|IT seems from our late dispatches that the prevailing assassin has
made his appearance in England, and has fired at Her Royal Tallness, the
Queen. The dispatch does not say why the man fired at Victoria, but the
chances are that she at some time in a careless moment refused him the
appointment of Book-keeper to the Queen's Livery Stable Extraordinary,
or neglected to confirm his nomination to the position as Usher
Plenipotentiary to the Royal Bath Room and Knight of the Queen's
Cuspidor.
Royalty gets it in the nose every day or two, and yet after the family
has hung onto the salary for several centuries it does not occur to
the average king that he could strike a job as humorist on some London
paper, at about the same salary and with none of the annoyances. The
most of those people who have worn a great, heavy cast iron crown, with
diamonds on it as big as a peanut, have become so attached to it that
they can't swear off in a moment.
We do not see where the orchestra comes in on a thing like that. The
average American would rather sell mining stock, and get wealthy without
a tail on his name and his hair all worn off with a crown two sizes too
large for him, than to be King of the Cannibal Islands with a missionary
baby on toast twice a day.