Punch (12.1847)

72

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

POETS AND THEIR PATRONS.

the fast. the present.

Vast is the difference between the Poets' Patron of the past and of | How happy is the new Mosaic cut!

the present period. Formerly the noble was the encourager of the lofty j When Moses opens, let the rest be shut

strains of inspiration, but now-a-days Moses is the Maecenas of the j Look at the coat ! so dashing, yet refined,

Muses. In times gone by the bard was accustomed to write lays to
laud the lazy lordling, but now he sings pagans to the paletot, and
invests the vest with the graceful trimmings of fancy.

The poet has turned puffer instead of parasite. Should another
Pope arise, he would sing the praises of another Chesterfield ; but
instead of being the Earl of that name, it would be the wrapper he
would take for the subject of his lucubrations. The following is a
fair specimen of the style of thing to which a new Pope would most
probably devote his poetical taltnts :—

In front perfection, and the same behind
Body and skirt their equal distance keep,
The collar not too narrow, nor too deep ;
Grace shines about it with enchanting beams,
And finest workmanship cements the seam.°.
Taste lurks in every fold, and—Gracious Htaven !
You get the article for two pound seven.
Let others to the western Schneiders fly,
With eastern elegance 'tis vain to vie.

PROTECTION FOR BRITISH STREET-SWEEPERS.

" Me. punch, Yer honner. Sir,

" prat Besto a triful of attenshun on the Complaint of a Pore
sweeper—from things you sez every Now and Then, i spose you
Aprooves of the chepe Postidge sistim hinwented by mister Rolan Dill.
Wei, sir, i Won't Deny but wot it may be a Great adwantidge to
gennlemen wot has many lecturs sent to 'em, and allso to sitch Pore
pceple as Gits won Now and Then, but my corspondince Is so werry
limmittid that i can't say as it Bennyfitts me. Hon the contrairy i'm a
great Deal the Wuss off for the Altration. You must No, mister
punch, I'm a man wot Sweeps a Crossin in the neighbourwood of
palmal and the Clubbuses, and i gits my livin by the Coppurs witch i
pix up thereby.

" Now, sir, wot i've to Coroplane of is this here, that it have Becum
the Fashun of late, partickler at Clubbs, to give Change in Postidge
Eds insted of pensanapence, wherby it appens that Nine times out of
Ten Gents has no Coppurs in their Pockits. Howin to witch my
perfeshunal Inkurn Has bin Redooccd to a terrable lo Ebb. i There-
fore ope, six, that if you can't Do Away with the penny Postidge, you
wil be so Good as to Try and Put Down the Practis of Givin stamps
Insted of Change, witch is a Change sewerely felt by

" Yer honner's umble servent,

"Benj. besom."

THE SNOBS OF ENGLAND.

BY ONE OF THEMSELVES.

Slave-Holding- America.

_We learn from the papers that that nest of singing birds, the
Hutchinson family, were not permitted to carol, because they would
not bind themselves not to execute anti-slavery songs. They bowed
to the despotism of the republican slave-holders, and were silent. We
understand that certain American authorities, with whom coloured
flesh is especially dear, inasmuch as they make dollars by it, propose
to enact a law for the destruction of all small birds at liberty ; it
being considered dangerous to the interests of slavery, that even
linnets and goldfinches should sing, if not in cages.

CHAPTER L.—CLUB SNOBS.

The misfortune which befel the simple and good-natured young
Sackville, arose entirely from that abominable Sarcophagus Club ;
and that he ever entered it was partly the fault of the present

writer.

For seeing Mrs. Chuff, his mother-in-law, had a taste for the
genteel—(indeed, her talk was all about Lord Collingwood, Lord
Gambier, Sir Jahaleel Brenton, and the Gosport and Plymouth
balls)—Waglet and I, according to our wont, trumped her conver-
sation, and talked about Lords, Dukes, Marquises, and Baronets, as if
those dignitaries were our familiar friends.

" Lord Sextonburt," says I, " seems to have recovered her Lady-
ship's death. He and the Duke were very jolly over their wine at the
Sarcophagus last night ; weren't they, Waglet ? "

"Good fellow, the Duke," Waglet replied. "Pray Ma'am (to
Mrs. Chuff), you who know the world and etiquette, will you tell me
what ought a man to do in my case ? Last June, His Grace, his son
Lord Castlerampant, Tom Smith, and myself were dining at the
Club, when I offered the odds against Daddylonglegs for the Derby—
forty to one, in sovereigns only. His Grace took the bet, and of
course I won. He has never paid me. Now, can I ask such a great
man for a sovereign ?—One more lump of sugar, if you please, my
dear Madam."

It was lucky Waglet gave her this opportunity to elude the ques-
tion, for it prostrated the whole worthy family among whom we
were. They telegraphed each other with wondering eyes. They
looked at us with mute surprise, like stout Cortez when he stared on
the Pacific. Mrs. Chuff's stories about the naval nobility grew quite
faint : and kind little Mrs. Sackville became uneasy, and went up
stairs to look at the children—not at that young monster, Nelsob