Punch (12.1847)

THE ENGLISH IN LITTLE.

bt general tom thxtmb.

AFTER A PARENTHESIS, THE GENERAL DISCOURSES
UPON CHRISTMAS IN ENGLAND.

EFORE I go on with this little account of the Britishers,
I may jist sot down two or three lines in answer to a cloud
of letters that has come upon me from citizens of America,
located in this country. Many on 'em—and Me. Bancroft
in special, our ambassador—fault me for what they call
the imperfect use of my mother tongue. Well, I can't say :
praps they're right, and praps they're wrong. But the truth
is, they do speak the wust English in London—and in
special about the squares—that any critter ever heerd on
this airtb. And when it's remembered, as it ought to be,
how much I have mixed in high life—that is, how many
tables of the aristocracy I've danced my hornpipe at evenin
parties upon—some allowance, I think, might be made
for any error or so of a mistake in, what Barntjm has told
me to call, " the hurry of composition." Howsumever, when
I'm once clear of these British critters, and am agin
under the wings of the Columbian eagle, my English—
Barnum is ready to wager it—will come agin purer than
ever. Shouldn't wonder.

As I do not belittle meself to write to the English, but
to the citizens of inlightened America, I shall break off
for a leetle bit from my 'count of my first appearance at
the 'Gyptian Hall, to talk about the way in which the
Britishers pa?s their Christmas ; a day which has jist
turned round the corner.

In the first place, long afore Christmas, every family
begins to fatten its own bullock—its own sheep—and its
own pig. They don't feed the critters upon corn and
peeches, as in the model republic, but cram 'em with almond
cakes, and pine-apples, which, thanks to the West Indies—
that will be soon annexed to America, being, in fact, only
bits broken off her by an airthquake or somethin o' the
sort, and therefore our rightful property,—which pine-
apples, I was about to say, are as plenty as periwinkles, and plentier. Well, all the beasts are druv near to Portman-Square ; where
Prince Albert, as a patron of the fine arts, and the Duke of Cambridge, as the friend and adviser of all the cooks in London, and therefore
a mighty stout judge of what jintes of all sorts are—come with a band of music belongin to the Horse Guards—(and you should see how
their silver kittle-drums sparkle 1)—and give away silver meddles for first prize beef, and bunches of horse-radish for the second.

And after the prizes are given out, all the masters of the workhouses—they are called Unions out of joke, acause they break the
weddin-ring in 'em, and part man and wife—all of 'em buy the cattle, and puttin green boughs about their horns, and collars and bows of
ribbons round about and all over 'em, drive 'em to the workhouse ; and for the pigs and sheep as can't walk, they hire cabs and hackney-
coaches. This very Christmas as is gore, the fattest ox was druv to the Union of St. Pancras ; but I don't know what for—and when T
axed Barnum he wouldn't tell me—the St. Pancras ox was dressed in black ribbons ; and so was an ox that was druv to St. Marrowbone.

^ There will, next Christmas, I have heerd, be a sort of poultry show—kinder fancy fair like—for ladies ; so that the lords of the
airth, as the men critters call themselves, mayn't have the fat all their own way at the Portman. The ladies and young gals will show
their turkies, and their ducks, and their geese, and roosters and hens, and be prized accordin. Only right and proper this. Why should
great, big, hulkin men carry away all the meddles for fat beef—(and after all, when they think they're growin meat, they're only makin
tarnation dear candles)—and the dear little pussey critters not have so much as a silver thimble for a plump rooster ? 'Taint the straight
line by no means ; when the airth was made, woman was to have half of it ; but the truth must be said ; we have wronged the pretty
critter precious. And how kind she always was and is to us ! Never keepin nothin wholly to herself ; for as I said to Barnum the other day,
who only larfed and couldn't say nothin in answer—when, poor soul she hadn't no more than one apple, didn't she give Adam half of it ?

And so the ladies' poultry show—as Lady Dorcas said to me yesterday—only proves a leetle more of the spirit of the times, and the
growin rights of women. (Dear critters I since I've been kissed as I have been, you can't think how I take 'em all to heart.) Ladt
Dorcas tells me that she's goin to fatten ring-doves upon peppermint-drops ; whilst a great agricultural Duchess as she knows has already got

Vol. 12.

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