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Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 98 March 8 1890. by Various Burnand F C Francis Cowley Editor
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Ebook has 74 lines and 13125 words, and 2 pages
AN EVENTFUL WEEK.
GRAND OLD BILLEE.
There were three sailors of London city Who found their ship at sea, Although with programmes, authorised and unauthorised, Most carefully they had loaded she.
There was greedy JOE and glosing JIMMY, And the third was named Grand Old BILLEE; And they were reduced to the piteous prospect Of grubbing on one split pea.
"Oh, BILLEE, we're going to chuck you over, So prepare for a bath in the Irish Sea." When BILL received this information, His dexter optic winked he.
"First let me take an observation From the main-top over the Irish Sea!" "Make haste, make haste," says glosing JIMMY, Whilst JOE he fumbled his snickersnee.
So BILLY went up to the main-top-gallant mast, And began to count o'er the Irish Sea; And he scarce had come to eighty-six, or so, When up he jumps. "Land Ho!" shouts he.
"I can see Ould Ireland! There's the Bay of Dublin; With a distant glimpse of Amerikee. And the Parliament upon College Green, bhoys, With a right good glass I can see."
So they went ashore, and the crew when mustered Kicked Guzzling JOE, and cashiered JIMMEE. But as for Grand Old BILLEE, they gave him Of the old "Deal Castle" the captaincy!
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
Thus ARTHUR, quite querulous. Have noticed sometimes, when a man hopelessly in the wrong, he is inclined to turn on his best friend and rend him. This Clongorey business, truly, a bad one. When, just now, SEXTON moved adjournment of House, in order to call attention to it, Conservatives rose with one accord and went forth. They know WINDBAG SEXTON of old, and thought he was probably going to favour them with one of his usual exercises. Better this once have stopped and listened. Interesting to see how two hundred English gentlemen would have voted had they learned all about Clongorey. Happily less, far less, than usual of the windbag about SEXTON. His story, in truth, needed no assistance from wind instrument. Farms at Clongorey simply strips of reclaimed bog land, on which struggling tenants had built miserable shanties; got along in good times; just managed to keep body and soul together, and pay the rent--rent on land they had literally created, and for huts they had actually built. Two years ago came a flood; swamped them. Asked landlord to make temporary reduction on rent, to tide over troublesome times. Landlord offered a pitiful trifle. What was thought of this shown by County Court Judge, who, on cases that came before him, permanently reduced rent by thrice amount of temporary reduction proffered. Judge further suggested that arrears should be wiped out. Landlord declined to listen to suggestion. Tenants drowned out by the cruel river, dragged out by the relentless landlord. Stood by whilst the emergency men wrenched roofs off their huts, and set fire to the ruins. A neighbour offered them shelter, enlarging out-buildings on her farm. Down came the police on workmen engaged in this act of charity. A hundred police, paid for by tax-payer, swooped down with fixed bayonets on Clongorey, arrested labourers, handcuffed them, marched them off to police barracks.
This is the simple Story of Clongorey, reduced to facts not denied by BALFOUR or ATTORNEY-GENERAL, divested of all incidental matters alleged, such as the parading of the handcuffed prisoners through the crowded streets of the town, the police making raids among the crowd, naturally gathered to see the sight. "One man had his eyeball burst, another his skull broken." CHARLES RUSSELL, not given to exaggerated views, somewhat reputable as a legal authority, with law-books in hand stated his opinion that, apart from incidents of the foray, magistrates and police were acting illegally.
Why not? On Friday, the 14th March, TREVELYAN will put the question in formal way before House, so that they may vote on it. Conservative majority may well be expected to support it. No new thing; simply revival of older fashion. Our great grandfathers knew better than to swelter in London through July, pass the Twelfth of August at Westminster, and go off forlorn and jaded in the early days of September. Hunting men may have objections to raise; but then hunting men, though eminently respectable class, are not everybody, not even a majority; may even be spared to go hunting as usual. WALPOLE hunted like anything, yet in WALPOLE'S day Parliament oftener met in November than at any other time of year, and with due provision for Christmas holidays, sat into early summer. The thing can be done, and ought to be done--will be done if TREVELYAN sticks to it. Not nearly such a revolution in Procedure as that which, only a couple of years ago, established the automatic close of Debate at midnight. Who is there would like to go back to the old order of things in this respect?
Got into Committee of Supply to-night on Vote for Houses of Parliament. TONY LUMPKIN turned up again. Last Session, in moment of inspiration, TONY spluttered forth a joke; likened new staircase in Westminster Hall to SPURGEON'S Pulpit. It is just as like the River Thames or Finsbury Park; but that's where the fun lies. Incongruity is the soul of wit. Everybody laughed last Session when TONY, with much gurgling, produced this bantling; brings it out again to-night.
"Can't have too much of a good thing, TOBY," he says, wrestling with his exuberant shirt-front, and rubbing his hair the wrong way. "Always had my joke, you know, down in the country. Remember the little affair of the circuitous drive? This is what you may call my urban class of humour. SPURGEON'S Pulpit, Ha, ha!"--and TONY walked off delighted with himself.
That this manner is ingrained, is testified to on the occasions, too infrequent, when JEMMY rises in House. To-night BUCHANAN asked HOME SECRETARY a question, involving disrespect of rabbit-coursing. JAMES, the great patron of British sport in all developments, slowly rose, and impressively interposed. Was his Right Hon. friend, the HOME SECRETARY, aware that rabbit-coursing, conducted under recognised and established regulations, affords pastime to large masses of the industrious population who are unable, from their pecuniary circumstances, to indulge in the more expensive forms of sport? Those were JEMMY'S words, each syllable deliberately enunciated. What a study for the aspirant to Parliamentary style!
Kindly Earl of RAVENSWORTH, who still haunts the Chamber in which Lord ESLINGTON once had a place, chanced to hear this question. Delighted with it. Wished he could introduce something of that sort in House of Lords. Went about Lobby with his faithful umbrella murmuring the musical phrases. "Recognised and established regulations," "afford pastime to large masses of industrious population," "unable from pecuniary circumstances," "the more expensive forms of sport." That all very well, but not quite all. Easy enough to catch the trick of speech; who but JEMMY LOWTHER can add the indefinable personal gifts which invest even the commonplace with impressiveness?
"Oh, hang it!" cried Opposition--"can't agree to that."
Divided on proposal; beaten, and SAGE hung up for a week. "He'll be pretty well dried by that time," grimly muttered the ATTORNEY-GENERAL, whom the SAGE had stroked the wrong way.
"A DOSE OF GREGORY."
FROM AN INDIGNANT CORRESPONDENT.--"Sir,--I sent you a joke three months ago, which you have not used. Since then I have made arrangements for the joke to appear elsewhere."
"THE BIG GUN!"
Mere skirmishing, up to the present, With pop-guns, and flint-locks, and such; But now! They will not find it pleasant, When once this huge touch-hole I touch. Mighty CAESAR! I guess they won't like it; Great SCOTT! won't it just raise a din? And don't they just wish they could spike it Before we begin?
The fun of it is, they have furnished The filling themselves, unaware. The shot they've cast, polished, and burnished, The powder were prompt to prepare. It's pitiful, quite, their position, To see, the unfortunate elves! Their carefully-stored ammunition Thus turned on themselves.
Their batteries big it should batter, Their trenches should burst and blow up, Their forces allied it should scatter, It's worse than an Armstrong or Krupp. Chain-shot for swift slaughter's not in it, For spreading it's better than grape, They'll all be smashed up in a minute, Scarce one can escape.
OLD FRIENDS AND COUNSEL.
On the Learned Counsel resuming his seat, there would have been considerable applause, which, of course, would have been instantly suppressed.
MY TAILOR.
"The St. Petersburgh tailors have hit upon an effectual device for obtaining payment of their bills. Immense black-boards are hung up in the most conspicuous place in the reception-room; thereon are chalked, in letters as big as arrow-headed inscriptions, the names of their hopelessly-indebted clients, and the amount of their indebtedness."
Who always seemed serene and bland; Who never asked for "cash in hand," Quite pleased that my account should "stand"? My Tailor!
Who catered for the gilded throng, Who chid me when my taste was wrong, Whose credit--and whose price--was long?-- My Tailor!
Who chatted when I felt depressed, Who proffered wine with friendly zest, Whose weeds were ever of the best?-- My Tailor!
Who with sartorial oil anoints My vanity, who pads my joints, And fortifies my weakest points?-- My Tailor!
But who in future, much I fear, Will greet me with no words of cheer, But talk of "settling"--language queer?-- My Tailor!
Who silently will point his hand To figures white on black-board grand. Where all my unpaid "items" stand?-- My Tailor!
Who'll thus expose me to my peers, Bring on me jibes, and flouts, and sneers, Male sniggerings, and female tears?-- My Tailor!
Who'll frown when I suggest a loan, And ne'er produce Clicquot or Beaune, But for his "checks" demand my own?-- My Tailor!
Who'll take my "measures" when he wills, But only if I take his "bills," And add one more to human ills?-- My Tailor!
TAKEN AS YOU LIKE IT.
MY DEAR EDITOR,
TO A SEASONABLE VIOLET.
Had always Hymen Such mien, such carriage, You ne'er would fly, men, The state of marriage!
Sincerely Yours, A CORRESPONDENT WITHOUT A MEMORY.
ART-AUCTIONEER'S RELIGION, "CHRISTIE-anity."
AN ASTRAL COMPLICATION.
In periods of sleep, despair, Of aberration, we have guessed We were not altogether there, But seldom known where was the rest.
Our Astral Bodies wander far, Whenever they will not be missed. Strange things in earth and heaven are For the devout theosophist.
Young WILFRID wooed the wealth of CLARE; But ah, in spite of golden dearth, His mind and heart approved more fair KATE'S intellect and moral worth.
"Prudence my steps inspire!" he said; And automatically to The residence of CLARE he sped, And gained an instant's interview.
"Fairest," he cried, "my homage deep Ah, not your rank, your wealth command! These idle baubles, lady, keep. Give me alone this lily hand!"
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