Punch (95.1888)

114 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [September 8, 1888.

"WHAT OUR ARTIST (THE INTENSELY PATRIOTIC ONE) HAS TO PUT UP "WITH!

Just as he is pointing out to Monsieur Anatole Duclos, the Parisian Journalist, how infinitely the. English type of female beauty {especially
amongst our Aristocracy) transcends that of France, or any other Nation,—who should come up from tlie beach but Lady Lueretia Longslaff,
and her five unmarried daughters 1

:-And as for those idiotic old French Caricatures of Lbs Anolaises, with long- gaunt Paces, and long protruding Teeth,

and long flat feet—why, good heavens ! my dear duclos, the type doesn't even exist!"

THE CUT DIRECT; OR, OTHER EISH TO ERY.

On yes, I'm aware I seemed sweet on you once,
But 'twas only a penchant, a passing- caprice.

Lose the world "AD. for Love " ? Nay, I'm not such a dunce,
And—at least for a time—my attentions must cease.

You 're " quite English, you know," my dear. Need I explain

Why that sort of thing won't do at present ? Ask Blaine !

True, I did introduce you a few months ago
To Columbia.* Politeness, my dear, half pretence!

I found—didn't you ?—it was really no go.
And although at that time I could " sit on the fence,"

That rail it's no longer quite safe so to ride ;

I must seem to get down, dear,—and not on your side.

Tut! tut! Broken vows, and all that sort of thing ?

That's a most extreme view, now, to take of "the case.
I just took you under my fatherly wing,

Made you known, and, I think, with a good deal of grace.
But hound to you ? Nay, my dear child, that's ahsurd.
If you talk ahout honds, I am off like a bird.)

Miss Protection may not he so pretty, or young-,

I do not pretend on her person to dote ;

a a claims> weil> I won't say my heart, hut my tongue,
w ? ^ want to 'w^a< not ner l°ve> Dut her vote.
JNeeds must when—Democracy drives, don't you know,
And one can't quite afford to be careless of dot.,

Come, come! don't he angry! A fellow, I'm sure,

May philander a little with no bad intent.
Tou know what's at stake, what I want to secure;

Our friendship was real, as far as it went;
That friendship one day we perhaps may renew,
But do stand aside for the present, now do .'

* See Cartoon, " Quite English, you know," December 17, 18S7.

Your little friend Canada ? "Well, I dare say
She's a tiny bit tiffed; thinks we've treated her ill.

All that will come right, I've no doubt, dear, some day;
But indeed at this moment I don't want a spill,

And if I smile on her just now I '11 go down.

So, for politic reasons I put on a frown.

Hush! The other one's eye is upon us. Eh, what ?

Claim acquaintance ? Intrusive, I reaUy must say !
Give my arm, at this moment too ? Certainly not!

Don't know you, don't know you!—at least, not to-day.
Be off, and don't worry me! {Aside.) There now, don't cry ;
Can't you see that I've quite other fish now to fry ?

" CAVE CANEM!"

It is stated that two dogs belonging to a Deputy named Laguerre,
"the henchman of General Boulanger," havebeen taught to howl
whenever M. Ferry's name is mentioned. It is really a pity thus
to waste time, and demoralise such decent animals as dogs.
M. Laguerre would find it simpler to retain certain of the two-
legged curs of Creed and puppies of Party, who may be safely
trusted, and that without being taught, to yelp hideously whenever
a particular Statesman's name is uttered in their hearing. Could
any honest dog " drop into poetry," he would, doubtless, deliver
Dr. "Watts's familiar lyric in some such inverted fashion as follows :—
" Let scribes delight to snap and bite,

For 'tis their nature to;
Let petty scribblers spit their spite,

For Party makes them so.

" But, doggies, you should never let
Your purchased yelpings rise ;

Tour honest mouths were never meant
To howl out Party cries!"

"A Bare Old Plant."—There is much talk in Vienna of a
so-called "Weather Plant," which is said to possess the property of
prognosticating all atmospheric changes three days in advance.
Well, the Abrus peregrinus, or "Paternoster Pea," may possess all
the powers claimed for it. But, Mr. Punch's opinion is, that the real
" Weather-plant" this year at least—is the Weather itself!