Punch (48.1865)

20

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

good girl, but vulgar) when she came, by orders, to inquire after a missing lodger,
who owed much rent, that he had absented himself for three weeks without leave,
and with certain office moneys, which I have forgiven him. So that out of all the
persons mentioned in his precious diary, he himself is the only hero and Yictim of
fiction.”

MERCENARY-RATHER!

Lacly Olivia Lookout. “ Don’t you Sometimes like to have Letters prom
home—England, I mean?”

Attache. “Oh! yes; Letters op Credit.” [Olivia is disgusted.

NOTES ON THE PAPAL BULL.

The Bull of the Pope does not seem very likely to prevail upon Europa.

Eor a red-hot roaring Bull, the Bull of Phalaris was nothing to the Pope’s
Bull.

Is not the Pope’s Bull speculation rather likely to bear the market for Popery ?

The Bull just turned loose by the Pope is not unlikely to toss reasonable people
over the pale of the Church.

If the Pope lives, he will perhaps send his next Bull to a Cattle Show, which,
of course, will be that of the Smithfield Club.

Can the Successor of Peter expect that his Bull will bring into his treasury an
increase of Peter’s Pence convertible into any large amount of bullion P

To be sure it may be argued by some captious people that the Encyclical Letter
which has just been put forth by the Holy Earner is not properly called a Bull;
but everybody possessed of common sense must see that it is about the greatest
Bull that was ever made.

A SAEE MAN.

Remarking on the archiepiscopate of Canterbury, a writer in the Post says
that:—

In the present day the position has lost nothing of its social importance, ecclesiastical
power, moral greatness, and peril.”

« £onsideration, the author of the above sentence will withdraw the word
pern. In these days the Archbishop of Canterbury would be in no danger
°r ij i1 he were to turn Quaker. Indeed, should his Grace the Primate

or All England think ht to join the Society of friends, or even the Mormons, there
would be very considerable difficulty in getting anything done to him.

[January 14, 1865.

JOHN BRIGHT AT HIS DEVOTIONS.

(See Report of his Speech at the Opening of the Birmingham
Exchange.)

So grudgingly you praise, John,

So seldom you approve,

So combative your ways, John,

Your wrath so quick to move:

A man of peace in name, John.

In fact a man of war.

E’en eloquence in blame, John,

You’ve proved might be a bore.

With joy the proof I hail, John,

That you your mouth can ope
To applaud instead of rail, John,

And vitriol change for soap :

When to soft west from hard east, John,

You veer, for friendly Brums,

And crown their civic feast, John,

With a rain of sugar-plums.

With amazement I beheld, John,

You on your marrow-bones,

And heard your voice impelled, John,

To breathe. h> dulcet tones.

But less surprised I felt, John,

When 1 found, the while you prayed,

That in Mammon’s shrine you knelt, John,

And your pssan was to Trade.

You sang how all that’s good, John,

Has its roots in L. S. D.,

How therein Arts find their food, John,

And Letters their appui.

How Statesman, Soldier, King, John,

Grow smaller and more small
As the Trader, in his swing, John,

Drives all three to the wall.

How the yard-wand is the mete, John,

That must rule o’er land and sea;

And Avoir- du-pois the weight, John,

Must Earth’s “ mene tekel ” be.

How a nation’s loss and gain, J ohn,

In its bankers’ balance shines;

How Britannia rules the main, John,

But ’tis with ledger lines.

How for her might, if just, John,

She’s her merchantmen to thank,

How her powder’s devil’s-dust, John,

Her shot, that in the Bank :

How by the self-same skill, .John,

That Old England raised to sway,

Not by broadside, but by bill, John,

Young England makes her way.

How Arms are in the hole, John,

As Trade is coming up:

How for Warfare’s bloody bowl, John,

We’ve Traffic’s loving-cup.

How a blessed band of brothers, J ohn,

In credits intertwined,

Each man’s need made another’s, John,

The world is growing kind.

I saw your incense rise, John,

I heard you praise and pray :

But I couldn’t shut my eyes, John,

To your idol’s feet of clay.

I saw its front of brass, John,

I saw its iron hands
Still stretching to amass, John,

Pactolus mud and sands.

I saw that of the good, John,

Chained to Trade’s chariot-wheel,

There’s little that she would, John,

Of the ill, less she can heal.

And as for cutting throats, J ohn,

When Traders take to that.

Just ask the Federal votes, John,

If Trade’s hands don’t come pat.