Punch (47.1864)

August 6, 1864.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

53

of the bad little Companies, was more remarkable than delightful, but
the other Chancellor walked into them elegantly.

The new Act for making Advances for Public Works in the Manufac-
turing Districts will be useful. Are you not glad to be out of the way
of public works in London ? What with Mb. Thwaites]s Sewer barri-
cades, and the Embankment carters, there is no moving in the streets.
But I suppose, as the Erench say, one can’t make an omelette without
breaking eggs.

The Act for making it easier to make Railways will make them
cheaper to make. But if the directors do not invent some mode of
enabling passengers to communicate with guards, and accidents happen,
it is to be hoped that juries will give thundering damages.

General well-being and contentment prevail through the Queen’s
dominions. But this remark doesn’t apply to people who would like to
get out of town in this fine weather, but are obliged to remain and
attend to the ignominious details of terrestrial business.

We are glad to remark the progressive increase and developement of
the national resources. This sentiment is Mb. Gladstone’s, and it is
not impossible that in the Deep Solitudes of Hawarden Castle, he may
invent some Awful Sells in the way of new taxes. But sufficient for
the Session is the Budget thereof.

We are also glad that you have been able to diminish taxation. By
a precious little, say you, but that’s ungrateful, and you must not
look a gift-remission in the figures. If Gladstone had laid on taxes
instead of taking them off, you know that. you would have borne it
patiently. The middle classes never complain.

On returning to your respective (and respectable) Counties you will
still have important duties to perform, and we hope the grouse will be
plentiful and not too strong on the wing. By the way, this speech does
not apply to such of you as live in Middlesex, because here you are.
That’s awkward, not to say unconstitutional. We will vary the
formula next prorogation.

Some of these duties are connected with the linking together of
several portions of the community. This does not mean the acts of
such of you as are Magistrates, when you order different kinds of cul-
prits to be hand-cuffed in couples, but alludes to jolly field-sports in
which all classes can join, races, private theatricals, and all that sort
of thing.

May all that you do tend to the happiness of the people. Some folks
may hint that your dispersion, and ceasiug from dull debating, may be
one means to that end. But we must occasionally be serious, and you
know what is really intended. I do not know that I need detain you
any longer, and several gentlemen of the Commons will be glad to
go and shake hands with the Speakeb. I should keep gloves on, as the
weather is so warm, but this is matter of taste, or rather of feeling.

That is what the Speech might have been, as well as what it was, but
such as it was, Mr. Punch rejoices that it has been said, and it is with
much satisfaction that he again puts the stopper into the bottle of
Essence of Parliament.

LADIES IN PARLIAMENT.

Deab Mb. Punch,

Op course I never read debates, no lady ever does, unless
indeed she is made to do so by a brutal-minded husband, or a tyrannous
Papa. But now and then I owrn, I do like hearing a debate, at least I
mean I like the fun of sitting by and chatting with the lady friends one
goes w'ith, and quizzing the poor Members wdiom one knows, and loves
to laugh at. So I was very glad to hear that Sib G. Bowyeb intended
to ask somebody or other to take away the nasty grating stuck before
the Ladies’ Gallery, and so give us air to breathe and not keep us caged
up like canaries as we have been. But do you know, Ebed tells me
that.the Government won’t do it, because they say that if the horrid
grating were removed, our faces would be visible, and this the stupid
things declare “would exercise an influence on the proceedings of the
House which would not be desirable.” Ebed tells me Mb. Cowpcb
used these very words, and as a married man, I think he ought to be
ashamed of them. In any decent company, the influence of ladies must
always be desirable, and Sib G. Bowyeb was quite right in reminding
Mb. Cowpeb that ladies were allowed to sit in open galleries in the
House of Lords, for the Peers have no objecl ior. to see a pretty bonnet
and a pretty face beneath it, and are not afraid of being injured by their
influence. Ebed says, that Mb. Cowpeb said, he thought the House
of Commons was not inclined to be “exposed to such an ordeal” as
the presence of a lot of ladies visible would be. Ordeal! Gracious me!
Why, one would think the man was talking about walking on hot
ploughshares, or being stretched upon the rack! The idea of ladies’
presence being viewed as an “ ordeal” for men to undergo, when I’m
sure they ought to view it as an honour and a compliment.

As for Members being influenced by seeing ladies near them, well,
perhaps at times they wrnuld be, and it would be a very good thing if
they were. Talk of women’s tongues, indeed ! I declare we don’t love
talking half so much as men do. And the nonsense that men say. too !
at least when they sit in Parliament. I’m sure there’s not one speech

in fifty that’s worth listening to, and not one in a thousand where the
man might not in half the time have spoken all he had to say. You
never heard such hesitation, such hem’ing and such ha’ing, and such a
saying of the same things over and over again. Well, men may tell us
that we ladies don’t know when to hold our tongues, but we shall cer-
tainly not learn much if we follow their example.

I really think if ladies might sit where they were seen, the Members
would be awed into a better style of speaking. At least they wouldn’t
be so prone to call each other names, as now and then they seem to be;
because men don’t like being chaffed or bullied before ladies, and so the
debates would be cleared from personalities. Besides when men had
talked enough, and were beginning to be bores, a grumble from the
gallery would be quite enough to stop them. Indeed I should not be
surprised if ladies were requested to sit on great occasions just opposite
their husbands, so that, when an orator was getting rather prosy, he
might, just catch his wife’s eye, and prudently sit down before he had
quite made himself a nuisance to the house.

England being still in a semi-savage state, ladies are not yet allowed
to sit in parliament—except behind a screen; where, though their
tongues, say the reporters, may now and then be heard, they are not
permitted to take part in the debates. I trust that by next Session the
screen may be removed, as a proof that civilisation is advancing in this
country; and that though their tongues be silent, ladies may be suf-
fered to take part in the debates with as many speaking glances as they
feel inclined to give.

In the hope that Mr. Punch, who is the champion of the ladies, will,
for the credit of the country, carry this amendment, I beg leave to
subscribe myself, in all feminine humility,

Sophonisba Smith.

P.S. I don’t wonder that the Lords beat the Commons in their
rifle-shooting. How can men expect to get a sight worth having when
they dare not look a lady in the lace!

PAM’S HOLIDAY.

The others are off to the grouse or the salmon,

Their stables or stubbles, their sheep and their kine;

They have tenants to tickle, constituents to gammon, ,

There’s Baden to punt at, or Paris to dine ;

Some are dozing the seas, some are doing the mountains,

Some, Murray in hand, yawn through galleries afar;

Some, like Dabby Gbieeith, are seeking the fountains
Of news at those sources, where breeds the canard.

Of correct country houses the mill some are grinding,

Philand’ring, and flirting, and dodging ennui;

Some are trying to croquet the ladies, and finding,

To be croqued, not croquet, ’s the lot of a he,

AH, one way or other, the means are contriving.

But in vain, to kill him, who’ll kill us by-and-bv,

Time—against whose sharp scythe most confess there’s no striving,
But whom Pam, and Pam only, still dares to defy.

Yes—let others by desperate attempts Time at killing,

Acknowledge their terror lest Time should kill them:

Pam boils eggs with Time’s glass, takes his scythe, blithe and willing,
To prune the lush growdh of his secular stem ;

Where blossoming bright, round the stout lignum vita;.

The flowers of the summer in winter are seen—

Till we owrn Pam the Cheese—Pig more old, the more mighty—

His head may be grey, but his heart is still green.

A1 ot for him the repose craved by brains over-wearied;

Not for him the distractions implored by ennui,

Hornsey’s Rifles reviewed, by express he ’ll be carried,

And drop in on the lieges of Bradford to tea.

Is a railway to open ? a town-hall to christen F
A school to inaugurate? Pam is the man.

“ What’s your name ? ” “ M. or N.” We suspect, as we listen,

As tbe man’s “ all in all” that his name should be Pan !

Contagion on the Rail.

To the ether perils attendant on railway travelling is now added that
of Small-pox. We all of us occasionally run to catch the train; now, if
urn catch that, some of us will probably catch something more.

A Question eob a Competitive Examination.—What do you
know' of Henby the Eighth, and who told you?

Motto fob Bibmingham.—“ Honour Bbigut.”