A mistaken, but well-meaning man, although a tailor, meets his debtor in Bow-street.  A slight quarrel ensues; whereupon, the debtor (to show that the days of chivalry are not gone) kicks his tailor into the gutter.  Does the tailor take the offender before Mr. JARDINE?  By no means.  The tailor is a Christian; and learning the exact measure of his enemy, and returning good for evil, he, in three days’ time, sends to his assailant a new suit of the very best super Saxony.

How many quacks we see rushing to the various newspaper offices to countermand their advertisements!  What gaps in the columns of the newspapers themselves!  Where is the sugary lie—­the adroit slander—­the scoundrel meanness, masking itself with the usage of patriotism?  All, all are vanished, for—­the Morning Herald is published upon Christian principles!

Let us descend to the smallest matters of social life.  “Will this gingham wash?” asks Betty the housemaid of Twill the linen-draper. Twill is a Christian; and therefore replies, “it is a very poor article, and it will not wash!”

We are with Doctor Chalmers for Christianity—­but not Christianity of one side.  “Pray for those who despitefully use you,” say the Corn Law Apostles to the famishing; and then, cocking their eye at one another, and twitching their tongues in their mouths they add—­“for this is Christianity!”

Q.

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ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIVE TALENT.

Her Majesty has, it seems, presented the conductor of the Gazette Musicale with a gold medal and her portrait, as a reward for his constant efforts in the cause of music (vide Morning Post, Sept. 9).  From this, it may be supposed, foreigners alone are deemed worthy of distinction; but our readers will be glad to learn, that Rundells have been honoured with an order for a silver whistle for PUNCH.  His unceasing efforts in the causes of humbug, political, literary, and dramatic, having drawn forth this high mark of royal favour.

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PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS—­NO.  X.

[Illustration:  THE DINER-OUT.]

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THE OMEN OUTWITTED: 

OR, HOW HIS REVERENCE’S HEELS TOOK STEPS TO SAVE HIS HEAD.

“So, Dick, I mean your ‘reverence,’ you like the blessed old country as well as ever, eh, lad?”

“As well, ay, almost better.  My return to it is like the meeting of long-parted friends—­the joy of the moment is pure and unalloyed—­all minor faults are forgotten—­all former goodness rushes with double force from the recollection to the heart, and the renewal of old fellowship grafts new virtues (the sweet fruits of regretted absence) upon him who has been the chosen tenant of our ‘heart of hearts.’”