1829.] [ 6(3-) ] 



NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL. 



SosiE of our pleasant contemporaries hare been lately amusing them- 

 selves with libelling the Lord JMayor's feast: of course because they were 

 not happy enough to be there. If we are to believe those hungry de- 

 claimers, the turtle was mock ; the beef, an importation from Calais, 

 smuggled over in the Ambassador's bag ; the mutton, a mystification ; 

 the claret, a weak invention of the enemy ; and the Champagne, fuming 

 out of the newest vintage of Charles Wright. But we throw down our 

 glove to those lank abusers of the good things of Leadenhall-market, 

 and declare, that the Lord Mayor's Day is an honour to the city deglu- 

 tition ; that we look on fat aldermen as an essential to the civic glory ; 

 and that we shall never begin seriously to despair of the rights and liber- 

 ties of the city of cities, until we hear a rumour of the abolition of calli- 

 pash and callipee. 



As we are noted encouragers of the rising genius of the country, so 

 we are gratified by giving the living evidence that it thinks in the right 

 style on the right side. 'The writers of the following tributes shall have 

 a card for the upper end of the hall on the next 9th of November. 



Know ye the Hall where the venison and turtle 

 So often have furnished the Aldermen treats ? 

 Where the flowers of the season, the rose and the myrtle. 



Are stuck to the jellies, and mixed with the sweets ? 

 Know ye the Hall, where the hock and champagne. 

 And the Claret, and Chablis, and Burgundy rain } 

 Where the pine and the melon are fairest of fruit. 

 And the voice of the toast-giver never is mute .'' 

 Where the Epicure's nose is oppressed with perfume, 

 Which the grouse and the ptarmigan waft through the room!* 

 Where the ladies are soft as the victuals they eat. 

 And all, save the bustle and noise, is a treat ? 

 ^Vhere the pastry of Jarrin, the pates of Ude, 

 In flavour, though varied, are equally good ? 

 'Tis the Hall where great worthies their laurels have won. 

 Could they equal the deeds which on Monday were done .'' 

 Oh ! vast as each old Epicurus's feat, 

 Is the claret they drink, and the turtle they eat ! — \\T. Bull. 



We are not quite so sure of sending a similar card to the author of 

 the following lines ; but Haynes Bayly is the poet whom we are deter- 

 mined to have enlisted in the glorious cause of gourmandise, the only 

 thing worth living for after 25 ; and we cultivate him even in the shape 

 of his five-hundredth parody. 



i'd be an alderman ! 

 I'd be an Alderman, born in the City, 



Where haunches of venison and green turtles meet ; 

 Seeking in Leadenhall, reckless of pity. 



Birds, beasts, and fish, that the knowing ones eat. 

 I'd never languish for want of a luncheon, 

 I'd never grieve for the want of a treat ; 

 I'd be an Alderman, constantly munching. 

 Where haunches of venison and green turtles meet. 



Oh ! could I wheedle the votes at the vestry, 

 I'd have a share of those good sav'ry things ; 



Enchained by turkey, in love with the pastry. 

 And floating in Champagne, while Bow bells ring. 



M.M. New Series— Vol. VIII. No. 48. 4 Q 



