Punch (51.1866)

222

PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[December 1, 1866.

A PASSION FOR ASTRONOMY.

ZADKIEL’S OWN FUTURE.

It is with, pain that Mr. Punch has read in the Globe newspaper the
paragraphs to which he is about to refer. But he hastens to say that
that excellent journal has erred only from want of the information
which is in Mr. Punch's possession. In reviewing the predictions which
the unfortunate Zadkiel has made for 1867, the Globe, with a natural
and gentlemanly indignation at the liberties which the astrologer has
taken with the names of distinguished persons, observes,—

“ September threatens the Kings of Italy and Saxony—and the Princess
Louisa again: why cannot the fellow leave our Princesses alone ? Does it delight
his maid-servant readers to 6nd evd prophesied of princesses. Constantinople and
Venice, Manchester and Liverpool (again !), are to have troubles in October; but
royalty is spared in that month for a wonder. However, in November the Princess
Helena is again persecuted by the stars.”

Even severer remarks than these would have been more than justi-
fied, but that it is not generous to strike a person when he is menaced
by terrible.dangers. The Globe had not taken the trouble to consult
the stars in reference to the future of the astrologer himself. Mr.
Punch has belore him Zadkiel’s own horoscope for 1867, and a sad
one it is. In January the persecution of the unlucky creature will
begin, for Jupiter is in the second house, and the aspect of Sirius is
lurid. About the middle of the month, Zadkiel will nearly be choked
by the tail of a shrimp, but will cough it up. Without giving the
astral configurations by which his fate is made clear to the youngest
student of the sublime science, we briefly state the rest. In February,
he will be terribly cut in shaving. In March, a maid-servant will, out
of spite, manage to spill a kettle of boiling water over his left leg, and
he will be confined to his house until April, when he will slide over a
iece of orange-peel, and severely damage his southern configuration,
n May, he will have many things stolen from his house, and his chim-
ney will catch fire. In June, he will fall down-stairs. In July, he will
be knocked down by a carriage. In August, he will buy some toad-
stools instead of mushrooms, and be awfully ill for several days. In
September he will sit down upon a live cat, and be severely bitten, but
cauterisation may prevent evil results. In October, the stars seem to
indicate a treacherous calm, but it will end early in November, when
he will fall over the coal-skuttle, break his shins, and knock his head

| against a pewter beer-pot. And in December his medical attendant
will make a revelation to him which we earnestly counsel him to take
into his serious consideration. It has nothing to do with tripe or
buttered muffins, but Saturn and Mars are in trine with Gamma
Baconis, and everything points at something awful. We make these
revelations with pain, for though Zadkiel himself has no scruple in
trying to make the Princesses uncomfortable, the miseries which he
will himself undergo in 1867 will render him a subject for tolerance and
compassion. We shall announce the fulfilment of each prediction, and
mark how Zadkiel bears his fate.

FASHIONABLE BIRDS OF A FEATHER.

According to the Liberie, ladies in Paris have begun to come out in
dresses trimmed all over with feathers, so copiously that

“ Sportsmen cannot supply them in sufficient quantity. Feathers of the peacock,
partridge, pintado, pheasant, jay, blackbird, and pigeon are all seized with eager-
ness, and even the ducks of the poultry-yard are plucked to satisfy the caprice of
our fashionable ladies.”

An occasion whereon ladies might appear suitably decorated with
feathers would be a musical assembly. If they took part in it as
vocalists, they might, being feathered all over, be considered as appear-
ing in the character of singing birds. Ducks, indeed, do not sing; but
swans are said to, and a dress covered with swan’s plumage would be
suggestive of a song with the burden of Down, derry down. But, to
satisfy the caprice of a fashionable lady, the ducks of the poultry-yard
would yield feathers less appropriate than those which might be derived
from the geese.

A Thought in Church.

The income of the excellent Archbishop of Canterbury—long
may he enjoy it—is £15,000 a-year. If he were travelling, with a year’s
income about him, and he were attacked by robbers who took about
eighteen hundred pounds from him, we wonder whether he would
express thankfulness that they had left him a “ remnant ” of his
property.