Punch (9.1845)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

61

England on the walls of Acre. As the gardening book says in October, j But how shall we approach the statue of Brougham, when even his
" Now plant your Standards," we presume it was in the month alluded bust is an object of our reverence ! If we bow to his mere head and
to, that Richard Cosur de Lion did his little bit of historical gardening. I shoulders, what shall we say to him altogether, sitting in a pair of

Margate slippers, with a guinea dressing-gown thrown over his shoulders,
and a copy of some work lying at his feet, as if he had dropped it out of
his hand from having fallen asleep over it.

Among the works of art, we find a design for the Nelson Monument,
which is almost as good as—

The affair

In the Square

Of the great Trafalgar ho !

It shows Neptune handing up a wreath on the end of a toasting-fork to
Britannia, who offers it to Nelson ; but as he has got his hands full of
swords and flags, he of course is unable to take it. It is a graceful notion
gracefully executed.

Having examined the sculpture, we take our places in the Ascending
Room, and commence our aerial flight to the summit of St. Paul's, and
step into the outer gallery. There is London by day, but ere a few hours
nave passed, London by night will extinguish it. The effect of this latter
picture is so wonderful, that a visitor, would not believe the sky to be
artificial, and insisted, that the twinkling luminaries had been engaged to
star it expressly for the occasion.

If Bradwell can only make such another moon, and lend it out to us,
to be placed in the back yard that looks upon our garret window, we will
give him any money—that we can spare—for the use of it. He might
assuredly take out a patent for perpetual moonlight all through the year.
And when we see his real moon made of nothing but canvas, we begin to
have some faith in the project for extracting sunbeams from cucumbers.

But now let us pause. We have walked out into the property temples
that surround the building. Marius among the ruins of Carthage is a
fool to Punch among the ruins at the Colosseum. To make some of the
ruins of antiquity, Time has lent a slow hand ; but here we have classical
associations and columns knocked up, or rather knocked down, in no time.
We almost smiled—if we could allow ourselves to smile when under the
shadow of the tottering pillars around us—we almost smiled at the
request to the public " not to touch the ruins." If it is desirable to have
a ruinous effect, surely it would be in accordance with the genius loci if
the visitors were to begin ruining the ruins around them.

Let us wander now into the Gothic aviary, where we may fancy our-
selves in the land of the Cm. But lo ! the old parrot on the left is making
a peck at our coat. Let us get out of the land of the Cm as rapidly as
possible.

We find ourselves in the Swiss Cottage, looking out upon Mont Blanc,
the Monarch of Mountains.

" They crown'd him a year ago
With some canvas thin, well covered in
With a lot o( property snow."

While looking out upon the scene before us, we wonder how the effect
of distance can possibly be obtained, for it has been accomplished at a
total sacrifice of all the established rules of land measurement.

The ordinary pole and perch are completely annihilated, and goats-

perch on places supported by poles at a distance that seems terrific, but is
in reality nothing. We could fancy ourselves hunting the sham chamois,
or gliding along the glaciers, as we stood on tiptoe, looking over the
balustrades of that Swiss balcony. We could not help asking ourselves
the question— ,

Where is the eagle ? When Echo, in the shape of the attendant at tne
refreshment-stall, answered, " Dead." We understand it cried its eyes
out in the year 1840, and shed its tail in 1841. Since which time no
tidings have been heard of it. ,

We have now seen everything but the Stalactite Caverns, of which we can
only say, that they are better than the real thing at Adelberg. I^lliston a