Volume 25 — LAW ON ITS LAST LEGS.
Reading edition
Of all the indignities to which the legal profession has been exposed, we know of nothing to equal the insult just passed upon it by the parish authorities of St. James's, Westminster, who have advertised for a first-rate lawyer to fill the place of Parochial Messenger. Our assertion might appear incredible, were it not sustained by the following extract from one of the Times' Supplements:—
PAROCHIAL MESSENGER.—St. James's, Westminster—WANTED, by the Governors and Directors of the Poor, a respectable PERSON, of active habits, to fill the above situation. He must be thoroughly acquainted with the Law of Settlement, the practice at sessions relating to appeals, and with parish business generally concerning the poor. The duties and salary annexed to the appointment may be ascertained at my office, No. 50, Poland Street, Oxford Street, daily, between 9 and 6 o'clock; where also applications, accompanied by testimonials of character and ability, are to be left on or before Thursday, the 14th instant.
By order,
George Buzzard, Clerk.
Now every lawyer is perfectly aware that the law of settlement is a subject so abstruse and difficult that a "thorough acquaintance" with it can only be derived from years of study and practice at the Bar; and it is, therefore, quite evident that the Guardians of the Poor of St. James's, Westminster, expect one of the ablest Sessions barristers that can be found to undertake the place of messenger. We will admit that business has sadly fallen off, but we are not yet prepared to believe that our Bodkins and our Ballantines, or even our Horrids and our Florids, will yet be content to undertake the task of running on parochial errands, and delivering parochial messages. We shall, however, not be surprised at finding a forensic sergeant advertised for as a sergeant of police, because it is necessary the latter should know the law; but we hope it will be long before our Wilkinses cease to ornament our Bar by their splendid talents, and begin to exchange the coif for the cape, or the big wig for the baton.
TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Sunday at Blackwall—Mr. Punch would be glad to know where a letter would find you.
THE GREENWICH DINNER.—A CONVIVIAL MOMENT.
Gentleman (under the influence of White Bait). "Well, old Fella—Reklect—Preshent Company dine here with me every Monday, Thursday, an' Sat'dy—Friday—No—Toosday, Thursday, an' Sat'dy—Mind an' don' forget—I say—What a good fella you are—Greatest 'steem and regard for you, old fella!!"
THEOLOGICAL TANNING.
Bermondsey is a great place for tanners. According to the Rev. Dr. Armstrong, the incumbent of St. Paul's in that district, the converts to Protestantism from Popery therein residing get thrashed by their quondam co-religionists. Is it the genius loci or the genius of Roman Catholicism that suggests this tanning of the hides of heretics? which, one would think, if it cured their skins, would scarcely heal their souls, and instead of re-converting them to Romanism would only convert them to leather.
Prospect in Foreign Politics.—When Austria and Russia fall out, Kossuth and Mazzini will come by their own.
Query for Table-Turners.—Have you ever turned a square table round?
ONE OF THE HORRORS OF THE CHOBHAM WAR
UNCLE TOM'S POLLING BOOTH.
The dashing Protestant candidate for Sligo in his address advised his intended constituents to beware of the "priestly Legrees who seek to reduce them to political Uncletomitude." We should say that he—but, on second thoughts, we scorn to put two good things into the same paragraph.
Little Cry and Great Wool.
One of the daily journals constantly warns the present age against its tendency to succumb to the Lawyers, and "the legal mind." But the mammas and nurses of England are beforehand with the journalist. Nearly the first lesson and warning a child receives is, "Bar, Bar—Black Sheep."
An Aching Void.—A hollow tooth.
