Punch (71.1876)

September. 16, 1876.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Ill

AN ACCEPTED ATTENTION.

Refreshment-Bar Swell. "Now, Miss, what will you have?"
Barmaid. "Nothing, Sir, thank you !"
Swell. " Oh, have Something ! Come—anything you like ! "
Barmaid. "Well, Sir "—{-presents Pen, Ink, and Subscription List)—" give me
Something foe the Hospital Fund ! ! "

SEASONABLE SUGGESTION.

You nave seen, dear Mr. Punch, that the venerable
Earl Russell has added to his reputation for episto-
lary writing by a letter about the Bulgarian horrors, to
the Times, wherein he says :—

" It is necessary to stop the atrocities in Turkey with a strong
hand, and if the Ministerkfor Foreign Affairs does not do this,
Parliament must interfere. It is for this reason that I consider
an Autumnal Session of Parliament to be necessary."

And, dear Sir, note in the communication above-quoted
a charm in general supposed to be peculiar to youth,
directly contrary to that mistrust and suspicion com-
monly thought to characterise advanced years. That
is, the charm of innocence. I wonder what Lord Bea-
consfleld said and did when he read the foregoing pro-
posal for an Autumnal Session ? He now is an Earl too,
and bound to deport himself as such, therefore cannot
condescend to undignified language or gestures. But
must he not have taken a mental sight, and inwardly
asked whether his noble friend saw any green in his
eye ? The Premier's stars have been fortunate, and
especially in the coincidence between the storm aroused
by the Turkish barbarities and the Vacation. There is
no Opposition now to extort avowals or admissions, or
inconvenient disclosures, and to move a vote of cen-
sure, or a resolution for the recall of Sir Henry Elliot.
But this is what Earl Russell would advise Earl
Beaconsfield to have. In five months' time the storm
will probably have blown over, and something lucky
have turned up. An Autumnal Session ! Doesn't the
fine old Whig Veteran wish he may get it ? The idea,
still more the proposal, of such a thing, betokens a
heart indeed incapable of guile. 0 sancta simplicitas
of a green old age, and a mind untainted, with all its
experience of what Mrs. Malaprop calls Downey Street!
It transcends even the simplicity of a babe and

Suckling.

P.S.—And fancy the possibility of an Autumnal Ses-
sion in the height of the shooting-season!

Mem. for the Month.

Remember, Remember,

The month of September,
And jury lists hung on church door,

If exemption you claim ;

And struck off get your name,
If to serve, you account it a bore.

LEAVING HOME.

{A Social Contrast of Two Ways.)

The Wrong Way.

Edwin. Well, I suppose we must go somewhere.

Angelina. You have been such a long time making up your mind
that the summer has quite gone.

Edwin. Well, I see you have packed up your box. What a heap
of useless things you are taking. You've got enough to set up an
old clothes shop.

Angelina. I have left half of them out to go into your portmanteau.
You know you will have room for them — your scanty wardrobe
would scarcely provide a change for a scarecrow.

Edwin. Let us drop the luggage for a while, and consider where
we shall go. AVhat do you say to Switzerland ?

Angelina. I have always hated mountains ; but, if you want to go
to Sapon, I suppose I shall be dragged there.

Edwin. Sapon! When I want to gamble I generallv manage to
do it at the Club.

Angelina. You needn't remind me of your folly—robbing the home
that you may show your brother members that you don't understand
whist.

Edwin. Not understand whist, indeed! WTell, never mind, I shall
go there to-night.

Angelina {laughing nervously). No, no, you silly fellow, I didn't
mean what I said. But about this trip P
Edwin. What do you say to Italy ?

Angelina. I detest pictures and mosquitos, and am never well
when 1 am living under a cloudless sky.
Edwin. Oh hang it! Let's go to Paris.

Angelina {with the air of a martyr). Of course I will do anything
you please. [And off they go to enjoy their holiday.

The Right Way.

Edwin. Well, I suppose we must go somewhere.

Angelina. You could not have chosen a better moment for the
suggestion. London is quite empty, and the Continent will be
simply charming at this season of the year.

Edwin. Well, I see you have packed up your box. Now are you
quite sure you have enough. Mind, you will want something nice
for the tables d'hote, and plenty of warm things for the evening.

Angelina. My dear, I have got almost too many things, but, in
spite of that, I shall have plenty of room for your wardrobe. One
box between us wiU save a lot of trouble.

Edwin. Let us drop the luggage for a while and consider where
we shall go. What do you say to Switzerland ?

Angelina. I have always delighted in mountains. It will be
simply charming. And mind we must go to Sapon.

Edwin. Sapon! Oh no, I have given up gambling. The home,
my love, has been a far stronger attraction than the Club.

Angelina. And yet you, I have always understood, are one of the
very best whist-players in London.

Edwin. If you flatter me like that I shall go off to the Club to-
night to test my cleverness.

Angelina laughing heartily). No, no, you silly fellow, I didn't
mean what I said. But about this trip ?

Edwin. What do you say to Italy ?

Angelina. I revel in pictures. And you know that I am never so
well and happy as when I am living under a cloudless sky.

Edivin. Well, my darling, we will have a little Switzerland, a
little Italy, and a good long bit of Paris.

Angelina {with the air of an angel). Of course, dearest, I will do
anything you please. [And off they go to enjoy their holiday.

The Military Status Quo.—" As you were! "

vol. lxxi.

m