Punch: Punch (89.1885)

December 5, 1885.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

275

ELECTION INTELLIGENCE.

ttrtng yesterday forenoon in Buckingham
Palace, specially lent by Her Majesty
for the purpose, Toby, late M.P., was
nominated as Candidate for the repre-
sentation of the County of Barks. He
was proposed by John Bull, Esq., of
Great Britain, India, Australasia,
Canada, and the Isle of Man. The
nomination was seconded by Mr. Punch,
of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America.
The Lord Chancellor, who presided,
asked whether there was any other
Candidate. Mr. Punch (sotto voce) .•
"I should think not." Usher:
(so-called because he is always making
_ a noise) "Silence!" There being no
W further remark, Toby, once more M.P.,
IS was declared duly elected. An immense
g crowd had assembled round Bucking-
" ham Palace, and the new Member, his
Proposer and Seconder, were received with loud and continued cheering.

Toby, M.P., the newly elected Member for Barks, was born in the spring of
1841, of poor but honest parents. He was not the only member of the family,
which was, indeed, inconveniently large. It would be idle to deny the fact that
at this time the subject of our memoir suffered much privation, though it was a
life of luxury compared with an epoch shortly to follow. One day his father told
him that he must "look after himself." Toby, always obedient, immediately
began to do so. He turned round and round in the effort till he was almost dizzy,
and then he had caught only a fleeting glimpse of the end of his tail. On stop-
ping through pure exhaustion he found his father had fled.

He was alone in the world 1

What was more, he was hungry. If there was anywhere a dog with sixpence in
his pocket determined some day to manage a theatre, that dog was not Toby.
He thought first of breaking a window, and so getting sent to prison. He stood
before a butcher's shop, and thought he would steal. But he was too honest.
Besides, the meat was hanging far above his reach. As he stood marvelling what
he should do or whither he should go, he observed a portly Gentleman walking
down the street with a stick and a benevolent smile. The wild thought
entered Toby's head that he would bite him. The stranger's legs were a little
slim in comparison with his figure. " But," as Toby cheerfully said to himself,
" beggars mustn't be choosers." The mere thought of getting something
between his teeth made his mouth water.

The stranger came along humming a tune, beaming with good-nature, and
swinging his stick. Toby hesitated a moment. What had the stranger done to
him? There might be for him at home a fond wife awaiting his presence, a
cluster of happy children to lisp his name. Why should Toby send him into
their presence with a mangled calf ?

"Sentiment be blowed!"said Toby to himself. "I must bite something

—so here goes."

He made a dash forward, and what he did bite was—the dust.

" Ha! ha! would you ? " cried the Benevolent Gentleman, his smile suddenly
changing into a stern frown whilst he brought the stiok down on Toby's sconce.

Toby was at this time a mere child, a circumstance difficult to realise by those
now accustomed to listen to the words of wit and wisdom which fall from his lips.
He lay yelping on the ground. Gradually the stern look faded from the face of
the Benevolent Gentleman, and there beamed onee more the smile.

" Poor dog! " he said—" methinks I have wounded thee. Accompany me to
my home, and no more of your larks."

Toby limped along at the heels of the stranger, who led
him home, induoted him to the kitchen, and placed food
before him. Toby, M.P., has been heard to say in more
prosperous times, when dining with Marquises, Dukes,
and a' that, that he never forgets the flavour of that
sausage, nor the remorse which haunted him for weeks
afterwards at the thought that he had snapped it up in
two bites, when he might have lingered through six.

In 1841, lo! a strange thing happened. The Benevo-
lent Gentleman (who was none other than Mr. Punch)
started a weekly show, and invited Toby, not then M.P.,
to join him in the undertaking. Later on he said—

" Come, we will change our course of life. I will
sit in a chair with a pen in one hand, and the forefinger
of the other at my well-developed nose. You shall sit on
a pile of many volumes, with a frill round your neck, and a
feather in your hat, whilst the merry world goes round."
Toby accepted the offer, and there they sit to this day.
In 1881 Toby was elected M.P. for Barks, after a severe
struggle, in which he came out triumphantly, at the
head of the poll. As appears from the above announce-
ment, the Hon. Member has now been returned without
a contest.

Sir Ikljjjr %lkn festf,

SEBGEANT-AT-ARMS.

For nearly Fifty Years in the Service of the Souse of Commons.

Died November 27, 1885.

Gone, genial Gosset ? Death, who smites so blindly,
Ne'er struck a heart more courteous or more kindly;
Never stern Law more pleasant guise took on,

Than in the House's common friend, now flown
From friends and House alike, but still to live
In all that many memories may give
Of immortality. The frolic whim
Of Punch's pencil oft his friend would limn,
In humorous masquerade, that might not hide
The pleasant grace, the port of honest pride.

Farewell, good Gosset I In this pictured page
Shrined for the pleasure of the coming age
Live on! Great ones might covet the green bays
Sprung from St. Stephen's love and Punch's praise!

PROFESSORS OF POETRY.

Deab Pkofessob, Punch,

In writing concerning the Professorship of Poetry
at Oxford, the Daily News asks, " How should a Pro-
fessor of Poetry lecture ? " IIow ? Why, he shouldn't
lecture at all. He should sing. On a fine day, when it
happened to suit him, he should loll in a well-cushioned
punt, beneath some leaf-shaded spot on the Thames or the
Cherwell, with a silver tankard of something-and-iee, and
plenty of cigarettes handy. And then he should sing
whatever he might have to say, accompanying himself
on the banjo. Now, I would ash, can Mr. Fkancis
Turkkr Paigbave, M.A., of Exeter College, sing and
play the banjo f If not, why is he appointed Professor
of Poetry * to the University of Oxford. I only wish I
had been up in time, and then I would have had the ap-
pointment myself. I would have shown them how to
sin? and how to play.t Yours banjocosely,
The Lazeries. The Lazy Minsteei.

* The L.M. is a professor of poetry—but he never practises
what he professes.—Eb.

f He has done nothing tut play ever since we have known
him. When he comes for his screw he will sing—sing very
small, too.—Ed.

Nocturne in North. Lambeth.

(By an Indignant Radical.')

Ah, yes, we '11 remember this night of November,

The trick of Sir James Ciajbke Lawbence ;
Who swelled with vain glory, and—let in the Tory I

A treason to hold in abhorrence!

Our own plucky Walter the case strove to alter,

So let all true Rads in the nation,

With tongue and with pen, give ovation to When,
For North Lambeth requires (W)renovation!