Punch (75.1878)

October 19, 1878.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKIVAKL 109

* iW- Mm,:, MERCY BY THE MEESEY-

-—y^^AjM^- ^ >®% ^'// [Manchester.—Mr. Kayner Wood, a Magistrate, residing

M^tZJk, WJHlmh ^Zitf^Q viwV%lt a* Singleton Lodge, Singleton Brook, prosecuted two Sisters of

if' ^Vli5»|» F4r flB lf!rH T^^^s^s. rW Mercy for begging. These Sisters support a large number of

^ --Wfe^rf ' JHr '•>• - • • - 1 »,# . ••-^1.7 aged and infirm poor at Plymouth Grove and Cheethani Hill.

~ : ' \ mm f ^' '- 3 JMWW 2%e c««s MW owefl rfts- missed, the Bench regretting that

Mr. "Wood should hare acted in this manner.— Daily Tele-
graph, Oct. 7.]

There is a Mr. Rayner "Wood,
A Magistrate, be it understood,
Of Singleton Lodge, near Singleton Brook,
Who on himself as Magistrate took

To arrest two Sisters of Mercy—
Two Little Sisters of the Poor,
Who beg about from door to door,
And with their pensioners try to live
On scraps of food that the rich may give,

These genuine Sisters of Mercy.
But Mister Wood, with bis heart of stone,
Would not give them so much as a bone*;
But had the Sisters locked up all night
As Beggars ! Fancy their wretched plight,
These Angels of Mercy!_ Was Mister Wood right ?

No ! Very much vice versij.
And so, next morning, he was told
By a brother Magistrate, honest and bold,
Who, indignantly, the case dismissed,
When I hope Mr. Wood was loudly hissed—

Be he tall, or short, or pursy,
This Wood's not British Oak, I guess,
'■ Laying hands on females in distress ! "
The worst I wish him—when near his end—
To ease his anguish, and to attend
On his couch of pain, may his Good Angel send
These very two Sisters of Mercy !

DEGENERATE TIMES,

First Dragoon. "Awfully fine Girl, that!''

Second Dragoon. "Ya'as—but hasn't got a Word to say for herself.
Asked her if she wasn't awf'lly fond of Hunting ? Said she'd never
been on a Horse in her life ! Now, what's a Feller to say after
that? Can't make out avhat Girls do talk about in these Days !"

Pleasantries of a Primus.

Punch often finds competitors where he did not
expect them. But of all unlikely places to look for a
rival he would have named the meeting of the Repre-
sentative Church Council of the Episcopal Church of
Scotland. It was held in the Kinnaird Hall on the 9th
inst. Judge his surprise when he found the venerable
Primus of that highly decorous Church thus disporting
himself:—■

" The Primus proposed that the next annual meeting be held
at Inverness, and he undertook to say that they would receive a
right Highland welcome. Perhaps the laity might feel them-
selves disposed to come in Highland costume—(laughter)—and.
if so they might rely upon it there would be no visible breaches
amongst them. (Great laughter.)''1

THE PLEASURES OE FOREIGN TRAVEL.

The pleasure of feeling that you have left all the bores of your
Club behind for an indefinite time.

The pleasure of knowing that you need not attend to '' little
accounts" when they follow you to France, Switzerland, or Italy.

The pleasure of escaping the fogs of London, the winds of Brighton,
and the drainage of Ramsgate.

The pleasure of knowing that all news of an exciting character
will reach you some days late; and if the Funds have gone down,
that they may have gone up again by the time you receive the un-
welcome intelligence.

The pleasure 'of finding it unnecessary to condole with Jones upon
the failure of his last comedy, or to congratulate Smith upon the
success of his latest novel.

The pleasure of not having to wear a tail-coat and white necktie
more than once a week on the average.

The pleasure of having one's French understood by a well-fee'd
and, consequently, obsequious foreign waiter.

The pleasure of travelling in comfort, and lunching en route on
something more palatable than sawdust sandwiches and turpentine-
flavoured sherry.

The pleasure of buying and reading all the best novels and works
of travel at about one shiUing and sixpence a volume.

The pleasure of comparing the works of Art of foreign countries
with those of your native land, to the great glorification of the latter.

The pleasure of meeting an Englishman on the summit of an out-
of-the-way mountain, and then and there discussing with him the
rates of house-rent in Brompton, and other interesting matters of a
domestic character.

The delight, after an abstinence of some weeks, of a pint of
draught porter from the pewter, and a cut off a roast sirloin.

The pleasure of knowing that you are packing up your port-
manteau for the last time, and paying your last hotel bill.

And, lastly—greatest pleasure of all—the intense delight and
relief of turning your back on foreign parts, and coming home
again! _

The Saddle on the Right Horse.'

An old and true saw tells us that '' Spectators see most of the
game." Punch's sharp and respected contemporary, the Spectator,
seems to him to have a clear insight into the game which the Glasgow
Bank has been playing. That game, if play to the Bank's Directors,
is likely to prove death to the Shareholders. But surely the Spectator
has got the right sow by the ear, in his concluding paragraph : —

" Many a murder is stopped by fear of the coroner's inquest, many a ship
is saved by dread of the Board of Trade inquiry, and many a bank would be
safe if its "Directors knew that failure would be the immediate signal for a
pitiless investigation."

To be followed, Punch would add, by condign punishment in cases
where rascality and recklessness are brought home to the peccant
parties who have abused their opportunities as Directors to the ruin
of their Shareholders. At all events, the change would be one from
the wrong to the right direction.

quite unintentional.

A Passenger between Wych Street and Holywell Street, inquiring
his way, asked Which is Wych ?

VOL. LXXV.

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