PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 75

PUNCH IN THE EAST.

unch ba3 been arraigned in Upper Scinde
by Lieutenant-Colonel Shaw tbere
commanding, before the 1st Bulotsh
native battalion. We take the report from
the Telegraph and Courier, Bombay paper.

The Colonel presents new colours to the
Bnlotshistan force. Having descanted on
the "floral insignia" of the colours—
(what were the field-of-battle flowers;
heart's-ease or sword-lily ?)—he snubs
the utilitarian, who would no doubt go
to battle with "any colours that would
wash. "I readily grant," says the Colonel,
" that a pikestaff and less expensive dra-
pery would serve the purpose equally
well." No doubt: but that is no reason
that a pocket-handkerchief, printed with
the various heroism of Jack the Giant-
killer, should take the place of floral
insignia, sown with needles in a field of
silk. Carry out this miserable, cold economy, and the silver trumpets
and drums of the Household troops might be sent to the crucible,
and their places filled by tin horns. We are all interested in
making the scenery and decorations of glory as fine as possible.
The more show, the greater opposition of colour, the better. In
fact', we yet hope to see the day—especially when we reflect upon
the unceasing labours of His Hoyal Highness Prince Albert for
l he advancement of the Army—when there will be raised a regiment,
to be called " The Queen's Light Harlequins." The uniform would
be a great improvement on the present military " shell," because
with Harlequin there is no saying where the pantaloons begin, and
the jacket ends. However, this by the way. We are keeping Lieu-
tenant-Colonel Shaw waiting; and—we are sure of it from his
address to the Bulotsh battalion—the Colonel is worthy of all courtesy
as a gentleman and a soldier. We feel a pleasant flatter of embarrass-
ment as we proceed to republish the Colonel's words : but we are too
patriotic to let our own besetting modesty interfere with the perform-
ance of a public duty. " One," says the Colonel—

"One whose wit is, to this moment, as brilliant as ever, after having ransacked
all things, and used them up ; he who is the chief choice spirit of the day, the
magician who enchants every class from the noble to the peasant, and charms every
age from the urcbin to the aged man ; he who, amid all his rich revelry in fun. seems
to bear throughout it a charmed existence in the lofty tone of a morality wnich never
falter-, but is always sound ; i say this dread potentate has arraigned these cere-
monials of presentation at the bar of the age ; and has cast upon them the deso-
lating lava of his ridicule. But, how! by what keen sleight of sorcery has the
mighty wizard achieved his spell ? i will tell you ; he has conjured up the assump-
tion that soldiership and brigandism are mere synonymes; and, with this for his suffi-
ciently spacious basis, he fails to see upon what score of propriety lovely woman
should grace us with her august presence, and deign urith her snow-white hands to
commit the banDer of war to the brave spirits who defend her in peace and purity ! "

No, Colonel, no. Let Punch explain. He make true soldiership and
brigandism " synonymous ! " Never. May his grey goose-quill turn the
whitest and most recreant feather, could he defile foolscap with such a
thought! Punch takes off his hat, and bows—reverently bows—to the
heroism, the endurance of human nature, tested in the terrible crucible
of war. Punch honours the valour of the soldier ; but Punch hopes for
the day when all men of all nations will denounce Mars as a curse, and
not cocker up the bully, dress him, fondle him, and call him all sorts of
pretty sugared names, to make the Ogre of the world pass for its
beneficent guardian spirit. Punch will continually use his ink where-
with to water the olive; but whilst he does this, he will give all honour
to the men who, in the field of carnage, gather the blood-stained laurel.

As for the " snow-white hands " of woman; bless them, if they must
minister to glory, their best employment is to pick lint for the wounded,
and not to pat "the dogs of war" to slaughter. If women are to
present colours, and say pretty things of blood and rapine, talking of
laurels, instead of good housewife sage and onions—why should they
not serve at once ? Why not raise a few battalions of Amazons ?
Why not have a regiment of " Connaught Doves," or " Coldstream
Ducks?"

The editor of the Telegraph says, Colonel Shaw's " allusion to the
satirical comments of Punch upon the presentation of colours, cannot
fail to be appreciated." Very true. Punch appreciates them ; and—we
are sure the Colonel will confess as much—has duly chronicled them.

Instinct in Grouse.

Accounts from the Moors mention a curious phenomenon which has
this year been observed among the grouse. The birds are seen every-
where continually clapping their wings. It has been suggested that
they have been attacked with a disease of the nature of St. Vitus's
Dance; but the more probable opinion is, that by the singular movement
they are expressing their joy at the unusual lateness of the Session.

" WHERE SHALL WE GO EOR THE SUMMER ? "
3 BamtSHt (Sclogtte.

Mamma {loquitur).

The Opera Subscription is over,

To our balls we can scarce find a comer,
'Tis time we were winging towards Dover—

But where shall we start for the summer?
To Paris what lady can go ?

Not one of my girls, if I know, shall;
Democracy's shockingly low,

And Socialism is so unsocial.

Though the Magazin Susse in its place is,

With its nouveautes dazzling the eye,
And Victoire's loves of bonnets and laces,

Which papas, though they grumble, must buy;
Who'd shop, in one's bargains to go

Snacks with scores, p'rhaps, of Communist holders?
And what is the use of chapeaux,

When one's head isn't safe on one's shoulders ?

Then at Baden and Nassau the nation

In the mouth of the cannon is runnin',
For the bubble men call Reputation,

Not the bubble from out their own Brunnen,
Till e'en croupiers, to chorus " La Gloire,"

Leave the waltzes of Strauss and of Lanner,
And add gold to their old rouge et noir,

To make up the national banner.

There's Vienna emeutes every day,

Till the students find out what their want is ;
And Bavaria is in a sad way

With the ex-kmg and Miss Lola Montes;
And, lest Louis should king it again,

For its liberties Munich afraid is,
What with those that he takes from the men.

And those that he takes icith the ladies.

To the Nile one might dash off full tilt,

Tho' nought of its Hist'ry or Art one knows ;
It's come out like a lion re-gilt,

Since that clever book of Miss Martineau's.
But alas ! there's no hope to awaken

One's romance apropos of King Pharaoh,
For Cholera the best rooms has taken

In every hotel of Grand Cairo !

There's Pome ! It's quite shocking to think

That dear Pope, all ' pro publico bono"
If invited to eat or to drink

By his clergy, is forced to say " No, wo."
While at Naples, who knows who's in power—

The King or the King's lazzaroni ?
The ferment, they say, has turned sour

E'en the paste of their own maccaroni.

Should one turn one's self somewhere near home—

For example, by tender Killarney—
Thro' that greenest of green isles to roam,

Where they've faith in Confederate blarney;
As you stroll along Dingle's sweet glade,

Or by the broad waters of Shannon,
P'rhaps you're pinked by a Celtic pike-blade,

Or picked off by a Sassenach cannon.

Bills are bad ; barricades, though, are worse,

And tho' Cheltenham may fleece, it don't frighten ;
It's a comfort to think that one's purse

Is the one thing that bleeds, down at Brighton;
Besides, England's really pretty,

And we are no gadders, as some are,
So I think, though I own it's a pity, _

We'll stay quiet at home, dears, this summer.

The Weakness of Rebels.

Notwithstanding all the pikes and muskets which have been dis-
covered in Ireland, the tremendous failure of the rebellion in that
country was owing to a deficiency in weapons. "Thrice is he armed
that hath his quarrel just; " and in this triple armoury were the Irish
insurgents wanting. They committed the char cteristic blunder of
attempting to use their pikes without a handle.