Punch (49.1865)

August 12, 1865.]

PTTVCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

53

NO HERO TO HIS FOOTMAN.

BEHIND THE SCENES AT CAMBRIDGE HOUSE. SKETCHED FROM THE TOP OF A ’BUS.

Jeames (evidently saying to himself). “Well, I’m precious glad I ain’t Prime
Minister ! ”

A EE ALLY LIBERAL GOVERNMENT.

One of the minor theatres is playing a nautical drama, and the play-bills announce
that a Life-boat which is introduced, and certain signals and contrivances, have
been “kindly lent by the Board of Trade.” Mr. Milner Gibson is one of the
most amiable persons in the world, and no good-natured act that he could do
would surprise us. But ought this sort of liberality to be confined to a single
Department? If one Minister very properly regards it as his duty to aid in
educating the people by the exhibition of something pertaining to his bureau, is
another Minister to be less kind ? Mr. Gibson assists this nautical drama. It
is well. But suppose that Mr. Buckstone has in his desk, for next season, a high
class comedy, to be called, The Politician. One scene is in a Government office.
Ought not Lord Russell to lend Mr. Buckstone a lot of swell clerks, with
costumes and properties, charms, Skye terriers, French novels, and all complete, to
give effect to that scene p Mr. Webster may have a screaming farce in rehearsal,
founded on the late adroit robbery, and called No Post Office Orders Admitted.
Should Lord Stanley of Alderley be asked in vain to request Mr. Tilley to
superintend the construction of a country post office for Mr. Toole, and to supply
leathern bags, sheets of stamps, and a mail cart? Or suppose that the Olympic
should have a new and delightful character for that young and delightful actress,
Miss Terry, and should announce The Ward in Chancery. We can hardly expect
Lord Cranwortit, (exceedingly well though he looked, at the Academy Soiree,)
to play the Chancellor, but he might certainly lend the Great Seal and mace, and
his second best robes, and a civil usher, and perhaps Hogarth’s picture during the
long vacation. And there is one pleasant task for somebody. The late Mr. T. P.
Cooke’s prize for a sea-drama is to be competed for. The victorious piece will
probably be produced, and possibly succeed. What a delightful duty it will be for
the author to go down to the Admiralty, and ask the Duke of Somerset for
the loan of a captain’s gig.

Fashionable Intelligence.—The Cabmen of London are to have their annual
dinner during this month. The principal dish will be Mogg turtle, and the
curious part of the entertainment will be, that each driver will be Satisfied with
his fare.

PATERFAMILIAS ON THE PRICE OF
MEAT.

My wife and children, we must eat;

We can’t reduce our diet.

But oh, the awful price of meat!

Who can afford to buy it ?

Alas, the good old days gone by !

I say, to their decrier,

Our venison then, indeed, was high,

But now our beef is higher.

You won’t consent to try “charqui,”

Or any preparation,

Imported from beyond the sea,

Of flesh in preservation.

Have butcher’s meat alone you will,

Heavy as he may weigh it.

The Bill, and nothing but the Bill
For you—aud 1 must pay it!

The Bill, and nothing but the Bill,

My children, and their mother?

Ah yes !—if that your wants will fill;

The butcher’s, and no other,

Except the grocer’s bill, of course,

The milkman’s, and the baker’s;

But spare me, with a moral force,

The draper’s and dressmaker’s.

Away, at least, indulgence cast
Of Vanity’s poor passion,

And try to make your raiment last,

Without regard to Fashion.

Bestow less care on the outside,

Spend much less money on it,

And don’t expect me to provide,

Each quarter that new bonnet.

See me! Eive years, and more, have flown
Since last this form was measured ;

Yet still these garments hold their own,
Through storm and sunshine treasured.

A mortal man must daily dine,

Stale clothes may still grow staler,

The butcher gains—the loss is thine,

My tailor, O my tailor 1

Then be, my love and dears, content
With finery in reason,

Or we must keep a constant Lent,

And fast iu every season :

In something we must pinch and pare
To make both ends just button.

The tarlatanes and glac6s spare,

For love of beef and mutton.

A LADY ON FOREIGN WAYS.

Dear Mr. Punch,

I have always thought that foreigners have no.
manners, and though it may suit some persons to live among
them, and fawn upon them, and praise them up, I stick to
my belief, and it is strengthened every day.

In the papers it says that whenever the Emperor of
Austria has finished a sentence of his address to his nobility
(nice nobility !) they all bawl out Hoch !

What should we say if at every stop in a speech by the
Queen or the Prince of Wales, our Parliament folk
were to cry out for Beer ? Yet that is as much the national
drink here as hock is of the Austrians.

Despising such vulgarity, of which none but foreigners
could be guilty,

I am. Sir, your disgusted Servant,

Camden Town. Martha Grundy.

Outbreak of Virtue.

The Mouthyon Prizes, for Virtue, have been adjudged.
There are Twenty good women and Five good men in
France. A farmer was told that he would be disappointed
with Staffa, for there was not food for a dozen sheep on it.
“ I counted fourteen,” he said, “ and so 1 was agreeably
disappointed.” So is M. Dupin.