, or the Spekt Tatur, or any of
'em, for one's just as good as tother. I think the noospapers would take
it inn, for they takes in a good many servants as wants places.
"My pappa was a Baker, and he meant I shuld be Bread up like a lady, for
tho I was the least of the Batch, i was the Flour of the flock. But
pappa Dying, i had to git my Living, for he didn't Roll in ritches, and
his guds and chappels were Saddled with detts, witch Spurred me on to
Bridel my greef, tho i seldom had a Bit in my mouth, wich was hard; and
when our Blow got Wind, i lost my sweethart, wich Blow was Harder. He
was sitch a nice yung man; and when i walkt past his Door, he used to
prays my Gate, and tell me when we were marryd we should live in Stile.
But I am Loth to say, he turned out a Willing, and wanted te tak
advantidge of my citywashun. But I had 2 strings to my Beau in a yung
mit-chipman, but he got prest and sent on board a Tender, witch was a
grate Hard Shipp for him, and I felt it.
"But to cut a Long Tail Short,—when my dear Ben Bannister left me, miss
fortin Staired me in the face, and every boddy turn'd their Backs on me,
and I culd not bare such a Front, so i got a place as a servnt of all
work, and my mind was maid up to be in duster house: but it was a Grate
fall for me down into the Kitchen, tho when i got there i found a
Grater; for my first missus was a Dresser, and often and often when I've
bin all over greece she has calld me up to her Rome to help her on with
her gownd, witch was very humblin to 1 as was used to have her own made
to wait upon her. Butt i left her bekause we lived at a Fishmongers &
itt Smelt so; and i had more than twenty Plaices in the first 12 months,
wich Maid me quite Crabby, for I was going Backwards. But mississes are
as proud as my lord Mare, and makes you work like an Horse; so I turned
myself Out, for i culd not In-Door itt.
"I wont trubbel you with all my trubbels, but will skipp over the hole
to give you my Last, wich dont Fit me at all; and its Jest no Joke, I
can ashure you, for its like as if my 20 mississes was turnd into one.
I've bin in the plaice almost a month, soe I have had a pritty gud
experense.
"First, i Seconds all the close, & theres 13 of us in fammaly. Theres
missis & master, thats 2, but misses says as how theyre 1: theres the 3
young ladys is 5; and the 3 boys from skool, where i am sure they never
larnt no manners, & I dont love em at all, that's Hate; & the 2 yung
babbys in harms is 10; and mr. Phipps the frunt parler loger is 11, and
mr Snooks the back parler loger is 12 & i am just thirteen. So i leaves
you to juge when i Hang em all out if there isnt enuff to Do for.
"Missis is what they calls a not Abel womman, & keeps 1 scrubbin & doin
all day long, & is so pertickler, that when master cums home on a wet
day, i has to lift him into the hous for fear he shuld dirty the steps.
To be shure he's a werry littel man, but then its so shockin indillikat.
Missis is verry fond of Bruin too, witch i cant Bear, and i hates Hops,
xcept when i goes to a dance; besides, the Hopperation quite puts one
into a fomentation, and sets one all of a Work. Then the fammaly is so
verry unreglar, & we keeps a deal of cumpany, tho they dont alow any
follerers, and missis is always snubbin me if the Butcher or the Baker
stopps a minuet att the gait. But if i were even to liv in a garratt, i
shuld be abuv sitch peepel & shuld look down uppon em. I no one of the
yung ladys casts a sheeps eye on the Butcher herself, but i hop he wont
giv her his Hart, for i am shure she would be a gay Liver, & i no she
has plenty of Tung.
"Wile i am uppon theas yung ladys i culd pick a hole in em, but i abhor
Back bitin. Howsomdever, tho they are Twins all Three of em, theres no
Unity in One of em, and when a gentilman is interdeuced to the fammaly,
they all fall in luv with him, wich must be verry embrasing to the
party, and they try all their harts of captywashun. Miss Carryline rites
a billy dux anomilously and folds it like a trew lovyers not, to puzzel
him. Miss Matilda makes annoys on the harp with her bigg Fistis, and
says she had her lessons from a Boxer; and miss Jimmima thumps away on
the piney Forty, Fifty times a day, to git pirfict for the heavening. I
often wishes thare was locks to them keys.
"But all their Harts wont do, & theyve none of them got a Deer yet, for
they make themselves 2 Chepe, & they are all of em verry jellus of me,
bekause the 2 gentilmen logers has a grate licking for me; & they carrys
their spit so Fur that I mustnt ware a Bore, and they sets their mama
Hat me if they sees a bit of lace on my Cap. They makes quite a Furze
too if i incloses my Waste with a ribbon tho its so Common; & I'm shure
they had better pay what they Hose than find fault with my Stockins; for
they stands over me while i am Pinking em, witch shose they aint well
Red in their manors, and they wont lett me Ware em no Ware. I shuld lik
to no why servnts aint to doo what they likes with their hone; for Ive
red theyve as big a steak in the common unity as their Betters, who're
many of em nothin else but Gamblers.
"But i dont mind the Hitts of sich Misses: for its all Shear envy,
becaus they wants to Cut me out with the 2 logers, & had rayther see me
Hangd than Halter my condishun. But the gentilmen dont lik none of em,
for theyre as tall and as pail as 2 hapenny Rushlites and a grate deal
more Wicked. Mr. Snooks, the loger as walks the Horsepittels in the back
parler, says theyre more like ottomies than wimmen, for they've none of
em got no hannimashun; and mr. Phipps the clark as hokkipies the frunt
parler says theyre quite Ciphers to me, for i am a better Figger, & more
uprighter than any 1 of em. He sometimes carrys his devours to such a
Pitch, that if i culd forgit my Tar, I see no resin why i shuld not
marry him, & then the miss Rushlites would be very much Put Out when
they'd lost one of their Flames.
"Mr. Phipps is a littery man, and nose a Grate many Tongs, and has maid
a bigg book of Pottery, full of Plates. He tells me not to be jellus
because he Courts the Mews, & has sent me the histry of his life & a
coppy of verses on my mississes yousidge of me; and i hop you'll tell
the noospaper man he mustnt take my life without takin his'n & he may
have the pottery into the bargain.
"Notty Benny.—My life shall be conclooded att the first hopportunitty.
"So no more at presnt from yours humbely to comand
"MOLDYDUSTA MOGGS."
* * * * *
"Post Scripp. I forgot to tell you that i cant git enuff to heat, missis
is sitch a skin Flint, unless I Steel it, & that's unpossebel, for she
always takes care to lock upp the Cold Heatabels."
[Illustration:
JULY.—"Dog Days"
]
┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│1836.] │ JULY. │
├─────────────┼───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ │Dear me! how hot the weather grows— │
│ │ There's scarce a breath to cool one's face; │
│ │Through _Air_ Street not a zephyr blows, │
│ │ Nor e'en a breeze from _Wind_-ham Place. │
│ │Down Regent Street, so lazy all one sees, │
│ │There's nobody "industrious" but "The Fleas." │
├──┬──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤
│ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │
│ D│ Signs. │ │ │
├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤
│ 1│belly │ │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 2│back │ A DOGGEREL FOR THE DOG DAYS. │ (that │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 3│hips │Most _doggedly_ I do maintain, │ is to say, │
│ │ │ And hold the _dogma_ true,— │ │
│ 4│reins, │That four-legg'd _dogs_ altho' we see, │ beginning │
│ │ │ We've some that walk on two. │ │
│ 5│all │ │ at the │
│ │ │Among them there are clever dogs; │ │
│ 6│full of │ A few you'd reckon mad; │ beginning) │
│ │ │While some are very jolly dogs, │ │
│ 7│aches │ And others very sad. │ ♍ ☉ ⚹ ♍ │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 8│and │You've heard of Dogs, who, early taught, │ ♓ ☽ ♑ │
│ │ │ Catch halfpence in the mouth;— │ │
│ 9│pains │But we've a long-tail'd _Irish_ dog, │ │
│ │ │ With feats of larger growth. │ I do │
│10│because │ │ │
│ │ │Of Dogs who merely _halfpence_ snatch │ │
│11│I know │ The admiration ceases, │ prefer │
│ │ │For he grows saucy, sleek, and fat, │ │
│12│not │ By swallowing _penny-pieces_! │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│13│what │He's practising some other feats, │ ☉ ☽ ♑ ♀ │
│ │ │ Which time will soon reveal; │ │
│14│to do │One is, to squeeze an _Orange_ flat, │ │
│ │ │ And strip it of its _Peel_. │ jogging │
│15│the │ │ │
│ │ │The next he'll find a toughish job, │ │
│16│Season's │ For one so far in years; │ along │
│ │ │He wants to pull an old _House_ down, │ │
│17│Signs │ That's now propp'd up by _Peers_. │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│18│are │I've heard of physic thrown to dogs, │ ☉ ♊ ♓ ♓ │
│ │ │ And very much incline │ │
│19│now │To think it true, for we've a pack │ slowly and │
│ │ │ Who only _bark_ and _w_(h)_ine_. │ │
│20│so few │ │ │
│ │ │The _Turnspit_ of the sad old days │cautelously;│
│21│and │ Is vain enough to boast, │ │
│ │ │Altho' his "occupation's gone," │ │
│22│all │ He still could _rule the roast_. │ ☽ △ ♓ │
│ │ │ │ │
│23│that │But turnspits now are out of date,— │ │
│ │ │ We all despise the hack, │ feeling │
│24│I have │And in the kitchen of the state │ │
│ │ │ We still prefer a _Jack_. │ my way, │
│25│got │ │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│26│to say │ │ │
│ │ │ │as it were, │
│27│is, take │ │ │
│ │ │ │ with │
│28│care of │ │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│29│Saint │ │ ♄ ♃ ♂ ☉ ⚹ │
│ │ │ │ │
│30│Swithin's │ │ my eye at │
│ │ │ │ │
│31│day! │ │ │
└──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘
_STANZAS, addressed to Mrs...., of ... Terrace
Cat and Mutton Fields._
You 'cat,' that would 'worry a rat!'
You 'cow with the crumpled horn!'
I wish you were _squeez'd_,—and that's _flat_,—
For ill-using a 'Maiden forlorn.'
You're as bad as a _slave-driver_ quite,
Altho' you subscrib'd to the tracts;—
If the linen's wash'd ever so _white_,
You always complain of the _blacks_.
A servant is worthy her _hire_;
You pilfer one-fourth of her due,
For tho' she does all you desire,
She only gets _ire_ from you.
A fit she had, one afternoon,
When you set her a-cleaning the paint;
And while she was off in a _swoon_,
You said it was only a _feint_.
A party you had yesterday,—
No wonder so often she swoons,—
For as soon as the folks went away,
You began to be missing the _spoons_!
She was cleaning the windows last week
(Such savings are very small gains),
You scolded her while you could speak,
And told her she didn't take _panes_.
She cleans all the boots and the shoes;
When she's done 'em she sits down to cry:
WARREN'S JET is the blacking you choose;
But od _'rabbit_ that _Warren_! say I.
For this you can make no excuse:—
You'd a party at whist t'other day,
And you scolded away like the _deuce_,
'Cause the sandwiches dropp'd from the _tray_.
You tell her she dresses too gay
(You're afraid that she'll cut out your gals),
You strip lace and ribbons away,
And say she shan't wear such fal-lals.
'Tis in vain her attempting to speak,
For your heart is as hard as a stone;
But she means to be married next week;
Then she'll 'do what she likes with her own.'
[Illustration:
AUGUST.——Bathing at Brighton.
]
┌─────────────┬───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ 1836.] │ AUGUST. │
├─────────────┴───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
│Perhaps the Minister has passed the budget, and given the Houses │
│leave to trudge it;—the lawyer folds his brief, with little grief;— │
│closed are the Halls, against all calls;—John Doe and Richard Roe may│
│go;—the debtor breathes, respited from mishap; and Bailiffs, wanting │
│jobs, may keep _a Tap_. │
├──┬──────────┬──────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤
│ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │
│ D│ Signs. │ │ │
├──┼──────────┼──────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤
│ 1│In │ │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 2│Germany │ BRIGHTON. │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 3│they │Well here, once more, on Brighton's shore,│ the end of │
│ │ │ We're safe arrived at last; │ │
│ 4│rest │So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, │ ☽ ♓ ☌ ☍ │
│ │ │ Nor look so _overcast_. │ │
│ 5│their │ │ my │
│ │ │We've not been here this many a year; │ │
│ 6│heads │ So do not look so blue, │ │
│ │ │But sport your cash, and cut a dash, │ divining │
│ 7│betwixt │ As other people do. │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│ 8│a pair │There's Mistress Skait,-she wouldn't wait,│ rod, │
│ │ │ But off she tripp'd so gaily: │ │
│ 9│of │She struts along amid the throng: │ ⚹ ♈ ♃ ♐ ♊ │
│ │ │ _Her_ husband isn't _scaly_. │ │
│10│feather │ │ ☉ ♐ ♓ │
│ │ │There's Mistress _Wick_, and little Dick, │ │
│11│beds; │ Have come to have a _dipping_; │ and │
│ │ │And there's her niece, who's been to │ │
│ │ │ _Greece_, │ │
│12│a famous │ Is now all over _dripping_. │ │
│ │ │ │ exploring │
│13│plan, I │And oh, what fun! there's Martha Gunn │ │
│ │ │ (But no, that gun's _gone off_), │ │
│14│will be │But only look at that sea-cook │ the mazes │
│ │ │ A-sousing Mrs. Gough. │ │
│15│bound, │ │ │
│ │ │Well, I declare, there's Mrs. _Ware_ │ of │
│16│while │(She's every _where_, I think)— │ │
│ │ │Her spouse, I know, is quite her beau, │ │
│17│frost & │ And never spares the chink. │ ☉ ♃ ♐ ♂ ☍ │
│ │ │ │ │
│18│snow │And, last of all, there's Mr. Ball, │ │
│ │ │ Who promis'd Mrs. B— │ futurity, │
│19│are on │And kindly has _redeem'd_ his _pledge_,— │ │
│ │ │ That she should see the sea. │ │
│20│the │ │ with the │
│ │ │So, Mister Snip, don't have the hyp, │ │
│21│ground, │ Nor look so monstrous blue; │ │
│ │ │But sport your cash, and cut a dash, │heedfulness │
│22│but │ As other people do. │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│23│in the │ │ ♎ ♅ ☉ ♐ │
│ │ │ │ │
│24│Dog │ │ │
│ │ │ │of one, who,│
│25│Days' │ │ │
│ │ │ │ knowing │
│26│raging │ │ │
│ │ │ │ the │
│27│heat, I │ │ │
│ │ │ │ │
│28│shouldn't │ │ ♃ ♉ ♒ ☽ │
│ │ │ │ │
│29│think it │ │weightiness │
│ │ │ │ │
│30│such a │ │ of the │
│ │ │ │ │
│31│treat. │ │ │
└──┴──────────┴──────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘
=Advertisements Extraordinary.=
THEATRE ROYAL, ENGLISH UPROAR.—The Proprietor respectfully announces
that, while the cold weather lasts, he will present each visitor to the
Boxes or Pit with a bucket of "thick-ribbed ICE;" and assures the Public
that the temperature of the Theatre is so comfortably regulated that it
is never more than 50 degrees below the freezing point.
* * * * *
THEATRE ROYAL, DREARY LANE.—This
Evening, their Majesties' Servants will perform
THE MANAGER IN DISTRESS;
To which will be added the serious Extravaganza of
THE HOT CROSS _BUNN_;
The principal Character by the Manager.
The whole to conclude with
THE DEVIL TO PAY.
On Monday next, Mr. SWING will exhibit his extraordinary performances on
the Tight Rope.—_N.B._ On this occasion all persons on the Free List
will be _suspended_.