Part 4 — THE EXCLUSIVE'S BROKEN IDOL. PUNCH.

A don't object at all to War With a set a fellas like the Fwench, But this dem wupcha with the Czar, It gives one's feeling quite a wench.

The man that peace in Yawwup kept Gives all his pwevious life the lie; A fina fella neva stepped, Bai JOVE, he's maw than six feet high!

He cwushed those democwatic beasts; He'd flog a Nun; maltweat a Jew, Or pawsecute those Womish Pwiests, Most likely vewy pwoppa too.

To think that afta such a cawce, Which nobody could eva blame, The EMP'WA should employ bwute fawce Against this countwy just the same!

We all consida'd him our fwiend, But in a most erwoneus light, In shawt, it seems you can't depend On one who fancies might is wight.

His carwacta is coming out; His motives—which A neva saw— Are now wevealed beyond a doubt, And we must fight—but what a baw!

THE LAST KICK OF FOP'S ALLEY. PUNCH. Air—"Weber's Last Waltz."

My wawst feaws are wealized; the Op wa is na maw, And the wain of DONIZETTI and TAPISCHOWE are aw! No entapwising capitalist bidding faw the lot, In detail at last the pwopaty is being sold by SCOTT.

Fahwell to Anna Bolena; to Nauma, oh, fahwell! Adieu to La Sonnambula! the hamma wings haw knell; I Puwitani, too, must cease a cwowded house to dwaw, And they've knocked down lovely Lucia, the Bwide of Lammamaw.

Fahwell the many twinkling steps; fahwell the gwaceful fawm That bounded o'er the wose-beds, and that twipped amid the stawm; Fahwell the gauze and muslin—doomed to load the Hebwew's bags; Faw the Times assauts the wawdwobe went—just fancy—as old wags!

That ev'wy thing that's bwight must fade, we know is vewy twue, And now we see what sublunawy glowwy must come to; How twue was MAIDSTONE'S pwophecy; the Deluge we behold Now that HAW MAJESTY'S Theataw is in cawse of being sold.

THE MAD CABMAN'S SONG OF SIXPENCE [Footnote: This inimitable burlesque was published soon after the cab fare had reduced from eightpence to sixpence a mile.] PUNCH.

Wot's this?—wot hever is this 'ere? Eh?—arf a suvrin!—feels like vun— Boohoo! they won't let me have no beer! Suppose I chucks it up into the sun!— No—that ain't right— The yaller's turned wite! Ha, ha, ho!—he's sold and done— Come, I say!—I won't stand that— 'Tis all my eye and BETTY MARTIN! Over the left and all round my hat, As the pewter pot said to the kevarten.

Who am I? HEMPRER of the FRENCH LEWIS NAPOLEON BONYPART, Old Spooney, to be sure— Between you and me and the old blind oss And the doctor says there ain't no cure.

D' ye think I care for the blessed Bench?— From Temple Bar to Charing Cross? Two mile and better—arf a crown— Talk of screwing a feller down! As for poor BILL, it's broke his art. Cab to the Moon, sir? Here you are!— That's—how much?— A farthin' touch! Now as we can't demand back fare.

But, guv'ner, wot can this 'ere be?— The fare of a himperial carridge? You don't mean all this 'ere for me! In course you ain't heerd about my marridge— I feels so precious keveer! How was it I got that kick o' the 'ed? I've ad a slight hindisposition But a Beak ain't no Physician. Wot's this 'ere, sir? wot's this 'ere? You call yerself a gentleman? yer Snob! He wasn't bled: And I was let in for forty bob, Or a month, instead: And I caught the lumbago in the brain— I've been confined— But never you mind— Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! I ain't hinsane.

Vot his this 'ere? Can't no one tell? It sets my ed a spinnin— The QUEEN'S eye winks—it ain't no sell— The QUEEN'S 'ed keeps a grinnin: Ha, ha! 't was guv By the cove I druv— I vunders for wot e meant it! For e sez to me, E sez, sez e, As I ort to be contented! Wot did yer say, sir, wot did yer say? My fare!—wot, that! Yer knocks me flat. Hit in the vind!—I'm chokin—give us air— My fare? Ha, ha! My fare? Ho, ho! My fare?

Call that my fare for drivin yer a mile? I ain't hinsane—not yet—not yet avile! Wot makes yer smile? My blood is bilin' in a wiolent manner! Wot's this I've got? Show us a light— This 'ere is—wot?— There's sunthin the matter with my sight— It is—yes!—No!— 'Tis, raly, though— Oh, blow! blow! blow!— Ho, ho, ho, ho! it is, it is a Tanner!

ALARMING PROSPECT PUNCH. To the Editor of "PUNCH."

SIR—You are aware, of course, that in the progress of a few centuries the language of a country undergoes a great alteration; that the Latin of the Augustan age was very different from that of the time of Tarquin; and no less so from that which prevailed at the fall of the Roman empire. Also, that the Queen's English is not precisely what it was in Elizabeth's days; to say nothing of its variation from what was its condition under the Plantagenets.

I observe, with regret, that our literature is becoming conversational, and our conversation corrupt. The use of cant phraseology is daily gaining ground among us, and this evil will speedily infect, if it has not already infected, the productions of our men of letters. I fear most for our poetry, because what is vulgarly termed SLANG is unfortunately very expressive, and therefore peculiarly adapted for the purposes of those whose aim it is to clothe "thoughts that breathe" in "words that burn;" and, besides, it is in many instances equivalent to terms and forms of speech which have long been recognized among poetical writers as a kind of current coin.

The peril which I anticipate I have endeavored to exemplify in the following

AFFECTING COPY OF VERSES (WITH NOTES).

Gently o'er the meadows prigging, [1] Joan and Colin took their way, While each flower the dew was swigging, [2] In the jocund month of May.

Joan was beauty's plummiest [3] daughter; Colin youth's most nutty [4] son; Many a nob [5] in vain had sought her— Him full many a spicy [6] one.

She her faithful bosom's jewel Did unto this young un' [7] plight; But, alas! the gov'nor [8] cruel, Said as how he'd never fight. [9]

Soon as e'er the lark had risen, They had burst the bonds of snooze, [10] And her daddle [11] link'd in his'n, [12] Gone to roam as lovers use.

In a crack [13] the youth and maiden To a flowery bank did come, Whence the bees cut, [14] honey-laden, Not without melodious hum.

Down they squatted [15] them together, "Lovely Joan," said Colin bold, "Tell me, on thy davy, [16] whether Thou dost dear thy Colin hold?"

"Don't I, just?" [17] with look ecstatic, Cried the young and ardent maid; "Then let's bolt!" [18] in tone emphatic, Bumptuous [19] Colin quickly said.

"Bolt?" she falter'd, "from the gov'nor? Oh! my Colin, that won't pay; [20] He will ne'er come down, [21] my love, nor Help us, if we run away."

"Shall we then be disunited?" Wildly shrieked the frantic cove; [22] "Mull'd [23] our happiness! and blighted In the kinchin-bud [24] our love!

"No, my tulip! [25] let us rather Hand in hand the bucket kick; [26] Thus we'll chouse [27] your cruel father— Cutting from the world our stick!" [28]

Thus he spoke, and pull'd a knife out, Sharp of point, of edge full fine; Pierc'd her heart, and let the life out— "Now," he cried, "here's into mine!" [29]

But a hand unseen behind him Did the fatal blow arrest. Oh, my eye! [30] they seize and bind him— Gentle Mure, conceal the rest!

In the precints of the prison, In his cold crib [31] Colin lies; Mourn his fate all you who listen, Draw it mild, and mind your eyes! [32]

1. "Prigging," stealing; as yet exclusively applied to petty larceny. "Stealing" is as well known to be a poetical term as it is to be an indictable offense; the Zephyr and the Vesper Hymn, cum multis aliis, are very prone to this practice. 2. "Swigging," drinking copiously—of malt liquor in particular. "Pearly drops of dew we drink."—OLD SONG. 3. "Plummiest," the superlative of "plummy," exquisitely delicious; an epithet commonly used by young gentlemen in speaking of a bonne bouche or "tit bit," as a mince pie, a preserved apricot, or an oyster patty. The transference of terms expressive of delightful and poignant savor to female beauty, is common with poets. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath."—SHAKESPEARE. "Charley loves a pretty girl, AS SWEET AS SUGAR CANDY."—ANON. 4. "Nutty," proper—in the old English sense of "comely," "handsome." "Six PROPER youths, and tall."—OLD SONG. 5. "Nob," a person of consequence; a word very likely to be patronized, from its combined brevity and significancy. 6. "Spicy," very smart and pretty; it has the same recommendation, and will probably supplant the old favorite "bonny." "Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride."—HAMILTON. 7. "Young'un," youth, young man. "A YOUTH to fortune and to fame unknown."—GRAY. 8. "Gov'nor," or "guv'nor," a contraction of "governor," a father. It will, no doubt, soon supersede sire, which is at present the poetical equivalent for the name of the author of one's existence. See all the poets, passim. 9. "Said as how he'd never fight," the thing was out of the question; a metaphorical phrase, though certainly, at present, a vulgar one. 10. "Snooze," slumber personified, like "Morpheus," or "Somnus." 11. "Daddle."—Q. from daktulos, a finger—pars pro toto!—Hand, the only synonym for it that we have, except "Paw," "Mawley," &c., which are decidedly generis ejusdem.12. "His'n," his own; corresponding to the Latin suus, his own and nobody else's, so frequently met with in OVID and others. 13. "Crack," a twinkling, an extremely short interval of time, which was formerly expressed, in general, by a periphrasis; as, "Ere the leviathan can swim a league!"—SHAKESPEARE. 14. "Cut," sped. A synonym. 15. "Squatted," sat. Id. 16. "Davy," affidavit, solemn oath. Significant and euphonious, therefore alluring to the versifier. 17. "Don't I, just?" A question for a strong affirmation, as, "Oh, yes, indeed I do;" a piece of popular rhetoric, pithy and forcible and consequently almost sure to be adopted—especially by the pathetic writers. 18. "Bolt," ran away. Syn. 19. "Bumptious," fearless, bold, and spirited; a very energetic expression such as those rejoice in who would fair "DENHAM'S strength with Waller's sweetness join." 20. "That won't pay," that plan will never answer. Metaph. 21. "Come down," disburse; also rendered in the vernacular by "fork out." etc. Id. 22. "Cove," swain. "Alexis shunn'd his fellow SWAINS."—PRIOR. See also SHENSTONE PASSIM. 23. "Mull'd," equivalent to "wreck'd," a term of pathos. 24. "Kinchin-bud," infant-bud. Metaph.; moreover, very tender, sweet, and touching, as regards the idea. 25. "My tulip," a term of endearment. "Fairest FLOWER, all flowers excelling." ODE TO A CHILD: COTTON. 26. "The bucket kick," pleonasm for die; as, "to breathe life's latest sigh."—"To yield the soul,"—"the breath,"—or, UT APUD ANTIQ. "Animam expirare," seu "efflare," etc. 27. "Chouse," cheat. Syn. 28. "Cutting . . . our stick." Pleon. ut supra. 29. "Here's unto mine!" A form of speech analogous to "Have at thee."—SHAKESPEARE, and the dramatists generally. 30. "Oh, my eye!" an interjectional phrase, tantamount to "Oh, heavens!" "Merciful powers!" etc. 31. "Cold crib," cold bed. "Go to thy cold bed and warm thee."—SHAK. 32. "Draw it mild," etc. Metaph. for "Rule your passions, and beware!"

I doubt not that it will be admitted by your judicious readers that I have substantiated my case. Our monarchical institutions may preserve our native tongue for a time, but if it does not become, at no very distant period, as strange a medley as that of the American is at present—to use the expressive but peculiar idiom of that people—"IT'S A PITY." I am, sir, etc., P.