36 The Club- Room. [JAN. 



of new barracks. But, Pounce, I see you busy with your tablets. We 

 are getting dull in this club-atmosphere. Are you conning an epitaph 

 or an epigram, or, in your old style, preparing an extempore ? 



Pounce. In turning over some notes of the late sittings, I have found 

 a song, which a certain friend of your's wrote on one of the Cambridge 

 elections. It escaped into print in spite of all his modesty. The story 

 is the electors had been applied to in the newspapers, by Bankes, to 

 compare his force with Goulburn' s, and give up the weaker. (Sings) 

 THE CAMBRIDGE CICEBOS; OB, HOBSON'S CHOICE. 



Bankes is weak, and Goulburn, too ; 



No man e'er the fact denied ; 

 Wich is weaker of the two, 



Cambridge can alone decide. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, Cambridge, pray, 

 Tell us which can louder bray. 



Goulburn for his place afraid is, 



Bankes as much afraid as he ; 

 Never yet did two old ladies 



On one point so well agree. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, &c. 



Each a different mode pursues, 



Each the same conclusion reaches ; 

 Bankes, is silly in Reviews, 



Goulburn silly in his speeches. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, &c. 



Each a different foe doth d mn, 

 When his own affairs have gone ill ; 



Bankes he d mn th Buckingham, 

 Goulburn d mn th Dan O'Connell. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, &c. 



Bankes, accustomed much to roam, 

 Plays with Truth a traveller's pranks ; 



Goulburn, though he stays at home, 

 Travels just as much as Bankes. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, &c. 



Once, we know, a horse's neigh 

 . Fixed th' election to a throne, 

 So which gives the louder bray, 



Choose him, Cambridge, for thine own. 



Chorus. 'Twixt the donkeys, Cambridge, pray, 

 Choose which first and last shall bray. 



Mummy. Confound that long winded fellow ; while he screams, the 

 bottle stands. I propose a bumper to "The Age of Emancipation, 

 Renovation, and Double Salaries." But while you are filling your 

 glasses, let me disburthen my conscience. The work on which I have to 

 call down reprobation at present, is one of the most mystical insolence. 

 Its title is " The Apostates and the Extinguisher, or Kissing the Pope's 

 Toe I" His Holiness, the present august head of the spiritual world, is 

 sitting in his pontifical chair, in an attitude of studied contempt. His 

 Morocco-slippered foot is held out to a noble suppliant in a military 

 coat; which suppliant bears features too stately for me to describe. 



