Punch (20.1851)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

107

THE MOUNTAIN AND THE MOUSE.

{Being a Lay of tlie Crisis.)

A MODEST IRISHMAN.

Mb. John O'Connell, in his final adieu
to the "Repealers of Ireland," says, to-
wards the concluding paragraph :—

" I anxiously desire quiet and total obscurity."

We beg to assure Mb.. John O'Connell
that he need have no anxiety whatever up-
on the subject. His desire is really of
such a humble nature, that it is one of
those things which are granted as soon as
asked for. Besides, the Hon. Member for
Limerick has strong claims for the reward
he demands for his public services, for
considering what he has done, we know
very few men so deserving as Mb. John
O'Connell of " total obscurity."

An Airy Nothing.

Somebody has proposed the enlargement
of the Metropolitan Police district, by
adding to it a new area. We always
thought there were already enough areas
open to the police, and that it would be
desirable that the force should have the
areas generally closed against them, in-
stead of added to.

rpHERE 'S blank amaze at Bbooks's,
At White's is note of war;
O'er Babclay's beer, or Metjx's,

Is pot-house parlour jar.
Old gentlemen on 'busses

Vex the driver as he climbs,
And flap him, spite of cusses,
In damp sheets of the Times.

And many a Cablton muffin
Is toughening on its plate,
As those who should be stuifin'

Are eager in debate.
And the Reform Club Porters,

To the " buttons " boy, put on
The lofty air of martyrs,
In honour of Lobe John.

And every Taper's gaping, _
In alternate joy and grief :
And every Tadpole's aping
The myst'ry of his chief;
And those folks, who know nothing,

Tell those who know no more,
The last new fact, brought frothing
Fresh and fresh, from the Club-door.

The sober City merchant
Is restless on his stool;
Rampant instead of per-chant,

The clerks break office rule;
For the Genius of gossip

Sends business " off the rails,"
Of the official toss-up
Discussing " heads or tails."

While thus in outer circles

The rumours cross and fly,
The inner world of cabinets
Is tossed in tumult high.
Short-winded palace flunkies,
So stout, and erst so slow,
Are forced to skip like monkeys
With missives to and fro.

From Chesham Place the Hansoms

To Lansdowne House are lashing ;
From the pleasant Gate of Grosvenor
Mysterious Brough'ms are dashing.
And through the shrouding curtains,

The curious passer-by
May mark a cheek Caucasian,
And the flash of an Ebrew eye !

'Twas on the stormy Saturday

Lobe John flung up the reins ;
'Twas on that day the Mountain
Was seked with labour-pains—

And through the quiet Sunday
It throbbed, and heaved, and groaned,

And the hushed House learnt on Monday
That the birth was still postponed.

And in those earthquake cleavings,

Till Friday morn came round,
What sudden strange up-heavings,

What sinkings to the ground!
Even the Country party

A while was tossed on high,
And a light head and a dizzy

One moment touched the sky.

By Downing Street's convulsions,

Together thrown were seen
The fierce and flashing Stanley,

The canny Abebdeen ;
The Baronet oe Netheeby,

Cold heart and ready tongue,
Beheld himself, with wonder,

Towards Whig embraces flung.

A week of Mountain-labour,

That passed and brought no sign—
A week of combinations

That never would combine.
Till e'en Whig statesmens' brothers

If they were in might doubt,
And e'en Whig statesmens' mothers

Knew not if they were out.

And then when gossip ended,

And rumour's fount was dry,
When the gobemouche and the quidnunc

Had nor question nor reply—
When on the second Friday,

The pangs were fruitless all—
We heard how the old Doctor

'Twas determined in to call.

And through the British nation,

East, West, and South, and North,
Watched eager expectation

Of the birth that might come forth.
When to the eyes past counting

That watch'd the Commons House,
From the flanks of the rent Mountain

Crept forth a little Mouse !

A little Mouse came creeping,

'Mid the clamour loud and high,
And said, with small voice cheeping,

"The Mountain-birth am I;
And my name, as all may witness,

Is Papal Titles Bill;
I was small before the row came,

And now I'm smaller still."

STREET SPORTS AND PASTIMES.

We hear a great deal, at times, about play-grounds for the people;
and we really wish there was something of the sort; for we find it, very
inconvenient, occasionally, to have sports and pastimes going on in the
:public thoroughfares. We don't object, perhaps, to leap-frog when a
party of young athletes are "backing" their friends in Trafalgar
Square; nor have we much to say against the ancient sport of " duck,"
though it now and then subjects one's toes to the " pressure from
without" of a tremendous brick-bat, or paving-stone. There is, how-
ever, a pastime which we cannot tolerate, and which consists of the
"ignoble game of cat," as played by the boys in nearly all the streets of
London. The game to which we allude is rendered doubly provoking
by the fact, that it is mysterious as well as mischievous ; for we defy
any casual looker-on to say how the game is played; how it is lost;
how it is won; or in what consists the skill of playing it. As far as we
■ can judge, the game of cat is indulged in after the following fashion :
Several boys being got together with sticks in their hands, a small
piece of wood is thrown down, which, being struck, flies up into the air;
and the game consists, apparently, in the art of hitting the piece of
wood, when thus raised, and directing it through a square of glass, or
into the eye of a passenger. The winner seems to be the individual

who succeeds in administering the blow which either smashes a square
of glass, or discomfits the innocent stranger, by planting the " cat" on
some part of his countenance. When this point is achieved, the game
is carried on by all the players taking to their heels as fast as they can;
and it is to be presumed, that, as the winner of the game is the one who
does the damage, the loser is he that, having been caught, may be made
to pay for it. Unwilling as we are to interfere with the amusements of
the people, we must say we should not be sorry to see " cat" consigned
to the dogs as speedily as possible.

conjugal devotion.
We learn from the papers that, recently, two political Countesses at
Florence quarrelled,_ and resolved to enjoy a duel with pistols. The
husbands of the ladies were informed of the meeting, hurried to the
spot and—actually separated them!

Fiscal Hydbatjlics.—The Income-Tax is a solid grievance. No doubt
of that. So much the worse. If it were a fluid one it would find its leveL

Loyal Wab-Cry bob Pbotectionists.—" Rally round the Cbown'
—that is, round Five Shillings fixed duty on Corn.