NO. 1.—­ENGLAND.

Of the early history of England nothing is known.  It was, however, invaded by the Normans; but whether they were any relations of the once celebrated Norman the pantaloon, we have no authentic record.  The kingdom had at one time seven kings—­two of whom were probably the two well-known kings of Brentford.  Perhaps, also, the king of Little Britain made a third; while old king Cole may have constituted a fourth; thus leaving only a trifling balance of three to be accounted for.

Alfred the Great is supposed to have been originally a baker, from his having undertaken the task of watching the cakes in the neat-herd’s oven; and Edward the Black Prince was probably a West Indian, who found his way to our hospitable shores at an early period.

We now come to King John, who ascended the throne after putting out his nephew’s eyes with a pair of curling-irons, and who is the first English Sovereign who attempted to write his own name; for the scrawl is evidently something more than his mark, which is attached to Magna Charta.

We need say nothing of Richard the Third, with whom all our play-going friends are familiar, and who made the disgraceful offer, if Shakspeare is to be believed, of parting with the whole kingdom for a horse, though it does not appear that the disreputable bargain was ever completed.

The wars of York and Lancaster, which, though not exactly couleur de rose, were on the subject of white and red roses (that is to say, China and cabbage), united the crown in the person of Henry the Seventh, known to the play-going public as the Duke of Richmond, and remarkable for having entered the country by the Lincolnshire fens; for he talks of having got into “the bowels of the land” immediately on his arrival.

Henry the Eighth, as everybody knows, was the husband of seven wives, and gave to Mr. Almar (the Sadler’s Wells Stephens) the idea of his beautiful dramatic poem of the Wife of Seven Husbands.

Elizabeth’s reign is remarkable for having produced a mantle which is worn at the present day, it having been originally made for one Shakspeare; but it is now worn by Mr. George Stephens, for whom, however, it is a palpable misfit, and it sits upon him most awkwardly.

Charles the First had his head cut off, and Mr. Cathcart acted him so naturally in Miss Mitford’s play that one would have thought the monarch was entirely without a head all through the tragedy.

Cromwell next obtained the chief authority.  This man was a brewer, who did not think “small beer” of himself, and inundated his country with “heavy wet,” in the shape of tears, for a long period.

Charles the Second, well known as the merry monarch, is remarkable only for his profligacy, and for the number of very bad farces in which he has been the principal character.  His brother James had a short reign, but not a merry one.  He is the only English sovereign who may be said to have amputated his bludgeon; which, if we were speaking of an ordinary man and not a monarch, we should have rendered by the familiar phrase of “cut his stick,” a process which was soon performed by his majesty.