Punch (59.1870)

December 3, 1870.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. _ 233

THE FITTEST FOOD FOR POWDER.

officer and a gentle-
man, General Cod-
rington, writing in
the Times, denounces
the enlistment into

^-f^^s^r^i"" r_~^z--- The authorities

- ^?^=~ i(( \ '—.....,y '» charged by General

tlin^fu3*L^ —_•' ____^r>~--^ codrington with

"~'"^^^'——^■■■^^"'z.- utilising live sewage

r v ——~^ ~z by converting it into

,^3 ( """N ' ____- n faftjj— soldiers, are the

' ---4tr^rfr - W " Luton Magistrates.

"They had," he ob-
serves, "their moral cesspool to empty," and they emptied it into
the Army. Rubbish, the General thinks, must not be shot there.
Unhappily he is right. An Army, suoh as the British, must needs be

Mrs. Hen. You know what I mean, very well.
Hen. What 1 mean you don't perhaps know.
Mrs. Hen. What do you mean ?
ith the very na-1 jjeUt To me last Christmas seems full six years ago. Every month
tural feelings of an j nas Deen at feast a year morally.

Mrs. Hen. Yah ! Morally. When you refuse to pay your just debts.
Talk of morality—you ought to be ashamed of yourself. I'll tell you
■what—if you don't pay the money, principal and interest, by to-morrow
morning, I shall instruct my solicitor to proceed against you iu the
. County Court. So there!
the Army, irom Lu- Hen. 'Pop. my word, I haven't the money by me just now. But
ton, of habitual | there's an instalment {offers a coin).

criminals. The Ge-1 j^£rSm jim That, indeed ! Stop, though. Give it me {snatches it away
neral says:— [ from him). A shilling {rings it on the table). 'Tis a bad one. You false

" ' Habitual' crimi- j wretch, you! I'll be as good as my word. I'11 County-Court you, I will,
nal means, I believe, a i Hen. Serve me right for having once courted you.
felon — the thief, the j Mrs. Hen. You courted me for money.

Hen. So you threaten to court me.

Mrs. Hen. Yes, but not for your money—for my own. I'll make
you pay. I'll get judgment. I '11 distrain.
Hen. On what ? Your own furniture ?

Mrs. Hen. On your walking-stick. On your gun. On your cigars.
I'll have you committed, and sent to gaol.
Hen. You can't get blood out of a post.
Mrs. Hen. Post! You know your own value, then.
Hen. Talking of post, come—Uncle John's little property is settled
on me—I 11 give you a post-obit.
Mrs. Hen. Your Uncle John may live these dozen years—I want my

forger, the garotter, the
incendiary, the burg-
lar, or the perpetrator
of other crimes—the
term is not limited to
the mild ' chicken
stealer.'"

money now.
Hen. What for?

Mrs. Hen. What's that to you? Now women have got Iheir rights
—that is, a few of them—they are not going to allow their husbands to
pry into their circumstances and waat they are going to do with their
property.

Hen. No, dearest; but it may be the privilege of a fond consort to

composed of valuable materials. Alas, that, they should be liable to be I make a suggestion, and to offer disinterested advice. With regard to
shot, and not the rubbish. But so it is. We cannot depend upon an j that little sum of £10, I acknowledge the debt. I have been joking,
army of blackguards in these days. Long ago, indeed, a great Com- It was foolish of me ; but never mind—I will write you a cheque at
mander told his Commonwealth that, for soldiers, " we want men who once for the £10 if you like ; but you can do better than take that,
have a conscience of what they do." iSiow, more than ever, do we \ Suppose you convert the debt into an investment ?

need the salt and not the scum of the earth to fight our battles—the
battles forced upon us by foreign burglars and garotters in the whole-
sale line. But, O what a pity this is, and what a bore ! How grievous it
seems that we cannot put our scoundrels to use by employing them in
the hardest work that has to be done. Military active service is often-
times more painful than penal servitude. If any member of the com-
munity must needs suffer the torments which have to be endured by
wounded soldiers, who should they be but the criminal classes ?
Who but they are the proper persons to undergo the severest hard-
ships and privations that any man can, and some must ? If there must
be food for powder, of whom ought it to consist but brutes who
are good for nothing else ? The impossibility of making them avail-
able for that material seems to be an anomaly in the nature of things.
Why is convict labour inadequate to military service ? Is it, possibly,
because war is an evd avoidable by wise and just counsels ; a calamity
which people always owe to either their fault or their folly ?

War would have some visible use, like that of thunderstorms which
clear the air, if belligerent nations could use up their rogues and
ruffians by setting them to fight together. In that case some appro-
priate alterations could be satisfactorily made in military nomenclature.
Regiments, brigades, and battalions might be named after rascals of
special kinds. The British Army might then have its larceniers; for
example, its horse and sheep stealers, its footpads, its light and heavy
felonry, and so on. If it were but practicable to reorganise our Army
on the basis of the regimental system above indicated, war would in
some measure be a blessing. It would enable us to utilise our moral
sewage according,to the deserts thereof, by disposing of it on the field
of battle.

A CONJUGAL TRANSACTION;

oe, the wipe's property.

Scene. Breakfast Table—Mr. and Mrs. Hencock.

Mrs. Hen. When do you mean to pay me that £10 ?
Hen. What £10 ?

Mrs. Hen. Why, that £10 you borrowed of me to help pay your
tailor's bill. I've got your note of hand for it.
Hen. But that was last Christmas.
Mrs. Hen. Very well.

Hen. I don't owe it you now, then. It's barred by the Statute of Hen- That 18 al1 r1?^- K\ the nec?ssary le^[ documents be pre

Mrs. Hen. In what way ?
Hen. Let the money remain in my hands, on legal security, bearing
interest. I will give you 5 per cent.
Mrs. Hen. What's the security?

Hen. Freehold. The little garden attached to this cottage is my
own. Your security, love, shall be a part of the land. You shall have
a mortgage on its most productive portion ; the asparagus bed.

Mrs. Hen. Can I trust you ?

Hen. Don't ask me. Consult your solicitor. Ten pounds at five
per cent, will be ten shillings a year, a nice little sum for pocket-
money, and there will be the principal in case anything should happen
to me, to be realised if you want it; anyhow a nice little provision for
the future.

Mrs. Hen. You are sure you will pay me the interest punctually ?

Hen. Will I pay my rates and taxes ? To be sure. And it' I don't,
then you can foreclose.

Mrs. Hen. Four what? Clothes ! How do you mean?

Hen. Oh, ho! {laughing) your lawyer will tell you all about that. I
should mention one thing : you know I shall be able to pay off the £10
at any time if I like.

Mrs. Hen. O yes.

Hen. But then, of course, you would cease to receive interest.
Mrs. Hen. H'm!

Hen. There, never mind. I shall be quite willing to do what you
like, for that matter. So perhaps you might find it convenient to put
another £10 to the investment, and make it twenty, and I can mortgage
you the cabbage-bed as well. Eh ?

Mrs. Hen. I hardly know what to say.

Hen. Say yes, Kezzy, as you spoke that word once, when {his voice
falters)—when {mentally, aside) you answered a fool according to his folly.
Mrs. Hen. Very well, then, yes if you like.

Hen. Once again Affection answers in the affirmative, and I am a
happy man. Do you happen to have a ten-pound note about you ?

Mrs. Hen. {producing aportemonnaie). I think I have. Yes {pulls out
a bank-note). Here. {He offers to take it.) Not so fast. Wait till the
mortgage deed is drawn up, duckey.

Hen. Goosey, rather. 1 ought to have known I was dealing with a
woman of business. I '11 give you another note of hand {writes) for the
money meanwhile. There {handing acknowledgment).
Mrs. Hen. And there {she gives him the bank-note).

Limitations,

Mrs. Hen. Fiddle-de-dee! The Statute of Limitations is six years.
Hen. Appoints six years, dear. A statute is one thing, and a term
of years is another.

pared as soon as possible ; in the meantime permit me to seal our little
contract—so {kissing her). A good husband requires no statute to
compel him to respect the rights of women.

Curtain.

Vol. 59.

8