Punch (32.1857)

April 18, 1857.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

151

TWO LIFE-DRAMAS.

An advertisement in the Daily News, early in this current April, had
the good fortune to attract the eye of Mr. Punch. The advertiser set
forth that parents or guardians, troubled with the care of Unruly
Children, could not do better than obtain the advice and _ assistance of
Himself, a married clergyman, possessed_ of singular fascinating power
over young people between the ages of six and twenty.

Mr. Punch has been thinking ever since about the curious interviews
which this gentleman, should he be engaged by the parties he addresses,
will have with the rising generation. _ A couple of these ideas have
taken the form of Imaginary Conversations, and here they are :—

Scene I.—A Nursery.

The Married Clergyman is hastily inducted by Mamma, who fears to
remain a moment lest her resolution should give way.

Mamma. That's the bad boy, Sir, eight years old on the_ 11th of
July, and—{with marked intention, for her son's benefit) I heartily hope
you will bring him to a sense of his conduct. {Exit.
[Married Clergyman smiles blandly, and locks the door, a pro-
ceeding which gives evident dissatisfaction to Young Sulky.
Married Clergyman {taking a seat). And what is your name, my
boy ?

Young Sulky {after a pause). Jack.

Married Clergyman. A verv pretty name ; and Jack, you ought to be
very thankful to kind Providence and to your kind friends for giving
you such a pretty name, when many little boys runabout the street
with scarcely a name to their backs. Can you read, Jack ?
Young Sulky {curtly). Yes, but shan't.
Married Clergyman. Ah! Come here, Jack.
Young_ Sulky. Shan't.
Married Clergyman. Ah!

[Smiles kindly, and produces a well-made birch-rod.
Young Sulky {angrily and frightened). I '11 tell my Mar !
[Young Sulky rushes at the door, but the Married Clergyman
dexterously intercepts him, and after a few preliminary arrange-
ments, a howling follows, which Mamma, listening at the door,
can scarcely misinterpret.

Married Clergyman {kindly). Jack, my dear, get that book from the
table, and bring it here.

[Jack complies, and at the further demand of his friend, reads a page
exceedingly well.

Married Clergyman. Yery well, indeed, Jack. You read excellently,
and are a very good boy, very good. I don't think I need come and
hear you read again; but at any time that you would like to see me,
you have only to be rude, or idle, or vulgar, and I will come with
pleasure. Pick up those broken bits of birch, and put them in the
tire, and then we will see Mamma.

[The Married Clergyman pockets the rod, and unlocks the door,
having judiciously fumbled with the lock to give Mamma time to
retreat, and to be coming along the passage.
Married Clergyman. My dear Madam, our young friend, John, quite
appreciates our feelings towards him, and has promised me to show
himself worthy your affection. He reads exceedingly well, and there is

my address, which you can ask him to read whenever'you see fit. No,
no refreshment, thank you. Good bye, my dear John, and may you
prosper. Look straight before you, but do not forget what is behind
—that is true wisdom. [Exit, as Jack is taken to the maternal bosom.

In singular contrast to the above is—

Scene II.—A Drawing Room.
The Married Clergyman is introduced by an Aunt to a remarkably

pretty girl of nineteen years of age.

Aunt. This is Miss Obstinate, Sir, and I only hope that you 'may
be able to break down her wicked and unconverted nature, and show
her what a miserable sinner she is. [Exit.

Married Clergyman {laughing). Now, Margaret, when are you going
to meet him ?

Margaret, {colouring up with great speed, and indignantly). Meet who,
Sir? •

Married Clergyman. Say whom, next time, it is better English,
Madge. When is it ?

Margaret. I am sure I don't know what you mean, Sir.

Married Clergyman. Pooh, pooh, Meggtjms, don't get upon the stilts
with me. {Draws back his foot, under which, on taking his seat, he neatly
concealed a note that had fallen from Margaret's pocket.) Do
you think I don't know all about it. {Takes up note and reads.)

"-moon shone sweetly down upon your glittering curls, and you

looked like a seraph in a fountain "—a profane blockhead!

Margaret. O, Sir, you have got my note. Please give it me.

Married Clergyman. I want to show it to your Aunt, Meg.

Margaret. I'm sure you would not do such an unkind and ungen-
tlemanly thing, Sir. Pray, give it me.

Married Clergyman. If I do, will you listen to what I say, like a
sensible girl.

Margaret. Yes, 1 will.

Married Clergyman. I'll trust yon. There's the note. {Gives it.)
But don't have anything more to sa"" 4o the writer. He only wants
your money.

Margaret. I am sure he does not. He is a gentleman to the heart.
Married Clergyman. Gentlemen to the heart don't begin effulgence
with an i, or leave out one f. He's a snob, I tell you.
Margaret. He's in the Artillery, Sir.

Married Clergyman. All the Artillery spell. He's in the Artillery
Company, perhaps, and an aristocratic-looking girl like you should as
soon think of a beadle. You remind me, singularly, of my beautiful
friend, the Marchioness oe Blazonbury, only your hair is darker
than hers. She, you know, was the belle of last season, and won the
Marquis by her smile, in which you curiously resemble her.

Margaret {looks in the glass). I am too petite.

Married Clergyman. Exactly the height Her Majesty likes in her
peeresses. She will not stand godmother to the baby of any one of a
different height. Do you like balls ?

Margaret. What should I answer to a clergyman ?

Married Clergyman. The truth, my dear young lady.

Margaret. I adore them.

Married Clergyman. Don't say adore—the word is wrong, whatever
the meaning may be—I can get you tickets for the Caledonian Bah