Punch (32.1857)

Jdke 20, 1857 ] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 2*3

DIED JUNE Sth, 1857.

Low lies the lion-like grey head;
The broad and bright blue eye is glazed .
Quenched is that flashing wit, which blazed,
The words that woke it scarcely said.

Those who but read the writer's word,
Might deem him bitter: we that knew
The man, all saw the sword he drew
[u tongue-fence, was both shield and sword.

That sword, in the world's battle-throng,
Was never drawn upon the meek:
Its skill to guard was for the weak,
Its strength to smite was for the strong.

His sympathy was ever given

Where need for it was sorest felt:

In pity that blue eye would melt,

Which against wrong, blazed like the levin.

Not for his wit, though it was rare ;
Not for his pen, though it was keen ;
We sorrow for his loss, and lean
Lovingly over that grey hair,

To place the wreath, befitting those
Who like good men and true have striven;
By God, not man, he must be shriven;
Men guess and grope : God sees and knows.

SIDNEY AT WORCESTER.

Tea duce, tutus, was an old saying, but it seems falsified in the case
of that respected Tea-dealer, Alderman Sidney, who has come
anything but safe out of a matter wherein his tea has been stirred,
rather rudely, by Lord Campbell. Sidney meant to have come in
for Worcester at the last election, but could get only 615 votes,
which according to him and his friends would have been dozens or
scores more, but for a placard in which he was (untruly, as he swears)
charged with an oppressive action. An information was granted by
the Queen's Bench against the printer of the placard (who had given
up the author, and said what the Judge considered to mean regret and
desire to make reparation), and when the case was heard, Lobd
Campbell discharged the rule, remarking that the Alderman had not
conducted himself with propriety. In order to prove publication, the
Alderman's brother-in-law, one Ash, went, it is sworn, to the printer's,
in his absence, and sought by stratagem to get a copy of the placard.
The 'prentice had none, whereon Ash induced him to print some copies,
lending him a knife to cut the paper. Having got them, of course
down came the Alderman on the printer. The Alderman said that he
did not instruct Ash to perform this trick, but he certainly took
advantage of it. Lord Campbell said, that his affidavits were " dis-
ingenuously framed," and Justice Coleridge, that there was strong
ground for believing that the Alderman knew the way in which Ash
had been acting.

We greatly desire to be permitted to believe the contrary. Because
the least creditable part of the whole case appears to us to be con-
nected with this "plant" of A.sh's—this ash-plant. The Alderman
was slandered, lost his election, and flew into a rage, in the course of
which Her Majesty's H's were, no doubt, flung away in a manner I
terrible to hear. But all this was natural, and election wrath may
be overlooked. But if the George Barnwell balladist is right,

"And none of a 'Prentice should speak ill,"

what shall be said of an Alderman, a Bather of the City, once a Lord
Mayor (whom, said Horne Tooke, a 'prentice ought to believe the
greatest man on earth, 01 would come to be hanged) who permits or
profits by a trick upon a poor 'prentice, deluded into getting his
master into grievous trouble ? If Justice Coleridge be right, can
the Alderman ever look a 'prentice, brought up for reprimand, in the
face again? Suppose the poor boy should plead, weepingly, 'Blease,
my lord and worship, a gentleman made me do it."

"A likely story," says the Alderman. "What gentleman? Boy,
remember, you are in the ands of justice, and will have to heat umble-
pie, if you come any umbug."

"I think he's an Alderman's relation, my lord," the 'prentice might
reply. Sidney would rush from the bench, hide his head in a tea-
chest, and sob to the Hyson.

No, Punch does not like to think Justice Coleridge can be right.
Mr. P. has more faith in Aldermen, not to say in Tea-dealers—Sidney
at Zutphen gave cold water to the poor soldier—Sidney at Worcester
could not have got the poor 'prentice into hot water.

ROMANCE OE THE HIGHLANDS.

Our old acquaintance, the Dumfries Courier, relates the following
wonderful story:—

" Cunning of the Fox.—A gentleman in the Highlands sends us the following
note :—A gamekeeper on the estate near Lochawe, who had been annoyed by the
depredation of foxes, discovered a kennel in a glen at the side of a small loch.
While watching one evening for the appearance of the tenants, he observed a brace
of wild ducks floating on the loch. In a little a fox was seen approaching the water
side with cautious steps. On reaching it, he picked up a bunch of heather and
placed it in his mouth, so as to cover his head; then slipping into the water, and
immersing all but his nose, he floated slowly and quietly down to where the birds
were quacking out delight in fancied security, seeing nothing near them but a
bunch of weed. In due time, lie neared the ducks, dropped the heather and substi-
tuted a bird, with which he returned to the loch side, and was making oft to hia
young with the prize, when— "

" Come, I say, now, nonsense ! " will be the mental exclamation of
nine hundred thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine of our million
readers, on reaching this point of our Scotch contemporary's transparent
romance. The conclusion, however, of that tale is still more incredible
than the part preceding ; too incredible even for fiction. The fox, as
above related, was making off to his young with the duck, when—

" The keeper, who had noted all his movements, closed them by the discharge of
; his double barrel."

The idea of shooting a fox! As if any Briton, north or south, could
be capable of such an act! The statement that a fox was the victim
of such a monstrous atrocity, is a fitting clincher to the legend of his
miraculous cunning. Country gentlemen need not waste their indig-
nation on the anonymous Highland keeper. Reynard was shot with
no double-barrel: by no more deadly projectile than the shaft of an
editorial long bow.___

Pretty American Compliment.

" Youb English ladies are very handsome," said a polite young
Anerican gentleman to Mr. Punch.

" Your American girls are exquisitely lovely," returned Mr. Punch,
scorning to be outdone in courtesy.

" Aye, girls, that is true, but they fall off as they count years. So
you see your women carry off the palm, and what's more, it's a palm
that will bear a date."

" Bless 'em all," said Mr. Punch, piously. " Let's liquor."