Punch: Punch (56.1869)

36

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 30, 1869.

HINTS FOR CONVERSATION.

Conclude you have'
a prejudice against
that most useful
topic of all work,
the weather, and
care -not to know
whether the lady to
whom Mrs. Bur-
ton Joyce, your
hostess, is intro-
ducing yon, has
taken her ordinary
daily exercise since
luncheon. If you
long to distinguish
yourself in some
other arena than
the Theatres, the
Monday Popular
Concerts, the Balls
or Private Theatri-
cals in your respec-
tive suburbs, do
not scruple, if the
lady consigned to
you is single, to
ask her at once
whether she is en-
gaged, and what

fortune she will have on marriage, whether she has any poor relations, whether
she dyes her hair or uses stimulants to her complexion, and what the amount of
her allowance is from Papa ; not forgetting, if you observe the slightest indication
of a dawning pimple, to notice its intrusion with profuse regrets. If you have
charge of a married lady, begin by making a guess at her age, or picking holes
in her dress, or finding some flaw in her jewellery, adding a little light pleasantry
about the skilful arrangement of the millinery on her head to hide that dubious
place in the parting, until, when you see that your remarks are taken in good
part, you feel secure enough to inquire how much the weekly housekeeping ex-
penses are, and whether she allows her servants fresh butter, and how often they
give her warning, and whether her husband, whom you will not fail to point out
laughing and talking with pretty Mrs. Gayleigh Uasewood at the other end
of the table, is the same smiling amiable being in his own home, when tested by j
servants getting up late in the morning, by indifferent vegetables, and unexpected ;
bills.

Try this style of conversation when next you are dining or dancing out: if it
succeeds, you will go home a happier man than you have felt for a long time, if it
fails, you can but fall back on your reserve of Robertson’s Plays and Burnand’s
Burlesques; and the Ballet in the Pantomimes and the Ballot at Elections ; and
the Election Petitions, which fill the papers to weariness, and the new halfpenny
paper, the Echo, (mind you quote what Diamond de Witt so neatly said, that it
is sure to pay, because Echo always answers); and The Ring and the Book, and
the Report of the Marriage Law Commission ; and the Convention with America,
and Revbrdy Johnson, and the Alabama claims; and the Christy Minstrels;
and Joachim’s playings; and Dickens’s Readings; and the new edition of
Carlyle’s Writings; and the Derby Course, and the course Disraeli will take;
and Government cutting down the clerks in the public departments, and requesting
(see Circular from the Controller of II. M. Stationery Office) that the Government
quill pens may also be cut down ; and the reduction in the establishment at Green-
wich Hospital; and the Beggars in Belgravia; and the Eirst Commissionership o
Police ; and Carbolic Acid, &c.

PRISON MINISTERS.

Mr. Sergeant Payne, celebrated no less for his admirable decisions and lus
marvellous wisdom at the Clerkenwell Sessions than for his recitations of poetry
at second-rate tea-pot meetings, argues that Roman Catholic priests should not
be paid for their prison-work, because two out of three criminals, professedly
Roman Catholics, would rather not see the priest. And, Mr. Payne, perhaps two
out of three criminals would rather not see the policeman, or even your Worship :
or, to carry the argument somewhat further, they would rather that there were
not any moral law at all.

Is not a diseased man an idiot who will not call in the physician ? How do
you deal with idiots f Would you not be lacking in your duty to a friend who
so acted, if you did not do all in your power to force medical advice upon him ?

Were there a chance of his disease being contagious, would you listen to an
obstinate man who refuses the doctor’s aid ?

You would regret, Mr. Sergeant Payne, that you could not force the ministra-
tions of the physician upon your friend, and you would rather pay the fee yourse/f
than allow.a man to die of his disease, or linger out his days, a pest to society.

Your Irish Roman Catholic, or your English criminal of that faith, fears and I
respects the priest; but he flatters himself that, he can blarney the Chaplain, for
whom he entertains no respect, nor of whom has he any fear.

You must admit the Priest: you need not pay him;
but Mr. Punch, who recognises Catholic and Protestant
on an equality as Ratepayers, tells you that you will
have to act fairly, you Board of Injustices, in spite of
yourselves.

DON JUAN AND THE LADIES.

“ Fifteen thousand Spanish ladies have addressed General
Prim, begging him on no account to permit religious toleration
in Spain.”—Correspondence.

Eifteen thousand Spanish ladies
Yielding to a pious whim,

Gather’d ’twixt the Bay and Cadiz,

And besieged the gallant Brim.

Saying “ Count de Reus or Re-us,

(Which it’s called we know nor care)

“ Prostrate at your feet you see us,

Begging you to grant our prayer.

“ Count, yon offer toleration
To religions each and all;

Do you wish the Spanish nation
From its ancient faith to fall ?

“ Please reverse your resolution,

Penal make all creeds but one,

Or your blessed revolution
Ends by leaving Spain undone.

“ Better do a little burning,

Roast some Protestants or Jews,

Eor an Auto priests are yearning,

Meet the holy creatures’ views.

“ But if what you ’ve written’s written.

And yon must not burn a soul,

Send all heretics to Britain,

Islaud somewhere near the Pole.”

Tolerantly smiles Don Juan,

Smiles upon the kneeling dames.

“ Ladies, it would be my ruin.

Did I send one Jew to flames.

“ There’s a thing your lords call discount,

With the Jews it conies and goes,

And ’twere worth the place of this Count
Did he singe one hooky nose.

“ As for Protestants, their altar
Must not now be overturned,

Certain folks who hold Gibraltar
Much object to being burned.

“ Sweetest ladies, stick to flirting,

Roll dark eyes, wave jewelled fans,

Praise the bull-fight’s strife diverting,

Leave to man the work that’s man’s.

“Tell the priests who gave your mission.

They ’re a gang of nincompoops ;

If I see the least sedition,

Priests have necks and cords have loops.

“ If my forehead wears a frown, ’tis
Not for you, but them. 1 ’ve done :

And (leave granted by my Countess)

I would kiss you every one.

“ And I ’ll send your priests to Hades,

Dare they such sweet eyes to dim.”

Eifteen thousand Spanish ladies
Smiled, and left Don Juan Prim.

The Boys’ Own Beak,

A good deal has lately been said about a sentence by
which a Justice at Petty Sessions sent a lot of little boys,
manacled like felons, to gaol for “ tossing and obstructing
the streets.” Several letters about it have appeared in
the Times, under the heading of “ Untempered Zeal.”
Would not “ Ill-tempered Zeal ” have been the more accu-
rate superscription ? ”