Punch (9.1845)

"^yE have every hope that the New Year—christened by Godfather Time, Eighteen Hundred and Forty-Six —
is a fine, brawny fellow; a young Hercules, for, in truth, as matters loom about us, he will have Hercules'
work to do. He comes in just to catch a glimpse of " the departing skirts 11 of Sir Robert, and to look upon the
hopeful face of Little John. He comes in to see the last fight of the ogre Corn Law—the Sawney Bean that
hath eaten up men, women, and little chil h'en—" grinding their bones to make his bread." He comes in to see

the last fight of the Giant (who hath Dukes and Lords for bottle-holders)—to see him beaten,
laid low, killed in the House of Parliament; whilst Her Gracious Majesty, with Aurorean
smile, shall with her silver voice pronounce—Je le veux .' A tremendous privilege, this,
for a New Year !

And now the New Year has a dejected look ; for he hears the voices of millions
bewailing the potato blight. He listens, too, to many tongues discoursing learnedly of
hopeful remedies: the words "starch1'—"gluten'1—" albumen "—" woody fibre,"—ring in
his infant ears, and he knows not what to
^ make of them. Then is he astounded to see
A^i^ certain small heads lost in large coronets ;
and to hear one head avow that the blight is
no blight at all, but merely a popular preju-
dice—whilst another head discourses learn-
edly, benevolently, of support and comfort,
showing to the English labourer how he,