Punch (53.1867)

[December 28, 1867.

_PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

It’s Mr. Buckstone, but the moral’s the same, and are you going to rebuild the Opera House, Mr. Buckstone ?
I remember Sir Lumley Seeffington well, he painted his face, but he was not Mr. Lumley, nor a quarter such a
good fellow, his health, and don’t shake the bottle like that, you ’ll spill the rum over my Highland legs,
and my heart’s in the Highlands, Ernest Hart, how are you ? T thought it was Buckstone, let us go and
have skilly in a workhouse, flare up and join the Union, you’re a good man, Ernest, and reform for the poor was
a good Whim to come in your Poll, my Wimpole Street friend, let us have drink, Gladstone says we may

drink till we ’re Dizzy, and how do you do, Mr. D ? Let’s go and sit for our photographs, and be *taken

together, you and me, as the Seven Cardinal Points, and live in the Temple of the Winds and be happy—tax the
photographs, my Ben, and the Income-Tax may come off, Ben, do you see that, Mr, Webster, give us a box to see
young Harry with his beaver Up at the Cattle Show, fat man in stalls looks like a stalled ox, but all’s fair at
Christmas when the floods are black at Yule, as the late Aytoun says, and very glad you are to be knighted, Mr.
Theodore Martin, and how do you do, and how’s Martin Luther, let us go to the Crystal Palace and hear
Mendelssohn’s Reformation Symphony, also to hear the gifted Miss Goddard whom with admiration all the

critical squad heard. Davison, I will have another cigar, and I will sit up till five in the morning and talk about
Haydn and his Dictionary of Dates, and his Creation, and I will sing On Mighty Pens, mine ’a the mightiest of all
the pens, Davison, William Penn, get out, and thank Hepworth Dixon for rehabilitating you, my quashed Quaker,

Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, and merrily danced-

“ Nearly out of bed, that time,” said Mr. Punch. “ It’s not easy to dance in your sleep. I must have been
taking a little too much to the health of my