Punch (37.1859)

200

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[November 12, 18A9.

THE MAN WHO DOESN’T MIND.

a Social Sfcetclj.

Man who Doesn’t Mind
is the most tortured
of all the martyrs of
society. He is con-
stantly exposed to trials
and privations. Like
Ixion’s wheel, his life
is one continual round
of profitless exertion-
profitless, at least, so
far as it concerns him-
self. Directly it is
found out that he
Doesn’t Mind every-
body takes advantage
of the fortunate dis-
covery. His time and
he are instantly at,
everybody’s mercy, and
no one ever dreams of
being merciful to either.
He gets imposed on
right and left, in per-
son and in purse. Bores
bother h im perpetually,
? and have no fear of
being kicked. The re-
motest of relations act
towards him as though
they claimed the closest
consanguinity, and
thereby were entitled
to be worse plagues

than those of Egypt to him. Almost perfect strangers play the part of dearest friends,
and use the privilege of friendship to drop in on him at any time. As for needy visitors,
he has them thick as thieves, and few leave him without making an attempt upon his pocket.
Bosom friends unbosom their family misfortunes to him, and do their best to make him
miserable by the story of their sorrows. Yet of all these pests and plagues, none have the
least compunction or compassion in their plaguings. However they may pester him they
‘eel quite sure he Doesn’t Mind it!

Tn fact, the Man who Doesn’t Mind is perpetually exposed to all manner of annoyances
and physical privations. Everybody takes advantage of the goodness of his nature. It
subjects him to insult as well as inconvenience. People stamp on his pet corns, and scarcely
ever beg his pardon. However much they hurt him, they conceive he Doesn’t Mind it,
and rely he won’t take steps to avenge the pedal injury. When he goes out to dinner,
he is always the worst served and the worst seated of the guests. He gets t he backbones of
the fowls, and the scrags of legs of mutton. No host ever dreams of giving him tit-bits.
The chances are, indeed, that if the table’s at all full he’ll be moved off to the sideboard, and
have to eat his dinner among dirty plates and dishes. People take for granted that he
Doesn’t Mind where lie’s put.

At a picnic, too, he finds his fate is just as sad a one. If there happen to be any
children to be looked to, you may always take for granted that lie’s the happy man. And
besides being appointed to the charge of the light infantry, he is sure 1o be entrusted with
the heavy baggage also. The commissariat department devolves mainlv on his shoulders.
Whoever really is in fault, he is answerable for all its imperfections and deficiencies. When
it happens that the knives and forks are left behind, every body makes the most cutting of
remarks to him, and digs at him unpityingly with some three-pronged sarcasm. Supposing
such a wonderful accident occur, as that by some strange accident the salt should be
forgotten, of course the Man who Doesn’t Mind is told to go and forage for some, and not
to leave a farm-house unattacked until he gets it. Then having duly done what was required
of him as errand boy, of course he is expected to officiate as waiter; and should he steal
time in his waitership to get a snack himself, he is pretty sure to find his seat assigned him
in the nettles, or elsewhere all the broken crockery and lobster-shells are shot. And to
wind up his day’s misery, should it rain going home, as it always does at picnics, of course he
is expected to sit patiently outside and lend his rival his umbrella; and not to show the
slightest symptom of annoyance, though he detects that rival, under cover of that umbrella,
flirting fiercely with the widow with whom he himself is smitten!

In short, wherever he may be, and whatever he may do, the Man who Doesn’t Mind is
never thought of for a moment, except as a convenience. Whatever foible he may have, he
never finds it gratified. His known “little weaknesses” are wholly disregarded. No one
ever dreams of studying his comforts. Like the desires of Mr. Toots, his most heart-cherished
wishes are considered “of no consequence.” However useful lie may be, no one ever
thinks of even saying, Thank you. Nor is he allowed any periods of respite. If on Monday
he does a service for a friend, on Tuesday the friend calls and makes him do another. Any
one, at any time, may ask him to do anything. Whatever hobbies he may have, people
never give him time to mount a single one of them. They interrupt him just when getting
his foot well into the stirrup, and never have a fear that he will venture to kick out at them.
In short, they do exactly with him what they please, and solely for the reason that they think
he Doesn’t Mind it.

But the worst of it is, that in time even his
wife gets seized with the infection. Front
seeing how his friends treat him, she learns to
do the same herself. In her domestic calcula-
tions she puts him down as a mere cipher, and
provides only for one,—herself being the unit.
She expects him to go shopping with her twice
a-week at least, and to do light porter’s work,
and carry home her purchases. She even dares
to try if she can feed him on cold mutton, and
she does so with impunity, and even without
pickles; and she never dreams of palliating
that connubial offence by the after-introduction
of his favourite pudding. At least twice in
every month she asks her “dear Mamma” to
come and stay a week with her, and then coolly
fills his dressing-room with the parental pug’s
and parrots. Of course it gets the smell of a
travelling menagerie. But she dreads not the
Divorce Courts. She feels convinced he Doesn’t
Mind it 1

LEGISLATING FOIl TIIE MILLION.

Tiig Financial Reformer, a work whose facts
are figures, informs us that every General Elec-
tion costs the successful Candidates the expen-
diture of a million sterling. What it costs the
unsuccessful ditto would require a strong arith-
metical head to calculate. Why should not the
nation have the benefit of that million outlay ?
Why should it all go into the pockets of the
Electors, and so feed their corruption ? Since
if is seemingly impossible to put down bribery,—
since Members themselves, who should be the
very last to violate the law, are generally the
first to break it,—wm would recommend that
each seat be put up to auction, and knocked
down to the highest bidder. It would then be
an open commercial transaction, instead ot
being a secret one. At present, votes are grown
much as mushrooms are—by being cultivated in
the dark. You sow your money, keep it
thoroughly dark, and in a very short time you
have a beautiful crop of votes, warranted to give
an extra enjoyment to the dinner of any Candi-
date who has the good fortune, thanks to his
Fortunatus’s purse, to be elected. Why should
not the nation have the advantage of the money
that is spent at every election, instead of its all
dropping into the cash-boxes of the hungry
lawyers, and helping to overflow the tills of
the thirsty publicans P

We would have a regularly-appointed public
auctioneer, whose office it should foe to regulate
the sale and transfer of Parliamentary seats, and
the Carlton and the Reform Clubs might be
established as agencies. The House of Com-
mons itself might be selected as the Great Poli-
tical Auction Mart, where these seats should be
put up for sale ; and, with a little spirited bid-
ding, we will warrant that the million sterling,
whicli is at present the estimated cost of a
General Election, might easily be worked up to
two or three millions, and the national exche-
quer would be the gainer by it. Make this happy
arrangement, and Garden might again come in'o
Parliament, and the wealthy Leatfiams might
traffic boldly in the purchase of a seat, without
being considered in the least disreputable.

Tru.h is Strange.

When Cuddesden College was finished, the
Builder thought fit to cut the initials of the
Founder, the Bishop of Oxford, and of the first
appointed President, the Rev. Alfred Potts,
over the entrance, when there appeared—
S. 0. A. P. The inscription has been removed.

A Stupid Remark.—As there is no House
of Lords in America, a Yankee is justified in
bragging about bis “Peerless Countiy.”