Punch (51.1866)

September 15, 186b.J PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE RITUAL MOVEMENT.

The Reverend Augustine Cope, our High Church Clergyman, has ordered a Set of Vestments. His pretty Cousins

WAYLAY THE PARCEL, AND DRESS THEMSELVES UP IN ORDER TO ASTONISH Mr. AUGUSTINE. The REVEREND YOUNG GENTLEMAN IS

“Grieved to find that they have no respect for Solemn Things.”

PUNCH ON THE LOW WIRE,

But Mr. Glass, unlike Madame,
Forgets ‘ First, catch your cable.5

AND GLASS ON THE HIGH ROPES.

There is an ancient Joe that tells
How once an Irish steward.

Let fall the tea-pot overboard,

One morning when it blew hard.

He to the Skipper went forthwith

(£ And popped this question flying—

“ Captain dear, can a thing be lost
When ye know where it’s lyin5 ?55

“ No! you Blest fool!55 the Captain roared;

“ Ah, thin!55 quoth Pat, quite gay—

“ Sorra the pot’s lost, ’tis, I know,

At bottom of the say.”

Time was this seemed an Irish bull,

But now its breed is crost;

What lies at bottom of the sea,

Henceforward, is not lost.

In Neptune’s bosom, three miles deep,

On Mid-Atlantic’s floor;

Lay of the wire of sixty-five,

A thousand miles and more.

And when Glass spoke of catching it.

The world laughed, by direction:

“ Glass must be cracked; must be a Glass
With no power of reflection !

“ Mrs. Glasse writes—' first, catch your hare,’
Then dishes it for table ;

“ Suppose it caught, to lift that weight
From that depth perpendicular!

“ Ridiculous ” can’t be compared,

Or, we’d ask, ‘ What’s ridicular? ’ ”

So when three ships, with three-mile lines.
For this strange catch went fishing,

They’d little of Bull’s faith or hope,

Tho’ much of his good-wishing.

When, lo, this deep-sea fishing proved
An easy business quite :

Scarce a day passed but every ship
Got, at the least, one bight.

Hooked, raised, hauled in from ocean’s bed,
Spliced, sheathed with hempen thrum;

The wire, for all its sleep profound.

Proved neither dead nor dumb !

All the year, in Valentia’s Bay,

An anxious watch they kept;

And they that watched, though far away,
Heard it talk, as it slept.

Broken, unmeaning sounds, but now
It uttered sense again;

Spoke all the better, for the long
Deep snooze that it had ta’en.

Till of Atlantic shares (that seemed
Drowned deep in Neptune’s cup).

As of Atlantic engineers.

You may say “They’ve picked up.”