Punch: Punch (38.1860)

88

[March 3, 1860.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A WORD TO THE WISE.

Discerning Child (who has heard some remarks made ly Papa). “ Are you OUR
kew Nurse?”

Nurse. “ Yes, dear ! ”

Child. “ Well then, I’m one of those boys who can only be managed with
Kindness—so you had better get some Sponge Cakes and Oranges at once ! ”

OPERATIC FINANCE.

The eloquence with which Mr. Gladstone delivered, his Budget appears to
1 have rendered a statement of dry details and disagreeable things extremely
; pleasant, indeed absolutely enchanting to those who listened to it. A long speech,

' one would think, would be only an aggravation of a recital of hard facts and an
announcement of harder taxation. Yet Mr. Gladstone discoursed financial music
on themes which included an Income-Tax of tenpence in the pound, for the space
of four hours, to the delight of his hearers. He did well to stay till his cold was
gone before attempting to charm their ears with the melody of Ways and Means.

I Just so would Signor Mario postpone his appearance in a new character in case
: he had the misfortune of being attacked with diphtheria. This consideration suggests
: an improvement on the present plan of revealing the proposed financial measures
of Government to bhe House of Commons. Instead of Being merely declaimed,
let the Budget in future be sung. By a judicious mixture of air and recitative,

| it would not only be rendered additionally agreeable to the ear, but the pleasure of
; hearing it would be prolonged considerably beyond the short term of four hours.
The sweet sounds announcing increased taxation would be as sugar to a bitter
pill. In future, therefore, let statesmen who desire to qualify themselves for the
Chancellorship of the Exchequer, study tuneful numbers as well as common arith-
j metic ; and let that important office be filled, if possible, by a gifted tenor.

WONDERS OF MACHINERY.

One of the advantages which England owes to a free Press may be said to be
an unlimited power of calico-printing. On this branch of typography, as influenced
by science, a lecture was delivered the other evening at the Royal Institution by
Professor F. Grace Calvert, concluding with the subjoined statement

“ The extent to which calico-printing in this country is already carried, may be conceived from
the fact that in 1S5S, the number of yards of printed calico exported would reach twice round the
Globe.”

The machinery of Shakspea.re’s Tempest includes an engine, so to speak, named

Ariel, capable of putting a girdle round the earth in forty
minutes. The cotton machinery of Manchester, and our
other manufacturing towns, is not as yet able to perform
that miracle: but we may infer, from the fact above stated,
that it. is equal to putting a calico bandage round this
planet in six months.

THE MOUNTEBANK MEMBER.

Respectfully Dedicated to Sir Robert Peel, principal low
Comedian at the New House in Westminster.

Oh, have you read the last debate,

On our swingeing Army Estimate,

If you haven’t, you’d better do so straight
Eor the sake of the Mountebank Member—

His name it is Sir Robert Peel,

And for tickling the House from head to heel,

A-S he runs his patter off the reel,

There’s none like the Mountebank Member!
Laughing, chaffing, poking fun—

Through the comic gamut he’s game to run,
Erom the last bit of gag to the oldest pun—

As stale and as dry as a last week’s bun—

There’s Bernal Osborne’s great at chaff,

And Yivian can “mug” you out of a laugh,

But both together can’t come it half
So strong as the Mountebank Member!

Some think the House of Commons a place
Unsuited for gag and grin and grimace—

But for such old fogies who cares an ace ?

“Not I,” says the Mountebank Member!

“ I’m not the man to win respect;

The ’totber line I rather affect;

So the Robson business I select”—

“Here we are! ” cries the Mountebank Member!
Slapping, rapping, left and right;

At Mister Speaker “ taking a sight; ”

It’s equal to Tom Mathews quite,

Except that he don’t wear red and white.—

Some night to the cry of “ Bravo, Rouse ! ”

The choker of private life he ’ll dowse,

And go head over heels on the floor of the House,
And for Somerset claim to be Member !

The first Sir Robert, he made an estate.

By spinning of yarns at a wonderful rate.

And the second Sir Robert was famed in debate—
And the third is the Mountebank Member!

He, like his grandsire, a yarn can spin;

And if his father State-laurels could win.

Why, he’ll earn his wreath, by a horse-collar grin—
Will Sir Robert the Mountebank Member.

As high as the donkey for two more browns,

He soars above all rival clowns,

And in case the House of Commons frowns.

Like other mountebanks, tries the Downs—

Eor since in the Commons he looms so great,

No wonder that on the turf of late.

He has ventured to court Miss-Fortune and Fate*
The unfortunate Mountebank Member !

Perhaps he’s laughed at his betters so long.

That he thinks at that game he can’t go wrong :

But you may find your mistake ere long—

My fast-stepping Mountebank Member !

For at that which you like so much—/mrse-play—

The paternal guineas may melt away,

Ere Frederic Robinson you can say,

Then, alas ! for the Mountebank Member!

Needy, seedy, out of luck :

Left the hindmost in the ruck,

His brazen head he ’ll have to duck,

Till under a cloud it’s piteously stucx—

And then, alas ! a long eclipse

To the puns and patter, and cranks and quips,

That now flow sparkling from the lips,

Of Sir Robert the Mountebank Member!

Confession of a Whiskey Drinker.—“Scotland, with
all thy faults, I love thy Still.”