[Our country readers may probably not be aware that there exists in
London a body of pleasant-minded gentlemen, constituting a society
bearing the above name, who collect, with never-wearying application and
research, the various statistical reports connected with every subject
of the day. Their proceedings are duly chronicled in the different
scientific and literary reviews, but as these may not be within the
reach of all, we have collected the most interesting points discovered
by their labours, during the past twelvemonth, and present them as a
"Year Book of Facts" to our admirers.]
* * * * *
Some valuable particulars have been gained in connection with the supper
taverns of London. Of every twenty visitors, it appears that eight order
Welsh rabbits, six ditto broiled kidneys, four ditto poached eggs, and
two ditto chops or steaks, as their taste may direct; and that these
numbers are divided into seven medical students, five lawyers' clerks,
three gentlemen from the country, the same number of men about town, and
two shop-boys or single tradesmen, who imagine they are so. Of these,
more than one-third call the waiters "Charles," or "Tom;" two in five
join loudly in the burdens of "The Pope," and "The Monks of Old;" and
one in four encores the comic songs by striking his fists upon the
table, until the cruets commence performing an intricate figure of their
own, and finally tumble down upon the floor.
The statistics of Camberwell Fair are exceedingly interesting; and the
following return of the state of fifty dolls there purchased, at the end
of a week from the time of buying, will be read, we are assured, with
avidity:
Had their eyes poked in, and rattling loose in the head 12
Ditto picked out 8
Despoiled of their wigs 6
Lost their arms and legs 9
Melted before the fire 3
Had their noses beaten flat against the bars 7
Totally destroyed 4
In tolerable preservation 1
——
Total 50
As the affection of a child for its doll proverbially increases
according to the dilapidated state of the latter, the above tables
afford an interesting view of the probable existing proportion of
nursery attachments at the present moment. One child in three, at the
Fair, had a mouth covered with gingerbread crumbs, and five in twelve
had the stomach-ache. The promenade Concert d'Eté, which lasted all day
long, embraced twenty-two penny trumpets, or _cornets-à-bois_, nineteen
musical fruits, six fiddles with packthread strings, and four drums,
varying in price from sixpence to two shillings. A solo, by a very young
performer, on a tin rattle filled with peas, was very much admired.
A paper, involving some singular points of manufacturing economy, has
been written, entitled, "What becomes of all the pins?" It appears, from
Professor Partington, that _twenty millions_ of pins are daily
manufactured in this country. These get into general circulation, and
after a time, entirely disappear; but the remarkable fact is, that, like
the swallows, nobody knows where they go to. It is proved that, were it
possible to recall these lost articles, a quantity might be collected
sufficient to build the projected foot-bridge at Hungerford Market, and
the residue might be cast into one enormous pin, which should be erected
as a column in any part of London best suited for its elevation, and to
be called "Victoria's Pin," in opposition to "Cleopatra's Needle," at
Alexandria. There would be a winding staircase in the interior, with a
saloon in its head, and it might serve, not only as a land-mark in
stormy weather for the fourpenny steamboats plying between Vauxhall and
London Bridge, but, since the setting up of statues to everybody that
dies is getting into fashion, the column could be crowned with an image
of Shakspeare, Byron, or any other inferior character who has not yet
been so honoured, in London, beyond the lobbies of the theatres and
Madame Tussaud's.
From the visiting report "On the Lunatic Asylums of the United Kingdom,"
we learn that the persons of unsound or slightly cracked intellects in
England, amount to ninety per cent., but that straight-waistcoats have
gone out of fashion, being superseded by straight pea-jackets with the
majority of the aberrated. Of a great quantity of lunatics now in
Bedlam, five out of thirteen are addicted to punching the crowns out of
their hats, and then putting them on topsy-turvy; and two in seventeen
are not quite clear whether they are the Secretary of State or Julius
Cæsar, but collect small pebbles, which they call petrified bears' heads
and five-shilling pieces. Ninety-one and a half per cent. believe they
are perfectly sane, and that all the rest are stark mad; whilst two in
nine are preparing to bring an action against the Queen for breach of
promise of marriage. Of three hundred wooden bowls allowed them for
their gruel, twenty-four had been thrown at the nurses and keepers in
one day; and, in a single instance, one had been converted into a
species of cap, which was put on with much solemnity, and the wearer
then kept close watch in the yard for the whole week over a
strawberry-pottle, which he represented to be Windsor Castle. At
Hanwell, from the proximity of the asylum to the railway, twenty per
cent. believe that they are first-class carriages, and have a habit of
whistling loudly when they approach, that the others may get out of the
way; a proceeding which is generally advisable.
A statement has also been made connected with the omnibuses of the
metropolis, from which it appears that, when you are waiting at the
corner of any street for an omnibus, seven out of eight are going the
wrong way. Ninety per cent. of the cads ask if you will ride outside
when you hail them; and, out of thirteen passengers, three wear kid
gloves, eight sport brown Berlin, and two none at all.