Fifty years ago . mes ! a clean table-cloth, a couple of candles, and the snuffers, and the lastjoint up. What have you got in the Mada-gascar Embassy, Massacre in New Zealand—where thedevil is New —Suicide of Champion, who madethe infernal machine. Great Distress in the Highlands,Murder of a Process-serverin Ireland, Crossing of theChannel in a Balloon—Ihope that some day anarmy may not cross it—Letter from Syria con-cerning the recent GreatEarthquake, Conduct ofthe British Legion in Spain,Seven Men imprisoned forunlawfully ringing theBells, Death of the OldestWoman in the Wo
Fifty years ago . mes ! a clean table-cloth, a couple of candles, and the snuffers, and the lastjoint up. What have you got in the Mada-gascar Embassy, Massacre in New Zealand—where thedevil is New —Suicide of Champion, who madethe infernal machine. Great Distress in the Highlands,Murder of a Process-serverin Ireland, Crossing of theChannel in a Balloon—Ihope that some day anarmy may not cross it—Letter from Syria con-cerning the recent GreatEarthquake, Conduct ofthe British Legion in Spain,Seven Men imprisoned forunlawfully ringing theBells, Death of the OldestWoman in the World, aged162 j^ears, said to havebeen the Nurse of GeorgeWashington—a good deal of news all for one eveningpaper. Hush! we are in luck. Here is DouglasJerrold. Now we shall hear something good. Hereis Leigh Hunt, and here is Forster, and here—ah ! thisis unexpected—here comes none other than Boz him-self. Of course you know his name? It is CharlesDickens. Saw one ever a brighter eye or a more self- F. JOHN FOESTERCFrom a Photograph by Elliott and Fry) 66 FIFTY YEARS AGO reliant bearing? Such self-reliance belongs to thosewho are about to succeed. They say his fortune isalready made, though but yesterday he was a reporterin the House, taking down the speeches in is that tall young man with the ugly nose ? Onlya journalist. They say he wrote that funny papercalled The Fatal Boots in Tilfs Annual. His name isThackeray, I believe, but I know nothing more abouthim. Here comes dinner, with a tankard of foaming there any other drink quite so good as stout ? Afteryou have taken your dinner, friend Eighty-seven, I shall prescribe for you what youwill never get, poor wretch—a bottle of the best portin the cellars of the Mitre. My friend, there is onething in which we of theThirties do greatly excelyou of the Eighties. Wecan eat like ploughboys,and we can drink like dray-men. As for your nonsenseabout ApoUinaris Water,we do not know what itmeans; and
Size: 1342px × 1863px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorwordsworthcollection, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880
