Punch (9.1845)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 3

THE ASCOT GUP DAY.

"Why are yon on the crossing, James? Is your father Hill?"
" No. He's drove mother down to Hascot. "

STIGGINS IN NEW ZEALAND.

In the galleries of the Jesuit College of Rome hang a series of portraits,
villanously painted for the most part, of defunct brothers of that Society.
Round the foreheads of every tenth man or so, you see painted a little
circle of vermilion—not by way of ornament, for it is an ugly head-dress,
but to signify that the person so decorated has met with death, in the
pursuit of his missionary labours among the Heathen.

At the Propaganda, where they teach, preach, and sing, in every lan-
guage in the world, young men are pointed out to you, who in addition to
the black dress, have a little red cord, which means that they are doomed
to death. They go to China, take the native habit and dress, preach there
until discovered, and die as hundreds of their brethren have done before
them. These are the men whose abominable artifices and superstitions
are constantly attacked in Exeter Hall.

This line of martyrdom is by no means the line of our missionary
Fathers—Fathers, indeed, and with large families too ; but though they
labour more comfortably, they perform many wondrous things.

We suggest, that against next May meeting (there will be plenty of
time) Mr. Dandeson Coates, the Secretary of the British Propaganda,
should get up a picture-gallery for the edification of the good souls who
come up to subscribe to the missions, and pay and console our martyrs
before they go forth to their work.

In New Zealand, for instance, let us have pictures of their sufferings,

persecutions, and the miracles they have performed_yes, miracles.

There was Father Kendal: Mr. Buller tells us, in his speech, that he
purchased forty square miles of land with, thirty-six axes. Was not this
working wonders ? This martyr should be painted with an axe in the
corner of the picture, as Bartholomew is with a gridiron, or Catharine
with a wheel.

Father Williams, that Converter of the Heathen, should have a fine
canvass dedicated to himself and his large family. " He got 11,000 acres
of land out of the natives," Mr. Buller says—and Dandeson Coates
declares this is what every family missionary ought to do.

Father Taylor got 50,000 acres. Fairburn got 40,000 (Dandeson
says they are going to give it back again—a subject for another picture).
Another little army of twenty-three martyrs put in their claim for
186,000^ acres. ^ Let all their portraits be painted, and hung up in
Lincoln's Inn Fields for the encouragement of other missionaries, and to
induce the public to give more money to poor fellows who can't cultivate
their land without capital.

These proud achievements belong to the Church alone. The Roman
Catholics in New Zealand have not asked or taken an acre. There is
only one little job among the Wesleyans ; and what was the consequence ?
The man who executed it was disowned, and immediately excluded from
that unworthy and sectarian body. Let us trust he has found refuge in
Dandeson's pale.

Mr. Jerningham Wakefield tells us in his book, that the admirable
Fathers (bless them for their benevolence and Christian good-will!) have
taught the natives not to put their trust in any man of the world, or to
bargain with the European traders who might cheat them, as the Fathers
never do ; and they call all the non-missionary colonists Devils. Devils
of course—and what is the duty of their reverences ? Why, to cast out
the devils to be sure, and to keep the natives from all danger.

THE FLEET STREET RACES.

A very animated race took place last Tuesday at this celebrated meet-
ing. The City Tollman and the Butcher-boy started precisely at three
from the corner of Chancery Lane, and went off in beautiful style, the
Butcher-boy taking the lead, though he carried many pounds extra-weight,
and maintaining it as far as St. Dunstan's Church. Opposite Serjeant's
Inn, he was full two wheels a-head of the City Tollman, but when they
neared Bouverie Street, the City Tollman picked up a bit, owing to the
badness of the ground, and was gaining rapidly upon the Butcher-boy,
when the latter, by dexterously applying the whip, shot by his adversary,
and completely distanced him. He would certainly have won the race,
in glorious style, if a Patent Safety driver, who was quietly exercising
his horse up and down the middle of the course, had not cut in
before him, and nearly thrown him from his seat. As it was, the Butcher-
boy protested against the City Tollman pocketing the stakes. The winnei
was not claimed. We feel bound to state, before concluding our report of
this well-contested race, that the police regulations all along the line were
shamefully deficient, and that the grand stand was occupied as usual by
the same number of unhired cabs.

GREAT MEETING OF CATS !

ot many nights ago, a large and very respectable
meeting of cats was held on the tiles of the House
of Commons, for the purpose of petitioning the
members beneath them, for an act of protection
similar to that one in the House for the safety of
dogs. Mr. Finewhisker was unanimously called
to the chimney-pot; and proceeded to open the
business of the night. The idea of the meeting
was wholly due to Mr. Hume, who had asked with
a sneer why, if dogs were to be protected, cats should
not be also made property by law ? He (the Chairman) would also put that
question, though not in the spirit of the hon. member, in whose teeth he
indignantly flung back the sneer. {Loud mewing.) The fact was, they
would never be safe, until they were made game of. He asked, why
should not cats be placed on an equal footing with hares ? (Reiterated
mewing.) He saw very little difference between 'em. In fact, they
had been known on a pinch to do the duty of hares, and why should
they not be equally protected ? He thought that Mr. Grantley Berke-
ley—for that true-hearted sportsman would make game of anything—
should be entrusted with their petition.

Mrs. Creamlap next addressed the meeting—but in so low a voice
that she was sometimes almost inaudible. However, we understood her
to say, that the wrongs of cats were past belief. No creature suffered
more from the tyranny of political economists. Even housemaids were
bitten with the notion of superabundant population, and drowned kittens
by fives and sixes. She herself had only a fortnight since lost four little
ones —all of 'em soused in a pail. (Sensation.) She had, perhaps, no
more right to complain than any other cat, but she begged to know—
and perhaps Sir James Graham would answer the question—why the
same principle wasn't carried out with babies at the Unions?

Mr. Mouser said it was an undeniable fact that certain Jews—(Cries of
" order ")—he begged pardon—gentlemen of the Hebrew persuasion abso-
lutely traded in the skins of cats. They were flayed—it had been proved—
alive to meet a demand for caps. No one present was certain that he
should return home with his fur on his back ! He asked, was this a state of
things to be continued? (Cries of(l No V) It had been said that cats were
of no value. He would not trespass on the meeting by any allusion to
the cat of Whittington—neither would he speak of the famous Tortoise-
shell Tom-cat, whose memory was embalmed in comic song ; but he
would ask, if greyhounds were to be guarded by the law—he would ask
why mousers should be unprotected ? (Loud mewing.)

Certain resolutions were then passed, and a petition drawn up ; and in
was further agreed that Mr. Grantley Berkeley should be solicited to
advocate feline interests. The Chairman, in returning thanks, produced »
great effect by a beautiful quotation, beginning—

" Hereditary tabbies, know ye not—"

We regret that the rest escaped us.