he Spanish treasure--"hard food for Midas"--that threw its
jaundiced glory about the cradle of George the Fourth; what is that to the
promise of plenty, augured by the natal day of our present Prince? Comes
he not on the ninth of November? Is not his advent glorified by the
aromatic clouds of the Lord Mayor's kitchen?--Let every man, woman, and
child possess themselves of a _Times_ newspaper of the 10th ult.; for
there, in genial companionship with the chronicle of the birth of the
Prince, is the luscious history of the Lord Mayor's dinner. We quit
Buckingham Palace, our mind full of our dear little Queen, the Royal baby,
Prince Albert--(who, as _The Standard_ informs us subsequently, bows
"bare-headed" to the populace,)--the Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor
Locock, the Duke of Wellington, and the monthly nurse, and immediately
fall upon the civic "general bill of fare,"--the real turtle at the City
board.

Oh, men of Paisley--good folks of Bolton--what promise for ye is here!
Turkeys, capons, sirloins, asparagus, pheasants, pine-apples, Savoy cakes,
Chantilly baskets, mince pies, preserved ginger, brandy cherries, a
thousand luscious cakes that "the sense aches at!" What are all these
gifts of plenty, but a glad promise that in the time of the "sweetest
young Prince," that on the birth-day of that Prince just vouchsafed to us,
all England will be a large Lord Mayor's table! Will it be possible for
Englishmen to dissassociate in their minds the Prince of Wales and the
Prince of good Fellows? And whereas the reigns of other potentates are
signalised by bloodshed and war, the time of the Prince will be glorified
by cooking and good cheer. His drum-sticks will be the drum-sticks of
turkeys--his cannon, the popping of corks. In his day, even weavers shall
know the taste of geese, and factory-children smack their lips at the
gravy of the great sirloin. Join your glasses! brandish your
carving-knives! cry welcome to the Prince of Wales! for he comes garnished
with all the world's good things. He shall live in the hearts, and (what
is more) in the stomachs of his people!

Q.

* * * * *

PROPER PRECAUTION.

Everybody is talking of the great impropriety that has been practised in
keeping gunpowder within the Tower; and the papers are _blowing up_ the
authorities with astounding violence for their alleged laxity.
"Gunpowder," say the angry journalists, "ought only to be kept where there
is n