Punch (63.1872)

November 2, 1872.] PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHAKIVARI.

181

last moment, as to whether they shall have themselves run over, or " Spite of spoony P. Tayloes and soft Jacob Bbights,
not. The majority—the bigger man—settles it, and they choose the j We will trust to stern sense, and look facts in the face :

gutter. Brutes we '11 flog, whene'er needful to set wrongs to-rights,

Nearer the Station. There's a handsomely proportioned church : j „,.?or Put back the Cjrt with nine tails in its case,
it is usually more or less full, and often crowded. They are a devo-
tional people; and in order to make the churches like a home to
the worshippers, they are fitted up with spittoons and sawdust.
" The Germans," says my friend Fobtescue in his easy-going,
gloomy way, " se divisent en deux parties ; ceux qui crachent, et ceux
qui ne crachent pas. Only," he adds, " the latter I've never met."
I rebuke him for this sweeping allegation by commencing a review
of Continental manners and customs, and am about to ask him what,
on this particular point, he has to say to America, when the train
surprises us—by its punctuality—and in another four minutes I
am off.

Happy Thought.—Germany, farewell! Belgium again.

More Happy Thoughts.—England. Now, then, for Mister Pigs!

MY CAT'S NINE TALES.

Apropos of Petes Taylob

And his horror of the cat
That, in sturdy hands of gaoler,

Gives garotters tit for tat,
Late I heard my Puss a-pnrring,

On the hearth-rag where he lay,
"With a soft electric stirring

Of his tail, in graceful play,—

" It strikes me that he who to whipcord's abrasion
Of the back of a brute in the shape of a man,
Prefers the soft workings of mild moral suasion,

Though a Taylor, can scarce be the ninth of a man ;
I say, brutes by brute suffering can best be got at—
And that's the first tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" That because the most hardened garotting offender
Howls at sight of the lasb, it is cruel to flog,
Is a notion that, if it prove Taylob's heart tender,

Proves even more clearly his head in a fog ;
To me the rogues' dread shows the punishment pat—
And that's the next tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" When one thinks of the style of garotters' attacking,
The coward assault from behind, three to one ;
The hug that the sufferer's spine may be cracking,

The blow in the chest that may slay or may stun:
One feels there's much virtue in old ' tit for tat'—
And that's the third tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" That humanity e'en prison-discipline reaches,

And that Justice for Mercy finds place more and more,
Is a truth, thank our stars, that all history teaches;

Which yet gives no warrant, if thumbed o'er and o'er,
For the softness of spoon, or the folly of flat—
And that's the fourth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" There are ruffians whose sole terror terror of blows is,
Whose skins are as soft as their hearts are of stone,
Who can gammon the chaplain with piety's poses,

And, with tongues in their cheeks, ape repentance's groan :
For whom word without blow will be ne'er verbum sat.—
And that's the fifth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" Instead of this squeamish abhorrence of flogging,
I'm sorry we don't trust its virtues still more;
Wife-beaters, child-torturers, try with a slogging,
That, if hearts can't be touched, backs at least might make
sore:

Would so much of their dues coward ruffians but gat !—
And that's the sixth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" If lex talionis might plead for a hearing,—

And there's something in lex talionis, no doubt,—
The triangles, I think, we should oftener be rearing,
And the cat from the bag would be oft'ner let out,
If garotted to sentence garotters but sat—
And that's the seventh tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

" There's an old Latin proverb, for charity fitting,
But as well to the lash, when deserved, it applies :
I maintain that the Judge to some purpose is sitting,
Who, with ruffians to doom, at the Cat never shies,
But rather than once ' bis' and ' cito,' too, dat—
And that's the eighth tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

Till garotters and ruffians shall mind what they 're at—
And that's the last tale of my nine," quoth the Cat.

THE LABOURING UPPER CLASSES.

btjxy gee at Mb. PUNCH,

I am not a great man.
I am glad that I cannot
be called upon to lay a
first stone, or preside at
a charity dinner, or sit
for a full-sized portrait,
or receive deputations, or
address constituents, or
distribute prizes, or—
award them. I lay par-
ticular stress on this last-
mentioned misfortune of
greatness, from having
recently read in the
Athencsum the following
announcement: — " Mb.
Peek's offer of three
prizes for as many origi-
nal essays on the Estab-
lished Church of England
has been responded to by
no fewer than 103 candi-
dates. The perusal and
consideration of these
MS. exercises, many of
great length, are now
occupying the judges, the
Master of the Temple,
the Rev. Db. Hessey, and Lobd Salisbuby; but so laborious is
this work of examination, that the writers must not expect the
final decision for six or eight months at least from this time."

I hope, Mr. Punch, your greatness has never exposed you to such
hardships as the Master of the Temple, Db. Hessey, and the Mar-
quis of Salisbury, must now be undergoing. If the Athencsum
had said that the final decision was not to be expected " for six or
eight years at least," I should not have been at all surprised. One
can imagine that, after perusing and considering, say sixty essays,
even such pillars of the Church as Db. Vaughan, Db. Hessey, and
Lobd Salisbuby, might feel their zeal for the Establishment re-
laxed, and be disposed to take a more lenient view of the proceed-
ings of Mb. Miall and Mb. Mobxey. They can have no leisure,
no rest, no enjoyment of life while the examination of these 103
MS. exercises (many of them, probably, badly written in two
senses) is in progress—" in the intervals of business " they must be
always, not essay writing, as another great man once was, but essay
reading. It requires no very lively fancy to depict the three Judges
as reading essays at breakfast, reading essays in bed, reading essays
in railway carriages and other public and private conveyances,
reading essays in their walks, reading essays in their dreams, until,
if such a thing were possible, they must almost wish themselves
Nonconformists, or inhabitants of some ideal state, where prize
essays are as much unknown as prize cats or prize fighters.

But perhaps the Judges do not read the essays, only meet together
from time to time for coffee, and hear the exercises read aloud by a
chaplain or secretary, for whose sufferings one feels compassion, but
in a less degree, because there is probably some attempt made to re-
munerate him for his labours. If so, let us hope that sleep never
overtakes his listeners, and that they are as cheerful, _ as good-
humoured, and in as full and perfect possession of their judicial
faculties after the tenth essay as they were at the conclusion of the
first.

I will only add one more reflection. There are but three prizes ;
there are one hundred and three candidates. There will, therefore,
be exactly one hundred aggrieved and disappointed essayists going
about in Society, who for the rest of their lives, or, at all events,
until some other benevolent individual calls their literary powers
again into being, will consider the Master of the Temple, the Rev.
Db. Hessey, and the Maequis of Salisbury, as utterly incompetent
to discern true merit, and three of the most over-rated persons they
ever knew.

I conclude as I began. I am glad I am an obscure person, and not
a great man, to have my photograph in the shop windows, and my
will in the newspapers, and to be liable to be called upon to adjudi-
cate on one hundred and three Prize Essays.

Homo Ighdtus.