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MATINEE MESMERIQUE

Or, Procede Humbugaresque.

There is at present in London a gentleman with an enormous beard, who professes the science of animal magnetism, and undertakes to deprive of sense those who come under his hand; but as those who flock to his exhibition have generally left all the sense they possess at home, he finds it difficult to accomplish his purposes.  If it is animal magnetism to send another to sleep, what a series of Soirees Mesmeriques must take place in the House of Commons during the sitting of Parliament!  There is no doubt that Sir Robert Peel is the Lafontaine of political mesmerism—­the fountain of quackery—­and every pass he makes with his hand over poor John Bull serves to bring him into that state of stupefaction in which he may be most easily victimised.  While Lafontaine thrusts pins into his patient, the Premier sends poor John into a swoon, for the purpose of, as it is vulgarly termed, sticking it into him; and as the French quack holds lucifers to the nostril, Peel plays the devil under the very nose of the paralysed sufferer.  One resorts to electrics, the other to election tricks, but each has the same object in view—­to bring the subject of the operation into a state of unconsciousness.  If the Premier would give a Matinee Politique, it would prove a formidable rival to the Soiree Mesmerique of the gentleman in the beard, who seems impressed with the now popular idea, that genius and a clean chin are wholly incompatible.

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(H)ALL IS LOST NOW!

’Sir B. HALL is still Sir B. Hall.  Where is the peerage—­the “B-all and end-all” of his patriotism?  Really the Whigs ought to have given the poor dog a bone, considering with what perseverance he has always been

[Illustration:  STANDING FOR MARROWBONE (MARYLEBONE).]

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When a person holds an argument with his neighbour on the opposite aide of the street, why is there no chance of their agreeing?—­Because they argue from different premises.

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NOVEL SUBSCRIPTIONS.

Looking into an Australian paper the other day, we cast our eye over a list of subscriptions for the “St. Patrick’s Orphan School, Windsor;” which, after enumerating several sums, varying from 10l. to five shillings, ended with the following singular contributions:—­

    MR. BURKE—­A supply of potatoes. 
    A FRIEND—­Five pounds of beef, and a coat. 
    A FRIEND IN NEED—­A shoulder of mutton. 
    A POOR WOMAN—­A large damper. 
    AN EMIGRANT—­Ten quarts of milk. 
    AN EMIGRANT—­A frying-pan.

At first we were disposed to be amused with the heterogeneous nature of the contributions, but, on reflection, we felt disposed to applaud a plan which enabled every one to bestow a portion of any article of which he possesses a superabundance.  If, for instance, a similar subscription were began here, we might expect to find the following contributions:—­