Punch (61.1871)

August 26, 1871.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

85

NO WHITEBAIT.

In this day of small things,

Small men, and small measures,
Labours of small value

Using up small leisures;
Small straws of small savings,

By small wastes made smaller;
Small thoughts in big language

Striving to look taller;
With so small a profit

From big words and wishes,
Why should we take off it

Price of these small fishes ?

Banquets are for soldiers

Whose campaign has ended
In some conquest purchased

By achievements splendid:
Not for those whose combats

With confusion crown them;
Who have marched up mountains

Only to march down them :
Not for those whose projects

Whatso their dimensions,
Do but pave the place that's

Paved with good intentions.

Not for those who sounding
Loud the Liberal credo,

Charge again for use Pre-
rogative's torpedo.

And in open combat

Having caught a Tartar,

While the victor triumphs,
Blow him out of water.

So the opposing foe they
Bring to swift undoing,

Very little caring
What besides they ruin.

Not for these who, mocking

Sore needs of the nation,
Oft'er it the husks of

Party legislation.
Who when restless England

On a feverish pallet
Writhes, unwashed, untended,

Proffer her the ballot.
Who each vested interest

First defy, then bow to ;
Warn mobs not to break laws,

And then teach them how to.

Not for those whose prowess

Shows but in profession;
Who in mess and muddle

Spend a wasted SessioD.
Whose cup of misfortune

Reams with bitters brimming ;
Whose troops aren't fit for marching

And their ships for swimming :
Whose bad work change but worsens-

Sign of bungling tailors,
Till like Brummel's valet,

Proud to count "our failures."

How dare we embark on

Thames, that reverend sire,
To whom, taking office,

We thought to set fire ?
How seek the " Trafalgar"—

Name to Victory dear !
Having: known such beatings

All this weary year ?
How of loaves and fishes

Should we vote supply ?
No!—If we've a dinner,

Give us Humble Pie !

THE THINKER AND THE WORKER."

Governess. " Now, Mat, you've got Two Things to Look after-"

May (who is eminently practical). " All right—Band-Box and Carpet-Bag !"
Governess. " And you've Three Things to take Care of, Charlie. Now,

what are they ? "

Charlie (a dreamy and absent Boy). " Three Things to take Care of? 0 !

0 ! Yes ! The World, the Flesh, and the D-"

Governess. "What are you Talking of, Charlie?"

DANCING IN THE DOG-DAYS.

Suave mart magno, and so on. It is pleasant also on the sea-beach, when
you are reclining in the cool shade of a rock, during the reign of Sirius, to
think of the audience in a crowded theatre. What a testimony London play-
goers have been bearing to the merits of British drama and British acting! But
what are the confessors of Melpomene and Thalia to those of Terpsichore ! The
Morning Post lately reported a ball given by a noble Earl and Countess,
whereat "the company began to arrive soon after ten o'clock ;" just when a
philosopher lights the pipe which is evermore the prologue to his sleep. They
went on dancing nearly two hours and a half, in what an atmosphere only fancy,
on a night following a noon when the thermometer had registered some 120° in
the sun. Phew!

There was waste that lacked repair, of course, " and at half-past twelve the
guests sat down to supper laid out in the large dining-hall." They sat down
to eat and drink, and rose up to go off to bed do you think ? No, rational
friends, not they. " Dancing was resumed, and was kept up with spirit until
an early hour in the morning." Imagine yourselves in their places, and if at
the same time you are in fact enjoying the cool sea-breeze, how you will
enjoy it! Or, while you are taking a swim in the fresh salt waves (never mind
a bull) think of other people dancing in a Turkish Bath. What partner could
pay you for the diaphoresis and dyspnoea attendant on waltzing and capering
in the hottest of the dog-nights till perhaps four o'clock on a dog-morning P
What man, subject to such harvest-weather as we have lately rejoiced in. would
dream of dancing in any circumstances, except those of shepherd and shep-
herdess of old, for instance, with Amaryllis in the shade of a morning, and no
end of iced syllabub ? No man would, but a day-dreamer, dreaming of another
man's great labour, so as the more feelingly to realise his own ease. For that
purpose imaginary experience of the treadmill would afford him a contrast far

Extraordinary Confession.

Aston Cokaine has lived in London all his life. He is
now spending his holidays in the country. The other ,

day he was taken to a Horticultural Show. Before he j less lively than that of the hard labour to which unhappy persons of the supe
went, he thought it right to mention that he did not rior classes subject themselves in a blazing August at balls. Let him picture that
know a Cauliflower from any other flower. | to himself, then, as he reclines, and blows his cloud, and quaffs his claret-cup.