# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 3/Volume 7/Table Talk - 1.14.1871

From the series: TABLE TALK.
January 14, 1871.
IT may not be generally known that the Thames Embankment, which is now, to a certain degree, an accomplished fact, was suggested a century ago. In a letter from Mr. Harris, M.P.—author of “ Hermes”— to his son, who was then Minister Plenipotentiary at Madrid, dated March 5, 1771, he writes:—“An embankment for the river Thames is proposed, from Durham-yard to the Savoy. The undertakers are Scots; and therefore the Common Council oppose them.”
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An old-established firm in Spitalfields complain, in the Times, that the managers of “The Post Office London Directory” have removed their names from the list of Archil and Cudbear Makers, in consequence of their refusal, on principle, to pay a I charge for insertion. There are many curiI ous trades in London; but few, we suspect, save the initiated, have heard of archil and cudbear makers before. Archil and cudbear are the names applied to a certain dye obtained, by the action of a weak solution of ammonia, from various lichens or mosses gathered from the rocks on the coast of Africa, Zanzibar being the chief place of export. In a liquid form it is called archil; in a dry state or powder, cudbear. The only drawback to the use of this beautiful dye—which is very little different, after all, from the all-familiar litmus—is that its fine red, crimson, and purple hues will act only upon silk and wool, the universal cotton having hitherto refused to receive its beautifying properties.
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“Man the lifeboat” is a brave old English song, and must have been sung many time$ during the Christmas family festivities that have just passed. And to many a one the stirring exhortation of the song must have brought to mind the dangers and sufferings, not only of the shipwrecked mariners far out at sea, but also of the gallant men who “man the lifeboat” in the dark and stormy nights that call them forth, into a howling wilderness of raging waters, to the relief of distressed and despairing sufferers. The National Lifeboat Institution, in its report of work done in the cause of humanity during the year just elapsed, shows a grand total of 774 lives saved in that period; and, since its formation, the institution has contributed to the rescue of 19,854 persons. The association appeals to # the generous and benevolent throughout the kingdom for continued support; and there is little fear, we think, but that their appeal will be liberally responded to.
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Constituencies, like maidens, require much courting; and, like maidens also, when they are slighted turn sometimes very bitter. While Mr. Cardwell has been holding forth persuasively and successfully at Oxford on our military resources, the Premier has received a billet doux from the disaffected of Greenwich, “respectfully but firmly” suggesting to him that the sooner he can find some other constituency to represent in Parliament the better for the electors of Greenwich. Truly, Mr. Gladstone, from a Greenwichian point of view, you deserve to be jilted. Did not fair Greenwich snap you up triumphantly when your old seat—to say the least of it—was far from secure? And since then you have never been near your new love. You have considered the Irish Church Bill and the Landlord and Tenant Act of more importance than the local interests of your own constituents. It is really too bad of you, Mr. Gladstone. Verily, popularity is a fleeting glory—even for the greatest amongst us!
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The following letter, addressed to me by the late Albert Smith—a “ fellow of infinite jest,” too soon forgotten—may have an interest for the readers of ONCE A WEEK. I was occupying a cottage at Chertsey—his native place—for my honeymoon, when I received it and, at the same time, a set of kitchen cruets, made of pewter, as a wedding present. I have, of course, suppressed names and changed initials:—
“ North End Lodge, Walham-green, S.W.
“ My dear—— The kitchen is so universally despised in the matter of wedding presents—albeit of primary importance in the arduous career of housekeeping, upon which your young and amiable partner is about to enter—that I make no excuse for sending you these pieces of Brompton argenterie. May your establishment exist to wear them out. They have been engraved by a celebrated artist expressly for the occasion. As long as you keep them you will never want pewter, which is more than C—— could ever say. Let me give you a little 'Handbook of Chertsey.' It is a market town (Wednesday) on the Thames, S.W. of London nineteen miles, in Surrey (Hundred of Godley); a polling place for W. Surrey, four fairs a-year, county court, petty sessions, and celebrated as the birthplace of the great Albert Smith. This illustrious man was born on the top-floor front of the house opposite the church, next to Mr. K.’s stationery shop. His brother Arthur also first saw light there. Crowds of pilgrims, from remote parts, daily assemble before the house and sing praises in his honour; and on his birthday, May 24th, the church bells are rung.—N.B. The Queen’s being the same day leads to much misconception on this point.—The inhabitants still point with pride to the cottage which he lived in subsequently—up the lane by the baker’s, near the Swan Inn. He is described as a man of quiet, modest demeanour, simple in his habits and dress, constant to his pew at church, but addicted to large parties and miscellaneous entertainments on fair Sabbath evenings, to the horror of the late Reverend Cotton, whom he objected to have his ears stuffed with. His brother Arthur, subsequently Chancellor of the Exchequer, passed his early days at the ‘ Stank Pitch,’ well known to fishermen between the bridge and the tumbling bay. The tradesmen of Chertsey are honest, intelligent people. Mr. A., the chemist, is the inventor of the celebrated com plaster, which brought fame and fortune to its discoverer. He emigrated from E., from which place he married Miss B., a stout and comely woman. Mr. C., the ironmonger, has one of the best shops in England; and the back door of his house in Gogmore-lane opens upon the former stable door of the Palazzo Smith, which he allows people to look at for a small sum. It is worth a visit, and full of material for thought. Mr. D., the linen draper, offers peculiar advantages for young married people in the economy and durability of his wares: his ready-made doeskins are the talk of Staines, Weybridge, and Shepperton; and Mr. E., the coiffeur, is the Isidore of the town—he had the honour of first shaving Mr. Albert Smith. Dr. F. and Mr. G. divide the medical practice. Mr. G. had the honour of marrying Mr. Albert Smith’s sister, an amiable woman with seven children. She lives near the town hall, formerly the bank in old Mr. H.’s time— who had the honour of being Mr. Albert Smith’s godfather. Several of the natives had the honour of being brought into the world by Mr. Albert Smith between 1837 and 1841. Mrs. L., of the Crown Inn, is Swiss—a native of Morges on the Lake of Geneva—immortalized by Mr. — (myself). Her brother, le nommé Glover, keeps the Hotel de l’Univers, at Lyons. In the commercial room is the celebrated portrait of old Mr. H., for which the National Gallery is now in treaty —it is an undoubted Kneller. His son Thomas had the honour of dining with Mr. Albert Smith, in the same room, at a Yeomanry Cavalry Ball at the Swan Inn.—So, with best wishes and regards to both, yours always,
“A. S.”
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A Correspondent: It has been said that human ingenuity could devise no system of hieroglyphics which human ingenuity should not be able to decipher. Here are two advertisements from the Times . No. 1—
“ E.—rave ramap eh efkvc devh qn cqzv wahhav. Ltc fqh hega sfhavaih sf cqzv eddaevefya? Tasvaii ja pexfap. Tera xqva hvzih. Iteww ewleci vaxesf ei zizew cqzvi qfwc.—V.”
Which means:—
“ E.—Very vexed at angry part of your letter. Why not take interest in your appearance? Heiress be——. Have more trust. Shall always remain as usual yours only. —V.”
The following answer to the above has appeared:—
“ E.—qf dvqlw efpfaev kexa. Devhc iyvqnzwqzi jzhkqh htajveii. Devgav!! Nexswc rave iqnhef pyqxa nvqx Waapi. Xega afozsvsai Hvzihsi jvqgaf vaap vaepc lefhap hq ilekkav lshtew. Tawd cqzvi zizewwc.—V.”
Solution:—
“ E.—On prowl and near game. Party scrofulous but got the brass. Parker!! Family very soft and come from Leeds. Make enquiries. Trust is broken reed. Ready wanted to swagger withal. Help yours usually.—V.”
They are genuine, and need no comment. Let fools beware!
The authors of the articles in Once A Week reserve to themselves the right of translation .