Punch (39.1860)

August 4, I860.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

41

i

Hairdresser. “South Middlesex or Keveens, Sir? (Customer looks bewildered.)—
Why, Sir, many Corpses, Sir, 'as a rekignised style of'air, Sir, accordin' to the Reg——
(Customer storms.) Not a Wolunteer, Sir ?—Jus so, Sir.—Thought not, Sir ; leastways
I was a wonderin' to myself directly I see you, Sir, what Corpse you could a belonged
to, Sir l"

enlist in its ranks, 1 have the honour to remain, chivalrous
Sir, your Knighthood's humble Servant, Substitute, and
Esquire,

pstts.

P.S. It does not, appear that, the Holy See provided its
Irish crusaders with hair-shirts. But what then? It did
the next best thing in not finding them any shirts at all.
And for suitable stuff to wear next the skin, they might
have found stinging-nettles enough, instead of linen in every
hedge.

THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS.

FYTTE FIRST—FEBRUARY.

It was a score of blithesome Bills—

Merrily came they in—

And fair without, looked the gamesome rout,

And neat as a new-made pin ;

Each would-be law, without a flaw.

Or erasure-line within.

’Twas a sight to behold these Bills so bold.

So blithe and debonnaire,

As each took his place on the paper.

Where room was still to spare,

With the Member that was in charge of him,

So proud of his nursling fair.

Sir Bethell le Beard, in either hand.

Led innocents many a one ;

The first he was strong, and lusty and long—

With Bankruptcy writ thereon :

And a train of Law Bills followed him,

Whose godfather was “Plain John.”

And proud was the mien of Gladstone, I ween,

As his masterful way he bore,

With Bills enow most fathers to cow,

A gambolling before:

Wines, Spirits, and Paper, arid Savings Banks,

And Hansard he knows what more!

Tho’ cool of blood, and fishy of mood,

Even Lewis was stirred with pride,

As with conscious face he took his place.

With two old Bills at his side—

One yclept City Corporation Reform—

One Highways—often-tried.


THE POPE’S IRISH RAGAMUFFINS.


{To George Bowyer, Esq, M.P.)

Chivalrous Sir,

As the Pope’s Knight-errant, I wonder you have not come forward to
break a lance with those unworthy Irishmen—those bad Catholics—who, having
apostatised from the Papal Brigade and sneaked home, go about complaining of the
usage which they experienced in the service of his Holiness. It seems that I
must do the Holy Father’s business for you.

The Irish volunteers in the service of our Lord the Pope were naturally supposed,
by his Holiness and Lamoriciere, to be devout Catholics. As such they were
treated with the greatest possible attention. They were afforded every facility for
fasting. The means of doing penance were freely afforded them. What better fare
could a Saint wish for than an insufficiency of black bread and sour wine, what
better couch could he desire than the floor of a stable? Circumstanced as the
recruits were, they no doubt swarmed with vermin and reeked with filth, and, if
they had expired in that blessed state, would have died in the odour of sanctity.

They complain that some of their number were shot for breach of discipline.
If so, had they not the friars of San Giovanni Decoilato to confess them ; and did
they not therefore go to Paradise ? They even murmur because some of them
were flogged. _ Their grievance was a privilege. How many holy men are con-
tinually whipping one another ; how many are obliged to whip themselves, not
hawing anybody whom they can trust to perform that pious office for them! _ The
ungrateful grumblers ought to have kissed the cat-of-nine-tails which “whipped
the offending Adam out of them.” Excuse me for quoting a heretical poet.

What could these pilgrims expect at Macerata but being thoroughly macerated?
Had they understood their own faith—if there was any in them—they would
have known that mortification necessarily awaited them in an army of confessors
and martyrs, and whilst they would of course have been mortified by the indignities,
privations, and punishments, to which they were subjected, they would by no
means have been disappointed, but on the contrary, perfectly well satisfied, with
the chastisement which they had to endure.

Hoping that the foregoing apology for the sacred commissariat and the holy
discipline of the Pontifical army may encourage many true Catholic devotees to

And Sir Charles de Wood, bewildered he stood.

And you scarce his head might see,

For the crowd of Bills the space that fills
Where Sir Charles his head should be—

All Indian Bills, with porcupine quills,

A-bristling angrily.

More blithe M.P.s I trow than these,

St. Stephens did ne’er espy :

Never blither Bills, ignored the ills
That no Bill may defy !

Woe, woe, to see their Februrarie,

And to think of their July!

FYTTE SECOND—JULY.

The spring is past, the year flies fast.

The Session draggeth sore :

Till the summer that is no summer
E’en now is well nigh o’er,

And each bored M.P. doth sigh to be free,

And will brook to be bored no more.

Then it’s up and spake Lord Palmerston,

And a cruel smile smiled he,-—

“Now bring your Bills, your little Bills,

My Ministeres, to me;

That I may choose what Bills, and whose.

Are fittest y-slain to be.”

Then up and spake the Bankruptcy Bill,

That at Bethell’s knee did stand—

“Now, father dear, ye’ll save me here.

For all this Lord’s command ; ”

But with rueful look, he the innocent took,

And stabbed with his own right hand!