_Humbuggum Ass-trologicum, pro Anno 1836._
_VOX MULTORUM, VOX STULTORUM: the Voice of the Many is the Voice of a Zany.—It brawleth at all Places and Seasons._
I DO herewith, present thee with an hieroglyphic, after the accustomed usage of my lamented precursor and prototype, FRANCIS MOORE, defunct. It prefigureth a mighty change now lying in the womb of futurity, and which doubtless will be brought forth in due season by the great man-midwife, Time.
And now do I most entreatingly invite thee to cast a Parthian glance at my foregone prophetic lucubrations, and especially towards that symbolical prefiguration or _hieroglyphic_, by which I brightly shadowed forth _a certain notable event_, the fulfilment whereof did so closely follow the heels of the prediction as to cause the multitude to marvel;— and when thou hast sufficiently pondered thereupon, I would ask thee whether thou dost not in verity deem me a fit and worthy successor of the renowned FRANCIS MOORE, defunct?
I do thus throw myself on thy candour, because certain of mine adversaries do most unworthily insinuate, that my astrological skill is stark naught; that I hold no correspondence with the stars; that I am no more acquainted with the Great Bear than with the Great Mogul; that I gather no signs of the Times from the signs of the Zodiac; and, in brief, that I am _no conjuror_! My only familiar, they affirm, is a little, insignificant, diminutive thing, called _Common Sense_, whose aid any one may have if he chooses; that the said _Common Sense_ collects together certain things called _Past Events_, with which he compares _Present Appearances_, and they help him to _Future Probabilities_; they are then put into the crucible of _Ordinary Judgment_; and my sagacious and veracious prophecies and hieroglyphics are the result of this simple alchemy!
CANDID READER! Let thine own discretion decide, whether logical judgment or astro-logical fudgement be the art which influenceth my lucubrations.
INVITATION OF "THE SELECT" To Bartholomew Fair.
COME, buffers and duffers, and dashers and smashers, Come, tag, rag, and bobtail, attend to my call; Ye pickpockets, sally from court, lane, and alley, The LORD MAYOR in person has open'd the ball. Come, Billingsgate sinners, and cat and dog skinners, And play up a game to make Decency stare: A fig for propriety, sense, and sobriety! They never were known at fam'd BARTLEMY FAIR.