Punch (68.1875)

154

PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [April 10, 1875.

NOTHING LIKE LOGIC.

Orton Demonstrator. “ I don’ care whether he’s Orton or Tishbo’n’ or
Cashtr’ or who he is, bu’ I don’ like t’ see a Po’r Man kep’ out of’s
i Prop’ty ! ! ’

Second Orton Demonstrator. “ Jesh sho ! ” [They retire to refresh. \

MR. SQUARETOES’ SACRIEICE

TO THE MANCHESTER CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL.

Bound on a voyage to the Pole,

Heroes, and maybe martyrs, go.

Would I go, if still young and whole ?
Perhaps, if ’twere to save my soul,

On other terms—distinctly, No !

Ice-bound in darkness, want, and cold,

No martyr of his crown should doubt,

More than did martyred Saints of old.
Otherwise ’twere more wise, I hold,

To die a martyr to the Grout.

Martyr, that’s witness, to good things ;

Their martyr through enjoyment free,
Whence, in due time, Dyspepsia springs,

And thence the pang this toe which wrings—
That twinge in it just now ! Ah, me!

But yet if Science could appease
My pangs, my former health renew,
Wealth for the cure can find the fees,

Not so with victims of disease
Who poverty groan under, too.

There are infirmaries for such;

And my subscription to bestow
On one of them won’t hurt me much,

As does—0 !—■ Ah!— the slightest touch
Of this unfortunate great toe.

A Children’s Hospital—is one
To which peculiar help seems due.

Those helpless innocents ne’er won
Their own complaints, as we have done ;
Myself, I mean, friend, if not you.

Some sacrifice, within some bounds,

I’m game to stand—a guinea, nay,

A sacrifice of several pounds,

Which plainly to great good redounds,

So won’t he money thrown away.

Yes—I ’ll invest my mite, nor reck
Expense to succour babes withal.

Methinks those studs this breast might deck.
Away, my crutch ! Here, take this cheque,
Fair tenant of yon fancy-stall!

TWO VIEWS OF THE EARL OF SHAFTESBURY
AND HIS DONKEY.

“ Nostrum delicium est asinus.”

Virgil—Copa.

“ He has made humanity one of the Characteristics of Shaftesbury.”

Siieil.

“ The annual tea-meeting and donkey-show of the costermongers connected
with the Golden Lane Missions was held on tbe 24th instant at the Foresters’
Hall, Clerkenwell. . . . The event of the evening was the presentation of a
donkey to Lord Shaftesbury. The animal was with some difficulty driven
on to the platform, whence his Lordship, standing with his arm round its neck,
addressed the meeting. The Emily Club of costermongers presented Lady
Edith Ashley with a bouquet.”

(From the Philosopher's stand-point.)

Could there be better gift ? The patient beast
Who bears the stick, and will on thistles feast,

1 et in hard duty struggles to the end,

Is always grateful to a human friend,

But seldom finds such friend ; is roughly fostered
By costermongers, sellers of the costard,

Sellers of other things from door to door,

And very useful traders for the poor—

He bears a cross, we know; and legends say
Has borne, in memory of a wondrous day,

When love wrought miracles, in stress and strife,

And sick were healed, and dead men raised to life.

Since when, ’twixt hard knocks, hard words, and hard fare,
He and his owners both their cross must bear.

The Earl, who loves his race, loves other races :
He has sought evil out in darksome places,

And bravely grappled with its many arms.

And tamed its strength, and paralysed its harms.

Brought aid to weakness, moved dead weights away,
That crushed the soul down, deep, in mire and clay.
The greatest, by descending, may ascend:

The peer who is the costermonger’s friend,

Dares on the platform stroke an ass’s ears,

Rises above the level of his peers.

Though Shaftesbury’s arm around a donkey’s neck
Might prompt a laugh, all ridicule we check :

That donkey to Saint Giles’s Park will pass,

To feed, and roll, his fill in lordly grass ; _

Mounted by many a high-bred hoy and girl,

And praised and petted by the kindly Earl.

What though the shade of the Cabal-list sneer,

At such bucolics, or that sager Peer,*

Who of his age Characteristics penned,

And whom the best men of his time called friend,
Wander around Saint Giles’s grey old hall,

On Asinus no fear of them will fall.

He’ll let those pale ghosts form and fade in mist,
Nor prick an ear, till the philanthropist _

Bring him the kindly carrot, or, more prized,

The thistle, of all beasts save him despised;

Then, though a creature who on rough fare feedeth,
He ’ll proudly bear the weight of Lady Edith,

And wonder how from a foul coster’s slum,

To honour in an Earl’s park he has come.

(From the Costermonger's ditto.)

If I had a Donkey what would go,

D’ ye think he should drudge in a cart ? 0, no.

He should win me a prize, and I’d cry, “ Brayvo .

And “ Go it, Neddy! ”

* The philosophic Lord Shaftesbury, best known as the lutlior of the
“ Characteristics.”