Punch (41.1861)

70

PUNCH, OR TFrR LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 17, 1861.

Waggoner. “ IIere be your Bari, Mcaster.”

Young Hopeful. “ Thankee, my lad ; if I'd, a penny in my pocket, I'd give it you.”

THE SONG OE THE TALKATIVE MEMBER.

Air.—“ I never does Nothing at all."

On, dear, how the Newspapers scold,

And us poor M.P.’s how they blame:

Every Session we ’re sure to be told
We do nothing but talk ! ’tis a shame.

Instead of our sticking to work,

They complain that, whatever befall,

Aught save making long speeches we shirk,

And do next to nothiug at ail!

If some Member a measure brings in
Which a boon to the public would prove.

We make a vast clatter and din,

But to pass it how slowly we move !

If a ticklish affair of the State
For prompt legislation should call,

We get up a party debate,

And we do next to nothing at all!

You’d think that our conscience would stay
Us from wasting the national time,

And that when we have nothing to say
We should hold idle gabble a crime;

But all conscience we overboard throw.

And, heedless of duty its call,

We keep our tongues e’er on the go.

And we do next to nothing at all!

A Case of Real Distress.

Kind Reader, drop a tear of pity for poor, injured Du.
Guay ! You remember his late squabble with M. Du
Chaillu, and how he clearly came off second best in the
dispute. Well, now the Government have actually bought
one of the Gorillas; and, in his post at the Museum,
Dn. Gray will have the charge of it, and thus will always
have before his eyes a souvenir of his defeat. Poor Dr.
Gbay ! he may well look rather black at it. We have
rarely known an instance of more barbarous brutality. It
really is as cruel as knocking a man down, and expecting
him to treasure a fragment of the stick.

OUR DRAMATIC CORRESPONDENT.

“ Dear Punch,

“ The other evening, having a half hour or so to kill before
going to a party I did not care to go too early to, I looked in at the
pleasant little Gallery of Illustration. To judge by what I saw of it,
the new entertainment goes more briskly than ever, and tiiey who
have not seen it should not lose the chance of doing so before the
season ends. I know of no place where a pleasant laugh may be
enjoyed more surely whenever you drop in, or where the lover of iight
music may hear it done in better taste. With three such excellent
performers as Mb. and Mbs. German Reed and Mb. Pabby, music
cannot fail to be attractive at the Gallery, and if I may pick out a fault
in the present entertainment, it is that full advantage is not taken of
this fact. Any entertainer can make fun of a smashed bandbox or the
dropping of a tea-tray (which stale stage ways of laugli-moving I think
the British Playgoer would gladly see abolished); but no others that I
know of are so musically gifted, and they who recollect the voice of
dainty Ariel would gladly hear it less in dialogue and more in solid
song.

‘‘ The Princess’s closed last week after a season of success achieved
by Monsieur Hamlet, who, I hear it whispered, has for some while
since been studying to appear as Monsieur Othello after the recess.
Whether the praise which he has gained while wearing his light hair
will be extended to him after he has gone and blacked his face, is more
than my prophetic soul can take upon itself to state. But he is far too
good an actor to act a good part badly, and though the dark role may
not suit him quite so fitly as the light one, we may be sure that his
will be an intellectual performance, and that he will play the Moor with
careful thought and taste. Doleful people may bewail the declining of
the drama, and declare there’s no love left for aught but farces and
burlesques ; but I think it shows good sense is extant still in England
that a single play of Shakspeare’s has served to cram a theatre for
one and seventy nights, and this without the aid of either splendid
scenery, or attested-by-authorities correctness of costume.

“ At the Olympic Mr. Robson has revived Plot and Passion, and is
delighting people n’ghtly by his careful personation of the wily spy

Desmarsz. Did he take the hint from ‘ One who Pays P ’ I wonder,
for a few weeks since I spoke of this as one of his best characters, and
one that shows what he can do with a part which in less able hands
might have but slight effect. I think that his dramatic power is better
shown in parts like this, than in his wilder freaks of acting in fast high-
pressure burlesque.

“ One who Pays.”

CPIANCERY IS THE BEST MOTHER EOR LEGAL ORPHANS.

Oe seventy-five lawyers who died in 1858, the Registrar-General tells
us that “fifteen died without making their wills.” We are positive
that this was not neglect, or arising from any cowardly fear lest the
execution of the act should hasten their exit from this world, or from
any other mean cause; but simply sprang from the benevolent desire
to avoid litigation by nobly refusing to get a brother confederate to
draw up their will, and still more nobly refusing to draw it up them-
selves. Their experience evidently taught them, that it was safer to
leave their property to chance than leaving _ it in the hands of the
lawyers. We should like, as a great consolation, to know how much
of the property of those fifteen lawyers who died intestate was
eventually swallowed up by the Law. The Law is a savage Saturn,
and frequently devours its own children.

A White Fib.

Anti-President Jeff. Davis, in his last Message to the Secession
Congress, asserts that the Confederate States took up arms in defence
of their liberties. Jeff. Davis takes great liberties with language.
The fact is, that they rebelled in defence of their slaveries. Anti-Pre-
sident Davis appears to be a man who really would not hesitate to
swear that black is white.

The Fate of Political Reform.—Like all reforms, it is put off
till to-morrow.