Punch (39.1860)

September 22, I860.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Ill

PORTER ON POLITICAL ATOMS.

The free and independent electors of the city of Exeter
met the other day at the London Inn, having been con-
vened by circulars “to hear a further exposition of the
political views of Whitworth Porter, Esq, the Con-
servative candidate for the representation of the city, in
the room of Mr. Divett, who is about to retire.” The
following is a specimen of the political views regarding
Reform exposed by Major Porter

“lie observfd upon those ■who were endeavoured to bs added to
the franchise by the two statesmen alluded to, and said that ha
thought those who were mentioned in Mr. Disraeli's Bid were
better than opening the flood-erates and letting in those which Lord
•John Russell desired. The bill of that statesman was an atom of a
bill from an atom of a man. (Laughter.) "

If Lord John’s Reform Bill was an atom of a Bill, and
a measure of which the strength was proportionate to the
size, how could it, have been powerful enough to open
flood-gates ? Is Major Porter a disciple of Hahnemann,
and does he imagine that atomic Bills possess the virtues
which Homceopathists ascribe to infinitesimal Pills ?

Major Pouter calls Lord John Russell an “atom
of a man.” This is just the phrase in which a tall officer,
superior to the biggest blockhead iu height and nothing
else, would be likely to express his contempt for a political
opponent of small stature. Is the gallant Major six feet
high ? Or does the candidate for the representation of
Exeter look down upon the Secretary for Foreign Affairs
from an intellectual altitude?

Whitworth Porter, Esq , in propounding the above
illustrations of his Conservative Atomic Theory, may
perhaps be considered not only to have delivered an expo-
sition of his political views, but also to have exposed him-
self. Do the electors of Exeter require him to afford them
any further exposition of politics or self-exposure ?

Dove Sono.

An eminent Pigeon-Eancier writes to say, I hat when,
after supper, a set of husbands insist on brewing one more
glass of grog before parting, and a set of wives thereupon
look reproachfully at their lords, he is inclined to call it a
collection of Tumblers and Pouters. He is au idiot.

The Best Female Employment.—To mend the linen of
forlorn Old Bachelors.

A SALVO TO ST. SWITHI1L

j Off with your rain-clouds, evaporate! mizzle !

Wat’riest, weariest, wettest of saints;

O’er jour blue nose draw your night-cap of drizzle,

Hence, with your chorus of coughs and complaints!

Take your catarrhs, with their snuffiings and sneezings ;

Take your bronchitises, whistlings, and wheezings;

Take your congestions and pleurisies hence, as
Well as your agues and slow influenzas—

Go with a whoop, and go with a call—

Go with a murrain from each and from all!

Sorely the wheat on the uplands you threatened,

Sadly you rotted the hay in the dells;

The market for light summer muslins you flattened,

As the poor draper’s stock-book too certainly tells;

You thinned the hotels, and you town-tied the tourists ;

You made the Lake car-men perforce sinecurists;

E’en the Volunteer movement you aimed at restraining,

But it went on full gallop, in spite of your raining;

And the soldierly spirit, in Curr&gh and Gamp,

Like John Bright, by your spouting jou struggled to damp.

Our peaches you stonily hindered from swelling,

Washed out all the savour from pear and from pium,

Made our peas so insipid they scarce were worth shelling,
Persuaded the swallows that winter was come.

What lady adventured a daring new bonnet.

But you threw, unfeeling, cold water upon it ?

Who tried garden-party or open-air fete,

But you without orders, sent your heavy wet ?

And all in these islands were singing one song :—

“ Here’s Down with Saint Switiiin—his rain is too long! ”

Till we deemed in our blindness blue sky was abolished,

And summer transported to Botany Bay;

That the dogs, for some cause, had had their days demolished,
And Sirius been muzzled, or minced like Dog Tray.

And the world seemed a vista of weary wet Sundays,

And mankind’s occupation to chant “ de Profundis ; ”

And barometers stood as if fixed at “much rain;”

And we thought we should never see sunshine again ;

And all of our blindness and bitterness, too,

Was owing, oh soppy St. Swithin, to you!

But the sun in the heavens was steadily shining
Behind the dark rain-clouds, for all who could see ;

And the grain we deemed perished, the fruit we thought pining,
Kept their faith in the future more constant than we ;

The rain-cloud must pass, and the growing tilings knew it,.

And garnered each glance of the sun that pierced through it;
For now that St. Swithin is chased from his hold,

They don feasting garments of green and of gold:

And waving glad welcome to sun and blue skies,

Bid even St. Swithin God speed, as he flies!

The World Knows Nothing of its Greatest Men.

The man who invented the corkscrew (and his name is lost in the
fogs of obscurity—such is the base ingratitude of this world!) may
be said to be almost as great a man as Harvey ; it is true that the
latter genius discovered the circulation ot the blood, but hasn’t the
invention of the former tended more than anything else to promote the
circulation of the Bottle ?—George CruUcshank.

Extraordinary Feat in Natural History.—In Canada they
are making a Liou out of Wales!

Impatient Passenger. “ Come, I say, Driver, you've no right to creep along at this
Slow Pace. It's too had. 1 'm in a hurry, and I insist upon your going faster."

Careful Driver. “ Oh, yes ! and Frighten the Insides out o' their Vits, and he 'ad
up before the ‘ Beak' for Furious Drivin'. Why, you ought to he ashamed o' yourself.
—Drive Fast!—Not if I know it."