Punch (64.1873)

SCENES OF CLUB LIFE.

ELECTION OF AN HONORARY MEMBER.

COME TO GRIEF.

" If that leap don't give Gladstone a shake,
He is a rider, and no mistake ! "

{See Mr. Punch and his Cartoon of February 15.)

With his whip at work, and his spurs rammed in,

And too hard a hand on his horse to begin,

Six foot of stone to clear in his stride,

And ugly taking-off ground beside,

We saw him powdering down the hill,

With consid'rahly less of wisdom than will;

And just as judgment had cried " Hold hard ! "

To a warier rider, and cooler card,

We saw his teeth clenched hard for a rush,

And his brow o'erspread with an angry flush,

And then we knew how it would be-

With that leap, in that temper—'twas all U P !

Three times hi? prudence and half his pluck,—

With recollections of two years' luck,

And the famous "kills " of Church and Land,

To harden his heart, and nerve his hand—

It needed all these, and something beside,

At such a leap, with a chance, to ride !

But some said his horse hard-mouthed had got,

And we knew his temper had grown hot;

And then, that crowd, just under the wall,

Frieze coats and black, in angry bawl,

With their sudden waving of flag and crosier,

Might well shake the pluckiest jock's composure ;

With such sounds in his ear, and such sights in his eye,

The steadiest horse in the world would shy!

Yet he went at it, first, with such a will
That those who had laid the long odds on a spill,
For a moment, Queer Street thought to see,
And looked for a hedge, if a hedge might be.

But then came that see-saw of rasping rein,
That works a horse against the grain ;
And that sting of whipcord and angry heel,
Where a 'cuter hand had spared lash and steel;
And the hullaballoo of that hooting crowd,
Where the jock looked for cheers, but not so loud—
And book-makers cheered, and backers were dumb,
For the chance was gone, and the cropper come !

And we saw, through the stones of the wall, in the air,

A rider still in his saddle square ;

And we saw the Irish horse in a heap

Come rolling over that luckless leap ;

And we saw that plucky rider down—

With a broken neck, or a fractured crown ?

Not yet! In spite of stun or sprain,

He's off, and up on his legs again,

And shaking his fist at the shouting crew

Who've spoiled his leap with their hullaballoo !

And as ready to ride— thank British beef—

As if he never had " come to grief " !

Manners.

In a Debate in the Assembly, the other day, our friend M. Louis
Blanc remarked—

-" (quietly turning to the jubilant Eight), as Benjamin has observed,

a people is not governed with enigmas."

This is just the sort of epigram that the Leader of Opposition
here was likely to launch, but we do not remember it. Anyhow,
M. Louts Blanc might have called him Me. Disraeli. " Ben-
jamin " is a trifle familiar, even in an Ultra-Republican.

Seasonable Motto for Catholics.—" Festina lente;" i.e. Get
through Lent quickly.