Punch (75.1878)

August 31, 1878.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

85

ST PARTRIDGE'S DAY IN OUR PARISH.

Sporting Rector. "Saturday being the Feast of St. Enurchus,
there'll be Morning Service at Eleven. To-Morrow, there'll
be the usual blble meet-"

Ditto Clerk {in a loud Whisper). "Houd on, Pairson ! Thu \s

FORGETTEN t' PAIRTRIDGES ! "

Hector (hurriedly). " Hem !—The usual Bible Meeting will not

TAKE place.—LET us SlNG," &c.

DARWINISM AND DOGMA.

(Song for the "Anthropological Section")

'Twas the Sun that stood still, Galileo declared,
And the Earth that around him was moving ;

And we know how at Ptome the Philosopher fared,
Fact, but heresy likewise, for proving.

Astronomy threw Mother Church into fits
By what seemed to her lore contradiction.

Now it chimes so' with chapter and verse, she admits,
That 'tis taught free from priestly restriction.

Then Geology made out this Earth's age more vast
Than a Sunday School Teacher supposes ;

And divines, for the most part, awhile stood aghast
At apparent discordance with Moses.

But when Saurians extinct could no more he denied,
Nor the "flint in the drift"'s proof confuted,

They found truth scientific and text coincide
Both chronologies rightly computed.

By-and-by, if we find our first parents were apes
That 'tis proved to each soul's satisfaction,

Words received in new senses, things taking new shapes,
Will be squared with man's simious extraction.

And 'twill then be thought only a bit of bad taste

To inquire if as apes die so men die ?
Faith and Science, at odds howsoe'er they seem placed,

Will aye find out a modus vivendi.

on her majesty's service.

Q. Why is the Queen's livery scarlet ?

A. Because it has such frequent cause to blush at its treatment.

BULL AND THE SCARLET CLOTH;

or, the badge of disgrace.

(An anythi?ig-rathcr-than-laughable Farce in numberless Acts.)

Specimen Scene—The Coffee-Room of a Country Inn. Cloaked
Stranger surrounded by delighted Diners (who have left their
own Tables to listen to his amusing conversation) discovered
discussing a modest meal.

First Diner. Ha, ha ! A very capital story, Sir ! You must have
travelled much ?

Cloaked Stranger. Ay, Sir, indeed have I. I know India by
heart, the Cape of Good Hope is as familiar to me as the platform of
Clapham Junction is to him y-clept its Station Master ; and as for
Gibraltar, Malta, Canada, or Aden, why I know them all as well as
I do mine own shadow. Yes, I have been something of a traveller.

Second Diner. And have read deeply ?

Cloaked Stranger. Well—yes—a little. The fact is, I am fond of
books and papers. Wherever my wanderings may have led me, I
have always found a library ready to my hand—it has formed a part
of my dwelling-place. But do not put me down as a dreamer. In
my leisure I have learned a trade.

Third Diner. So accomplished a man must have done the State
some service ?

Cloaked Stranger (modestly). They have told me so. When dark
clouds obscured the sun of my country's future, when the echo of
the storm came from abroad, when commerce was paralysed, and
labour found itself a drug in its own market—then men have looked
to me for help, and I have helped them.

Third Diner. And your reward for this signal service ?

Cloaked Stranger (with a smile). Chiefly the approbation of my
own conscience. Nay, do not let me be ungrateful. In my public
capacity I have been treated well. My health, as the first of toasts,
has been drunk with enthusiasm at every subscription dinner, and
the Queen herself has gracefully and graciously acknowledged what
Her Majesty has been pleased to call my patriotism.

First Diner (with cave). Pray pardon any undue familiarity, Sir.
W e had no idea we were honoured with the presence of one with so
great a claim upon our gratitude—our respect.

Cloaked Stranger. Nay, say not so. There are thousands and
thousands who have done what I have done. I only ask for kind-
ness—toleration.

Chorus of Diners. Indeed, you are too modest—you are, indeed.

Officious Waiter. Sir, let me remove your cloak—the room is hot.

Cloaked Stranger (with hesitation). Nay, let it be. I prefer to
wear it. (Aside.) Dare I trust them !

Officious Waiter. You must permit me. I will take no refusal.

[Removes cloak, and starts back horrified.

Chorus of Diners. Atrocious! Shameful! Disgraceful!

[Ex-Cloaked Stranger cowers before the general indignation.

Officious Waiter (turning to Diners). It has never occurred before,
Gentlemen.

First Diner (indignantly). As I am a tailor in a small way of
business, this is too bad!

Second Diner (more indignantly). As I am a petty farmer, who
can scarcely spell my own name, I was never so insulted before !

Third Diner (most indignantly). As I am a quasi bagman, dis-
missed for dishonesty, things are coming to a pretty pass!

Ex-Cloaked Stranger. Nay, hear me. Look at these medals,
these wounds. I have a wife at home, and children, too. They love
and respect me. Why should you—

[The Diners turn their backs upon him.

Officious Walter. Now, then, you be off !

Fx- Cloaked Stranger. Why should I be treated thus ? If I walk
into a place of entertainment I am told to leave ; if I ask for a berth
in a steamer I am refused the boon I crave ; if I enter a church to
pray, before I have time to kneel I am hunted from the pew. In
other countries the garb I wear secures for its owner hearty welcome
and sincere respect. But here I am driven, insulted—I know not

what-(excitedly). Tell me why I am treated thus ?

Officious Walter (piointiiig contemptuously to _ Ex-Cloaked Stran-
ger's uniform). Because you are a Common Soldier ! Now be off!
[Diners shake their fists at Ex-Cloaked Stranger, and ask to see
the Landlord; and a Recruiting Sergeant, who has watched
the scene through the window, gives up his business as a
hopeless task as the Curtain fcdls.

on a fair taradiddler.

You swear your tresses are home-grown ! What good
To cover your ialse-hair with a faheJiood ?

The Latest from Afghanistan.—The British Government will
not stand any Shere (Ali) nonsense !