Punch (13.1847)

162 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

GENTLEMEN'S DOG-CARTS.

We are anxious to know what are those gentlemen's dog-carts we
see continually advertised. "VVe had understood that the legislature
had rescued that sagacious friend of man—our friend, and everybody's
friend—the dog, from the harness that once encumbered him. We
cannot conceive that the law which hurls the costcrmonger from his
dog-carty throne has still left the gentleman to the enjoyment of such
an elevation. We do not believe in these gentlemen's dog-carts, for we
have never seen one of them being tooled through the streets of the

THE PALACE COURT.

Tins dirty little Temple of Themis appears to have miraculously
escaped the wholesome scavenging that has recently been extended to
most of the other holes and corners into which the law had poked
itself. The out-of-the-way situation of the Palace Court in Scotland
Yard may have sheltered the nuisance from general observation, and it
was perhaps considered, that, being under the very nose of our old
friend Commissioner Mayne, the police must have their eye upon it.
The proceedings generally form a diverting puzzle to the suitors, for ic
is difficult to say which is the judge, and whether the gentlemanly man
on the Bench, or the fat boisterous individual on the seat below, is the
principal personage.

The excessive cosiness of the whole concern must, however, soon be
disturbed ; for in these days one cannot tolerate the absurdity of
exempting one dirty little Court from reform for the sake of a privileged
quartette of barristers, and a couple of leash of Clifford's Inn attorneys.
All the old expensive machinery for nuning any suitor in six suits—or
sometimes in less—is positively kept in operation at the Palace Court,
for the benefit of the Scotland Yard practitioners. Considering the
outcry there is for sanitary reform, we wonder nobody has demanded
the clearing away of this unwholesome remnant of legal impurity. If
no one else clears it away, Punch will certainly try what can be done by
his exterminating baton.

Bank of Elegance.

It is, we believe, contemplated by this establishment to publish
weekly returns, in imitation of the parent concern in Threadneedle
Street. The statement will comprise an account of all the paper in
circulation (including curl paper), together with the deposits of old
wigs, hair-pins, and other securities. This arrangement will enable the
public to judge of the resources of the Bank of Elegance, and the
whole of the Bank Stock—of bear's-grease, nail-brushes, &c, &c.—
will be quoted at its real value. The Bank of Elegance has been
cutting its customers lately so very short, and shaving them so close,
that every one is crying out against the illiberality of its treatment,
metropolis. We are sure if there was a bond fide demand for these The publication of the accounts will let people into the secrets of the
vehicles, we should see them among the numerous turn-outs that throng ^fnk parlour, but this inconvenience will be compensated by other
our parks and principal thoroughfares. Such an equipage would be so | advantages,
decidedlv infra dog, that we do not believe our aristocratic whips can
possibly have adopted it.

THE RAILWAY SIGNAL MANIA.

Ouit national ingenuity, which is so very useful on ordinary, and some-
times extraordinary occasions, does now and then become a bore of the
most disagreeable character. The necessity for signals to communicate
between the passengers and the guard on a railway is clear enough ;
but who can tolerate the number of ridiculous suggestions that the want
has elicited? Every gentleman or lady who has got a dip of ink, a
sheet of note paper, and a postage stamp, writes off to the papers to
announce his or her discovery of a Railway Signal.

We have all sorts of propositions:—1st, Eor pulling the guard off
his perch by a rope tied round his wrist. 2ndly, By dragging the stoker
out of the tender with a strong wire. 3rdly, Having a trap-door at the
top of every carriage for the passenger to look up, and the guard to
look down, or for the heads of both to come into collision; but_ the
latest of all is a speaking-trumpet to run throughout the whole train of
carriages, with a tube terminating in the ear of every passenger. We
can imagine any one getting by accident next to one end of a tube
which might have by chance Lord Brougham at the other. We pity
the drum of the ear of the guard who should be exposed to bis
Lordship's tremendous small-talk through a speaking-trumpet.

SONG OF THE RAILWAY SPECULATOR.

By the sad sea waves I wander, while I moan

A lament o'er hopes of splendid riches gone.

In the world I stood fair, I had once not a care,

Por of cash I had enough, and—unlucky! some to spare :

Now I hide me from duns by the sad sea waves.

Come again, bright days of hope and premiums past,

Come again, bright days, come again, come again.

From my cares, last night, by tardy sleep beguiled,

In my dreams I thought the City on me smiled ;

F'or my Shares were gone up, every broker that I knew

Winked a golden welcome back, spoke in accents bland and mild;

But I wake in my bed, by Boulogne's sad waves.—

Come again, dear dream, so pleasantly that smiled,

Come again, dear dream, come again, come again.

RATHER SHABBY.

" Live and let live " has always been one of our favourite mottoes.
W e are among those who think that those who pav badly get served
badly, but get served very rightly nevertheless. We are somewhat
indignant, therefore, at what we consider very shabby treatment, prac-
tised towards the artists by the Fine Arts Commissioners, who have got
together an exhibition of pictures by promising prizes—which, by-tlie-
bye, were not distributed half as generously as the competitors were
led to believe they would be—and the money gained by the exhibition
is expended in decorating the Houses of Parliament. Surely the artists
are fairly entitled to a share in the profits of their own work. It is very
like obtaining pictures on false pretences, if the scheme is put forth
under the plea of affording Parliamentary patronage to British Art, and
the only patronage afforded is the opportunity of giving one's labour
for the benefit of the nation, which, we are sure, would spurn the paltry
economy practised on its behalf by the Fine Arts Commissioners.

The position is really one so painful to our ideas of personal comfort
that wc cannot think of it with that serenity for which we are con-
spicuous. In the name of humanity, let the inventors desist from
devising any more Railway Signals, if it is in instruments of torture such
as these that their labours are to terminate.