Punch: Punch (56.1869)

March 27, 1869.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

123

speeches, and the Irish Secretary made one of the best which could be
delivered on the subject. “ The Bill was sweeping and severe, and it
would be weakness and folly if it were anything else.”

Friday. Very effective sparring between two clever Irish lawyersj
Dr. Ball, and the present Attorney-General for Hibernia, an ex-
ulting address from Mr. Miall, and a series of neatly-aimed shots from
Sir Stafford Northcote’s small-bore, were the noticeable incidents
of the night, which was closed by one of the finest orations ever
delivered bv Mr. Bright. We had heard much about Religion, but
Mr. Bright introduced the element of Christianity, which asserted its

power, and gave the speaker a grander triumph than one of mere
eloquence, however splendid. Never “despair of the republic,”
while there are men to speak such words, and men to listen to them as

the English Commons to-night listened to John Bright.

WELL-DRESSED GUYS.

Judicious article, Mr.
Punch, in the Pall
Mail Gazette on
“ The Dress of Eng-
lishwomen,” con-
tains the following
passage :—

“ Men as well- as
women sometimes
dress in an eccentric
manner from mere
caprice, or from an
idea that it is un-
worthy of a ‘ sensible ’
person to take any
trouble whatever
about dress. They
think it is creditable
to them to say, ‘ I do
not care how I dress.’
In reality it only
shows that they are
untidy by nature. No
man pays his brains
a complimentby going
about the streets a
sloven. Men of talent,
great writers, and
great orators, must
cherish the belief that
they are superior to

dress, or the shabbiest men in the community would not be found so often in
their ranks.”

All this is undeniable. There are, however, those who take no
trouble whatever about their dress from quite another cause than the
idea that it is unworthy of a sensible person. Let me describe one of
them. Sir, I am accustomed, myself, to dress without the least regard
to any other considerations than common decency, comfort, durability,
cleanliness, and cheapness—I never did dress with much concern for
aught else. That was simply because I knew it would be thrown away.
In mv best days even I was short, fat, and dumpy, not, indeed, exactly
round as to figure, but oval • my circumference at the waist being my

Seatest, and the measure thereof considerably exceeding my height.

y legs were what my schoolfellows called bandy, as of course they
remain ; and in growing older I have grown not taller but bigger
round, so that my form approaches that of the Earth, and if I were a
monk I might be said to belong to the Order of Oblate Fathers.

In face I was, and am, what women euphemistically call plain—in a
plain word, ugly. Not only were my features always as coarse and
lumpish, nearly, as they are now, but they at all times wore a dull, un-
intelligent expression, which has by no means improved with years ;
and if I were quite as foolish as 1 look, I should be as great a fool,
almost, as anyone I know.

Now, if any arts of dress could possibly have rendered my bodily
disadvantages otherwise than remarkable, I should certainly not have
failed to dress, in my youth at least, as well as I could afi'ord :—

“ Costly my habit as my purse could buy.”

Because, never having been an object of anybody’s fear, I have often
had my personal defects ridiculed in my own presence. When I was a
boy some other boys would continually inform me of them; just as
men, who were once such boys, are, chiefly for want of anything wiser
to sav, wont to remind each other that they are getting old, losing
their hair, their teeth, their sight, their memory, or their intellect.

Now, so long as people sav nothing that is likely to do me any
damage, I don’t care a straw how they talk about me behind my back.
Anyhow they may laugh at me as much as ever they please. But I
object to being made fun of to my face. If a man merely gird at my

nose, and I pull his, I commit an assault. Prudence may even forbid
me to retort upon him in a sarcasm. Not resenting his insult, I feel a
temporary humiliation. To be sure it is only temporary, but for the
time it is unpleasant, and could I avert this annoyance by wearing
a better dress I would, unless it were too expensive.

I should once have taken as great pains about my clothing as any
fop could, if I had been so good looking a fellow as to be capable of
conciliating the favour of young ladies; but I knew that nothing I
could put on would prevent me from being outweighed, in their esti-
mation, by every handsome fool. I have now attained to an age at
which every man ceases to be an object of interest to the gentler sex,
unless he is rich; but, if I thought that, by an improvement of my cos-
tume, I could ingratiate myself with the better sort of them, I should
still be disposed to adopt it. Circumstanced as I am, however, all i
expenditure on decoration, which would be unavailing and not pay, is
excluded by the economy which of necessity presides over my wardrobe.
What I save by thus retrenching that outward show that could give
me no pleasure, enables me to purvey gratification to a sensitive in- \
terior. So, albeit never taking the least trouble about my dress, 1 am
not, I contend, ever ill-dressed. On the contrary, I say, I always dress
as well as I need to, and therefore nobody can really dress better than

Your humble Servant,

Guido.

P.S. I assure you that, whenever I cease to be importuned by
beggars, I always purchase new apparel. I doubt whether I could
dress much better than I do, if I tried to. I might quit the slop-shop,
indeed, and employ a tailor to make my clothes, if I could find anybody
worthy of that name who would venture. I could ask Mr. Poole, but
think it very probable that he would refuse.

“ A Vision of Life.”

GLORY, GLORY, ABYSSINIA !

Five million pounds voted last Session for the Abyssinian war !
Three more millions to be voted immediately by the present Parlia-
ment, and how much besides Robert does not know. The Income-Tax
payers had better make up their minds to be fleeced altogether to the
amount of £10,000,000. For all these millions we have to show the
captives of the late Theodore, and a quantity of Glory. O Glory,
what millions have been lavished in thy name !

The Yankee soldiers in the Secession Civil War used to march sing-
ing a song about John Brown’s body, of which the burden began
with “ Glory ! Glory ! ” They sang that ultimately to the tune of
many millions; so many that it is to be hoped they will not be in
a hurry to sing it again. Its notes were greenbacks, which, standing
for dollars, in sum equivalent to hundreds of millions of pounds
sterling, formed altogether a tune that was very dolorous.

Theodore was no Arminius, and Lord Napier of Magdala proved
himself anything but a Varus, so that Her Most Gracious Majesty
has no cause to cry, with Cjesar Augustus, “ O Napier, restore me
my legions! ” But the Income-Tax payer may well shriek, and will
find himself in case to shriek yet louder, “ O Abyssinia, give me back
my millions ! ”

The Income-Taxed portion of the community may, however, console
themselves with the consideration that, besides the Glory which their
country has made them pay for, there certainly are the rescued pri-
soners to show. Glory, with nothing else, has generally been the most
successful result of our wars, and now that battles have to be fought
with iron-sided turret-ships, and projectiles so highly improved that
shells cost from twenty pounds or so, and no shot that will make any
considerable smash can be fired under some five pounds, the war tax-
paying class cannot but implore the Government and the Legislature
to go to the very verge of national humiliation rather than incur
another Glory Bill which that class will be obliged to defray.

A Trinity College (Dublin) man was talking the other day upon
the small value attached to life by uncivilised nations. Somebody re-
marked that in China, if a man were condemned to death, he could
easily hire a substitute to die for him. “ Ah yes,” said T. C. D., “ I
believe many poor fellows get their living by being substitutes that
way.” _

Puffer’s English.

In the catalogue of the articles to be disposed of at the sale of old
Beautiful-for-Ever’s effects in Bond Street, one chattel was de-
scribed in vulgar auctioneers’ slang as a “ matchless ” sideboard. Why
matchless ? Was there no match to it, or no match in it ? Did it con-
tain no matches, or was there no sideboard out so good as to be a
match for the old woman’s ?

New Member.—“ The Ear of the House.”