Punch (35.1858)

October 23, 1858.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

171

FATHER NEPTUNE USES THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH
AS A CLOTHES LINE.

A COMFORTABLE REFLECTION.

It is as well to know the feelings of deep love and charity that exist
in our favour on the other side of the Channel. Here is an elegant
proof of it. We take the amiable extract from a very clever book,
called Le Roman d'un Jeune Homme Pauvre. What makes the com-
pliment all the more flattering is, that its author, Mons. Octave
Feuillet, is one of the most respected names in French literature,
some of his graceful Proverbes having met with a success only second
to that of Alfred de Mtjsset's. The reader having been duly intro-
duced to our worthy friend, we will now let the latter speak for himself
as follows:—

" ii y aura tot ou tard une guerre finale entre la France et sa voisine d'en face ;
nous nous ha'iasons trop ; on aura beau faire, il faudra que nous les mangions, ou
qu'ils nous mangent! "

How does the reader enjoy the pleasant alternative? Let us hope
that England and France will never be driven to such a terrible
cannibalish extremity. Of the two dainties, we hardly know which
we should like the least. We must say, that we should care as little
about eating a Frenchman, as _ being eaten by one. It would be a
kind of epicurean repast at which it would be equally offensive to us
to officiate, whether in the character of host—or guest. We have a
squeamish fear that we should not be able to survive the effects of it.
Perhaps the reader is not over and above well pleased with us for
having informed him of the horrible fate that is in store for him; but
it is as well he should be warned as to the danger he is doomed some
day to run in entering a French restaurateur's. Now that we are let
into the secret of a Frenchman's extraordinary appetite, we doubt,
supposing Louis Napoleon were to send us an invitation to dine at
the Tuileries, whether we should have the courage to accept it. The
form of " Pour Manger, ou etre Mange," though most politely meant,
would not be altogether to our taste, which has been spoilt, probably,
by a long course of roast beef and plum pudding, and other national
luxuries, that we are weak enough to prefer to the best-dressed
Frenchman that you could offer to us.

Pleasing Anecdote.

There is a new theological book called Lectures on the Early
Fathers. It was being read by a young student in a family in
Gower Street, the other morning, while the breakfast bacon and
other advantages were getting cold by reason of the mistress of the
family not coming down until long after the regular hour. " There
should be a supplement to this book," said the saucy lad, as his
Mamma bustled into the room. " We must have Lectures on the Late
Mothers" Maternal affection, charmed with his wit, gave him an
sxtra lump of sugar in his tea.

DITTIES FOR DONKEY-EATERS.

Among things which are not known so generally as they should be,
is the fact that there not long ago was set on foot in Paris a sost of
Cannibal Society for Eating Ass-flesh. Of the rules of this Society
we have not as yet learnt much; nor have we an idea of what amount
of ass-eating the fact of one's subscribing to it yearly would entail. It
is also a moot point with us, whether the members rise in the ranks of
the Society in proportion to the number of the donkey dinners they
attend; and if this be so, we cannot help confessing to ourselves that
the Presidentship certainly would be a cut or two above us, if our only
way to reach it was by eating our way up to it. We hear, the AsS-
eaters maintain that a donkey's flesh is just as short and sweet as is
his gallop; and they kindly invite sceptics to test of that opinion; but
so long as we can get a mutton-chop at home, we shall not be lured to
Paris by the prospect of an ass-steak. Still further to prove the cor-
rectness of their taste, they hunt up Classic literature for precedents
for donkey dining; and assert with no small triumph, that with ancient
Roman epicures a dish of donkey cutlets was especially a weakness.
But really this no more inclines our appetite for ass-meat, than we
should expect to get a liking for boiled negro, from being told that the
gourmands of the Cannibal Islands were partial above all things to a
nicely-cooked black pudding.

If the Society gains ground, and becomes really popular, (which we
about as much expect to hear as that the Comet's tail has been depo-
sited in the British _ Museum, or that a fleet of Chinese junks have
stormed and taken Gibraltar), of course its popularity will exercise an
influence on literature, and the delights of Donkey-eating will be found
a theme inspiring both to poets and essayists. We shall have a second
Goldsmith acknowledging the present of some asinine tit-bit, in lines
as eulogistic of its merits as those which were indited for Lord Clare's
Haunch of Venison. It is easy to foresee how the paraphrsfee might
commence :—

" Thanks, my friend, for your assling ; sure, fatter than it
Ne'er browsed ou a thistle, or hissed on a spit."

So the Lotos-Eaters of Tennyson will be followed by the Donkey-
Eaters of some bard of lesser note; while no doubt the younger
members of the ass-eating ass-ociation will be issuing invitations to
Come and eat Donkey, Maud! and beseeching her, if ass-meat be
the food of love, to show it by the playing of a good knife and fork
with them.

As specimens of the way in which the subject might be treated, we
give the ass-eaters a song or two for their next " merry-meeting :" a
meeting which, although we may not be invited, we still shall very
probably feel called on to make merry at ;—

SONG l.-THE DONKEY-LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.

Air—" A Bumper of Burgundy Jill, fill for me."

A juicy young assling go kill, kill for me,

E'en with horsemeat you tempt me in vain ;
I care not for colt, though a dainty it be,

To many who venison disdain.
Let the epicure boast, if his taste be equine,

That horsetail soup beats turtle hollow ;
Stewed ass-head to me is a dish more divine,

With a nice donkey cutlet to follow !
So a juicy young assling, &c.

SONG ll.-THE INVITATION.

Air—" Come, let us all a Maying go ! "

Come, let us all a Braying go !
So pass the ass-meat to and fro,
To and fro
_ Let it go !
And its effects we soon may show.
If daily we on donkey dine,
No doubt we shall grow quite asinine :
Our ears get long, and our tongues shall bray,
And we '11 grow more ass-like every day !

SONG 111.—THE PLEASURES OF ANOPHAGY

Air—Sufficiently Obvious.

There *s not in the wide world a pleasure so sweet
As to sit down when hungry, and dine off ass-meat;
Of a Lice donkey steak cut the juiciest part,
And for encremet taste a stuffed asinine heart.

Let hippophagists boast of their equine cuisine,
And their nag's head and shoulders with gusto pick clean;
The rich flavour of horse they may praise as they will,
There's a something in donkey more exquisite still 1