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Lines on John Bannister, by Sir George Rose
Lines to a Lyric and Artist
Biographical Sketch of Richardson, by W. Jerdan
Recollections of Childhood, by the Author of “ Headlong Hall"
The Wide-awake Club
II. Legend of Hamilton Tighe .
III. Grey Dolphin
IV. The Squire's Story.
V. The Execution, a Sporting Anecdote
A Merry Christmas, by T. Haynes Bayly
Nights at Sea, by the Old Sailor:
Sonnet to a Fog, by Egerton Webbe .
Biography of Aunt Jemima, by F. H. Rankin
Scenes in the Life of a Gambler, by Captain Medwin
280, 364, 487
Portrait of George Colman
Procession at the Inauguration of Mr. Tulrumble as Mayor of
Mudfog, by George Cruikshank,
Who are you? by S. Lover
Oliver Twist, by George Cruikshank
Spectre of Tappington, by Buss
Oliver Twist, No. II. by George Cruikshank
Portrait of Samuel Foote, by Sir Joshua Reynolds
The Little Bit of Tape, by Phiz
Oliver Twist, No. III. by George Cruikshank
Portrait of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, by Ozias Humphreys
Oliver Twist, No. IV. by George Cruikshank
The Romance of a Day, by George Cruikshank
OUR SONG OF THE MONTH.
No. I. January, 1837.
THE BOTTLE OF ST. JANUARIUS.
IN the land of the citron and myrtle, we're told
O, profound LAZZARONI! I seek not to quarrel;
Lo! with icicled beard JANUARIUS comes!
And the blood in his veins is all frozen and gelid, And he beareth a bottle; but TORPOR benumbs
Every limb of the saint :-Would ye wish to dispel it? With the hand of good-fellowship grasp the hoar sage
Soon his joints will relax and his pulse will beat quicker ; Grasp the bottle he brings-'twill grow warm, I'll engage, Till the frost of each heart lies dissolved in the LIQUOR !
WATER-GRASS-HILL, Kal. Januarii.
For us, and our Miscellany,
"DOCTOR," said a young gentleman to Dean Swift, "I intend to set up for a wit."
"Then," said the Doctor, "I advise you to sit down again." The anecdote is unratified by a name, for the young gentleman continues to the present day to be anonymous, as he will, in all probability, continue to future time; and as for Dean Swift, his name, being merely that of a wit by profession, goes for nothing. We apprehend that the tale is not much better than what is to be read in the pages of Joe Miller.
But, supposing it true,—and the joke is quite bad enough to be authentic, we must put in our plea that it is not to apply to us. The fact is absolutely undeniable that we originally advertised ourselves or rather our work as, the "Wits' Miscellany, -thereby indicating, beyond all doubt, that we of the Miscellany were WITS. It is our firm hope that the public, which is in general a most tender-hearted individual, will not give us a rebuff similar to that which the unnamed young gentleman experienced at the hands, or the tongue, of the implacable Dean of St. Patrick.
It has been frequently remarked,-and indeed we have more than fifty times experienced the fact ourselves, that of all the stupid dinner-parties, by far the stupidest is that at which the cleverest men in all the world do congregate. A single lion is a pleasant show: he wags his tail in proper order; his teeth are displayed in due course; his hide is systematically admired, and his mane fitly appreciated. If he roars, good! - if he aggravates his voice to the note of a sucking-dove, better! All look on in the appropriate mood of delight, as Theseus and Hippolita, enraptured at the dramatic performance of Snug the Joiner. But when there comes a menagerie of lions, the case is altered. Too much familiarity, as the lawyers say in their peculiar jargon, begets contempt. We recollect, many years ago, when some ingenious artist in Paris proposed to make Brussels lace or blonde by machinery at the rate of a sou per ell, to have congratulated a lady of our acquaintance on this important