Headaches - Brand Name or Generic Medication
There is not one perfect answer when deciding on whether Generic or Name Brand drugs are better. There are many different factors to consider when choosing between the two types. Your unique situation and the actual different properties between them will determine your choice.
Regrettably, there's no 'one-size-fits-all' answer to the question: Which is the better medication, Brand Name or Generic? Which you choose will depend on a number of individual circumstances, along with real differences between the two.
In the U.S. and many other countries, the development of medications - even simple ones, such as aspirin, acetaminophen or ibuprofen - takes many years and billions of invested dollars. Complicating the situation is the often incompetent and illogical way the FDA approves research and marketing, before the drugs can even be brought to the consumer.
But after all the expense and complexity, drugs do often find their way onto the shelves. Because of patent and trademarks laws, those pharmaceutical companies that developed the drug have the right to exclusive sale of the product they worked to produce. But only for a certain length of time.
The period varies, but eventually the active ingredients in brand name drugs become legally available for other companies to manufacture and sell. In the case of aspirin, for example, Bayer - the German company - lost exclusivity, of both the compound and the name, as a result of Germany's loss of WWI. Acetylsalicylic, in the form they developed, then became available for others to make and sell.
Once that happens, so-called generic drugs come onto the market. In the vast majority of cases, these drugs are as good (or nearly so) as their competitors. Since those companies didn't bear the time and expense to develop and build a market for them, they can sell them much more cheaply. Those are the major reasons generics are much less expensive.
But even within that framework, it's not always the case that generic and brand name drugs are identical. Even though the patent may have expired, the law requires that generic drug manufacturers make some changes to the product beyond the name. They are not allowed to sell the identical material under an alternate name.
Most accommodate this requirement by modifying the inactive ingredients. In most cases, that's a perfectly safe course of action. But, individuals differ in their sensitivity and what's a completely inactive ingredient for some may have some effect on others. It may be something as minor as the odor or taste. In other cases, the effect may be more profound.
Altering the level of calcium in a Bufferin-like medication (composed of aspirin and buffered with calcium carbonate) can make a difference for some people. Patients taking the anti-depressant Zoloft, for example, have reported some differences in effect between it and a generic substitute. Anti-depressants are also sometimes used to treat some forms of headache.
Though quality standards and active ingredients are required by law to be the same for any manufacturer, large pharmaceutical companies are more than just efficient marketing organizations. They also have enormous resources to devote to creating and monitoring their manufacturing processes.
In some cases, this can make a difference between their product and that of a generic. This is especially true since some have components now being made in China and elsewhere, where proper practices may not be as stringently followed.
It is necessary to examine all of your options when choosing between generic and name brand medicines. You will need to assess the risks and rewards of the two types before making your choice. While this may seem like a difficult choice to make, it is necessary part of maintaining your health.
In a migraine, intense, throbbing pain is felt - usually around one temple or the other.
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on. Illustration--ALTAR AND IMAGES. Central figure Akshobya, the first of the Pancha Boodha. The great or south temple contained a side altar of very elegant shape, placed before an image encircled by a glory. Flowers, juniper, peacock's feathers, pastiles, and rows of brass cups of water were the chief ornaments of the altars, besides the instruments I have elsewhere enumerated. In this temple was the library, containing several hundred books, in pigeon-holes, placed in recesses.* For a particular account of the images and decorations of these temples, sea Dr. Campbell's paper in "Bengal Asiatic Society's Trans.," May, 1849. The principal object of veneration amongst the Ningma or red sect of Boodhists in Sikkim and Bhotan is Gorucknath, who is always represented sitting cross-legged, holding the dorje in one hand, which is raised; whilst the left rests in the lap and holds a cup with a jewel in it. The left arm supports a trident, whose staff pierces three sculls (a symbol of Shiva), a rosary hangs round his neck, and he wears a red mitre with a lunar crescent and sun in front. Illustration--PLAN OF THE SOUTH TEMPLE. A. entrance; B. four praying cylinders; C. altar, with seven brass cups of water; D. four columns; E. and F. images; G. library. The effect on entering these cold and gloomy temples is very impressive; the Dugang in particular is exquisitely ornamented and painted, and the vista from the vestibule to the principal idol, of carved and coloured pillars and beams, is very picturesque. Within, the general arrangement of the colours and gilding is felt to be harmonious and pleasing, especially from the introduction of slender white streaks between the contrasting masses of colour, as adopted in the Great Exhibition building of 1851. It is also well worthy of remark that the brightest colours are often used in broad masses, and when so, are always arranged chromatically, in the sequence of the rainbow's hues, and are hence never displeasing to the eye. The hues, though bright, are subdued by the imperfect light: the countenances of the images are all calm, and their expression solemn. Whichever way you turn, the eye is met by some beautiful specimen of colouring or carving, or some object of veneration. The effect is much heightened by the incense of juniper and sweet-smelling herbs which the priests burn on entering, by their grave and decorous conduct, and by the feeling of respect that is demanded by a religion which theoretically inculcates and adores virtue in the abstract, and those only amongst men who practise virtue. To the idol itself the Boodhist attaches no real importance; it is an object of reverence, not of worship, and no virtue or attribute belong to it _per se_; it is a symbol of the creed, and the adoration is paid to the holy man whom it represents. Beyond the temples are the chaits and mendongs, scattered without much order; and I counted nearly twenty-five chaits of the same form,* In Sikkim the form of the cube alone is always strictly preserved; that of the pyramid and hemisphere being often much modified. The cube stands on a flight of usually three steps, and is surmounted by a low pyramid of five steps; on this is placed a swelling, urn-shaped body, which represents the hemisphere, and is surmounted by another cube. On the latter is a slender, round or angled spire (represented by a pyramid in Burma), crowned with a crescent and disc, or sun, in moon. Generally, the whole is of stone, with the exception of the spire, which is of wood, painted red. between eight and thirty feet high. The largest is consecrated to the memory of the Rajah's eldest son, who, however, is not buried here. A group of these structures is, as I have often remarked, extremely picturesque, and those at Tassiding, from their number, variety, and size, their commanding and romantic position, and their being interspersed with weeping cypresses, are particularly so. The Tassiding temples and convents were founded upwards of 300 years ago, by the Lamas who accompanied the first Rajah to Sikkim; and they have been continuously served by Lamas of great sanctity, many of whom have been educated at Lhassa. They were formerly very wealthy, but during the Nepal war they were plundered of all their treasures, their silver gongs and bells, their best idols, dorjes, and manis, and stripped of their ornaments; since which time Pemiongchi has been more popular. In proof of their antiquity, it was pointed out that most of the symbols and decorations were those of pure Lama Boodhism, as practised in Tibet. Although the elevation is but 4,840 feet, the weather was cold and raw, with rain at noon, followed by thunder and lightning. These electrical disturbances are frequent about midsummer and midwinter, prevailing over many parts of India. _January 1st_, 1849.--The morning of the new year was bright and beautiful, though much snow had fallen on the mountains; and we left Sunnook for Pemiongchi, situated on the summit of a lofty spur on the opposite side of the Ratong. We descended very steeply to the bed of the river (alt. 2,480 feet) which joins the Great Rungeet below the convents. The rocks were micaceous, dipping west and north-west 45 degrees, and striking north and north-east, which direction prevailed for 1000 feet or so up the opposite spur. I had observed the same dip and stroke on the east flank of the Tassiding spur; but both the Ratong on its west side, and the Great Rungeet on the east, flow in channels that show no relation to either the dip or strike. I have generally remarked in Sikkim that the channels of the rivers when cutting through or flowing at the base of bluff cliffs, are neither parallel to nor at right angles to the strike of the rocks forming the cliffs. I do not hence conclude that there is no original connection between the directions of the rivers, and the lines of fracture; but whatever may have once subsisted between the direction of the fissures and that of the strike, it is in the Sikkim Himalaya now wholly masked by shiftings, which accompanied subsequent elevations and depressions. Mr. Hopkins has mathematically demonstrated that the continued exertion of a force in raising superimposed strata would tend to produce two classes of fractures in those strata; those of the first order at right angles to the direction of the wave or ridge (or line of strike); those of the second order parallel to the strike. Supposing the force to be withdrawn after the formation of the two fractures, the result would be a ridge, or mountain chain, with diverging fissures from the summit, crossed by concentric fissures; and the courses which the rivers would take in flowing down the ridge, would successively be at right angles and parallel to the strike of the strata. Now, in the Himalaya, a prevalent strike to the north-west has been recognised in all parts of the chain, but it is everywhere interfered with by mountains presenting every other direction of strike, and by their dip never remaining constant either in amount or direction. Consequently, as might be expected, the directions of the river channels bear no apparent relation to the general strike of the rocks. We crossed the Ratong (twenty yards broad) by a cane bridge, suspended between two rocks of green chlorite, full of veins of granite. Ascending, we passed the village of Kameti on a spur, on the face of which were strewed some enormous detached blocks of white and pink stratified quartz: the rocks _in situ_ were all chlorite schist. Looking across the valley to the flank of Mainom, the disposition of the ridges and ravines on its sides was very evident; many of the latter, throughout their westerly course, from their commencement at 10,000 feet, to their debouchure in the Great Rungeet at 2000, had a bluff, cliffy, northern flank, and a sloping southern one. The dip of the surfaces is, therefore, north-west, the exposure consequently of the villages which occupy terraces on the south flanks of the lateral valleys. The Tassiding spur presented exactly the same arrangement of its ravines, and the dip of the rocks being north-west, it follows that the planes of the sloping surfaces coincide in direction (though not in amount of inclination) with that of the dip of the subjacent strata, which is anything but a usual phenomenon in Sikkim. The ascent to Pemiongchi continued very steep, through woods of oaks, chesnuts, and magnolias, but no tree-fern, palms, _Pothos,_ or plantain, which abound at this elevation on the moister outer ranges of Sikkim. The temple (elev. 7,083 feet) is large, eighty feet long, and in excellent order, built upon the lofty terminal point of the great east and west spur that divides the Kulhait from the Ratong and Rungbee rivers; and the great Changachelling temple and monastery stand on another eminence of the same ridge, two miles further west. The view of the snowy range from this temple is one of the finest in Sikkim; the eye surveying at one glance the vegetation of the Tropics and the Poles. Deep in the valleys the river-beds are but 3000 feet above the sea, and are choked with fig-trees, plantains, and palms; to these succeed laurels and magnolias, and higher up still, oaks, chesnuts, birches, etc.; there is, however, no marked line between the limits of these two last forests, which form the prevailing arboreous vegetation between 4000 and 10,000 feet, and give a lurid line to the mountains. Pine forests succeed for 2000 feet higher, when they give place to a skirting of rhododendron and berberry. Among these appear black naked rocks, rising up in cliffs, between which are gulleys, down which the snow now (on the 1st January) descended to 12,000 feet. The mountain flanks are much more steep and rocky than those at similar heights on the outer ranges, and cataracts are very numerous, and of considerable height, though small in volume. Pemiongchi is at the same elevation as Dorjiling, and the contrast between the shoulders of 8000 to 10,000 feet on Kinchinjunga, and those of equal height on Tendong and Tonglo, is very remarkable: looking at the latter mountains from Dorjiling, the observer sees no rock, waterfall, or pine, throughout their whole height; whereas the equally wooded flanks of these inner ranges are rocky, streaked with thread-like waterfalls, and bristling with silver firs. This temple, the most ancient in Sikkim, is said to be 400 years old; it stands on a paved platform, and is of the same form and general character as those of Tassiding. Inside, it is most beautifully decorated, especially the beams, columns, capitals and architraves, but the designs are coarser than those of Tassiding.* Mr. Hodgson informed me that many of the figures and emblems in this temple are those of Tantrica Boodhism, including Shiva, Devi, and other deities usually called Brahminical; Kakotak, or the snake king, a figure terminating below in a snake, is also seen; with the tiger, elephant, and curly-maned lion. The square end of every beam in the roof is ornamented either with a lotus flower or with a Tibetan character, in endless diversity Illustration--INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE AT PEMIONGCHI. of colour and form, and the walls are completely covered with allegorical paintings of Lamas and saints expounding or in contemplation, with glories round their heads, mitred, and holding the dole and jewel. The principal image is a large and hideous figure of Sakya-thoba, in a recess under a blue silk canopy, contrasting with a calm figure of the late Rajah, wearing a cap and coronet. Pemiongchi was once the capital of Sikkim, and called the Sikkim Durbar: the Rajah's residence was on a curious flat to the south of the temple, and a few hundred feet below it, where are the remains of (for this country) extensive walls and buildings. During the Nepal war, the Rajah was driven west across the Teesta, whilst the Ghorkas plundered Tassiding, Pemiongchi, Changachelling, and all the temples and convents to the east of that river. It was then that the famous history of Sikkim,* This remarkable and beautiful manuscript was written on thick oblong sheets of Tibet paper, painted black to resist decay, and the letters were yellow and gold. The Nepalese soldiers wantonly employed the sheets to roof the sheds they erected, as a protection from the weather. compiled by the Lamas of Pemiongchi, and kept at this temple, was destroyed, with the exception of a few sheets, with one of which Dr. Campbell and myself were each presented. We were told that the monks of Changachelling and those of this establishment had copied what remained, and were busy compiling from oral information, etc.: whatever value the original may have possessed, however, is irretrievably lost. A magnificent copy of the Boodhist Scriptures was destroyed at the same time; it consisted of 400 volumes, each containing several hundred sheets of Daphne paper. The ground about the temple was snowed; and we descended a few hundred feet, to encamp in a most picturesque grove, among chaits and inscribed stones, with a peep of the temples above. Nightingales warbled deliciously night and morning, which rather surprised us, as the minimum thermometer fell to 27.8 degrees, and the ground next day was covered with hoar-frost; the elevation being 6,580 feet. These birds migrate hither in October and November, lingering in the Himalayan valleys till the cold of early spring drives them further south, to the plains of India, whence they return north in March and April. On the 2nd of January I parted from my friend, who was obliged to hurry to the great annual fair at Titalya. I regretted much being unable to accompany Dr. Campbell to this scene of his disinterested labours, especially as the Nawab of Moorshedabad was to be present, one of the few wealthy native princes of Bengal who still keep a court worth seeing; but I was more anxious to continue my explorations northward till the latest moment: I however accompanied him for a short distance on his way towards Dorjiling. We passed the old Durbar, called Phieungoong ("Bamboo-hill," so named from the abundance of a small bamboo, "Phieung.") The buildings, now in ruins, occupy a little marshy flat, hemmed in by slate rocks, and covered with brambles and _Andromeda_ bushes. A wall, a bastion, and an arched gateway, are the only traces of fortifications; they are clothed with mosses, lichens, and ferns. A steep zigzag path, descending amongst long grass and scarlet rhododendrons, leads to the Kaysing Mendong.* Described at Chapter XII. Here I bade adieu to Dr. Campbell, and toiled up the hill, feeling very lonely. The zest with which he had entered into all my pursuits, and the aid he had afforded me, together with the charm that always attends companionship with one who enjoys every incident of travel, had so attracted me to him that I found it difficult to recover my spirits. It is quite impossible for anyone who cannot from experience realise the solitary wandering life I had been leading for months, to appreciate the desolate feeling that follows the parting from one who has heightened every enjoyment, and taken far more than his share of every annoyance and discomfort: the few days we had spent together appeared then, and still, as months. On my return to Pemiongchi I spent the remainder of the day sketching in the great temple, gossiping with the Lamas, and drinking salted and buttered tea-soup, which I had begun to like, when the butter was not rancid. My route hence was to be along the south flank of Kinchinjunga, north to Jongri, which lay about four or five marches off, on the road to the long deserted pass of Kanglanamo, by which I had intended entering Sikkim from Nepal, when I found the route up the Yalloong valley impracticable. The village and ruined convents of Yoksun lay near the route, and the temples of Doobdi, Catsuperri and Molli, on the Ratong river. I descended to the village of Tchonpong (alt. 4,980 feet), where I was detained a day to obtain rice, of which I required ten days' supply for twenty-five people. On the way I passed groves of the paper-yielding _Edgeworthia Gardneri_: it bears round heads of fragrant, beautiful, yellow flowers, and would be a valuable acquisition to an English conservatory. From Tchonpong we descended to the bed of the Rungbee (alt. 3,160 feet), an affluent of the Ratong, flowing in a deep galley with precipitous sides of mica schist full of garnets, dipping west and north-west 45 degrees: it was spanned by a bridge of two loose bamboo culms, about fifteen yards long, laid across without handrails; after wet sand had been thrown on it the bare-footed coolies crossed easily enough, but I, having shoes on, required a hand to steady me. From this point we crossed a lofty spur to the Ratong (alt. 3000 feet), where we encamped, the coolies being unable to proceed further on such very bad roads. This river descends from the snows of Kinchin, and consequently retains the low temperature 42 degrees, being fully 7 degrees colder than the Rungbee, which at an elevation of but 3000 feet appears very remarkable: it must however be observed that scarcely anywhere does the sun penetrate to the bottom of its valley. We encamped on a gravelly flat, fifty feet above the river, strewn with water-worn boulders, and so densely covered with tall _Artemisiae,_ gigantic grasses, bamboo, plantain, fern, and acacia, that we had to clear a space in the jungle, which exhaled a rank heavy smell. Hoar-frost formed copiously in the night, and though above the sun's rays were very powerful, they did not reach this spot till 7.30 a.m., the frost remaining in the shade till nearly 9 a.m.; and this on plantains, and other inhabitants of hot-houses in England. Hence I ascended to Yoksun, one of the most curious and picturesque spots in Sikkim, and the last inhabited place towards Kinchinjunga. The path was excessively steep and rocky for the first mile or two, and then alternately steep and flat. Mixed with many tropical trees, were walnuts of the common English variety; a tree, which, though planted here, is wild near Dorjiling, where it bears a full-sized fruit, as hard as a hickory-nut: those I gathered in this place were similar, whereas in Bhotan the cultivated nut is larger, thin-shelled, and the kernel is easily removed. We ascended one slope, of an angle of 36 degrees 30 minutes, which was covered with light black mould, and had been recently cleared by fire: we found millet now cultivated on it. From the top the view of the Ratong valley was very fine: to the north lay Yoksun, appearing from this height to occupy a flat, two miles long and one broad, girdled by steep mountains to the north and east, dipping very suddenly 2,200 feet to the Ratong on the west. To the right was a lofty hill, crowned with the large temple and convents of Doobdi, shadowed by beautiful weeping cypresses, and backed by lofty pine-clad mountains. Northward, the gorge of the Ratong opened as a gloomy defile, above which rose partially snowed mountains, which shut out Kinchinjunga. To the west, massive pine-clad mountains rose steeply; while the little hamlet of Lathiang occupied a remarkable shelf overhanging the river, appearing inaccessible except by ropes from above. South-west, the long spurs of Molli and Catsuperri, each crowned with convents or temples, descended from Singalelah; and parallel to them on the south; but much longer and more lofty, was the great mountain range north of the Kulbait, with the temples and convents of Pemiongchi, and Changachelling, towering in the air. The latter range dips suddenly to the Great Rungeet, where Tassiding, with its chaits and cypresses, closed the view. The day was half cloud, half sunshine; and the various effects of light and shade, now bringing out one or other of the villages and temples, now casting the deep valleys into darker gloom, was wonderfully fine. Yoksun was the earliest civilised corner of Sikkim, and derived its name (which signifies in Lepcha "three chiefs") from having been the residence of three Lamas of great influence, who were the means of introducing the first Tibetan sovereign into the country. At present it boasts of but little cultivation, and a scattered population, inhabiting a few hamlets, 5,500 feet above the sea: beautiful lanes and paths wind everywhere over the gentle slopes, and through the copsewood that has replaced the timber-trees of a former period. Mendongs and chaits are very numerous, some of great size; and there are also the ruins of two very large temples, near which are some magnificent weeping cypresses, eighty feet high. These fine trees are landmarks from all parts of the flat; they form irregular cones of pale bright green, with naked gnarled tops, the branches weep gracefully, but not like the picture in Macartney's Embassy to China, whence originated the famous willow-pattern of our crockery. The ultimate branchlets are very slender and pendulous; my Lepcha boys used to make elegant chaplets of them, binding the withes with scarlet worsted. The trunk is quite erect, smooth, cylindrical, and pine-like; it harbours no moss, but air-plants, Orchids, and ferns, nestle on the limbs, and pendulous lichens, like our beard-moss, wave from the branches. In the evening I ascended to Doobdi. The path was broad, and skilfully conducted up a very steep slope covered with forest: the top, which is 6,470 feet above the sea, and nearly 1000 above Yoksun, is a broad partially paved platform, on which stand two temples, surrounded by beautiful cypresses: one of these trees (perhaps the oldest in Sikkim) measured sixteen and a half feet in girth, at five feet from the ground, and was apparently ninety feet high: it was not pyramidal, the top branches being dead and broken, and the lower limbs spreading; they were loaded with masses of white-flowered Coelogynes, and Vacciniums. The younger trees were pyramidal. I was received by a monk of low degree, who made many apologies for the absence of his superior, who had been ordered an eight years' penance and seclusion from the world, of which only three had passed. On inquiry, I learnt the reason for this; the holy father having found himself surrounded by a family, to which there would have been no objection, had he previously obtained a dispensation. As, however, he had omitted this preliminary, and was able to atone by prayer and payment, he had been condemned to do penance; probably at his own suggestion, as the seclusion will give him sanctity, and eventually lead to his promotion, when his error shall have been forgotten. Illustration--TEMPLE AND WEEPING CYPRESS. Both temples are remarkable for their heavily ornamented, two-storied porticos, which occupy nearly the whole of one end. The interior decorations are in a ruinous condition, and evidently very old; they have no Hindoo emblems. The head Lama sent me a present of dried peaches, with a bag of walnuts, called "Koal-kun" by the Lepchas, and "Taga-sching" by the Bhoteeas; the two terminations alike signifying "tree." The view of Yoksun from this height was very singular: it had the appearance of an enormous deposit banked up against a spur to the south, and mountains to the east, and apparently levelled by the action of water: this deposit seemed as though, having once completely filled the valley of the Ratong, that river had cut a gorge 2000 feet deep between it and the opposite mountain. Although the elevation is so low, snow falls abundantly at Doobdi in winter; I was assured that it has been known of the depth of five feet, a statement I consider doubtful; the quantity is, however, certainly greater than at equal heights about Dorjiling, no doubt owing to its proximity to Kinchinjunga. I was amused here by watching a child playing with a popgun, made of bamboo, similar to that of quill, with which most English children are familiar, which propels pellets by means of a spring-trigger made of the upper part of the quill. It is easy to conclude such resemblances between the familiar toys of different countries to be accidental, but I question their being really so. On the plains of India, men may often be seen for hours together, flying what with us are children's kites; and I procured a jews'-harp from Tibet. These are not the toys of savages, but the amusements of people more than half-civilised, and with whom we have had indirect communication from the earliest ages. The Lepchas play at quoits, using slate for the purpose, and at the Highland games of "putting the stone" and "drawing the stone." Chess, dice, draughts, Punch, hockey, and battledore and shuttlecock, are all Indo-Chinese or Tartarian; and no one familiar with the wonderful instances of similarity between the monasteries, ritual, ceremonies, attributes, vestments, and other paraphernalia of the eastern and western churches, can fail to acknowledge the importance of recording even the most trifling analogies or similarities between the manners and customs of the young as well as of the old. CHAPTER XV Leave Yoksun for Kinchinjunga--Ascend Ratong valley-- Salt-smuggling over Ratong--Landslips--Plants--Buckeem-- Blocks of gneiss--Mon Lepcha--View--Weather--View from Gubroo --Kinchinjunga, tops of--Pundim cliff--Nursing--Vegetation of Himalaya--Coup d'oeil of Jongri--Route to Yalloong--Arduous route of salt-traders from Tibet--Kinchin, ascent of--Lichens-- Surfaces sculptured by snow and ice--Weather at Jongri--Snow-- Shades for eyes. I left Yoksun on an expedition to Kinchinjunga on the 7th of January. It was evident that at this season I could not attain any height; but I was most anxious to reach the lower limit of that mass of perpetual snow which descends in one continuous sweep from 28,000 to 15,000 feet, and radiates from the summit of Kinchin, along every spur and shoulder for ten to fifteen miles, towards each point of the compass. The route lay for the first mile over the Yoksun flat, and then wound along the almost precipitous east flank of the Ratong, 1000 feet above its bed, leading through thick forest. It was often difficult, crossing torrents by calms of bamboo, and leading up precipices by notched poles and roots of trees. I wondered what could have induced the frequenting of such a route to Nepal, when there were so many better ones over Singalelah, till I found from my guide that he had habitually smuggled salt over this pass to avoid the oppressive duty levelled by the Dewan on all imports from Tibet by the eastern passes: he further told me that it took five days to reach Yalloong in Nepal front Yoksun, on the third of which the Kanglanamo pass is crossed, which is open from April to November, but is always heavily snowed. Owing to this duty, and the remoteness of the eastern passes, the people on the west side of the Great Rungeet were compelled to pay an enormous sum for salt; and the Lamas of Changachelling and Pemiongchi petitioned Dr. Campbell to use his influence with the Nepal Court to have the Kanglanamo pass re-opened, and the power of trading with the Tibetans of Wallanchoon, Yangma, and Kambachen, restored to them: the pass having been closed since the Nepalese war, to prevent the Sikkim people from kidnapping children and slaves, as was alleged to be their custom.* An accusation in which there was probably some truth; for the Sikkim Dingpun, who guided Dr. Campbell and myself to Mainom, Tassiding, etc., since kidnapped, or caused to be abducted, a girl of Brahmin parents, from the Mai valley of Nepal, a transaction which cost him some 300 rupees. The Nepal Durbar was naturally furious, the more so as the Dingpun had no caste, and was therefore abhorred by all Brahmins. Restitution was demanded through Dr. Campbell, who caused the incensed Dingpun to give up his paramour and her jewels. He vowed vengeance against Dr. Campbell, and found means to gratify it, as I shall hereafter show. We passed some immense landslips, which had swept the forest into the torrent, and exposed white banks of angular detritus of gneiss and granite: we crossed one 200 yards long, by a narrow treacherous path, on a slope of 35 degrees: the subjacent gneiss was nearly vertical, striking north-east. We camped at 6,670 feet, amongst a vegetation I little expected to find so close to the snows of Kinchin; it consisted of oak, maple, birch, laurel, rhododendron, white _Daphne,_ jessamine, _Arum, Begonia, Cyrtandraceae,_ pepper, fig, _Menispermum,_ wild cinnamon, _Scitamineae,_ several epiphytic orchids, vines, and ferns in great abundance. On the following day, I proceeded north-west up the Ratong river, here a furious torrent; which we crossed, and then ascended a very steep mountain called "Mon Lepcha." Immense detached masses of gneiss, full of coarse garnets, lay on the slope, some of which were curiously marked with a series of deep holes, large enough to put one's fist in, and said to be the footprints of the sacred cow. They appeared to me to have been caused by the roots of trees, which spread over the rocks in these humid regions, and wear channels in the hardest material, especially when they follow the direction of its lamination or stratification. I encamped at a place called Buckeem (alt. 8,650 ft.), in a forest of _Abies Brunoniana_ and _Webbiana,_ yew, oak, various rhododendrons, and small bamboo. Snow lay in patches at 8000 feet, and the night was cold and clear. On the following morning I continued the ascent, alternately up steeps and along perfectly level shelves, on which were occasionally frozen pools, surrounded with dwarf juniper and rhododendrons. Across one I observed the track of a yak in the snow; it presented two ridges, probably from the long hair of this animal, which trails on the ground, sweeping the snow from the centre of its path. At 11,000 feet the snow lay deep and soft in the woods of silver fir, and the coolies waded through it with difficulty. Enormous fractured boulders of gneiss were frequent over the whole of Mon Lepcha, from 7000 to 11,000 feet: they were of the same material as the rock _in situ,_ and as unaccountable in their origin as the loose blocks on Dorjiling and Sinchul spurs at similar elevations, often cresting narrow ridges. I measured one angular detached block, forty feet high, resting on a steep narrow shoulder of the spur, in a position to which it was impossible it could have rolled; and it is equally difficult to suppose that glacial ice deposited it 4000 feet above the bottom of the gorge, except we conclude the valley to have been filled with ice to that depth. A glance at the map will show that Mon Lepcha is remarkably situated, opposite the face of Kinchinjunga, and at the great bend of the Ratong. Had that valley ever been filled with water during a glacial period, Mon Lepcha would have formed a promontory, and many floating bergs from Kinchin would have been stranded on its flank: but I nowhere observed these rocks to be of so fine a granite as I believe the upper rocks of Kinchin to be, and I consequently cannot advance even that far-fetched solution with much plausibility. As I ascended, the rocks became more granitic, with large crystals of mica. The summit was another broad bare flat, elevated 13,080 feet, and fringed by a copse of rose, berberry, and very alpine rhododendrons: the Himalayan heather (_Adromeda fastigiata_) grew abundantly here, affording us good fuel. The toilsome ascent through the soft snow and brushwood delayed the coolies, who scarcely accomplished five miles in the day. Some of them having come up by dark, I prepared to camp on the mountain-top, strewing thick masses of _Andromeda_ and moss (which latter hung in great tufts from the bushes) on the snow; my blankets bad not arrived, but there was no prospect of a snow-storm. The sun was powerful when I reached the summit, and I was so warm that I walked about barefoot on the frozen snow without inconvenience, preferring it to continuing in wet stockings: the temperature at the time was 29.5 degrees, with a brisk south-east moist wind, and the dew point 22.8 degrees. The night was magnificent, brilliant starlight, with a pale mist over the mountains: the thermometer fell to 15.5 degrees at 7.30 p.m., and one laid upon wood with its bulb freely exposed, sank to 7.5 degrees: the snow sparkled with broad flakes of hoar-frost in the full moon, which was so bright, that I recorded my observations by its light. Owing to the extreme cold of radiation, I passed a very uncomfortable night. The minimum thermometer fell to 1 degrees in shade.* At sunrise the temperature was 11.5 degrees; that of grass, cleared on the previous day from snow, and exposed to the sky, 6.5 degrees; that on wool, 2.2 degrees; and that on the surface of the snow, 0.7 degrees. The sky was clear; and every rock, leaf, twig, blade of grass, and the snow itself, were covered with broad rhomboidal plates of hoar-frost, nearly one-third of an inch across: while the metal scale of the thermometer instantaneously blistered my tongue. As the sun rose, the light reflected from these myriads of facets had a splendid effect. Before sunrise the atmosphere was still, and all but cloudless. To the south-east were visible the plains of India, at least 140 miles distant; where, as usual, horizontal layers of leaden purple vapour obscured the horizon: behind these the sun rose majestically, instantly dispersing them, while a thin haze spread over all the intervening mountains, from its slanting beams reaching me through otherwise imperceptible vapours: these, as the sun mounted higher, again became invisible, though still giving that transparency to the atmosphere and brilliant definition of the distances, so characteristic of a damp, yet clear day. Mon Lepcha commands a most extensive view of Sikkim, southward to Dorjiling. At my feet lay the great and profound valley of the Ratong, a dark gulf of vegetation. Looking northward, the eye followed that river to the summit of Kinchinjunga (distant eighteen miles), which fronts the beholder as Mont Blanc does when seen from the mountains on the opposite side of the valley of Chamouni. To the east are the immense precipices and glaciers of Pundim, and on the west those of Kubra, forming great supporters to the stupendous mountain between them. Mon Lepcha itself is a spur running south-east from the Kubra shoulder: it is very open, and covered with rounded hills for several miles further north, terminating in a conspicuous conical black hummock* This I have beau told is the true Kubra; and the great snowy mountain behind it, which I here, in conformity with the Dorjiling nomenclature, call Kubra, has no name, being considered a part of Kinchin. called Gubroo, of 15,000 feet elevation, which presents a black cliff to the south. Kinchinjunga rises in three heads, of nearly equal height,* The eastern and western tops, are respectively 27,826 and 28,177 feet above the level of the sea. which form a line running north-west. It exposes many white or grey rocks, bare of snow, and disposed in strata* I am aware that the word strata is inappropriate here; the appearance of stratification or bedding, if it indicate any structure of the rock, being, I cannot doubt, due to that action which gives parallel cleavage planes to granite in many parts of the world, and to which the so-called lamination or foliation of slate and gneiss is supposed by many geologists to be due. It is not usual to find this structure so uniformly and conspicuously developed through large masses of granite, as it appeared to me to be on the sides of Kinchinjunga and on the top of Junnoo, as seen from the Choonjerma pass (Chapter XI, plate); but it is sometimes very conspicuous, and nowhere more than in the descent of the Grimsel towards Meyringen, where the granite on the east flank of that magnificent gorge seems cleft into parallel nearly vertical strata. sloping to the west; the colour of all which above 20,000 feet, and the rounded knobbed form of the summit, suggest a granitic formation. Lofty snowed ridges project from Kubra into the Ratong valley, presenting black precipices of stratified rocks to the southward. Pundim has a very grand appearance; being eight miles distant, and nearly 9000 feet above Mon Lepcha, it subtends an angle of 12 degrees; while Kinchin top, though 15,000 feet higher than Mon Lepcha, being eighteen miles distant, rises only 9 degrees 30 minutes above the true horizon: these angular heights are too small to give much grandeur and apparent elevation to mountains, however lofty; nor would they do so in this case, were it not that the Ratong valley which intervenes, is seen to be several thousand feet lower, and many degrees below the real horizon. Illustration--KINCHINJUNGA AND PUNDIM FROM MON LEPCHA. Pundim has a tremendous precipice to the south, which, to judge from its bareness of snow, must be nearly perpendicular; and it presented a superb geological section. The height of this precipice I found by angles with a pocket sextant to be upwards of 3,400 feet, and that of its top to be 21,300 above the sea, and consequently only 715 feet less than that of the summit of Pundim itself (which is 22,015 feet). This cliff is of black stratified rocks, sloping to the west, and probably striking north-west; permeated from top to bottom by veins of white granite, disposed in zigzag lines, which produce a contortion of the gneiss, and give it a marbled appearance. The same structure may be seen in miniature on the transported blocks which abound in the Sikkim rivers; where veins of finely grained granite are forced in all directions through the gneiss, and form parallel seams or beds between the laminae of that rock, united by transverse seams, and crumpling up the gneiss itself, like the crushed leaves of a book. The summit of Pundim itself is all of white rock, rounded in shape, and forming a cap to the gneiss, which weathers into precipices. A succession of ridges, 14,000 to 18,000 feet high, presented a line of precipices running south from Pundim for several miles: immense granite veins are exposed on their surfaces, and they are capped by stratified rocks, sloping to the east, and apparently striking to the north-west, which, being black, contrast strongly with the white granite beneath them: these ridges, instead of being round-topped, are broken into splintered crags, behind which rises the beautiful conical peak of Nursing, 19,139 feet above the sea, eight miles distant, and subtending an angle of 8 degrees 30 minutes. At the foot of these precipices was a very conspicuous series of lofty moraines, round whose bases the Ratong wound; these appeared of much the same height, rising several hundred feet above the valley: they were comparatively level-topped, and had steep shelving rounded sides. I have been thus particular in describing the upper Ratong valley, because it drains the south face of the loftiest mountain on the globe; and I have introduced angular heights, and been precise in my details, because the vagueness with which all terms are usually applied to the apparent altitude and steepness of mountains and precipices, is apt to give false impressions. It is essential to attend to such points where scenery of real interest and importance is to be described. It is customary to speak of peaks as towering in the air, which yet subtend an angle of very few degrees; of almost precipitous ascents, which, when measured, are found to be slopes of 18 degrees or 20 degrees; and of cliffs as steep and stupendous, which are inclined at a very moderate angle. The effect of perspective is as often to deceive in details as to give truth to general impressions; and those accessories are sometimes wanting in nature, which, when supplied by art, give truth to the landscape. Thus, a streak of clouds adds height to a peak which should appear lofty, but which scarcely rises above the true horizon; and a belt of mist will sunder two snowy mountains which, though at very different distances, for want of a play of light and shade on their dazzling surfaces, and from the extreme transparency of the air in lofty regions, appear to be at the same distance from the observer. The view to the southward from Mon Lepcha, including the country between the sea-like plains of India and the loftiest mountain on the globe, is very grand, and neither wanting in variety nor in beauty. From the deep valleys choked with tropical luxuriance to the scanty yak pasturage on the heights above, seems but a step at the first _coup-d'oceil,_ but resolves itself on a closer inspection into five belts: 1, palm and plantain; 2, oak and laurel; 3, pine; 4, rhododendron and grass; and 5, rock and snow. From the bed of the Ratong, in which grow palms with screw-pine and plantain, it is only seven miles in a direct line to the perpetual ice. From the plains of India, or outer Himalaya, one may behold snowy peaks rise in the distance behind a foreground of tropical forest; here, on the contrary, all the intermediate phases of vegetation are seen at a glance. Except in the Himalaya this is no common phenomenon, and is owing to the very remarkable depth of the river-beds. That part of the valley of the Ratong where tropical vegetation ceases, is but 4000 feet above the sea, and though fully fifty miles as the crow flies (and perhaps 200 by the windings of the river) from the plains of India, is only eight in a straight line (and forty by the windings) from the snows which feed that river. In other words, the descent is so rapid, that in eight miles the Ratong waters every variety of vegetation, from the lichen of the poles to the palm of the tropics; whilst throughout the remainder of its mountain course, it falls from 4000 to 300 feet, flowing amongst tropical scenery, through a valley whose flanks rise from 5000 to 12,000 feet above its bed. From Mon Lepcha we proceeded north-west towards Jongri, along a very open rounded bare mountain, covered with enormous boulders of gneiss, of which the subjacent rock is also composed. The soil is a thick clay full of angular stones, everywhere scooped out into little depressions which are the dry beds of pools, and are often strewed with a thin layer of pebbles. Black tufts of alpine aromatic rhododendrons of two kinds (_R. anthopogon_ and _setosum_), with dwarf juniper, comprised all the conspicuous vegetation at this season. After a two hours' walk, keeping at 13,000 feet elevation, we sighted Jongri.* I am assured by Capt. Sherwill, who, in 1852, proceeded along and surveyed the Nepal frontier beyond this point to Gubroo, that this is not Jongri, but Yangpoong. The difficulty of getting precise information, especially as to the names of seldom-visited spots, is very great. I was often deceived myself, undesignedly, I am sure, on the part of my informants; but in this case I have Dr. Campbell's assurance, who has kindly investigated the subject, that there is no mistake on my part. Captain Sherwill has also kindly communicated to me a map of the head waters of the Rungbee, Yungya, and Yalloong rivers, of which, being more correct than my own, I have gladly availed myself for my map. Gubroo, he informs me, is 15,000 feet in altitude, and dips in a precipice 1000 feet high, facing Kubra, which prevented his exploring further north. There were two stone huts on the bleak face of the spur, scarcely distinguishable at the distance of half a mile from the great blocks around them. To the north Gubroo rose in dismal grandeur, backed by the dazzling snows of Kubra, which now seemed quite near, its lofty top (alt. 24,005 feet) being only eight miles distant. Much snow lay on the ground in patches, and there were few remains of herbaceous vegetation; those I recognised were chiefly of poppy, _Potentilla,_ gentian, geranium, fritillary, _Umbelliferae,_ grass, and sedges. On our arrival at the huts the weather was still fine, with a strong north-west wind, which meeting the warm moist current from the Ratong valley, caused much precipitation of vapour. As I hoped to be able to visit the surrounding glaciers from this spot, I made arrangements for a stay of some days: giving up the only habitable hut to my people, I spread my blankets in a slope from its roof to the ground, building a little stone dyke round the skirts of my dwelling, and a fire-place in front. Hence to Yalloong in Nepal, by the Kanglanamo pass, is two days' march: the route crosses the Singalelah range at an elevation of about 15,000 feet, south of Kubra, and north of a mountain that forms a conspicuous feature south-west from Jongri, as a crest of black fingered peaks, tipped with snow. It is difficult to conceive the amount of labour expended upon every pound of salt imported into this part of Sikkim from Tibet, and as an enumeration of the chief features of the routes it must follow, will give some idea of what the circuit of the loftiest mountain in the globe involves, I shall briefly allude to them; premising that the circuit of Mont Blanc may be easily accomplished in four days. The shortest route to Yoksun (the first village south of Kinchin) from the nearest Tibetan village north of that mountain, involves a detour of one-third of the circumference of Kinchin. It is evident that the most direct way must be that nearest the mountain-top, and therefore that which reaches the highest accessible elevation on its shoulders, and which, at the same time, dips into the shallowest valleys between those shoulders. The actual distance in a straight line is about fifty miles, from Yoksun to the mart at or near Tashirukpa. The marches between them are as follows:-- 1. To Yalloong two days; crossing Kanglanamo pass, 15,000 feet high. 3. To foot of Choonjerma pass, descending to 10,000 feet. 4. Cross Choonjerma pass, 15,260 feet, and proceed to Kambachen, 11,400 feet. 5. Cross Nango pass, 15,770, and camp on Yangma river, 11,000 feet. 6. Ascend to foot of Kanglachem pass, and camp at 15,000 feet. 7. Cross Kanglachem pass, probably 16,500 feet; and 8-10. It is said to be three marches hence to the Tibetan custom-house, and that two more snowy passes are crossed. This allows no day of rest, and gives only five miles--as the crow flies--to be accomplished each day, but I assume fully fourteen of road distance; the labour spent in which would accomplish fully thirty over good roads. Four snowed passes at least are crossed, all above 15,000 feet, and after the first day the path does not descend below 10,000 feet. By this route about one-third of the circuit of Kinchinjunga is accomplished. Supposing the circuit were to be completed by the shortest practicable route, that is, keeping as near the summit as possible, the average time required for a man with his load would be upwards of a month. To reach Tashirukpa by the eastern route from Yoksun, being a journey of about twenty-five days, requires a long detour to the southward and eastward, and afterwards the ascent of the Teesta valley, to Kongra Lama, and so north to the Tibetan Arun. My first operation after encamping and arranging my instruments, was to sink the ground thermometer; but the earth being frozen for sixteen inches, it took four men several hours' work with hammer and chisel, to penetrate so deep. There was much vegetable matter for the first eight or ten inches, and below that a fine red clay. I spent the afternoon, which was fine, in botanising. When the sun shone, the smell of the two rhododendrons was oppressive, especially as a little exertion at this elevation brings on headache. There were few mosses; but crustaceous lichens were numerous, and nearly all of them of Scotch, Alpine, European, and Arctic kinds. The names of these, given by the classical Linnaeus and Wahlenberg, tell in some cases of their birth-places, in others of their hardihood, their lurid colours and weather-beaten aspects; such as _tristis, gelida, glacialis, arctica, alpina, saxatilis, polaris, frigida,_ and numerous others equally familiar to the Scotch botanist. I recognised many as natives of the wild mountains of Cape Horn, and the rocks of the stormy Antarctic ocean; since visiting which regions I had not gathered them. The lichen called _geographicus_ was most abundant, and is found to indicate a certain degree of cold in every latitude; descending to the level of the sea in latitude 52 degrees north, and 50 degrees south, but in lower latitudes only to be seen on mountains. It flourishes at 10,000 feet on the Himalaya, ascending thence to 18,000 feet. Its name, however, was not intended to indicate its wide range, but the curious maplike patterns which its yellow crust forms on the rocks. Of the blocks of gneiss scattered over the Jongri spur, many are twenty feet in diameter. The ridge slopes gently south-west to the Choroong river, and more steeply north-east to the Ratong, facing Kinchin: it rises so very gradually to a peaked mountain between Jongri and Kubra, that it is not possible to account for the transport and deposit of these boulders by glaciers of the ordinary form, viz., by a stream of ice following the course of a valley; and we are forced to speculate upon the possibility of ice having capped the whole spur, and moved downwards, transporting blocks from the prominences on various parts of the spur. The cutting up of the whole surface of this rounded mountain into little pools, now dry, of all sizes, from ten to about one hundred yards in circumference, is a very striking phenomenon. The streams flow in shallow transverse valleys, each passing through a succession of such pools, accompanying a step-like character of the general surface. The beds are stony, becoming more so where they enter the pools, upon several of the larger of which I observed curving ridges of large stones, radiating outwards on to their beds from either margin of the entering stream: more generally large stones were deposited opposite every embouchure. This superficial sculpturing must have been a very recent operation; and the transport of the heavy stones opposite the entrance of the streams has been effected by ice, and perhaps by snow; just as the arctic ice strews the shores of the Polar ocean with rocks. The weather had been threatening all day, northern and westerly currents contending aloft with the south-east trade-wind of Sikkim, and meeting in strife over the great upper valley of the Ratong. Stately masses of white cumuli wheeled round that gulf of glaciers, partially dissipating in an occasional snow-storm, but on the whole gradually accumulating. On my arrival the thermometer was 32 degrees, with a powerful sun shining, and it fell to 28 degrees at 4 p.m., when the north wind set in. At sunset the moon rose through angry masses of woolly cirrus; its broad full orb threw a flood of yellow light over the serried tops south of Pundim; thence advancing obliquely towards Nursing, "it stood tip-toe" for a few minutes on that beautiful pyramid of snow, whence it seemed to take flight and mount majestically into mid-air, illuminating Kinchin, Pundim, and Kubra. I sat at the entrance of my gipsy-like hut, anxiously watching the weather, and absorbed in admiration of the moonrise, from which my thoughts were soon diverted by its fading light as it entered a dense mass of mare's-tail cirrus. It was very cold, and the stillness was oppressive. I had been urged not to attempt such an ascent in January, my provisions were scanty, firewood only to be obtained from some distance, the open undulating surface of Jongri was particularly exposed to heavy snow-drifts, and the path was, at the best, a scarcely perceptible track. I followed every change of the wind, every fluctuation of the barometer and thermometer, each accession of humidity, and the courses of the clouds aloft. At 7 p.m., the wind suddenly shifted to the west, and the thermometer instantly rose from 20 degrees to 30 degrees. After 8 p.m., the temperature fell again, and the wind drew round from west by south to north-east, when the fog cleared off. The barometer rose no more than it usually does towards 10 p.m., and though it clouded again, with the temperature at 17 degrees, the wind seemed steady, and I went to bed with a relieved mind. _Jan._ 10.--During the night the temperature fell to 11.2 degrees, and at 6 a.m. was 19.8 degrees, falling again to 17 degrees soon after. Though clouds were rapidly coming up from the west and south-west, the wind remained northerly till 8 a.m., when it shifted to south-west, and the temperature rose to 25 degrees. As it continued fine, with the barometer high, I ventured on a walk towards Gubroo, carefully taking bearings of my position. I found a good many plants in a rocky valley close to that mountain, which I in vain attempted to ascend. The air was 30 degrees, with a strong and damp south-west wind, and the cold was so piercing, that two lads who were with me, although walking fast, became benumbed, and could not return without assistance. At 11 a.m., a thick fog obliged us to retrace our steps: it was followed by snow in soft round pellets like sago, that swept across the hard ground. During the afternoon it snowed unceasingly, the wind repeatedly veering round the compass, always from west to east by south, and so by north to west again. The flakes were large, soft, and moist with the south wind, and small, hard, and dry with the north. Glimpses of blue sky were constantly seen to the south, under the gloomy canopy above, but they augured no change. As darkness came on, the temperature fell to 15 degrees, and it snowed very hard; at 6 p.m., it was 11 degrees, but rose afterwards to 18 degrees. The night was very cold and wintry: I sat for some hours behind a blanket screen (which had to be shifted every few minutes) at my tent-door, keeping up a sulky fire, and peering through the snow for signs of improvement, but in vain. The clouds were not dense, for the moon's light was distinct, shining on the glittering snow-flakes that fell relentlessly: my anxiety was great, and I could not help censuring myself severely for exposing a party to so great danger at such a season. I found comfort in the belief that no idle curiosity had prompted me, and that with a good motive and a strong prestige of success, one can surmount a host of difficulties. Still the snow fell; and my heart sank, as my fire declined, and the flakes sputtered on the blackening embers; my little puppy, who had gambolled all day amongst the drifting white pellets, now whined, and crouched under my thick woollen cloak; the inconstant searching wind drifted the snow into the tent, whose roof so bagged in with the accumulation that I had to support it with sticks, and dreaded being smothered, if the weight should cause it to sink upon my bed during my sleep. The increasing cold drove me, however, to my blankets, and taking the precaution of stretching a tripod stand over my head, so as to leave a breathing hole, by supporting the roof if it fell in, I slept soundly, with my dog at my feet. At sunrise the following morning the sky was clear, with a light north wi
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st'ning senates speaking;-- But as his fingers touch'd the purse's strings, The chinking metal made a magic sound, While hungry placemen gather'd fast around: And he, as if by chance or play, Or that he would their venal votes repay, The golden treasures round upon them flings. * * * * * SIR ROBERT PEEL AND THE QUEEN. Upon the first interview of the Queen with Sir Robert Peel, her Majesty was determined to answer only in monosyllables to all he said; and, in fact, to make her replies _an echo_, and nothing more, to whatever he said to her. The following dialogue, which we have thrown into verse for the purpose of smoothing it--the tone of it, as spoken, having been on one side, at least, rather rough--ensued between the illustrious persons alluded to. HE.--Before we into minor details go, Do I possess your confidence or no? SHE.--_No._ HE.--You shall not vex me, though your treatment's rough; No, madam, I am made of sterner stuff. SHE.--_Stuff._ HE.--Really, if thus your minister you flout, A single syllable he can't get out. SHE.--_Get out!_ HE.--But try me, madam; time indeed will show Unto what lengths to serve you I would go. SHE.--_Go._ HE.--We both have power,--'tis doubtful which is greater; These crooked words had better be made straighter. SHE.--_Traighter (Traitor.)_ HE.--Farewell! and never in this friendly strain (My proffer'd aid foregone) I breathe again! SHE.--_Gone. I breathe again!_ * * * * * SONGS OF THE SEEDY.--NO. 2. I cannot rove with thee, where zephyrs float-- Sweet sylvan scenes devoted to the loves!-- For, oh! I have not got one decent coat, Nor can I sport a single pair of gloves. Gladly I'd wander o'er the verdant lawn, Where graze contentedly the fleecy flock; But can I show myself in gills so torn, Or brave the public gaze in such a stock? I know _thou_'lt answer me that love is blind, And faults in one it worships can't perceive; It must be sightless, truly, not to find The hole that's gaping in my threadbare sleeve. Farewell, my love--for, oh! by heaven, we part, And though it cost me all the pangs of hell. The herd shall not on thee inflict a smart, By calling after us--"There goes a swell!" * * * * * A PRIVATE BOX. During the clear-out on Wednesday last in Downing-street, a small chest, strongly secured, was found among some models of balloting-boxes. It had evidently been forgotten for some years, and upon opening it, was found to contain the Whig promises of 1832. They were immediately conveyed to Lord Melbourne, who appeared much astonished at these resuscitation of the Illustration: HOME OFFICE. * * * * * THE LOST MEDICAL PAPERS OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. "It is somewhat remarkable," observe the journals of the past week, "that the medical division of this scientific meeting has not contributed one single paper this year in furtherance of its object, although the communications from that section have usually been of a highly important character." The journals may think it somewhat remarkable--we do not at all; for here, as in every other event of the day, a great deal depends upon being "behind the curtain;" and as the greater portion of our life is passed in that locality, we are always to be relied upon for authenticity in our statements. The plain truth is, that the papers were inadvertently lost, and rather than lead to some unpleasant disclosures, in which the eminent professor to whom they were entrusted would have been deeply implicated, it was thought best to say nothing about them. By chance they fell into the hands of the manager of one of our perambulating theatres, who was toiling his way from the west of England to Egham races, and having deposited them in his portable green-room, under the especial custody of the clown, the doctor, and the overbearing parochial authority, he duly remitted them to our office. We have been too happy in giving them a place in our columns, feeling an honest pride in thus taking the lead of the chief scientific publications of the day. It will be seen that they are drawn up as a report, all ready for publication, according to the usual custom of such proceedings, where every one knows beforehand what they are to dispute or agree with. Dr. Splitnerve communicated a remarkable case of Animal Magnetism:--Eugene Doldrum, aged 21, a young man of bilious and interesting temperament, having been mesmerized, was rendered so keenly magnetic, as to give rise to a most remarkable train of phenomena. On being seated upon a music-stool, he immediately becomes an animated compass, and turns round to the north. Knives and forks at dinner invariably fly towards him, and he is not able to go through any of the squares, in consequence of being attracted firmly to the iron railings. As most of the experiments took place at the North London Hospital, Euston-square was his chief point of attraction, and when he was removed, it was always found necessary to break off the railings and take them away with him. This accounted for the decrepit condition of the _fleur de lys_ that surround the inclosure, which was not, as generally supposed, the work of the university pupils residing in Gower-place. Perfect insensibility to pain supervened at the same time, and his friends took advantage of this circumstance to send him, by way of delicate compliment, to a lying-in lady, in the style of a pedestrian pin-cushion, his cheeks being stuck full of minikin pins, on the right side, forming the words "Health to the Babe," and on the left, "Happiness to the Mother." Dr. Mortar read a talented paper on the cure of strabismus, or squinting, by dividing the muscles of the eye. The patient, a working man, squinted so terribly, that his eyes almost got into one another's sockets; and at times he was only able to see by looking down the inside of his nose and out at the nostrils. The operation was performed six weeks ago, when, on cutting through the muscles, its effects were instantly visible: both the eyes immediately diverging to the extreme outer angles of their respective orbits. Dr. Sharpeye inquired if the man did not find the present state of his vision still very perplexing. Dr. Mortar replied, that so far from injuring his sight, it had proved highly beneficial, as the patient had procured a very excellent situation in the new police, and received a double salary, from the power he possessed of keeping an eye upon both sides of the road at the same time. Illustration: WILL YOU LOOK THIS WAY, IF YOU PLEASE? An elaborate and highly scientific treatise was then read by Dr. Sexton, upon a disease which had been very prevalent in town during the spring, and had been usually termed the influenza. He defined it as a disease of convenience, depending upon various exciting causes acting upon the mind. For instance:-- Mrs. A----, a lady residing in Belgrave-square, was on the eve of giving a large party, when, upon hearing that Mr. A---- had made an unlucky speculation in the funds, the whole family were seized with influenza so violently, that they were compelled to postpone the reunion, and live upon the provided supper for a fortnight afterwards. Miss B---- was a singer at one of our large theatres, and had a part assigned to her in a new opera. Not liking it, she worried herself into an access of influenza, which unluckily seized her the first night the opera was to have been played. But the most marked case was that of Mr. C----, a clerk in a city house of business, who was attacked and cured within three days. It appeared that he had been dining that afternoon with some friends, who were going to Greenwich fair the next day, and on arriving at home, was taken ill with influenza, so suddenly that he was obliged to despatch a note to that effect to his employer, stating also his fear that he should be unable to attend at his office on the morrow. Dr. Sexton said he was indebted for an account of the progress of his disease to a young medical gentleman, clinical clerk at a leading hospital, who lodged with the patient in Bartholomew-close. The report had been drawn up for the _Lancet_, but Dr. S. had procured it by great interest. MAY 30, 1841, 11 P.M.--Present symptoms:--Complains of his employer, and the bore of being obliged to be at the office next morning. Has just eaten a piece of cold beef and pickles, with a pint of stout. Pulse about 75, and considerable defluxion from the nose, which he thinks produced by getting a piece of Cayenne pepper in his eye. Swallowed a crumb, which brought on a violent fit of coughing. Wishes to go to bed. MAY 31, 9 A.M.--Has passed a tolerable night, but appears restless, and unable to settle to anything. Thinks he could eat some broiled ham if he had it; but not possessing any, has taken the following: Rx--Infus. coffee lbj Sacchari symbol: dramiij Lactis Vacc\'ca symbol: ouncej Ft. mistura, poculum mane sumendum. A plaster ordered to be applied to the inside of the stomach, consisting of potted bloater spread upon bread and butter. Eleven, A.M.--Appears rather hotter since breakfast. Change of air recommended, and Greenwich decided upon. Half-past 11.--Complains of the draught and noise of the second-class railway carriages, but is otherwise not worse. Thinks he should like "a drain of half-and-half." Has blown his nose once in the last quarter of an hour. Two, P.M.--Since a light dinner of rump steaks and stout, a considerable change has taken place. He appears labouring under cerebral excitement and short pipes, and says he shall have a regular beanish day, and go it similar to bricks. Calls the waiter up to him in one of the booths, and has ordered "a glass of cocktail with the chill off and a cinder in it." Three, P.M.--Has sallied out into the fair, still much excited, calling every female he meets "Susan," and pronouncing the s's with a whistling accent. Expresses a desire to ride in the ships that go round and round. Half-past 3.--The motion of the ships has tended considerably to relieve his stomach. Pulse slow and countenance pale, with a desire for a glass of ale. Has entered a peepshow, and is now arguing with the exhibitor upon the correctness of his view of the siege of "St. Jane Daker!" which he maintains was a sea-port, and not a field with a burning windmill, as represented in the view. Eight, P.M.--After rambling vaguely about the fair all the afternoon, he has decided upon taking a hot-air bath in Algar's Crown and Anchor booth. Evidently delirious. Has put on a false nose, and purchased a tear-coat rattle. Appears labouring under violent spasmodic action of the muscles of his legs, as he dances "Jim along Josey," when he sets to his partner in a country dance of eighty couple. Half-past 10, P.M.--Has just intimated that he does not see the use of going home, as you can always go there when you can go nowhere else. Is seated straddling across one of the tables, on which he is beating time to the band with a hooky stick. Will not allow the state of his pulse to be ascertained, but says we may feel his fist if we like. Eleven.--Considerable difficulty experienced in getting the patient to the railroad, but we at last succeeded. After telling every one in the carriage "that he wasn't afraid of any of them," he fell into a deep stertorous sleep. On arriving at home, he got into bed with his boots on, and passed a restless night, turning out twice to drink water between one and four. JUNE.--10, A.M.--Has just returned from his office, his employer thinking him very unfit for work, and desiring him to lay up for a day or two. Complains of being "jolly seedy," and thinks he shall go to Greenwich again to get all right. A thrilling paper upon the "Philosophy of death," was then read by Professor Wynne Slow. After tracing the origin of that fatal attack, which it appears the earliest nations were subject to, the learned author showed profound research in bringing forward the various terms applied to the act of dying by popular authors. Amongst the principal, he enumerated "turning your toes up," "kicking the bucket," "putting up your spoon," "slipping your wind," "booking your place," "breaking your bellows," "shutting up your shop," and other phrases full of expression. The last moments of remarkable characters were especially dwelt upon, in connexion, more especially, with the drama, which gives us the best examples, from its holding a mirror up to nature. It appeared that at Astley's late amphitheatre, the dying men generally shuffled about a great deal in the sawdust, fighting on their knees, and showing great determination to the last, until life gave way; that at the Adelphi the expiring character more frequently saw imaginary demons waiting for him, and fell down, uttering "Off, fiends! I come to join you in your world of flames!" and that clowns and pantaloons always gave up the ghost with heart-rending screams and contortions of visage, as their deaths were generally violent, from being sawn in half, having holes drilled in them with enormous gimlets, or being shot out of cannon; but that, at the same time, these deaths were not permanent. * * * * * FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE. Our foreign expresses have reached us _via_ Billingsgate, and are full of interesting matter. Captain Fitz-Flammer is in prison at Boulogne, for some trifling misunderstanding with a native butcher, about the settlement of an account; but we trust no time will be lost by our government in demanding his release at the hands of the authorities. The attempt to make it a private question is absurd; and every Englishman's blood will simmer, if it does not actually boil, at the intelligence. Fitz-Flammer was only engaged in doing that which many of our countrymen visit Boulogne expressly to do, and it is hard that he should have been intercepted in his retreat, after accomplishing his object. To live at the expense of a natural enemy is certainly a bold and patriotic act, which ought to excite sympathy at home, and protection abroad. The English packet, the _City of Boulogne_, has turned one of its imitation guns directly towards the town, which, we trust, will have the effect of bringing the French authorities to reason. It is expected that the treaty will shortly be signed, by which Belgium cedes to France a milestone on the north frontier; while the latter country returns to the former the whole of the territory lying behind a pig-stye, taken possession of in the celebrated 6th _vendemiaire_, by the allied armies. This will put an end to the heart-burnings that have long existed on either side of the Rhine, and will serve to apply the sponge at once to a long score of national animosities. Our letters from the East are far from encouraging. The Pasha has had a severe sore-throat, and the disaffected have taken advantage of the circumstance. Ibrahim had spent the two last nights in the mountains, and was unfurling his standard, when our express left, in the very bosom of the desert. Mehemet Ali was still obstinate, and had dismissed his visier for impertinence. The whole of Servia is in a state of revolt, and the authorities have planted troops along the entire line, the whole of whom have gone over to the enemy. It is said there must be further concessions, and a new constitution is being drawn up; but it is not expected that any one will abide by it. Mehemet attempted to throw himself upon the rock of Nungab, with a tremendous force, but those about him wisely prevented him from doing so. We have received China (tea) papers to the 16th. There is nothing in them. * * * * * FANCIED FAIR. "The Duke of Wellington," says a correspondent of the _Times_, "left his umbrella behind him at a fancy fair, held for charitable purposes, between Twickenham and Teddington. On discovering it, Lady P. immediately said, 'Who will give twenty guineas for the Duke's umbrella?' A purchaser was soon found; and when the fact was communicated to his Grace, he good-naturedly remarked, 'I'll soon supply you with umbrellas, if you can sell them with so much advantage to the charity.'" We trust his Grace's benevolent disposition will not induce him to carry this offer into execution. We should extremely regret to see the Hero of Waterloo in Leicester-square, of a rainy night, vending second-hand _parapluies_. The same charitable impulse will doubtlessly induce other fashionable hawkers at fancy fairs to pick his Grace's pockets. We are somewhat curious to know what a Wellington bandana would realise, especially were it the produce of some pretty lady P.'s petty larceny. "Charity," it is said, "covereth a multitude of sins." What must it do with an umbrella? We fear that Lady P. will some day figure in the "fashionable departures." Illustration: FOR SYDNEY DIRECT. * * * * * PUNCH'S THEATRE. MARTINUZZI AS THE ACT DIRECTS. The production upon the stage of a tragedy "not intended for an acting play," as a broad travestie, is a novel and dangerous experiment--one, however, which the combined genius of the Dramatic Authors' Council has made, with the utmost success. The "Hungarian Daughter" was, under the title of "Martinuzzi," received, on its first appearance, with bursts of applause and convulsions of laughter! The plot of this piece our literary reviewer has expressed himself unable to unravel. We are in the same condition; all we can promise is some account of the scenes as they followed each other; of the characters, the sentiments, the poetry, and the rest of the fun. The play opens with an elderly gentleman, in a spangled dressing-gown, who commences business by telling us the time of day, poetically clapping a wig upon the sun, by saying, he "Shakes day about, like perfume from his _hair_," which statement bears out the after sentence, that "the wisdom he endures is terrible!" An Austrian gentleman--whose dress made us at first mistake him for Richard III. on his travels--arrives to inform the gentleman _en d\'c8shabille_--no other than _Cardinal Martinuzzi_ himself--that he has come from King Ferdinand, to ask if he will be so good as to give up some regency; which the Cardinal, however, respectfully declines doing. A gentleman from Warsaw is next announced, and _Castaldo_ retires, having incidentally declared a passion for the reigning queen of Hungary. Mr. Selby, as _Rupert_ from Warsaw, then appears, in a dress most correctly copied from the costume of the knave of clubs. Being a Pole, he stirs up the Cardinal vigorously enough to provoke some exceedingly intemperate language, chiefly by bringing to his memory a case of child-stealing, to which _Martinuzzi_ was, before he had quite sown his wild oats, _particeps criminis_. This case having got into the papers (which _Rupert_ had preserved), the Cardinal wants to obtain them, but offers a price not long enough for the Pole, who, declaring that _Martinuzzi_ carries it "too high" to be trusted with them, vanishes. Mr. Morley afterwards comes forward to sing a song according to Act of Parliament, and the scene changes for Miss Collect to comply, a second time, with the 25th of George II. In the following scene, the Queen Dowager of Hungary, _Isabella_, introduces herself to the audience, to inform them that the Austrian gentleman, _Castaldo_, is "the mild, Pity-fraught object of her fondness." He appears. She makes several inflammatory speeches, which he seems determined not to understand, for he is in love with the virgin queen; and maidens before dowagers is evidently his sensible motto. The second act opens with the queen junior stating her assurance, that if she lives much longer she will die, and that when she is quite dead, she will hate _Martinuzzi_3. As, however, she means to hate when she is deceased, she will make the most of her time while alive, by devoting herself to courtship and _Castaldo_: for a very tender love-scene ensues, at the end of which the lady elopes, to leave the lover a clear stage for some half-dozen minutes' ecstatics, appropriately ended by his arrest, ordered by _Martinuzzi_. Why, it is not stated, the officer not even producing the copy of a writ. 3 "_Czerina._ When I am dead--which will be soon--I feel, If I much longer on my throne remain, I shall abhor the name of Martinuzzi." In the next scene, _Isabella_ is visited by _Rupert_, who disinterestedly presents the dowager with the papers for nothing, which he was before offered an odd castle and snug estate for, by _Martinuzzi_. This is accounted for on no other supposition, than the proverbial gallantry of gentlemen from Warsaw. _Martinuzzi_, possessing a ward whom he is anxious should wed the queen, opens the third act by declaring he will "precipitate the match," and so the author considerately sends _Czerina_ to him, to talk the matter over. But the young lady gets into a passion, and the Cardinal declares he can make nothing of her, in the following passage:-- "Fool! I can make thee nothing but a laugh." A sentiment to which the audience gave a most vociferous echo. The damsel is angry that she may not have the man she has chosen, and threatens to faint, but defers that operation till her lover's arms are near enough to receive her; which they happen to be just in time, for _Martinuzzi_ retires and _Castaldo_ comes on. _Czerina_, to be quite sure, exclaims, "_Are_ these thy arms?" (_sic_) and finally faints in the lover's embrace, so as to exhibit a picturesque cuddle. _Queen Isabella_ is discovered, in the second scene of this act, perusing the much vaunted "papers" with intense interest. Unluckily _Castaldo_ chooses that moment to complain, that _Martinuzzi_ will not let him marry her rival. The queen, being by no means a temperate person, and wondering at his impudence in telling _her_ such a tale, raves thus:-- "My soul's on fire I'm choked, and seem to perish; _But will suppress my scream_" Probably for fear of compromising _Castaldo_, who is alone with her; and she ends the act by requesting the Austrian to murder _Martinuzzi_; to which he is so obliging as to consent, the more so, as an order comes from the Secretary of State for foreign affairs, of his own government, to "cut off" (_sic_) the Regent. The fourth act is enlivened by a masquerade and a murder. The gentleman from Warsaw having abused the hospitality of his host by getting drunk, is punished by one of _Martinuzzi's_ attendants with a mortal stab; and having, in the agonies of death, made a careful survey of all the sofas in the apartment, suits himself with the softest, and dies in great comfort. After this, the masquerade proceeds with spirit. _Isabella_ mixes in the festive scene, disguised in a domino, made of black sticking-plaster. _Czerina_ overhears that she is a usurper and a changeling, and expresses her surprise in a line most unblushingly stolen from Fitz-Ball and the other poetico-melo-dramatists:-- "Merciful Heavens! do my ears deceive me?" The festivities conclude with an altercation between _Martinuzzi_ and _Isabella_, carried on with much vigour on both sides. The lady accuses the gentleman of inebriation, and he owns the soft impeachment, fully bearing it out by several incoherent speeches. This was one of the most successful scenes in the comedy. The death of _Rupert_, Mr. Morley's song about "The sea," the quarrel (which was about the great pivot of the plot, "the papers," inscribed, says _Martinuzzi_, "With ink that's _brew'd_ in the infernal Styx,") were all received with uproarious bursts of laughter. In the fifth act, we behold _Martinuzzi_ and the usurping young Queen making matters up at a railway pace. She has it all her own way. If she choose, she may marry _Castaldo_, retire into private life, be a "farm-house thrall," and keep a "dairy;" for which estate she has previously expressed a decided predilection4. 4 Acting play, published in the theatre, p. 32. But it is the next scene that the author seems to have reserved for putting forth his strongest powers of burlesque and broad humour. _Isabella_ and _Castaldo_ are together; the latter feels a little afraid to murder _Martinuzzi_, but is impelled to the deed by a thousand imaginary torches, which he fears will hurry his "_moth_-like soul" into their "blinding sun-beams," till it (the soul) is scorched "_into_ cinders." _Castaldo_ appears, in truth, a very bad barber of murders; for, as he is rushing out to "Strike the tyrant down--in crimson streams Rend every nerve," _Isabella_ has the shrewdness to discover that he is without a weapon. Important omission! The incipient assassin exclaims-- "Oh! that I had my sword!" but at that moment (clever, dramatic contrivance!) _Enter_ CZERINA, _with a drawn sword_. "CZERINA. There's one! Thine own!" Far from being grateful for this opportune supply of ways and means for murder. _Castaldo_ calls the bilbo a "fated aspic," upon the edge of which his "eye-balls crack to look," and makes a raving exit from the stage, to a roaring laugh from the audience. It is quite clear to _Isabella_, from his extreme carelessness about his tools, that _Castaldo_ is not safely to be trusted with a job which requires so much tact and business-like exactitude as the capital offence. She therefore "_shows a phial_," which she intends, "occasion suiting," for "_Martinuzzi's_ bane;" thereby hinting that, if _Castaldo_ fail with his steel medicine, she is ready with a surer potion. The next scene, being the last, was ushered in with acclamations. The stage, as is always in that case made and provided, was full. There is a young gentleman on a throne, and _Czerina_ beside it, having been somehow ungallantly deposed. _Martinuzzi_ expresses a wish to drink somebody's health, and this being the "fitting opportunity" mentioned by the author in the scene preceeding, _Isabella_ empties the phial of her wrath into the beverage, and the _Cardinal_ quenches his thirst with a most intemperate draught. It is now duly announced, that _Castaldo_ is, "with naked sword, approaching." That gentleman appears, and makes a speech long enough for any man who has had such plain warning of what is to happen--even a cardinal encumbered with a spangled dressing-gown--to get a mile out of his way. The speech quite ended, he goes to work, and with "this from King Ferdinand," thrusts at _Martinuzzi_. _Czerina_, however, throws herself, with great skill, on the point of the sword, and dies. Another long harangue from _Castaldo_--which, as he is evidently broken-winded from exertion, is pronounced in tiny snatches--and he dies with a "ha!" for want--like many greater men--of breath. Meanwhile, the poison makes _Martinuzzi_ exceedingly uncomfortable in the stomachic regions. He is quite sure "That hath been done to me which sends me _star_-ward!" but in his progress thither he evidently loses his way; for he ends the play by inquiring-- "WHERE IS THE WORLD?" The sublimity of which query is manifestly insisted on by the author, by his having it printed in capitals. When the curtain fell, there arose an uproarious shout for the author; but instead of "the mantle of the Elizabethan poets," which, it has been said, he commonly wears, the most attractive garment that met the view was an expansive white waistcoat. This latter exhibition concluded the entertainments, strictly so called; for though a farce followed, it turned out a terrible bore. * * * * * CONCERTS D'ETE. If the advance of musical science is to be effected by indecent _tableaux vivans_--by rattling peas against sieves, and putting out the lights (appropriately enough) when Beethoven is being murdered--by the most contemptible class of compositions that ever was put upon score-paper, and noised forth from an ill-disciplined band--if these be the means towards improving musical taste, Monsieur Jullien is undoubtedly the harmonic regenerator of this country. He is a great man--great in his own estimation--great to the ends of his moustachios and the tips of his gloves--a great composer, and a great charlatan--_ex. gr._:-- The overture to the promenade concerts usually consists of a pantomime entirely new to an English audience. Monsieur Jullien having made his appearance in the orchestra, seats himself in a conspicuous situation, to indulge the ladies with the most favourable view of his elegant person, and the splendid gold-chainery which is spread all over his magnificent waistcoat. A servant in livery then appears, and presents him with a pair of white kid gloves. The illustrious conductor, having taken some time to thrust them upon a very large and red hand, leisurely takes up his baton, rises, grins upon the expectant musicians, lifts his arm, and--the first chord is struck! Quadrilles are the staple of the evening--those composed by Monsieur Jullien always, of course, claiming precedence and preference. These are usually interspersed with solos on the flageolet, to contrast with _obligati_ for the ophecleido; the drummers--side, long, and double--are seldom inactive; the trombones and trumpets have no sinecure, and there is always a great mortality amongst the fiddle-strings. Eight bars of impossible variation is sure to be succeeded by sixteen of the deafening fanfare of trumpets, combined with smashing cymbalism, and dreadful drumming. The public have a taste for headaches, and Jullien has imported a capital recipe for creating them; they applaud--he bows; and musical taste goes--in compliment to the ex-waiter's genuine profession of man-cook--to _pot_. But the _ci-devant cuisinier_ is not content with comparatively harmless, plain-sailing humbug; he must add some _sauce piquante_ to his musical hashes. He cannot rest with merely stunning English ears, but must shock our morals, At the _bals masqu\'c8s_, the French dancers, and the hardly mentionable _cancan_, were hooted back to their native stews under the Palais Royal; but he provides substitutes for them in the _tableaux vivans_ now exhibiting. This, because a more insidious, is a safer introduction. The living figures are dressed to imitate plaster-of-Paris, and are so arranged as to form groups, called in the bills "classical;" but for which it would be difficult to find originals. In short, the whole thing is a feeler thrown out to see how far French impudence and French epicureanism in vice may carry themselves. It shall not be our fault if they do not experience an ignominious downfall, and beat a speedy retreat, to the tune of the "Rogue's March," arranged as a quadrille! * * * * * MADAME TUSSAUD'S, THE REAL TEMPLE OF FAME. "Some men are born to greatness, some men achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."--SHAKSPEARE. Reader, should you doubt the above assertion, in the true showman phraseology, just "Walk up! walk up!" to Madame Tussaud's, the real Temple of Fame, and let such doubts vanish for ever; convince yourselves that the mighty attribute not more survives from good than evil deeds, though, like poverty, it makes its votaries acquainted with the strangest of strange bedfellows! The regal ermine and the murderer's fustian alike obtain their enviable niche. The likeness of departed majesty, robed in the matchless splendour of a ruler's state, redolent with all the mimic glories of a king's insignia, the modelled puppet from the senseless clay, that wore in life the imperial purple, and moved a breathing thing, chief actor in its childish mummeries, may here be seen shining in tinselled pomp, in glittering contrast to the blood-stained shirt through which the dagger of Ravaillac reached the bosom of the murdered Henry. The "Real Robes" of the dead George give value to his waxen image! The heart's-blood of the slaughtered Henry immortalises the linen bearing its hideous stain. The daring leader of France's countless hosts--the wholesale slaughterer of unnumbered thousands--ambition's mightiest son--now ruling kingdoms and now ruled by one--once more than king--in death the captive of his hated foes--"the great Napoleon!" shares the small space with the enshrined Fieschi! The glorious triumphs of the mighty Wellington are here no better passports than the foul murders of the atrocious Burke; the subtle Talleyrand, the deep deviser of political schemes, ruler of rulers, and master mover of the earth's great puppets, is not one jot superior to the Italian mountebank, whose well-skilled hand drew tones from catgut rivalling even the ideal trumpet of great Fame herself! By some strange anomaly, _success_ and _failure_ alike render the candidates admissible--no matter the littleness of the source from whence they sprung. Lord Melbourne's "premiership" gave shape to the all but Promethean wax. The failure of John Frost, his humble follower, secured his right to Fame's posthumous honours. All partiality is _here_ forgotten. The titled premier, in the haunts of men, may boast his monarch's palace as his home. The suffering felon, though _iron_ binds his limbs, and eats into his heart--though slow approaching, but sure-coming death, makes the broad world for him a living grave, _here_ he stands, as one among the great ones of the _show_! The amiability of Albert, that "excellent Prince," and therefore "_most_ excellent young man," is ingeniously contrasted with the vices of a Greenacre, and the villany of a _Hare_. The stern endurance and unflinching perseverance of the zealous and single-hearted Calvin is deprived of its exclusiveness by the more exciting and equally famous Sir William Courtenay (_alias_ Thom). The thrilling recollection of the "poet peer," and "peerless poet," the highly-imaginative and unrivalled Byron, whose flood of song, poured out in one continuous stream of varied passion-breathing fancy, is calmed by gazing on "dull life's antipodes," the bandaged remnant of a dried-up mummy! Poor Mary Stuart! the beautiful, the murdered Queen of Scots, is only parted from the "Maiden Queen," who sealed her doom, by the interposition of the blood-stained ruthless wretch (England's Eighth Harry), to whom "Bess" owed her birth! Pitt, Fox, and Canning are matched with Courvoisier, Gould, and Collins. Liston is _vis \'87 vis_ to Joe Hume, while Louis Philippe but shares attention with the rivalling models of the Bastille and Guillotine! Verily, there is a moral in all this, "an we could but find it out." * * * * * PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 1. FOR THE WEEK ENDING SEPTEMBER 12, 1841. * * * * * THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE. CHAPTER III. Illustration: A"After the ceremony, the happy pair set off for Brighton." There is something peculiarly pleasing in the above paragraph. The imagination instantly conjures up an elegant yellow-bodied chariot, lined with pearl drab, and a sandwich basket. In one corner sits a fair and blushing creature partially arrayed in the garments of a bride, their spotless character diversified with some few articles of a darker hue, resembling, in fact, the liquid matrimony of port and sherry; her delicate hands have been denuded of their gloves, exhibiting to the world the glittering emblem of her endless hopes. In the other, a smiling piece of four-and-twenty humanity is reclining, gazing upon the beautiful treasure, which has that morning cost him about six pounds five shillings, in the shape of licence and fees. He too has deprived himself of the sunniest portions of his wardrobe, and has softened the glare of his white ducks, and the gloss of his blue coat, by the application of a drab waistcoat. But why indulge in speculative dreams when we have realities to detail! Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite and his beauteous Juliana Theresa (late Waddledot), for three days, experienced that-- "Love is heaven, and heaven is love." His imaginary dinner-party became a reality, and the delicate attentions which he paid to his invisible guest rendered his Juliana Theresa's life--as she exquisitely expressed it-- "A something without a name, but to which nothing was wanting." But even honey will cloy; and that sweetest of all moons, the Apian one, would sometimes be better for a change. Juliana passed the greater portion of the day on the sofa, in the companionship of that aromatic author, Sir Edward; or sauntered (listlessly hanging on Collumpsion's arm) up and down the Steine, or the no less diversified Chain-pier. Agamemnon felt that at home at least he ought to be happy, and, therefore, he hung his legs over the balcony and whistled or warbled (he had a remarkably fine D) Moore's ballad of-- "Believe me, if all those endearing young charms;" or took the silver out of the left-hand pocket of his trousers, and placed it in the right-hand receptacle of the same garment. Nevertheless, he was continually detecting himself yawning or dozing, as though "the idol of his existence" was a chimera, and not Mrs. Applebite. The time at length arrived for their return to town, and, to judge from the pleasure depicted in the countenances of the happy pair, the contemplated intrusion of the world on their family circle was anything but disagreeable. Old John, under the able generalship of Mrs. Waddledot, had made every requisite preparation for their reception. Enamelled cards, superscribed with the names of Mr. and Mrs. Applebite, and united together with a silver cord tied in a true lover's knot, had been duly enclosed in an envelope of lace-work, secured with a silver dove, flying away with a square piece of silver toast. In company with a very unsatisfactory bit of exceedingly rich cake, this glossy missive was despatched to the whole of the Applebite and Waddledot connexion, only excepting the eighteen daughters who Mrs. Waddledot had reason to believe would not return her visit. The meeting of the young wife and the wife's mother was touching in the extreme. They rushed into each other's arms, and indulged in plentiful showers of "nature's dew." "Welcome! welcome _home_, my dear Juliana!" exclaimed the doting mother. "It's the first time, Mr. A., that she ever left me since she was 16, for so long a period. I have had all the beds aired, and all the chairs uncovered. She'll be a treasure to you, Mr. A., for a more tractable creature was never vaccinated;" and here the mother overcame the orator, and she wept again. "My dear mother," said Agamemnon, "I have already had many reasons to be grateful for my happy fortune. Don't you think she is browner than when we left town?" "Much, much!" sobbed the mother; "but the change is for the better." "I'm glad you think so, for Aggy is of the same opinion," lisped the beautiful ex-Waddledot. "Tell ma' the pretty metaphor you indulged in yesterday, Aggy." "Why, I merely remarked," replied Collumpsion, blushing, "that I was pleased to see the horticultural beauties of her cheek superseded by such an exquisite marine painting. It's nothing of itself, but Juley's foolish fondness called it witty." The arrival of the single sister of Mrs. Applebite, occasioned another rush of bodies and several gushes of tears; then titterings succeeded, and then a simultaneous burst of laughter, and a rapid exit. Agamemnon looked round that room which he had furnished in his bachelorhood. A thousand old associations sprung up in his mind, and a vague feeling of anticipated evil for a moment oppressed him. The _bijouterie_ seemed to reproach him with unkindness for having placed a mistress over them, and the easy chair heaved as though with suppressed emotion, at the thought that its luxurious proportions had lost their charms. Collumpsion held a mental toss-up whether he repented of the change in his condition; and, as faithful historians, we are compelled to state that it was only the entrance, at that particular moment, of Juliana, that induced him to cry--woman. On the following day the knocker of No. 24 disturbed all the other numerals in Pleasant-terrace; and Mr. and Mrs. A. bowed and curtsied until they were tired, in acknowledgment of their friends' "wishes of joy," and, as one unlucky old gentleman expressed himself, "many happy returns of the day." It was a matter of surprise to many of the said friends, that so great an alteration as was perceptible in the happy pair, should have occurred in such a very short space of time. "I used to think Mr. Applebite a very nice young man," said _Miss_--mind, Miss Scragbury--"but, dear me, how he's altered." "And Mrs. Applebite used to be a pretty girl," rejoined her brother Julius; "but now (Juliana had refused him three times)--but now she's as ill-looking as her mother." "I'd no idea this house was so small," said Mrs. Scragmore. "I'm afraid the Waddledots haven't made so great a catch, after all. I hope poor Juley will be happy, for I nursed her when a baby, but I never saw such an ugly pattern for a stair-carpet in my born days;" and with these favourable impressions of their dear friends the Applebites, the Scragmores descended the steps of No. 24, Pleasant-terrace, and then ascended those of No. 5436 hackney-coach. About ten months after their union, Collumpsion was observed to have a more jaunty step and smiling countenance, which--as his matrimonial felicity had been so frequently pronounced perfect--puzzled his friends amazingly. Indeed, some were led to conjecture, that his love for Juliana Theresa was not of the positive character that he asserted it to be; for when any inquiries were made after her health, his answer had invariably been, of late, "Why, Mrs. A.--is--not very well;" and a smile would play about his mouth, as though he had a delightful vision of a widower-hood. The mystery was at length solved, by the exhibition of sundry articles of a Lilliputian wardrobe, followed by an announcement in the _Morning Post_, under the head of "BIRTHS.--Yesterday morning, the lady of Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite, Esq., of a son and heir." Pleasant-terrace was _strawed_ from one end to the other; the knocker of 24 was encased in white kid, a doctor's boy was observed to call three times a-day, and a pot-boy twice as often. Collumpsion was in a seventh heaven of wedded bliss. He shook hands with everybody--thanked everybody--invited everybody when Mrs. A. should be better, and noted down in his pocket-book what everybody prescribed as infallible remedies for the measles, hooping-cough, small-pox, and rashes (both nettle and tooth)--listened for hours to the praises of vaccination and Indian-rubber rings--pronounced Goding's porter a real blessing to mothers, and inquired the price of boys' suits and rocking-horses! In this state of paternal felicity we must leave him till our next. * * * * * TO CAPITALISTS. It is rumoured that Macready is desirous of disposing of his "manners" previous to becoming manager, when he will have no further occasion for them. They are in excellent condition, having been very little used, and would be a desirable purchase for any one expecting to move within the sphere of his management. * * * * * REASON'S NE PLUS ULTRA. A point impossible for mind to reach-- To find _the meaning_ of a royal speech. * * * * * AN APPROPRIATE NAME. The late Queen of the Sandwich Islands, and the first convert to Christianity in that country, was called _Keopalani_, which means--"_the dropping of the clouds from Heaven_." EPIGRAM ON THE ABOVE. This name's the best that could be given, As will by proof be quickly seen; For, "dropping from the clouds of Heaven," She was, of course, the _raining_ Queen. * * * * * CAUTION TO SPORTSMEN. Our gallant friend Sibthorp backed himself on the 1st of September to bag a hundred leverets in the course of the day. He lost, of course; and upon being questioned as to his reason for making so preposterous a bet, he confessed that he had been induced to do so by the specious promise of an advertisement, in which somebody professed to have discovered "_a powder for the removal of superfluous hairs_." * * * * * OUT OF SEASON. A LYRIC, BY THE LAST MAN--IN TOWN. Chaos returns! no soul's in town! And darkness reigns where lamps once brightened; Shutters are closed, and blinds drawn down-- Untrodden door-steps go unwhitened! The echoes of some straggler's boots Alone are on the pavement ringing While 'prentice boys, who smoke cheroots, Stand critics to some broom-girl's singing. I went to call on Madame Sims, In a dark street, not far from Drury; An Irish crone half-oped the door. Whose head might represent a fury. "At home, sir?" "No! (_whisper_)--but I'll presume To tell the truth, or know the _raison_. She dines--tays--lives--in the back room, Bekase 'tis not the London _saison_." From thence I went to Lady Bloom's, Where, after sundry rings and knocking, A yawning, liveried lad appear'd, His squalid face his gay clothes mocking I asked him, in a faltering tone-- The house was closed--I guess'd the reason-- "Is Lady B.'s grand-aunt, then, gone?"-- "To Ramsgate, sir!--until next season!" I sauntered on to Harry Gray's, The _ennui_ of my heart to lighten; His landlady, with, smirk and smile, Said, "he had just run down to Brighton." When home I turned my steps, at last, A tailor--whom to kick were treason-- Pressed for his bill;--I hurried past, Politely saying--CALL NEXT SEASON! * * * * * THE GENTLEMAN'S OWN BOOK. We concluded our last article with a brief dissertation on the cut of the trousers; we will now proceed to the consideration of coats. "The hour must come when such things must be made." For this quotation we are indebted to Illustration: THE POET'S PAGE. There are three kinds of coats--the body, the surtout, and the great. The body-coat is again divided into classes, according to their application, viz.--the drawing-room, the ride, and the field. The cut of the dress-coat is of paramount importance, that being the garment which decorates the gentleman at a time when he is naturally ambitious of going the entire D'Orsay. There is great nicety required in cutting this article of dress, so that it may at one and the same moment display the figure and waistcoat of the wearer to the utmost advantage. None but a John o'Groat's goth would allow it to be imagined that the buttons and button-holes of this _robe_ were ever intended to be anything but opposite neighbours, for a contrary conviction would imply the absence of a cloak in the hall or a cab at the door. We do not intend to give a Schneiderian dissertation upon garments; we merely wish to trace outlines; but to those who are anxious for a more intimate acquaintance with the intricacies and mysteries of the delightful and civilising art of cutting, we can only say, _Vide_ Stultz.1 1 Should any gentleman avail himself of this hint, we should feel obliged if he would mention the source from whence it was derived, having a small account standing in that quarter, for tailors have gratitude. The riding-coat is the connecting link between the DRESS and the rest of the great family of coats, as _one_ button, and one only of this garment, may be allowed to be applied to his apparent use. It is so cut, that the waistcoat pockets may be easy of access. Any gentleman who has attended races or other sporting meetings must have found the convenience of this arrangement; for where the course is well managed, as at Epsom, Ascot, Hampton, &c., by the judicious regulations of the stewards, the fingers are generally employed in the distribution of those miniature argentine medallions of her Majesty so particularly admired by ostlers, correct card-vendors, E.O. table-keepers, Mr. Jerry, and the toll-takers on the road and the course. The original idea of these coats was accidentally given by John Day, who was describing, on Nugee's cutting-board, the exact curvature of Tattenham Corner. The shooting-jacket should be designed after a dovecot or a chest of drawers; and the great art in rendering this garment perfect, is to make the coat entirely of pockets, that part which covers the shoulders being only excepted, from the difficulty of carrying even a cigar-case in that peculiar situation. The surtout (not regulation) admits of very little design. It can only be varied by the length of the skirts, which may be either as long as a fireman's, or as short as Duvernay's petticoats. This coat is, in fact, a cross between the dress and the driving, and may, perhaps, be described as a Benjamin junior. Of the Benjamin senior, there are several kinds--the Taglioni, the Pea, the Monkey, the Box, _et sui generis_. The three first are all of the coal-sackian cut, being, in fact, elegant elongated pillow-cases, with two diminutive bolsters, which are to be filled with arms instead of feathers. They are singularly adapted for concealing the fall in the back, and displaying to the greatest advantage those unassuming castors designated "Jerrys," which have so successfully rivalled those silky impostors known to the world as Illustration: THIS (S)TILE--FOUR-AND-NINE. The box-coat has, of late years, been denuded of its layers of capes, and is now cut for the sole purpose, apparently, of supporting perpendicular rows of wooden platters or mother-of-pearl counters, each of which would be nearly large enough for the top of a lady's work-table. Mackintosh-coats have, in some measure, superseded the box-coat; but, like carters' smock-frocks, they are all the creations of speculative minds, having the great advantage of keeping out the water, whilst they assist you in becoming saturated with perspiration. We strongly suspect their acquaintance with India-rubber; they seem to us to be a preparation of English rheumatism, having rather more of the catarrh than caoutchouc in their composition. Everybody knows the affinity of India-rubber to black-lead; but when made into a Mackintosh, you may substitute the _lum_ for the _plum_bago. We never see a fellow in a seal-skin cap, and one of these waterproof pudding-bags, but we fancy he would make an excellent model for Illustration: THE FIGURE-HEAD OF A CONVICT SHIP. The ornaments and pathology will next command our attention. * * * * * A friend insulted us the other day with the following:--"Billy Black supposes Sam Rogers wears a tightly-laced boddice. Why is it like one of Milton's heroes?" Seeing we gave it up, he replied--"Because Sam's-on-agony-stays."--(Samson _Agonistes_.) * * * * * THE GOLDEN-SQUARE REVOLUTION. BY EXPRESS. This morning, at an early hour, we were thrown into the greatest consternation by a column of boys, who poured in upon us from the northern entrance, and, taking up their-station near the pump, we expected the worst. _8 o'clock._--The worst has not yet happened. An inhabitant has entered the square-garden, and planted himself at the back of the statue; but everything is in STATUE QUO. _5 minutes past 8._--The boys are still there. The square-keeper is nowhere to be found. _10 minutes past 8._--The insurgents have, some of them, mounted on the fire-escape. The square-keeper has been seen. He is sneaking round the corner, and resolutely refuses to come nearer. _1/4 past 8._--A deputation has waited on the square-keeper. It is expected that he will resign. _20 minutes past 8._--The square-keeper refuses to resign. _22 minutes past 8._--The square-keeper has resigned. _25 minutes past 8._--The boys have gone home. _1/2 past 8._--The square-keeper has been restored, and is showing great courage and activity. It is not thought necessary to place him under arms; but he is under the engine, which can he brought into play at a moment's notice. His activity is surprising, and his resolution quite undaunted. _9 o'clock._--All is perfectly quiet, and the letters are being delivered by the general post-man as usual. The inhabitants appear to be going to their business, as if nothing had happened. The square-keeper, with the whole of his staff (a constable's staff), may be seen walking quietly up and down. The revolution is at an end; and, thanks to the fire-engine, our old constitution is still preserved to us. * * * * * RECOLLECTIONS OF A TRIP IN MR HAMPTON'S BALLOON. IN A LETTER FROM A WOULD-BE PASSENGER. My dear Friend.--You are aware how long I have been longing to go up in a balloon, and that I should certainly have some time ago ascended with Mr. Green, had not his terms been not simply a _cut_ above me, but several gashes beyond my power to comply with them. In a word, I did not go up with the Nassau, because I could not come down with the dust, and though I always had "Green in my eye," I was not quite so soft as to pay twenty pounds in hard cash for the fun of going, on Illustration: A DARK (K)NIGHT, nobody knows where, and coming down Heaven knows how, in a field belonging to the Lord knows who, and being detained for goodness knows what, for damage. Not being inclined, therefore, for a nice and expensive voyage with Mr. Green, I made a cheap and nasty arrangement with Mr. Hampton, the gentleman who courageously offers to descend in a parachute--a thing very like a parasol--and who, as he never mounts much above the height of ordinary palings, might keep his word without the smallest risk of any personal inconvenience. It was arranged and publicly announced that the balloon, carrying its owner and myself, should start from the Tea-gardens of the _Mitre and Mustard Pot_, at six o'clock in the evening; and the public were to be admitted at one, to see the process of inflation, it being shrewdly calculated by the proprietor, that, as the balloon got full, the stomachs of the lookers on would be getting empty, and that the refreshments would go off while the tedious work of filling a silken bag with gas was going on, so that the appetites and the curiosity of the public would be at the same time satisfied. The process of inflation seemed to have but little effec
In more severe cases, the treatment options become muddier. Aspirin, acetaminophen and ibuprofen - though near wonder-drugs for other conditions - are usually ineffective. Though acetaminophen rarely has significant side effects, it doesn't work for everyone. To attack that problem, so-called prophylactic drugs are often recommended as part of a spectrum of treatments. But researchers are leaning toward the view that some abnormality in the hypothalamus is responsible.
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