“If you won’t turn, I will,” as the mill-wheel said to the stream.

* * * * *

“Why did not Wellington take a post in the new Cabinet?” asked Dicky Sheil of O’Connell.—­“Bathershin!” replied the head of the tail, “the Duke is too old a soldier to lean on a rotten stick.”

* * * * *

Lord Morpeth intends proceeding to Canada immediately.  The object of his journey is purely scientific; he wishes to ascertain if the Fall of Niagara be really greater than the fall of the Whigs.

* * * * *

A PRO AND CON.

“When is Peel not Peel?”—­“When he’s candi(e)d.”

* * * * *

GALVANISM OUTDONE.

We have heard of the very dead being endowed, by galvanic action, with the temporary powers of life, and on such occasions the extreme force of the apparatus has ever received the highest praise.  The Syncretic march of mind rectifies the above error—­with them, weakness is strength.  Fancy the alliterative littleness of a “Stephens” and a “Selby,” as the tools from which the drama must receive its glorious resuscitation!

* * * * *

NEWS FOR THE SYNCRETICS.

(Extracted from the “Stranger’s Guide to London.")

Bedlam, the celebrated receptacle for lunatics, is situated in St. George’s-fields, within five minutes’ walk of the King’s Bench.  There is also another noble establishment in the neighbourhood of Finsbury-square, where the unhappy victims of extraordinary delusions are treated with the care and consideration their several hallucinations require.

* * * * *

PEEL “REGULARLY CALLED IN.”

At length, PEEL is called in “in a regular way.”  Being assured of his quarterly fee, the state physician may now, in the magnanimity of his soul, prescribe new life for moribund John Bull.  Whether he has resolved within himself to emulate the generous dealing of kindred professors—­of those sanative philosophers, whose benevolence, stamped in modest handbills, “crieth out in the street,” exclaiming “No cure no pay,”—­we know not; certain we are, that such is not the old Tory practice.  On the contrary, the healing, with Tory doctors, has ever been in an inverse ratio to the reward.  Like the faculty at large, the Tories have flourished on the sickness of the patient.  They have, with Falstaff, “turned diseases to commodity;” their only concern being to keep out the undertaker.  Whilst there’s life, there’s profit,—­is the philosophy of the Tory College; hence, poor Mr. Bull, though shrunk, attenuated,—­with a blister on his