Punch (72.1877)

244

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[June 2, 1877.

FOR PROPHET OR LOSS?

bear off unchidden;
But back no horse whose jock is changed too late,
For, favourite though he be, 'tis tempting fate.
The " pot" put on to boil his peas, we see no
Hard pilgrimage too hard for Pellegrino.
Rob Roy's the good old rule, the simple plan—
Take, all who have the power, and keep who can ;
On a dark horse if you would breathe the air,
Seek one that bears the bell in Beau-repaire.
If little Altyre no mishap befall,
'Tis like enough the dwarf will yet tire all.1
Hidalgo's promises loom large but dim—
Let who will put the Spanish upon him. 3
And what if Silvio's name be shorn of Pellico's ?
Against his backers be not, therefore, bellicose.
While the big stake stands tempting horse and mare,
Your cry may well be " Touchet " if you dare !
Upon Jagellon they who post the coal
Back one who stands, by race, head of the Pole.
Let Plunger plunge, and with him plunge who will.
What grist may come from Lady Miller's Mill ?
For Hadji Baba's sake, I'd scarce be sorrier
To lose my old, than gain a new " do," Morier.
A cell's their place who choose the Grey Friar weed ;
Thunderstone may mean bolts, or lightning's speed.
Who says Brown Prince's backers are done brown,
Or to Masaniello trusts a crown ?
Since his break-down among the lazzaroni,
Those who'd brave risk may take him for a pony.
You have my tips—you see Fate's book unsealed ;
The course is clear : forearmed, you take the field.

DERBY DRAGS FOR 1877.

Lord Beaconsfield's.—The fear that he won't be able to crown his
career as a statesman with a sensational war.

Lord Harrington's.—The dread that Mr. Gladstone's enthusiasm
may outrun his discretion, to the embarrassment of the Liberal Party.

Mr. Gladstone's.—Anxiety lest the pens of a belligerent fraction
of the Press may drown the voice of an impassioned and impulsive,
but much in earnest orator.

Mr. Cross's.—Apprehension that the balance of Power in the
Cabinet may be disturbed by the false weights of Disraelitish
mystifications.

Lord Derby's.—Comparison of the aims and achievements of the
last eighteen months' diplomacy.

Mr. Whalley's.—The belief that every second person on the
Downs is a^Jesuit, and every third a Cardinal in disguise.

Sir Wilfrid Lawson's.—The thought of the drinking for drunky
that will wash down the revels of the Day.

Major 0' Gorman's.—Tbe regret that all this power of drink and
divarsion is wasted over the could-hearted Saxon on Epsom Downs
instead of turned to profit of the raal Irish at Punch's Town.

The Upper Ten Thousand's.—The depressing reflection that the
Derby will have to be " done " again next year.

The Lower Two 3fillion's.—The sad thought that the Derby outing
comes like the " grotter," only once a year.

And, lastly, Mr. Punch's.—The certainty that no Derby Day will
be considered complete without a perfectly novel d propos Cartoon.

THE FRENCH CRACK AND HIS JOCKEYS.

An d propos Apologue.

A racer's points he shows—the crack French horse,

Looks tit for any course,
Though best at a sharp spin or rattling spurt.

Pace is his special glory, and indeed

Few nags have shown a finer turn of speed.
And though but late recovered from a hurt _
That might have spoilt his running, all admit'
That the French Favourite's in first-rate fettle,
Improved in temper, easier on the bit,
And with new stamina to help old mettle.
The public in his later form confiding,
Though there's a trick of temper in the stock,
Would freely back the big horse for big stakes,
One thing alone solicitude awakes—
The animal requires such careful riding,

And ought to be on good terms with his jock:
No boy can steer him, and the rfcan who errs
In too much or too little whip of" spurs,
Or strives to hold hard when the nag's for going,
Will find he courts a cropper. This well knowing,
One would suppose the Stable would take care
On no account to irritate the crack;
Would put their cleverest rider on his back,
And once safe in the saddle, keep him there :
But crass caprice of sense the eternal mock is,
And this French Favourite's trainers oft have shown
A most unlucky taste for changing jockeys,
Though rider after rider has been thrown,
Race after race been lost, and the brave horse,

In hands that took hard holding for good guiding,
Fretted to death, brought from bad form to worse,

By nothing but bad riding.
Still the unstable Stable courts disgrace
By changing jockeys just before the race,
And that, although the man that had the mount,
Was one on whom folks felt that they could count,
For good nerve, seat defying bolt or rearing,
Head enough for straight steering.
Hand firm, yet light, and knowledge of the course,
To get the best jock could out of the horse ;
When lo, a sudden row—a secret bobbery!
Is't stable jealousy, or backer's jobbery,
Touts' trick or tipsters' P At the trainer's frown,
The lad that was up, must at once get down,—
While with a wicked eye, and levelled ear.
Half in rage, half in fear,

The horse waits his new jock—the Stable's pick
Is hardly of the best—
And once the brute takes to back-jump and kick,
He's one to put the tightest seat to test.
'Tis ten to one the new man that the Stable
Puts up will prove to steer the horse unable,
And find dismounting easier than mounting,
Spite of the whip and spur on which he's counting.
Yes—'tis long odds, thanks to this change, that France

Has missed another chance.
When will their Stable learn a wiser way,
And give the Favourite French horse fair play ?

Old Saw re-set in Paris—"Woeth makes the Woman."