Punch: Punch (70.1876)

June 17, 1876.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

249

ECHOES FROM THE PARK.

icked up in June, 1876.

What an Habitue says.
Arm-chairs tuppence, Sir;
all the others a penny.

What a Doivager says.
Yes, dear Antoinette is
to be married to dearest
Loed Chaeles in Au-
gust. And I can't help
thinking (you know how
very sharp mothers' eyes
are, dear Lady Snooks,
now don't you n that
Gwendoline and the

Dune--But there—I

mustn't say anything
more—I positively must
not.

What a Member of
Parliament says. Well,
you must know that to
my intense surprise, Sir,
the Government actually
accepted my Amend-
ment ! It was carried,
Sir; and, by Jove, Sir, if it isn't thrown out in the Lords (which
it won't be), I don't know what we shall do. Give you my word,
Sir, I don't know what we shall do !

What a Young Lady says. Oh, isn't it a sweet dress ? But I
can't say much for the wearer. I hate straw-coloured hair and
washed-out blue eyes ! Don't you, Major ?

What an American says. Yes, Sir, I have come to see your
Europe. I arrived yesterday, and did London last night. I'm off
for Paris to-morrow morning.

What an Elderly Maiden Lady says. Oh, yes, we girls are all
going to Ascot. Hy brother will take his daughters and myself.
We shall be such a merry party ! You must meet us there !

What a Young Gentleman from Aldershot says. I assure you,
old man, we are being bucketted all over the place. Nothing but
the precious Long Valley all the week! Never get up to town
before Friday night, and then have to be back again by Monday
morning! Haven't had my hair cut for two days—give you my
word I haven't!

What a Traveller says. Oh, I didn't do very much. I only
trotted through Africa, and had a look at Asia. Africa was rather
interesting ; but Asia, you know, had been seen before. Think I
shall go to the North Pole in September, to get some fishing.

What an Owner of Horses says. I have it on the best authority
that the jock knew nothing about the plant, and was as much sur-
prised at the result as the public themselves. Dear me, what a
pity! If you had only come to me before the race, I could have told
you the whole story, and saved your money for you !

What a Very Young Man says. The Park's fallen off awfully—■
not a bit like what it used to be in the days of my youth.

What a Very Old Man says. When I come here, my dears, it
quite takes me back to the days when I was courting your grand-
mother. Now, I remember fifty years ago. What t You are
quite right, my dears. I have told you the story before !

What a Disagreeable Young Woman says. Yes, I have been to
the Academy, to both Operas, and to all the theatres.

What a Youth of Fourteen says. Now, Chaeeev, let's make our
ponies race. _ Never mind the Peeler. If he joins us, his old screw
of a horse will be placed third. Now, then, off we go !

What a Nurse says. Shall I take you to the Barracks, dears, to
have a look at the pretty Soldiers P

What a Policeman says. There's really no danger, Mum ; it's
perfectly safe. The carriages won't come until I gives 'em leave to.

What Everybody says. Two o'clock already ! How the time flies
in the_ Park! Such amusing and interesting conversation, too !
Well, it can't be helped—we must go home to lunch !

MORE PANICS.

The Milliners and Modistes are in a state of panic, because while
this cold weather lasts they cannot sell their summer costumes.

A panic prevails among a number of Match-making Mammas,
who fear they will be left with their daughters on their hands,
through the dulness of the season.

Mr. William Sixes and several of his pals are experiencing a
panic, through a rumour which has reached them that Policemen on
night duty, instead of their noisy, heard-afar-off boots, will in future
wear goloshes.

A panic is beginning to set in among our Cooks, who fear the
badness of trade generally will reduce the price of Kitchenstuff.

There are symptoms of a panic among Foreign Hotel-keepers, lest
Messieues Beown, Jones, and Robinson, and many hundreds of
their countrymen, who have been hard hit by " Turks," should find
they really can't afford their usual tour next autumn.

Me. John Thomas is in a dreadful state of panic, through a report
that some two thousand carriages have been given up this season,
and a doubt whether ere long he may be reduced to walk.

ADDRESS TO ANIMALS' FRIENDS.

The work of Legislation asks the guidance of reflection.
Consider what you mean to interdict as " Yivisection,"
A cruelty to animals revolting to morality ;
The cutting of a thing endowed with sentient vitality ?

Firstly, what is a living thing, defined in sense contracted,
Within the meaning of the Bill proposed to be enacted ?
Are fishes living things, trout, eels, cod, salmon, skate, John Dory ?
Lie reptiles, frogs, toads, tadpoles too, in live things' categor3< ?

Do molluscs, and Annelida, with all Articulata ?
Or is your measure only to include the Vertcbrata ?
Must beetles and cockchafers still continue unprotected,
E'en without a pain-assuaging anaesthetic vivisected ?

Next, what call you Yivisection ? Simply cutting things with life
in 'em ?

Don't you reckon lacerating full as bad as putting knife in 'em ?
Is not shooting them for pastime Yivisection, and, in fact, is
Not hunting them to death an as objectionable practice ?

Are crimping cod and skinning eels alive not on a parity
With any Yivisection for the matter of barbarity ?
Live lobsters what of boiling, too, with purpose, for apology,
No better than experiments of use in physiology ?

In a movement of pure sympathy with brutes against brutality

Not for a moment fancy we the slightest unreality !

But hear we not an outcry of a special indignation

'Gainst that mode of Yivisection which subserves investigation ?

'Twould seem there's an impulsive and emotional alliance

Amongst the men of sentiment against the men of science.

You talk of the atrocities committed by Professors.

Are Gun Club " Swells " less heinous, more excusable transgressors ?

What of live bait impaled on hooks—old Izaak Walton's habit'?
Is it crueller to cut up a live guinea-pig or rabbit ?
And do we owe a duty to our lobworm and our gentle,
Which we can only violate by torts experimental ?

'Gainst Yivisection legislate—but not without improvement
On the limited intention of a too specific movement.
Give all animals from cruelty all possible protection ;
Don't merely try to hamper scientific Yivisection.

A QUIET DAY ON THE THAMES.

{Dedicated to the Thames Conservancy.)

9 A.M.—Got out my boat, and made immediately for the centre of
the stream.

10 a.m.—Spent some three-quarters of an hour in attempting to
avoid the swell of the City steamboats. Within an ace of being
swamped by one of them.

11 a.m.—Run into by a sailing-barge. Only saved by holding on
to a rope, and pushing my boat aground.

12 noon.—Aground.

1 e.m.—After getting into deep water again, was immediately run
into by a coal-barge. Exchange of compliments with the crew
thereof.

2 e.m.—Pursued by swans and other savage birds.^ Pelted with
stones thrown from the shore by ragged urchins out of reach of my
vengeance.

3 e.m.—Amongst the fishing-punts. Lively communication of
opinions by the angry fishermen. Attempted piracy.

4 e.m.—"Busily engaged in extricating my boat from the weeds.

5 p.m.—Disaster caused by a rope coming from the towing-path.

6 p.m.—Lock-keeper not to be found. Daring and partially
successful attempt to shoot the rapids.

7 p.m.-—Puin down by a steam-launch travelling at express-rate
speed.

8 p.m.—Just recovering from the effects of drowning.

9 p.m.—Going home to bed !