Punch (80.1881)

298

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[June 25, 1881.

THE WORMS HAVE
TURNED.

The chief art of Govern-
ment is to do nothing with an
air of doing much. The best
administrators are those who
have thoroughly mastered the
axiom that zeal is a crime, and
who are clever at sitting upon
troublesome questions. Un-
fortunately there are questions
that will not be sat upon, and
the grievance of the Telegraph
Clerks is one of them. The Go-
vernment have "considered"
this grievance so long and so
dreamily, that at last the dis-
contented Clerks have threat-
ened to strike. They may not
at present have the organisa-
tion and the command of funds
of the "working-man," who
is always on the verge of
striking, but these will come
in the fulness of time. The
Government have roused a
spirit of self-reliance in these
over-worked and under-paid
servants of a money-grubbing
department, which no tardy
concessions can destroy. The
patronising, not to say fatherly
articles in some of the news-
papers will encourage this
spirit, for under the tone of
warning is an ill-concealed
fear that skilful telegraphists
are not to be obtained from
the fields and gutters. How
much better it would have
been to have "considered"
less and acted more, and have
yielded gracefully.

PUNCH'S FANCY PORTRAITS.-No. 37.

coldstkeam and cold water.

Among recent Regimental
Festivities the principal, of
course, was the annual dinner
of the Nulli Secundus Club.
The name of this distinguished
Society may seem to imply
that, as nobody could fight if
nobody could find a second, it
was founded for the discou-
ragement of duelling in the
British Army.

"0. W."

0, I feel just as happy as a bright Sunflower ! "

Lays of Christy Minstrelsy.

Esthete of Esthetes !

What's in a name ?
The poet is Wilde,

But his poetry's tame.

THE MUDFORD FLOWER-
SHOW.

This great open-air exhi-
bition is now on view two or
three times a week in Central
London. It extends from
Oxford Street to the Water-
loo Road in one direction, and
from Charing Cross to the
Griffin in another. The so-
called Flower Market in
Covent Garden is used as a
rallying centre, a source of
supply for everything except
the patient donkey, the im-
patient costermonger, and the
curious collection of carts and
trucks which mix up the
country with Bethnal Green,
the London cab and the cars of
Juggernaut, Picefobd & Co.
The flowers are things of
beauty, and, under different
circumstances, would be joys
for ever, but the language of
those who buy and sell these
gifts of Nature is not as pure as
it ought to be, considering the
refinement of their trade.
One, and perhaps the principal
cause of this, is the crowded
area in which the business is
carried on, and the never-
ceasing struggle with London
traffic. The person primarily
responsible f or this is, of course,
the Most Noble the Baron
Mttck, Earl of Tueniptop and
Duke of Mudfoed.

A Remittance.

Heme's a Landlord for our
money:—

" His Grace the Duke of Buck-
ingham has remitted, through his
steward, Mr. Oxley, from 10 to 20
per cent, of the rents of his tenants,
a like remission to extend over the
next two years."

Quite the " c'rrect card,"
Mr. Oxxet, eh ? And we say
with King Edward in Richard
the Third, Act II. s. 1—

"A pleasing cordial, princely
Buckingham."

RETALIATION.

Petite ComAdu that, we trust, will not be adapted without reflection, from

the French.

A couple of Patriotic Political Economists discovered, dining together
at a highly Constitutional Club.

_ First Patriotic Political Economist {concluding a lengthy disserta-
tion on the obvious advantages of " spirited reciprocity"). Yes, as I
was saying, the only way to pay these rascals out is to let them have
it baok in their own coin; and in plenty of it, Sir; plenty of it.
Put prohibitive duties on our steel and woollen stuffs, indeed! Then
let 'em have it hot, 1 say, on their wine, and other gim-cracks.
That's all I have got to say about it. (Finishes his Sherry.) Waiter,
a pint of the Club Claret.

Waiter brings a bottle, and fills their glasses with studied melancholy.

Second Patriotic Political Economist [reflecting on what he has
heard, yet still wondering why, became A.—somebody else—at Sheffield
c3ft 1 seM as many penknives as he desires abroad, he B.—in Pall
Mall—should be suddenly called on to pay nineteen and sixpence a
pound for chocolate for the purpose of giving C—somebody else in
Parts— one for% himself." Meditatively.) Yes,—yes. No doubt
it s quite sound in principle—quite sound ; and, as you very aptly
put it, paying them back in their own coin,"—impost for impost,

—is the proper remedy. (Unconsciously tasting his Claret, and
starting as if stung). Hulloah ! What's this f

First Patriotic Political Economist {tossing off half a glass, and
bounding from his chair pale and choking, with a furious effort).
Waiter ! Waiter !! What have you brought us here ? What stuff
is this ?

Waiter. That, Sir, is—the Club Claret, Sir !

Both Patriotic Political Economists (together, in amazement). The
Club Claret!

Waiter. Yes, Sir. It's a British Mile-End Vintage Company's
wine, made of grapes growed at Camberwell—so I've 'eared, Sir.
But there's a good many gents on the Committee as finds it drinks
rather corked.

Both Patriotic Political Economists (together). Corked! Why!
it's poison!

\_They reel against the mantelpiece, and finally being brought to
by the Steward, order a bottle of genuine " Tin Ordinaire,"
at 32s. 6d., and finish the evening advocating " spirited reci-
procity" in tears as the Curtain falls.

foe a eesedent landeoed.

But, after being fired at once or twice,
The ear becomes more Irish and less nice.

Don Juan, Canto 4. xli.