Punch (51.1866)

August 11, 1866.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

65

A MAGIC MARRIAGE.

Inger, to Valeska, seventh daughter of the late F. G.
No Cards."

S a rule, Mr.
Punch seldom
interferes with
other people’s
business. But
when people pro-
claim their do-
mestic arrange-
ments to the
world by means
of advertise-
ment, it may be
supposed that
they wish every
notice taken of
the same. This
appears in the
Times among the
marriages :—

“ At St. Dun-
stan’s, Fleet Street,
Alexis Heine, of
Frankfort, Astro-
Hartb, of Homburg.

so many suggestive matters been condensed into one
It will expand, like isinglass. An Astrologer’s

Barely have

brief announcement. It will expand, like
Marriage. He selects the Church of St. Dunstan, whose _ magical
treatment of the nose of the Enemy was more prompt than polite. He
marries a Seventh Daughter, and we know what mystic power
resides in a seventh child. He comes from Erankfort, where, in the
dark ages, terrible magicians dwelt, and according to the authorities,
“ laid spells over Germany.” Probably he is one of their descendants
—the Prussian conquerors had better look out for him, as he may know
how to “ set the imprisoned angels (and other coins) free.” And with
a cynical smile, he adds, “No Cards ”—he who has but to wink at a
card on a salver in London, and the enamelled tablet will, the self-
same moment, be found in the card-case of a lady driving up Broadway.
No Cards, when his visiting carriage, or cart de visite, is a chariot
drawn by fiery dragons. We are, in these days, so accustomed to
wonders that we give them small heed, but Mr. Punch cannot help
noting the Magic Marriage, and wishing supernatural happiness to
Alexis and Yaleska.

THE GODS AND LITTLE EISHES.

OR, WHITEBAIT AT GREENWICH.

Aug. 4, 1866.

Oh, ye Gods and little fishes,

On the couches, and the dishes !

Eat, oh Gods, small fish, be eaten,

Place attained and Gladstone beaten!
Scarce ye dreamed so soon again,

In the Halls of Quartermaine,

Thus to clear your rival’s dishes,

Oh ye Gods, and little fishes !

Jove as Derby sits serene,

Swift of speech and haught of mien,
Watching with paternal pride
The chaste Dian at his side
In the masculine disguise
Of a Stanley ware and wise.

Toning down, with sense of awe.

His more jovial papa,

As he marks how,nour by hour,

Waver Europe’s scales of power,

With that eye so clear and cold.

Wherewith Dian froze of old
Young Endymion’s ardent gaze.

Quenched and quelled in icy rays.

While Minerva and her owl—

But especially the fowl—

Sit, combined, in Walpole bland:

See the turn-cock’s key at hand.

Wherewith to turn on the rain
Of emotion’s ready main.

Wisdom’s Goddess could not weai
Look more kind or debonair:

Nor her owl, in stately speech,

Loftier heights of dulness reach.

See, his conch where Neptune blows
In the Pakingtonian nose ;

Pork for trident glad to play.

Delft, for armour-plates, to-day ;

Beid and Cowper-Coles set by,

Here are other fish to fry !

Mars his blade of Sheffield steel
Plies as burly General Peel,
Shovelling down the white-bait feast—
Muzzle-loaders, here, at least.

Hercules, his club pared thin ;

Changed for lamb’s his lion’s skin.

In mud Gat horne Hardy’s mould
Dares worse labours than of old—
Bumble’s hydra-heads to maim,
Brazen-fronted Boards to tame,

Yestry harpies scare and scout,

Clean the Augean stable out,

Where the bed-rid pauper lies,

Till in filth he rots and dies.

While in Manners, mask’d Apollo
Out-rhymes Martin Tupper hollow,
Leads the Muses and the Graces
Through our Parks and public places ;
First appearing, bound in boards,

In Park Lane’s reforming hoards;
Bidding the Park flower-knots slune—
Duty quite in Phoebus’ line—

And with rhymester’s tinsel free
Gilds an “ old nobility.” *

Indian Bacchus, “ with pink eyne,”
Shows in Cranbourne saturnine,
Yinous, turn’d acetic, acid,

Bitter tongue and mood unplacid:

India's Council, all amort,

Gulps its chief’s astringent port,

Eeels the draughts inflame its blood,
Crustier than from the wood.

See, who last pervades the board,

Of all shapes Protean Lord.

Who shall name his many names !

Who shall sound his various fames ?
Great in tactics, tongue, and pen,

Asian mystery to men—

Hermes, Mercury, or Tlioth,

Boman, Greek, Egyptian both,

Triple Godhead, free to move,

Bealms below, and realms above.

See where this mysterious power,
Masques him for the passing hour,

In the Sphynx-like face and eyes,
Wherein sheltered Dizzy lies,

Coiled like snake in slumbering ring,
But like snake, with power to spring,
And to strike with tongue and fang;
Where’s the hide but owns the pang,
Where the blood but turns to gall ?

As the venom poisons all ?

There he sits this Lord of wiles,

Never frowns, but rarely smiles.

Wrho shall say what projects strain
Supple will and teeming brain F
Who this mystery shall scan.

Square this many-sided man ?

Lose who may, crown him the winner
In the Olympians’ white-bait dinner.

When shall the world forget those deathless lines.
Where Manners rhyme and reason so combines?—
“ Let art and science, laws and learning die.

But leave us still our old nobility.”

How to Become Invisible.

The gift of invisibility was formerly believed to. be procurable by
means of fern-seed; but no peculiar power of rendering people invisible
resides especially in the seed of fern. Put on any very seedy suit of
clothes, and walk about in the streets. You will very soon find that
your acquaintance will pass you without seeing you.

A COOL HINT.

We would suggest to the Purveyors of the Befreshments at the
Covent Garden Promenade Concerts, that they should introduce a new
summer beverage, to be called,—Mellonade.

Vol. 51.