Punch (8.1845)

70

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A TRUE STORY.

Britannia was in a very bad way, and was getting lower and lower
under the treatment of her doctors, when a new one offered to try his !
hand. The doctor was known to be a bit of a quack, but when every!
other advice has failed, one is not quite so particular about the character
of the physician, and out of mere desperation on the part of the patient's j
friends, a notorious quack may be called in just to try what he can do.
The doctor accordingly came, and mixed a very strong dose of very ■
nauseous ingredients, including several grains of Inquisitorial Essence j
and a very few scruples of Delicacy, which were rolled into a very large
pill and labelled Income Tax. The medicine set the patient up for a
time, and gave the appearance of increased strength, but it never seemed
to agree with the Constitution. It undoubtedly cured the disease for
which it was administered, but left several very bitter complaints in place
of the original malady. Notwithstanding the weakness of the patient, the
quack is so unwilling to abandon his favourite nostrum, that he has
recently been heard to say to poor Britannia—

I

com3, ONLY THREE more !

CHURCH THIEVES.

Thieves are, now-a-days, such prosaic rascals, that their doings
have ceased to interest us. Perhaps it is that the graces of modern
fiction have so elevated and set-off the burglar and the highwayman,
that we are disappointed with the blank vulgarity of the real thing.
It is like seeing a Coburg Richard, reduced to a Tweed-wrapper and
a cotton umbrella, picking his way along the New Cut. We were,
therefore, somewhat tickled by an epistle, sent, on the 22nd ult., by
some sacrilegious knave, to the Rev. Mr. Dee, of St. Thomas's,
Southwark. Some months back, the church was robbed of its com-
munion-plate. One of the thieves, however, treats for its restora-
tion. We extract from his homely epistle :—

" Reverd Sir,—The reward as is offred is not enuff for the plate removed from the j
church as the expenses as been very heavy and the anxiely if you are disposd to make :
it fifty pounds to be divided amonst us it may be restord as this is the_first time have luid
to do with a church."

Now, of the " expense " of breaking into a church we have not the
remotest idea. We presume, however, that it must be a costly
operation. We particularly admire the word " removed :" there is
a fine delicacy in the phrase that is quite diplomatic. It is quite a
touch for a prime minister or an ambassador, and here we find it
pressed into the service of a half-repentant gallows-bird. "Removed"
is a good phrase. It was thus Napoleon "removed" pictures from
churches ; it was thus he "removed" the Horses of St. Mark to the
gate of the Tuilenes. The thief of St. Thomas's, however, betrays
■ymptoms of pusillanimity that never disgraced the imperial robber, j
0?'rknave hints of "the anxietv" that has followed the transaction.!

It is clear there is a tender place in his conscience, as he plainly
enough states that " it is the first time " he has had " to do with a
church." Ha, this is it ! He is but " young in crime." Had he
only " removed " as many valuables from churches as certain French
Marshals, he would have shared with them their heroic freedom from
all " anxiety " about the matter. To be sure the world, in its lament-
able ignorance, entertains a different notion of the robber and the
hero. To be able to lay hands upon church valuables by means of
crow-bar, pick-axe, and lanthern, is sacrilegious infamy,—to take
down pictures and carry off church-plate with beating drums and
flying colours,—that is a part and parcel of glory ; oi?e of the lawful
sweets of soldiering. One act is rewarded with a rope, the other
with a garland.

ODE ON THE OPENING OF THE SESSION.

to sir james graham.

colleague of Peel, benignant Graham,
Thou soother of the Pauper's breast,

Whose Workhouse fare and garb of shame
Await the helpless and distress't,—

Within thy tender, feeling heart,

What projects lie ?—what game, what part

In the ensuing Session, say,
Art thou, Sir James, prepared before high Heaven to play ?

Mean'st thou to mitigate the Law

Whose fangs the Poor of England rue ?
Or tighter yet its clauses draw,

And closer drive the legal screw 1
The Law of Parish Settlement
To settle, is it thy intent ?
Or houseless lab'rers to resign
To those who thrust them off, and cry, " No child of mine!"

What scheme lias thy sagacious head

Of Medical Reform in store ?
From Science wilt thou take her bread,

And unto Quackery ope the door ?
Have Galen's sons offended thee I
Or lov'st thou Quacks from sympathy?
Ah ! hold, Sir James, thy ruthless hand,
Nor meddle with affairs tfeca dost not understand.

What gracious act, what worthy deed,
Shall gild thine honour'd name anew ?

Wilt thou break seals, and letters read
Again, as some one used to do ?

What wretch, to crime by suff'ring chased,

Shall of thy tender mercies taste ?

Upon what Mary Furley's head
Wilt thou again the balm of mild compassion shed f

Well, Time will show ; 'twere idly done

Into thy bosom-thoughts to pry ;
Their envelope, at least, is one

That bids defiance to the Spy.
Even to a microscopic sight,
Oh ! may thy measures, brought to light,
Display, upon attentivs scan,
One human touch—one spark of charity to Man.

Awful Rise in Muffins.

Our Birmingham correspondent writes to us in great agitation to inform
us that muffins have reached a most unhealthy height in that eity. A
gentleman at the Hotel, at the Railway terminus, having partaken
of half a muffin that had been left on a plate, was charged one shilling ; so
that Birmingham muffins must be quoted at the very feverish price of two
shillings each, or twelve shillings for a London sixpenny-worth. This
unwholesome state of the muffin market is the more surprising, inasmuch as
upon inquiring at some of the shops in the town, the muffin trade did n-jt
seem to be in an unusual state of buoyancy.

AN OLD INVALID.
Westminster Bridge is still very unwell. It looks really as if it were
going to break up. Its celebrated Echo, too, is very faint, and scarcely has
sufficient strength left to answer when spoken to. Members of Parlia-
ment have been requested not to pass over the bridge with any bill or
Parliamentary report, for fear of the weight shaking its constitution too
much. The two melancholy piers, who are lodged and boarded under
the arches of the bridge, still burn a red rushlight every night.