Punch (35.1858)

October 16, 1858.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. J 53

THE COMET.

Master Tom. " I sat, Gran'ma, this is a bad job about the Comet !"
Gran'ma. "Good gracious! What's the matter1?"

Master Tom. " Why, here's a Letter in the Paper sats :—' The particles of the tail,
if thrown out from the head, having only, as before, the same rate of orbital motion as the
head, and having larger and larger orbits to describe, the further they are removed from the
head, will necessarily fall further and further behind as they recede from the comet, and thus

form a curve independently of a resisting medium ;' and that ' the panic-allaying doctrine of | " Ah, my hoy, you've forgotten your classics*,
the tenuity of cometic nuclei cannot be maintained from the mere fact of their translucency.' " \ BUvculo Surgery sahiberrimum est." — From

[Gran'ma collapses, \ Punch's Literary Anecdotes.

ODE TO AN OLD HUMBUG.

Your sands of life well-nigh run out,

Retired Physician,
Have taken such a time about,
That I have very little doubt
That you are hearty, hale, and stout.

In good condition.

Your grave is not already dug,

Or the presumption
Is, you creep to it like a slug,
And cling to life with tightish hug.
You say that you've found out a drug

To cure consumption.

So soon from earth about to pass,

As you assure us,
The scythe so close upon the glass,
Ready to mow your ripened grass,
Why not divulge it to the mass,

And gratis cure us ?

Of doing good then you'll enjoy

The noble pleasure,
And in that bank aloft, old boy,
Which pays in gold without alloy,
Which never panic will destroy,
, Invest your treasure.

Oli, you old quack and public bore !

No longer falter,
And fumble at death's latch no more ;
Hang yourself up behind the door.
By your East Indian Hemp, before,

Twined for your halter.

That celebrated surgical practitioner, the late
Sir Scalpel Slasher, was accustomed to tell
his pupils that he was, in his young days, shamed
out of his habit of lying in bed until a late hour,
by a happily applied Latin quotation. His then
master, observing him coming into the surgery
two hours after the proper time, exclaimed,

1 with which they made merry afterwards at the Cheshire Cheese, where
THE SPIRIT Or HUMBUG. 'they would remain until such hours as the Cock in Fleet Street

would give them crowing notice to go home. All was fair and above-
Amongst other absurdities, we see that there is a newspaper, called ground with them, and they had no need to dig into the past for
The Spiritual Telegraph. _ The greater number of the contributors dwell spiritual disembowellings, and were too modest to play the part of
in the other world, which must be a very great convenience to the resurrection-men (Literary Burkes) with honoured names. The
proprietors, as the nature of the residence must absolve them from the j thing, however monstrous and bad, was at all events free from trick,
necessity of payment. They are all paid, doubtlessly, with drafts on! and you were not expected to believe an evident falsehood by being

the Bank of Faith. The first number of the above misty production
contains an article " from the Spirit_ of John Knox," which, from the
little we saw of it, did not seem likely to throw any writer of the
present day into the shade. The article, too, was decidedly misplaced,
as no man likes to receive Knox on the head of " rapping" with any
particular degree of weight!

solemnly told it was a truthful revelation, just imported fresh from the
other world. Beelzebub was not quoted as an authority—nor were
Old Bogie, Mephistojjhiles, or Mother Shipton called up from the vasty
deep to' swear to the truth of lies that had no other foundation pro-
bably than an underdone supper of pork-chops. But there is a touch
of insolent profanity about the method of this Spiritual Newspaper

Though professedly written by a " Spirit," we looked in vain for its that deserves being checked, we fancy, at some Police Court. It
esprit, for it was about as dead a thing as we have seen in print since I is a degree of folly too painful for laughter, and too dangerous to
the days when horrors stalked as big as four-posters through Pater- J allow to remain unchecked. If the Editor really has communications
noster Row, and there was a grand competition of spirits every week I with, and from, the other world, nothing can be easier for him, when
as to which skeleton should outdo the other in the horrible for the he is before the magistrate, than to get the Spirit of Demosthenes
price of One Penny. It was at that period, we recollect, that the walls \ to piead his cause, and, supposing he is fined, to request the Spirit of
(especially all the dead walls) used to be startled with the blood- Crcesus to oblige him by paying the little amount. If Demosthenes
curdling inquiry of Housemaids, Have you seen The Ghost this week? \ can't say a word, and if Crcesus isn't worth a rap, the cause of
Now, the Ghost, and other periodicals of the same black stamp, did Spiritualism must be a bad one indeed!

not profess to have a staff of writers established in every churchyard Perhaps we have been unduly serious in our remarks over this
of the kingdom, who wrote their copy on sheets of moonshine, and , spiritual nonsense ; but when a gypsy is punished for telling fortunes,
deposited it in the editor's box at midnight. 'They made no pretence j we do not see why a dead swindle, like this falsehood-telling, in which
of corresponding with Zamiel, or of having agents appointed in the \ superstition plays a3 large and as absurd a part, should be suffered to
Wolf's Glen, who forwarded to them, right from the centre of the magic I escape unpunished. It strikes us as being but another form, and

circle, the latest particulars of the incantation market, and g*ve black-
letter quotations as to the current price of souls.

There was no attempt at imposition, and the stories were harmless
enough—such as would have charmed Mrs. Barbauld, or have won
smiles of grim approval from the authoress of the Night Side of Nature.
They were very honest full-bodied ghosts in their way, and doubtlessly
only raitled the cross-bones for the sake of a knife-and-fork, and
used the death's-head merely as a means of filling the Dunch-bowl,

rather a profane one, of obtaining money under false pretences. The
only difference is, gypsies profess to see into the future—these long-
sighted gentlemen claim the power of being able to see into the past.
It is nothing more than another way of taking a sight at the public,
the real object in both cases being to blind the dupes, so that they may
not see the folly by which they are tricked out of their money. If for-
tune-tellers are punishable, why are not spiritualists ? The fortunes told
by the first are innocent compared to the lies that are told by the second.