Punch (30.1856)

may 24, 1856.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI._____203


Chester. After making numerous inquiries in
a state of great agitation, she goes off into the
following rhapsody :—

a speech like the following might naturally
ensue:—
We've got it now at last/tis the North Western;
Yes, that's the line that leads to Leonora,
I mean to Liverpool—what's the first train P^
There's one that starts at nine-fifteen—that s
good! , ..
But when does it arrive—never, by jingo !
It stops at Stafford. Come, let's try again,
One at nine-thirty—that will do as well;
It reaches Liverpool at—ha, ha, ha !
It never gets to Liverpool at all;
But I'll be patient—Now to try the next:
It starts at eight, the third before the first
The cart before the horse. But never mind !
When does it reach ? This is beyond a joke :
This sticks at Dunstable. Where's Dunstable?
Who wants to go to Dunstable ? Do you ?
Or you, Sir? all my brains a>e dancing reels ;
Dunstable bonnets whirl about my head.
Servant {catching him in his arms). Poor
fellow ! well, his wits are gone at last.

What junction ? Where's the Up and where\
the Down?
What train meets which ? When is the other
due?
What's the express? Is this the proper plat-
form ?
Or that?—or neither ?
Guard {rings bell). Now! The train from
London—
[A train arrives, and Orlando looks
out of a window of a carriage.
Orlando. Where am 1 ? Is this Liverpool—
or London—
Or Wolverhampton?
Leonora. Ah ! it is his voice !
[Orxando leaps out of the carnage,
and the Lovers are immediately locked
in each other s arms.
Orlando. Bow came you here? I know you
cannot tell,
Tbe Fourth Act being thus endVd. be Fifth \ For I cau't say at all how I got here,
opens with Leonora at the Rail w ay Station, at I looked at Bradshaw.


Leonora. Oh, don'l t alk of Bradshaw !
Bradshaw has nearly maddent d me.
Orlando. And me.
He talks of trains arriving that ne'er start;
Of trams that seem to start, and ne'er arrive ;
Of junctions where no union is effected ;
Of coaches meeting trains that never come;
Of trains to catch a coach that never goes ;
Of trains that start after they have arrived ;
Of trains arriving long before they leave ?
He bids us "see" some page that can't be
found;
Or if 'tis found, it speaks of spots remote
From those we seek to reach ! By Bradshaw't
aid
You've tried to get to London—I attempted
'I'o get to Liverpool—and here we are,
At Chester—'Tis a junction—I'm content
Our union—at this junction—to cement.
And let us hope, nor jou nor I again
May be attacked with Bradshaw on the Brain.


Leonora. I'm happy now ! My Husband !
Orlando. An ! My Bride !
Henceforth take me—no*. Bradshaw—for your
guide. [The curtain falls.

CANT ON MORAL BLINDNESS.
An interesting and edifying hcture was yesterday delivered at
Stiggins's Booms, by the Archbishop of Cant, on the subject of
Moral Blindness. His Grace described this disease of the mind's eye
as an obscuration of the sense of right and wrong; it was, as he took
it. an immaterial cataract, a metaphysical amaurosis, or gutta serena;
a kind of spiritual dimness. It was an infirmity under which, he would
sorrowfully confess, he was himself a sufferer. However, the disease
having occurred in his o*n person afforded him the privilege of an
intimate acquaintance with its nature, enabling him to expound it for
an example to others, which was a s*eet consolation; and in fact, the
course he was about to pursue would be that of describing the malady
as one of his personal experiences. His own case was this. Many,
miuy years ago, that excellent King and pious good man, his late
Majesty George the Third, of blessed memory, appointed a military
band to perform music at Windsor, on the Castle Terrace. Incon-
sistent as it might seem with the character of mat, religious monarch,
me fact, alas! was, that the band was commanded to play on the
Sabbath. But, one moment's reflection would exonerate the exemplary
Sovereign's memory from the charge of Sabbath-breaking. The heart
was right—but the head—(here his Grace sobbed)—be would not
further pursue a topic so very painful. Nay, rather be would insist,
enlarge, and improve on the subject of his own weakness—to which he
would come in due season,
Well, the Sunday performances of music at Windsor, commenced
by reason of unhappy circumstances, had continued, from the time of
the Father of his People, through the reigns of three successive rulers,
including that of our present Most Gracious Queen ; and now to the
point. Why had not he (tbe Archbishop oe Cant) uplifted hi3
voice, and borne testimony against them? why had he not remonstrated
with his Royal Mistress against the continuance of those desecrations
of the Sabbath. Alas, alas ! it was by reason of that mental blindness
which formed the subject of his present discourse. Woe was him that
the eyes of his soul were shut, and the eyelids of his spirit not open !

As long as a Sunday band played beneath the windows of his Queen,
he wist not—for be saw not—that Sunday bands were sinful. But
when the bands were set to play before Her Majesty's subjects—then
the mist departed from his sight. When the People began to have
their ears regaled with music on the Sabbath, his eyes were opened,
and he beheld that it was wickedness. Albeit, instruments of wood,
and instruments of brass, and vellum, were sounded on Sunday after
Sunday before the Palace, he perceived not the iniquity; but as soon
as the flute and the flageolet, and the fife and the drum, and the bugle
and the bassoon, and the trump and the triangle, and the clarionet and
the cymbals and the ophicleide did violence in the Parks to that sacred
day in the ears of the multitude—then was the film removed, then was
the cloud lifted—and lo ! he discerned that the thing was evil. And be
had straightway written a letter to the Chief Minister and entreated
him immediately to stay that public sin. He took shame to himself
that he had not discovered the sinfulness of that sin long, long before ;
but this was owing to the disease of moral blindness. Tbe affliction
whereof he spoke was one with which they who waited in Courts and
attended on Princes, were very subject to be visited. He knew that
his conduct in this matter would be painfully misinterpreted—that
many would affirm it to have been that of a miserable hypocrite; but
he would heed them not; yea, rather he would rejoice in being reviled
by the irreligious and profane. He liked to be despised. We were all
subject to the disease of moral blindness, and this consideration should
teach us humility. We should endeavour to keep our eyes open alway ;
but we should also endeavour to open those of the millions, who, such
is the depravity of the human heart, do not perceive that the<e is the
slightest harm in playing, or in hearing, music on a Sunday. The
Most Reverend Prelate, who wept frequently during his discourse, sat
down amid much moaning and blowing of noses.

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