Punch: Punch (11.1846)

I 7i___ PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A PLEASANT STATE OF THINGS.

Piscator, (at the top of his voice). " Hi—Tom, bring the Landing-net ; he's pulled me in, and got bound a Post."

THE HANGMAN'S WIFE.

To the enthusiastic, the hopeful advocates and lovers of human pro-

iag the many wrongs which her hushand, in his time (before work with
him was so very slack) had to set right,—reflecting upon the ines-
timable v,alue of his moral influence, as once testified by the House of

gress, it is occasionally very disheartening to learn the backsliding of Pnmm * tha -r T ^ j ' as unL« i«,iu"ju uyim nouse 01

fi___' , r. . J .;. , & ., .., . 5 . Commons, the Lords spiritual and temporal, and the King, with the

those who, from their position, ought to excite within us the liveliest

expectations of human perfectibility. We have just laid down the

Worcestershire Clironicle with a saddened, dumpish heart. The hang
man's wife—we learn from that print—has made a false step from the
line of moral rectitude, having strayed into Mr. C. Roberts's potato-
field. But we subjoin the brief history of this misfortune, most de-
pressing to those who look upon Jack Ketch as a practical censor
morum :—

crown upon his head, making Hanging Acts,—ought to be as full of
probity as an egg is full of honest meat. To step aside but an inch—
to trip but a finper's-breadth, is to commit a great social treason, a
fearful breach of faith with the country at large. The least peccadillo
on the part of such a woman, so favourably chained in marriage to
such a teacher, shakes the national faith in the moral influence of the
hangman. Mrs. Sarah Taylor is wife of Jack Ketch ; and there-
fore, as we should have thought, to be trusted in the garden of the
"Early on Sunday morning Policeman beay while on duty at the Heath, fell in ! Hesperides with the apple-guarding dragon asleep and snoring And

with Sarah Taylor, wife of ' Jack Ketch, and perceiving she was encumbered with . . , . j j- sfo -^o-g^ij D^ui^s- -n_uu

a basket and bundle, examined them, and found that one contained potatoes, and the j 10 ! sucn is our sad disappointment in our hopes of human goodness

other beans. As she gave evasive answers, he took her into custody, when she confessed : taught by good example when Mrs. Jack ketch_stOODinff as low as

she had rooted them from a field belonging to Mr. C. Roberts, and that three others | _-._.„„ „„_ . .. . , ' tr B

had been with her." woman can stoop—steals potatoes !

It is not often that we feel disposed to despair of human improve-
ment : but we look upon the condition of Sarah Taylor as hopeless.
We very naturally, very justly require of those fortunate individuals
who in their childhood have received the benefits of careful moral
training, conduct more exemplary, more useful to society and honour-
able to themselves than we can conscientiously demand of the poor
human waifs and strays of this unequal world. In the like manner,
we think we have a right to expect from the spouse of the hangman
conduct more guarded, habits much more respectable, than from other
women less happily wedded. We should say of Mrs. Jack Ketch as

DEATH TO THE DOCTORS.

" Mr. Punch,

"Let me call your attention to the following paragraph,
which appeared the other day in the Daily News :—

"' The Fruit Season.—There has seldom been knowna greater scarcity of fruit than
in the present year, and what there is, generally speaking, is of inferior quality. It hai
been one of the worst cherry seasons ever known, and peaches and plums are far from

abundant.'

I can vouch, Sir, for the truth of the above melancholy statement
of Mrs. Cesar : " She must not be suspected." And for this reason— j My practjce t^s vear has not been one half its annual average at the

the .partner of her heart, and bed and board, being the public teacher
of great moral lessons—the solemn schoolmaster of the halter—she
ought, by the extreme punctiliousness of her conduct, to show to the
world the elevating benefits of a close companionship with such a
national moralist.

" You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still,"

sings Mr. Moore, and after him ten million young ladies. In the like
manner, no evil fortune, no one kind of ruin in its many varieties,
should fall upon the wife of Jack Ketch, to the destruction, the entire
passing away of that moral scent of roses with which the hangman, as
her partner, and, insensibly, her daily teacher, must have endowed her,

present season, owing to a want of the usual number of young patients,
who become indisposed from indulging in fruit. Sir, the profession is
in a sad state ; we shall be ruined, unless an improved system of
horticulture secures us a regular fruit-season. If it does not, surely
some protection should be afforded to British Medicine.

" Yours respectfully,

" Flat Haustus."

VBRY ALARMING ;

Lord Brougham said, in the House of Lords, " To do or say any-

Tbe hangman should be typified as the husband of the blind woman, j thing to spread alarm is very prejudicial" Lord Bbougham has
^—Justice. What are we to say, then, of his marital influence, when his j spread universal alarm, having hinted that he is about to publish his
spouse whips the bandage from her eyes, that she may all the better j decisions when he was Lord Chancellor. Ergo—but we leave it to his
root up a Mr. C. Roberts's potatoes ? The hangman's wife, ponder- Lordship to draw his own inference.