Punch: Punch (11.1846)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

83

ROAD-BOOK FOR OMNIBUS AND CAB DRIVERS.

HOLBORM-

SIVCN DIALS

Kn

4-< PAULS

OMNIBUS ROUTE FROM BOND STREET TO THE BANK.

We present the " Whips" of the Metropolis with a map of the most direct route
from Bond Street to the Bank. The intelligent Conductor will observe that the
road is not as straight as it might be, but still it is much shorter than going round
by the " Angel," Islington, and branching off into Holloway, to come into Cheapside
to reach the same destination—which will be the case as soon as Holborn is stopped
up. There is another road, which can be accomplished in perhaps less time by
persons who wish to be put down in the Strand or Fleet Street. This is, by crossing
Vauxhall Bridge, keeping all the way on the Surrey tide, and coming again into
Middlesex over London Bridge.

There are other roads which might, perhaps, be explored ; but it will be time
■enough to recommend them when all the London thoroughfares are blocked up.
As soon as this is the case, we have another map in readiness to prove that the
shortest cut from Kensington to the Bank, is by going out of town by the Great
Western Railway, and returning (if possible) by the Eastern Counties. Passengers
who are bound for the above excursion, should be cautioned to take with them
provisions for four-and-twenty hours.

MR. GEORGE ROBINS AND THE CHURCH.

We have received a letter from Mb. George Robins
denying the assertion of his having a clergyman in con-
nection with his establishment, for the purpose of writing
his advertisements. It appears that those remarkable
mines of learning, those essays in which the deepest
questions of politics are touched off with the lightness
of a feather, those historical essays in which we find data
from the time of Noah direct down to the afternoon of
yesterday, those magic fancies by which a grassplot
becomes a meadow, and a bank of mustard and cress is
transformed into a verdant slope—all these came from
that mine of Crossus—or rather, to speak appropriately,
that mine of mustard and cresses—the brain of Mr.
George Robins. We almost regret, for the honour of the
Church, that it is not one of the clerical body who has
contributed these wondrous specimens of literature to
the classics of our country. But he would not long have
remained obscure, and there is no doubt he would have
been transferred from the stool in the office of Robins to
the bench of bishops.

Slip-Slop Extraordinary,

The fashionable chronicler of the Morning Post, in a
notice of the christening of the infant son of the Earl
and Countess of Caledon, informs us that

" The noble infant received the patronymic of James."

We beg to remind our fashionable friend that names
given at the font are called Christian names, not patro-
nymics.

THE SPEAKING MACHINE.

We have been greatly edified by examining the Euphonia, or
Speaking Machine, recently brought to this country by its inventor,
Professor Eaber.

By intense patience, and an ingenious union of wind and India-
rubber, the Professor has succeeded in inventing an instrument, not, as
yet, certainly, complete, but in all respects remarkable ; and which,
combined with other well-known mechanical inventions, may produce
very wonderful results, and a great saving of labour.

There is, for instance, the Verse-grinding Machine, exhibited last
year. Combined with the Euphonia it might be made to produce an
extemporaneous poet who would throw Mr. Sloman, the English Im-
provisatore, into the shade ; and might be taught to recite with
advantage in the houses of the nobility and gentry.

Combined with Mr. Babbage's Calculating Machine, the Euphonia
might replace, with perfect propriety, a Chancellor of the Exchequer,
or a Mathematical Lecturer at the Universities.

Or let us suppose it united with some such instrument as the
machine shown at the Society of Arts, which composes and sets up
types for the press ; and, instead of composing a column of type, it
were to decompose or spell the same :—as one part of the compound
instrument perused each syllable, the phonic part would give it utter-
ance ; and thus, by the aid of a simple grinder at the bellows, long
speeches might be uttered with all the best benefits of emphasis and
oratory, without a Scotch accent like Lord Brougham's, or a high key
like Mr. Shiel's, or a conventicle twaDg like Sir Robert's.

A parson might set up the Compound Machine in his pulpit, and
a clerk or curate work it from the reading-desk, whilst his Reverence
was smoking hig pipe in the vestry ; or an under-secretary might set
the bellows going with a speech of Lord John's, whilst his Lordship
was taking his usual glass of brandy-and-water at Bellamy's ; or a
lawyer in full practice might set a score of them to work, and so
actually attend twenty committees at a time ; or it might be placed
upon The Throne, with the august insignia laid upon the top of the
machine, and the Lord Chancellor (after kneeling profoundly) might
pop the royal speech into the proper receptacle and blow it out again
to both Houses in the best style.

A clear saving of ten thousand a year might be effected by setting
up a machine mpermcmence in the Speaker's chair of the House of
Commons. Place the mace before it. Have a large snuff-box on the
side, with rappee and Irish for the convenience of Members, and a
simple apparatus for crying out " Order, order," at intervals of ten
minutes, and you hare a speaker at the most trifling cost, whom Sir
William Gossett might keep going all night.

The elocution of the Euphonia is not at present very distinct—say
About as clear as that of His Gkace the Duke op Wellington.
When people are not kindly warned beforehand of the words that the

instrument is about to enunciate, they are generally so stupid as not
to understand what it says. In our presence the Euphonia gave vent
to a sentence which nobody understood but ourselves, and our hearts
perhaps divined the cry. It was, " Hourrah for Figdoria." So the
machine (a German instrument) pronounced the venerated name of
Her Majesty.

It sang " God preserve the Emperor " and " God save the Queen "
with such clearness and eloquence, that we really felt we ought to
stand up and take off our hats.

The Machine laughs—but we are bound to say not in a hearty and
jovial manner. It is a hard, dry, artificial laugh ; such as that of
young Misses on the stage, when they give the genteel comedy-giggle ;
or of Sir Robert Peel, when he is amused by some of Mr. Disraeli's
good-natured jokes against him.

By the way, why should not Lord George Bentinck: have one of
these machines constructed, with a Benjamin Disraeli figure-head,
and play upon it himself at once, and spare the honourable Member for
Shrewsbury the bother of being his Lordship's Euphonia ?

By far the best part of the Euphonia is its hiss ; this is perfect. And
perhaps the fact suggests to the benevolent mind the moral that
hissing is the very easiest occupation of life,—which truth is, however,
beside the present question.