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it will be impossible to persuade the public
that this would not be perfectly just and right.
I think, therefore, that we had better not
attack the Bill on its merits, but try to excite
opposition against it on the ground of its
accessary clauses. Let us oppose it as a scheme
of jobbery, devised with a view to the
establishment of offices and appointments. Let
us complain as loudly as we can of its creating
a new rate to defray the expenses of its
working, and let us endeavour to get up a
good howl against that clause of it which
provides for compensation to incumbents,
clerks, and sextons. We must cry out with
all our might upon its centralising tendency,
and of course make the most we can out of
the pretence that it violates the sanctity of
the house of mourning, and outrages the most
fondly cherished feelings of Englishmen. Urge
these objections upon church-wardens,
overseers, and vestrymen; and especially din the
objection to a burial rate into their ears.
Recollect, our two great weapons––like those
of all good old anti-reformers––are cant and
clamour. Keep up the same cry against the
Bill perseveringly, no matter how thoroughly
it may be refuted or proved absurd. Literally,
make the greatest noise in opposition to it
that you are able, especially at public meetings.
There, recollect a groan is a groan, and a hiss
a hiss, even though proceeding from a goose.
On all such occasions do your utmost to create
a disturbance, to look like a popular demonstration
against the measure. In addition to
shouting, yelling, and bawling, I should say
that another rush at another platform,
another upsetting of the reporters' table,
another terrifying of the ladies, and another
mobbing the chairman, would be advisable.
Set to work with all your united zeal and
energy to carry out the suggestions of our
Central Committee for the defeat of a Bill
which, if passed, will inflict a blow on the
undertaker as great as the boon it will confer
on the widow and orphan––whom we, of
course, can only consider as customers. The
Metropolitan Interments Bill goes to dock us
of every penny that we make by taking
advantage of the helplessness of afflicted families.
And just calculate what our loss would then
be; for, in the beautiful language of St.
Demetrius, the silversmith, "Sirs, ye know that
by this craft we have our wealth."


AT our birth, the satirical elves
   Two sacks from our shoulders suspend:
The one holds the faults of ourselves;
   The other, the faults of our friend:

The first we wear under our clothes
   Out of sight, out of mind, at the back;
The last is so under our nose,
   We know every scrap in the sack.



"I HAVE got some very sad news to tell
you," wrote Lady Pelican to her friend, Mrs.
Vermeil, a faded lady of fashion, who
discontentedly occupied a suite of apartments at
Hampton Court; "our Irish estates are in
such a miserable condition absolutely
making us out to be in debt to them, instead
of adding to our income, that poor George––
you will be shocked to hear it––is actually
obliged to go into the Infantry!"

The communication of this distressing fact
may stand instead of the regular Gazette,
announcing the appointment of the Hon.
George Spoonbill to an Ensigncy, by purchase,
in the 100th regiment of foot. His military
aspirations had been "Cavalry," and he had
endeavoured to qualify himself for that branch
of the service by getting up an invisible moustache,
when the Irish agent wrote to say that
no money was to be had in that quarter, and
all thoughts of the Household Brigade were,
of necessity, abandoned. But, though the
more expensive career was shut out, Lord
Pelican's interest at the Horse Guards
remained as influential as before, and for the
consideration of four hundred and fifty pounds
which––embarrassed as he was––he contrived
to muster, he had no difficulty in procuring a
commission for his son George, in the
distinguished regiment already named. There
were, it is true, a few hundred prior claimants
on the Duke's list; "but," as Lord Pelican
justly observed, "if the Spoonbill family were
not fit for the army, he should like to know
who were!" An argument perfectly irresistible.
Gazetted, therefore, the young gentleman
was, as soon as the Queen's sign-manual
could be obtained, and, the usual interval for
preparation over, the Hon. George Spoonbill
set out to join. But before he does so, we
must say a word of what that "preparation"
consisted in.

Some persons may imagine that he forthwith
addressed himself to the study of Polybius,
'dabbled a little in Cormontaigne, got up
Napier's History of the Peninsular War. or
read the Duke's Despatches; others, that he
went down to Birdcage-Walk, and placed
himself under the tuition of Colour-Sergeant Pike,
of the Grenadier Guards, a warrior celebrated
for his skill in training military aspirants, or
that he endeavoured by some other means to
acquire a practical knowledge, however slight,
of the profession for which he had always been
intended. The Hon. George Spoonbill knew
better. The preparation he made, was a visit,
at least three times a day, to Messrs. Gorget
and Plume, the military tailors in Jermyn
Street, whose souls he sorely vexed by the
persistance with which he adhered to the
most accurate fit of his shell-jacket and
coatee, the set of his epaulettes, the cut of