Punch (96.1889)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[January 26, 1889.

DOG FASHIONS FOR 1889.

Dorgupine, Crocodachshund, Pomme-de-Terrier (Black-and-Tan), Ventre-a-Terrier (Scotch), Hippopotamian Bulldog,

German Sausage Dog Hedge-dog. {By Our Special Dog-fancier.)

SLOW—BUT NOT SURE.

“ As for Germany, she must also be content to march slowly and cautiously
in the colonial path, with all its side issues.”

Prince Bismarck in the Reichstag.

One might say, “0 Chancellor Otto, where you go mit yourself
alone ? ”

As was asked of Breithann’s Hugo by “ de maiden mit nodings on.”
And if Otto answered frankly—though our Otto will scarce qo so—
He would probably make admission that he doesn’t exactly know.
For it is not easy-going in Afric’s swampy brakes,

And doubt besets the tracker at every step he takes ;

For there are reedy mazes, and tangles of snaking roots,

And the foul swamp ooze is trying to the stoutest of leathern hoots.
Slow ? Cautious ? Yes, my Otto, and the heavy Teuton tramp
Suits better the field of battle than the slush of the dismal swamp.
The biggest of beetle-crushers most ponderously “ put down”—
Won’t serve in the dank morasses where Behemoth mi^ht drown.
Yet the game is worth the candle, or so you affect to think,

And though you may flop and flounder, you cannot afford to sink,
Like that foolish Ritter Hugo, who was so completely done
By the rascally Rhine “ meer-maid, vot hadn’t got nodings on.”

You are not a credulous Ritter, but a “ Bummer ” brave and hold,
And much more given to selling than open to being; sold,

With your motto “ Blood and Iron,” and your maxim “ Do ut des ; ”
But what is your game, my Otto, in perilous paths like these ?

The quarry “Colonial Empire”? Well, Otto, you know what’s
what;

And the Teuton has struck its trail, Otto, and you must follow its
slot,

Awhile, awhile, at any rate. Alone ? That is hardly known.

“ I ton’t dink mooch of beoplesh dat goes mit demselfs alone,”

Said that artful minx the Mermaid, and she “ had ” the Ritter fine,
And you ’re artful, my Teuton Titan, as any nymph of Rhine,

And John Bull is a handy neighbour, if he ’ll but go hand in hand
On the path you want to travel in this swart and swampy land,
Which his foot is much more used to than your own big-booted
feet;

Big game he’s used to tracking, and on freedom he is sweet.

’Tis a foolish fad, this latter, which you ’re far too ’cute to share,

But if he ’s prepared to pay for it, why, that is his own affair.

By a little seeming sympathy—for a time—he may be won.

It’s remarkably like the little game of “de maiden mit nodings on ” !

“ First creep, then go,” my Otto, is a maxim old and wise,

And you ’re very fond of maxims, big boor with the bulbous eyes ;

A “ grenadier on a window-pane ” is not your mark, that’s clear!
But the Richters and Bambergers, and other such small deer,

Must not appear to triumph. Of course ’tis not your plan
To attack “ the right of property (so ancient) of man in man.”

If John Bull likes to think so, or if Salisbury can persuade
His master to believe you, and to lend his useful aid
To a sort of sham Crusader in an awkward kind of mess,

With his head in a brake and his boots in a bog, it may help you to
success.

Meanwhile ’tis “fair and softly! ” Big game is the hunter’s lure.
Slow is your progress, Otto ; but is it quite so sure ?

John Bull looks on, my Otto, -with an air of some surprise ;

But is it sheer credulity that gleams in his keen grey eyes ?
Whatever Salisbury may say, or do, John makes shrewd guess
At the Teuton Tracker’s real game, and he reads the Reptile Press.
“You helpsh yourself, by doonder; ” said “ de maiden mit nodings
on; ” ‘ [down.”

“Dat fetched” the Ritter Hugo, and “she pooled his coat-tails
But John’s coat-tails are stoutish, and whoso hangs on thereto
Will find, I think, that to make him sink needs a heavier weight
than you! __

Coal Dues, of which we all desire the cessation.—City fog
and filth, which are certainly largely due to Coal!

To Blatant Boanerges.

Is the Kingdom advanced, 0 belligerent Booth,

By hysterical lasses and bellowing boys ?

Is the victory of Shindy the triumph of Truth,

And the Gospel of Peace an Evangel of Noise ?

’Tis the sweet “ Still small Voice ” that can purge, guide, reform,
And that came amidst silence, and not in the storm.