LES HOMMES AUTOMATES.

1834.

"We are persuaded that this our artificial man will not only walk and speak, and perform most of the outward functions of animal life, but (being wound up once a week) will perhaps reason as well as most of your country parsons." - Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, chap. xii.

Ir being an object now to meet
With Parsons that don't want to eat,
Fit men to fill those Irish rectories,
Which soon will have but scant refectories,
It has been suggested,—lest that Church
Should, all at once, be left in the lurch,
For want of reverend men endued
With this gift of ne'er requiring food,-
To try, by way of experiment, whether
There couldn't be made, of wood and leather*,
(Howe'er the notion may sound chimerical,)
Jointed figures, not lay†, but clerical,

* The materials of which those Nuremberg Savans, mentioned by Scriblerus, constructed their artificial man.

The wooden models used by painters are, it is well known, called "lay figures."

Which, wound up carefully once a week,
Might just like parsons look and speak,
Nay even, if requisite, reason too,
As well as most Irish parsons do.

The' experiment having succeeded quite,
(Whereat those Lords must much delight,
Who've shown, by stopping the Church's food,
They think it isn't for her spiritual good

To be serv'd by parsons of flesh and blood,)
The Patentees of this new invention
Beg leave respectfully to mention,

They now are enabled to produce
An ample supply, for present use,
Of these reverend pieces of machinery,
Ready for vicarage, rect'ry, deanery,
Or any such-like post of skill

That wood and leather are fit to fill.

N.B.-In places addicted to arson,
We can't recommend a wooden parson:
But, if the Church any such appoints,
They'd better, at least, have iron joints.

In parts, not much by Protestants haunted,
A figure to look at's all that's wanted-
A block in black, to eat and sleep,

Which (now that the eating's o'er) comes cheap.

P.S. Should the Lords, by way of a treat,

Permit the clergy again to eat,

The Church will, of course, no longer need
Imitation-parsons that never feed;

And these wood creatures of ours will sell
For secular purposes just as well—
Our Beresfords, turn'd to bludgeons stout,
May, 'stead of beating their own about,
Be knocking the brains of Papists out;
While our smooth O'Sullivans, by all means,
Should transmigrate into turning machines.

HOW TO MAKE ONE'S SELF A PEER.

ACCORDING TO THE NEWEST RECEIPT, AS DISCLOSED IN A LATE HERALDIC WORK. *

1834.

CHOOSE Some title that's dormant-the Peerage

hath many

Lord Baron of Shamdos sounds nobly as any.
Next, catch a dead cousin of said defunct Peer,
And marry him, off hand, in some given year,
To the daughter of somebody, no matter who,-
Fig, the grocer himself, if you're hard run, will do ;
For, the Medici pills still in heraldry tell,
And why shouldn't lollypops quarter as well?
Thus, having your couple, and one a lord's cousin,
Young materials for peers may be had by the dozen;
And 'tis hard if, inventing each small mother's son
of 'em,

You can't somehow manage to prove yourself one

of 'em.

* The claim to the barony of Chandos (if I recollect right) advanced by the late Sir Eg-r-t—n Br―d—s.

Should registers, deeds, and such matters refractory, Stand in the way of this lord-manufactory,

I've merely to hint, as a secret auricular,

One grand rule of enterprise, don't be particular.

A man who once takes such a jump at nobility, Must not mince the matter, like folks of nihility*, But clear thick and thin with true lordly agility.

'Tis true, to a would-be descendant from Kings, Parish-registers sometimes are troublesome things; As oft, when the vision is near brought about, Some goblin, in shape of a grocer, grins out; Or some barber, perhaps, with my Lord mingles bloods,

And one's patent of peerage is left in the suds.

But there are ways—when folks are resolv'd to be lords

Of expurging ev'n troublesome parish records.
What think ye of scissors? depend on't no heir
Of a Shamdos should go unsupplied with a pair,
As, whate'er else the learn'd in such lore may invent,
Your scissors does wonders in proving descent.

"This we call pure nihility, or mere nothing."— Watts's