Punch: Punch (21.1851)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

95

THE STABLE MIND.

"Dear Me. Punch, Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

" I am ' The Wild Horse of the Pampas '—at least I am the unhappy quadruped that
goes by that name; and any one, to see the way I am pulled and hauled about of an evening,
would think I was the most vicious, unruly beast that ever was crossed. Now, it really is not so
—I am perfectly quiet, and although, what with'Busses, and one thing and the other, 1 have seen
some work, perhaps, I am a very good average animal, and have no objection to amuse a public
(particularly a British Public) by any cleverness I possess. I jump very well, and, as you may
recollect, I take a very good gate as a finish, in as neat a manner as some hunters, I have seen,
with very good characters. But, however, what I more particularly write to you for, is this:—
every time I complete a rapid act, and am really more ready for five bars rest than anything else,
I am seized by a gigantic Frenchman, in trousers, too, (alas ! where are the dear old top-boots
I recollect in poor Ducrow's time ?) who almost pulls my head off; and I really believe would
actually do so, if my rider did not tug as vigorously in a contrary direction—and this because I
am supposed to be raving mad, and that nothing but the most violent opposition prevents me from
leaping out of the circle and galloping about the pit. No one, I am sure, can feel for a dumb
animal more than you, Mr. Punch • and I wish you, by a word or two, to abate, if possible,
the terrible pulling and hauling 1 nave alluded to. Mind, I don't object to the galloping and
jumping—I rather like it— and I may say that it is a pleasure to be backed by a fellow with so
much pluck and nerve as Ma. Eaton Stone.

" I am, Dear Mr. Punch,

" Your very sagacious servant,

"The Wild Horse of the Pampas."

THE FIERY CROSS!

See " The Lady of the La7ce."

'Twas all prepared ; and from the flock

An oaf, the biggest of the stock,

The needful articles conveyed,

For any row a ready blade.

The scowling Priest, with grin and glare,

Sedition's Rood did next prepare ;

A halter's length in measure due;

The shaft a torch; the limbs were two:

The Cross thus form'd he shook on high,

With felon hand, and evil eye,

And fierce and frenzied feelings woke

In imprecations whilst he spoke:—

" Woe to the spalpeen who shall view
This symbol of our native stew,
And not resolve that he will do
Whate'er he can a storm to brew,
For England's overthrow!

Deserter of his Prelates' trust,
He ne'er shall profit by our dust;
But, from each shrine and relic thrust,
The faithful's execration just

Shall doom the wretch to woe."
He paused :—the word his vassals took,
■ With grinning teeth and wolfish look ;.
On high their dingy fists they shook,
Their shirtless bosoms wildly strook j
And first they mumble d low,
And then, applauding his discourse,
Their ill blood heating at its source,
They roared and bawled with all their force,
And yelled and screamed, till they were
hoarse,

" Woe to the divil, woe ! "
Hush'dwas the scream, and still'd the yell;
The Monk resumed his mumbled spell;

Nasal and low his voice became
The while he tipp'd the Cross with flame;
And the few words that reach'd the air,
Although some saintly names were there,
Had more of balderdash than prayer.

But when he brandish'd o'er the crowd
Its blazing points, he cried aloud,
" Woe to the thief who turns his rear,
When summoned by this symbol here ;
For, as its points these Congreves sear—
I say no more—the faithful near

Full well my meaning know.
Ye understand the hint of flame,
I '11 say no more about that same ;
And lads and lasses on his name
Shall spit and trample, and cry shame

Upon our Pontiff's foe ! "
Then rang the tongues of females, till
It seemed the clacking of a mill,
Everyone scolding with a will;
And children, you'd have thought them ill,

Did squeak and squall also ;
Answering, what to repeat we dread,
And likewise " Punch the sinner's head;
A couch of nettles be his bed,"
And "sorrow take him, too," they said;

" Bad luck to him, and woe!"
A sharp and noisy echo gave
The Pope's Brass Band of fool and knave,
Who for a while have ceased to rave

'Mid outcries of "Oh, oh ! "

Then paused the holy man anew,
And doubly hard he puff'd and blew,
While, with swoln cheeks and shaky hand,
And tremb'ing so he scarce could stand,
And eyes that started from his head,
Worse than he had already said
He strove to say, against the blade
Sedition's call who disobeyed ;
And thus again his voice was heard,
In language perfectly absurd :—
" Now bear this Cross, boys, in your van,
And pass it on from man to man.
Blind be the ear that fails to heed !
Deaf be the foot that shuns to speed!
Confusion seize the speechless eyes !
Scorn make the heartless soul its prize !
Drive the black traitor through the earth!
Scout the pale coward from each hearth;
And be a dwelling him denied,
Driven in exile to reside !
As dies in gloom this brilliant spark,
So live his name in odium dark ! "
He ceased ; and all his hearers Ihen
With one accord exclaim'd " Amen !"

Jeremiah, You needn't blow the Fire.

Among the recent inventions, is a venti-
lating stove, intended, we suppose, to enable
a fire to blow itself. This may be a con-
venient arrangement, though it lays the in-
ventor open to the imputation of blowing
hot and cold at the same time. We presume
the ventilation is by a downward draft; for
it would be awkward to have a stove that
would blow up. Perhaps, after all, the object
is to save the expense of advertisements, by
enabling the ventilating stove to puff itself.

Legal Intelligence,

Mr. Dunup has lately provincialised with
the Insolvent Court, and has casually joined
the Circuit; for he begins to feel that his
proper position is as a member of 1 be In-
solvent Bar. It is doubtful whether he wDl
join the Bar-table, or remain as usual in a
mess of his own. Mr. Dunup will not avail
himseif of railway communication, but will
proceed on foot to the places where a Court
is held, as he prides himself on limiting jus
attention to that part of his profession which
is entirely within his own walk.