Or, to go still further back, and if you doubt the
        thing,
I'll recal the names of Tom Cannon, Ward, and
         Spring,
Or Nat Langham, all men of fame so high,
Who would fight to the last—than give in they'd
sooner die.

The concluding distich of this passage is
worthy to rank with the most stirring
sentiments which heroes have bequeathed to us for
keeping alive the flame of patriotism. "England
expects that every man this day will do his duty!"
was the last signal of the heroic Nelson. " Up
Guards, and at 'em!" was the stimulating
observation of F. M. the Duke of Wellington, on
the field of Waterloo; the poet of the
pantomime says, with equal epigrammatic force:

       England ever has, and ever will,
       Stand foremost in every fistic mill.

If any hypercritical person should object to the
grammar, I beg to remind him of a similar
poetic licence in the great national lyric, The
Death of Nelson:

           'Twas in Trafalgar's bay
           We saw the Frenchmen lay.

Comparisons will be found to be exceedingly
odious. I beg therefore to request the
hypercritic—using a favourite locution of the poets
under consideration—"to shut up." We must
be careful how we accuse a poet of being
obscure. The fault may be with ourselves.
Our shallow understanding may not be able to
sound the depths of his profundity. Many
passages in Browning are a puzzle to ordinary
understandings. So probably will be the following
dialogue from the work of Mr. Towers.
It occurs after a dance:

SWIZZLEPUG. I'm cooked.
RUBICUNDSPLITZ. Nonsense, you old frump.
ROBIN. Out you were hooked.
GOODY. Shall I fetch the stomach-pump?
SWIZZLE. Come, you minx, do something, and don't
gaze.
RUBI. No doubt you are wet to your very stays.

The address of Rubicundsplitz to Goody is an
example of that force of language which is ever
a characteristic of superior genius.

RUBI. What, go and desert me—for two pins I'd
      fist her,
Just as I had begun to prefer you to your sister.
Because you're plump, one a man needn't frown upon,
Something to catch hold of, and lots to sit down
upon.

Local topics are alluded to in a most
encouraraging manner. As, for example, where
Radiantina, the good fairy, observes:

I saw with pleasure the great interest the Prince of
      Wales has shown
In laying, of the new wing of the London Hospital,
      the foundation-stone.

After a panegyric on hospitals, which Radiantina
thinks "are our greatest, noblest institutions
far," a graceful compliment is paid to royalty:

A blessing on our prince, a thousand blessings rather,
Who is following the steps of his lamented father.

Social progress is not overlooked:

Another great and noble thing be sure
Is the cheap eating-houses for the really poor.
The meanest man can now get dinners, like others
       can at home,
And meat can now be got, where before it was
       unknown.
A beggar is civilly treated; it is a home for distress,
No waiter here cringes, or bows to the dress;
Success to the founders, for 'tis a blessing real,
Where for 4½d. you can get a hearty meal.

Nor do the anomalies and inconsistencies of the
law escape observation and censure. With
reference to the Yelverton case, and the state of
the Scotch marriage law, we have the following
sound and sensible remarks:

If I were a queen, without much jaw
I'd do away with that disgrace, the Scotch marriage
     law.
The English people feel disgust intense,
For the Scotch marriage law is a libel on honour and
    sense.

This sentiment does equal honour to the poet's
head and heart, and I trust his criticisms
will bear fruit in the shape of petitions to
parliament for an amendment of the law,
numerously signed by the inhabitants of
Whitechapel.

Do not imagine that the poet of the East
cannot make puns. Listen to this:

Poison with mussels, man, and make it work,
I'm good at mussels man as any Turk.

I do not say this is a plagiarism; but take
the liberty of reminding the author, that The
Traveller in Spite of Himself, when asked to
turn Mussulman, replies that he has no
objection; being a devil at all kinds of fish.

Again:

I'm a devil now, the most precocious,
And of fire the most fireocious (ferocious).

It will be observed that the author explains this
pun—apologises, as it were, for it; but I have
known West-end authors commit a similar
offence and brave it out, without apology or any
expression of contrition whatever. In the East,
however, puns are subordinated to the higher
purpose of shooting folly as it flies; showing
vice her own image, virtue her own features, &c.
Thus in "St George and the Dragon, or, Harlequin
and the Seven Champions of Christendom,"
at the Pavilion, the author breaks away
impatiently from some efforts at pun-making, with
which he evidently took little pains, to comment
upon the evils inflicted upon the community by
the management of banks. It is St. George
who observes

I almost wish that I had stay'd at home,
And not for Egypt thus set out to roam.
Yet people I see on all hands their fortune making,
This leads me to the subject of the Leeds bank
       breaking.

It is a general complaint against the censors of
morals that they gird at the vices and
shortcomings of society without making any attempt
to suggest a remedy; but this is a charge
which cannot be brought against the author of