As you
won't take my advice, I can't assist you.

Applicant: Vot! not for striking me on the hupper lip?

Mr. Rawlinson: Then your mustachios must have saved you.

Applicant: No, they didn't.

Mr. Rawlinson: How's that?

Applicant: 'Cos the hair ain't long and thick enough; they're only
young 'uns as yet. There was no occasion to strike me.

Mr. Rawlinson: And there's no occasion for you to wear mustachios.
You may have a warrant, if you like, but I think you had better not.

The man with mustachios then withdrew.

The late King's stud at Hampton was doomed to be sold, and the sale
thereof created something of a sensation. On this subject there is, in a
little twopenny weekly magazine, called _The Torch_, 9 Sep., '37 (vol.
i., p. 19), a periodical now long forgotten, a poem by Tom Hood, which I
have not seen in any collection of his poems. It is a

PETITION TO HER MAJESTY FOR PRESERVING THE ROYAL STUD AT HAMPTON COURT.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

I.

LIEGE LADY, all the nation's in high dud-
geon that Lord Melbourne's brains should be so muddy
As to advise you sell your royal _stud_,
Which to preserve, should be your royal study.

II.

Poor nags you would not in your stable find,
Like cavalry of Evans called De Lacey,
No! I do rather hope your royal mind
Is naturally fond of something racy.

III.

Pray, what has Hampton done that you should trounce ill-
naturedly its prancers and its sport?
You have a breed of _asses_ in the _Council_,
Do keep a breed of _horses_ in the _Court_.

IV.

His truth who says that you should sell them, fails.
Believe me, Lady liege, he tells a crammer;
You'll set your people biting all their _nails_,
If you put up your horses to the _hammer_.

V.

I like these money-turning Whigs, indeed;
Who, into coin, change everything they're able.
You're just installed, and they would sell _the steed_,
It doesn't make me think they're very _stable_.

VI.

I daresay they believe they're very knowing,
I think they're close to their official shelves:
And, when they