and imagine for an instant the awful amount of distress which would necessarily accrue from the general practice of Christianity among us, even for a week, it is clear that the idea never could be entertained by any moral or religious, mind. A week’s Christianity in England! What would become of the lawyer, and parsons? It is too terrible to contemplate. [pg 28] NOUVEAU MANUEL DU VOYAGEUR. These are the continental-trip days. All the world will be now a-touring. But every one is not a Dr. Bowring, and it is rather convenient to be able to edge in a word now and then, when these rascally foreigners will chatter in their own beastly jargon. Ignorant pigs, not to accustom themselves to talk decent English! Il Signor Marchese Cantini, the learned and illustrious author of “Hi, diddlo-diddlino! Il gutto e’l violino!”, has just rendered immense service to the trip-loving natives of these lovely isles, by preparing a “Guide to Conversation,” that for utility and correctness of idiom surpasses all previous attempts of the same kind. With it in one hand, and a bagful of Napoléons or Zecchini in the other, the biggest dunce in London—nay, even a schoolmaster—may travel from Boulogne to Naples and back, with the utmost satisfaction to himself, and with substantial profit to the people of these barbarous climes. The following is a specimen of the way in which Il Signor has accomplished his undertaking. It will be seen at a glance how well he has united the classical with the utilitarian principle, clothing both in the purest dialect; ex. gr.:— THIS IS ENGLISH. THIS IS FRENCH. THIS IS ITALIAN. Does your mother know you’re out? Madame, votre maman, sait-elle que vous n’êtes pas chez vous? La vostra signora madre sa che siete uscito di casa? It won’t do, Mr. Ferguson. Cela nese passera, Monsieur Ferguson, jamais! Questo non fara cosi, il Signore Fergusoni! Who are you? Est-ce que vous aviez jamais un père? Chi è vossignoria? All round my hat. Tout autour mon chapeau. Tutto all’ interno del mio capello! Go it, ye cripples! C’est ça! Battez-vous bien—boiteux; cr-r-r-r-matin! Bravo! bravo, stroppiati! Ancora-ancora! Such a getting up-stairs! Diantre! comme on monte l’escalier! Come si ha salito— è maraviglioso! Jump, Jim Crow. Sautez, Monsiuer Jaques Corbeau! Salti, pergrazia, Signor Giamomo Corvo! It would not be fair to rob the Signor of any more of his labour. It will be seen that, on the principle of the Painter and his Cow, we have distinctly written above each sentence the language it belongs to. It is always better to obviate the possibility of mistakes. THE OMNIBUS The horrors of an omnibus, Indeed, I’ve cause to curse; And if I ride in one again, I hope ‘twill be my hearse. If you a journey have to go, And they make no delay, ’Tis ten to one you’re serv’d like curds, They spill you on the WHEY. A short time since my wife and I A short call had to make, And giving me a kiss, she said— “A buss you’d better take!”