Punch (77.1879)

October 4, 1879.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAPJVARL

155

A CALL FOR A CANDIDATE.

In the account, according to the
Morning Post, of the recent Trades'
Union Conference at Exeter Hall,
and in the paragraph comprising a
speech reported to have teen de-
livered by a Mr. Z. D. Berry, you
will find the following words :—

" He trusted people would vote for
"Whig, Tory, Kadical, or the Devil him-
self, so long as they would pledge them-
selves to put down Crown trading.''

It is hardly conceivable that Mr.
Berry, speaking as above, can
speak for any considerable number
of tradesmen besides himself. Other
wise, the Personage whom he de-
clares he is ready to vote for might,
if he came forward as a Candidate
for the representation of Southwark,
for example, command a consider-
able number of votes amongst a
certain class of shopkeepers.

Eancy the electioneering appeals
and exhortations which would then
be posted and borne about by stan-
dard-bearers and stalking sand-
wiches—as:—" Give your votes for
the Old Gentleman." " Vote for Old
Harry." "Poll for Old Nick."
" The Eiend — the Tradesman's
Friend." "The Old One for the
Counter." " Old Scratch for the
Till." "Down with Co-operative
Stores, and the Prince of Darkness
for Ever! "

Of course tradesmen prepared to
vote for the " lost Archangel," com-
mended to their preference by Mr.
Berry, would give him as honest a
vote as could be expected of parties
accustomed to be fined for using false
weights and measures.

A SINE QUA NON.

Patient. "Do you mean to say my Complaint is a dangerous one?"

Doctor. "A very dangerous one, my dear Friend. Still, People have been known to
recover from it ; so you must not give up all hope. bdt recollect one thing : your
only chance is to keep in a cheerful frame of mlnd, and avoid anything like depression
of Spirits !"

"We all express intense delight at the prospect of being woke up,
and privately to one another—those who don't know Joseph, I mean
Jim—wonder how the operation is going to be performed.

"He'll keep us alive!" repeats Uncle Allison, beaming again.
And once more the guests express themselves with extreme
politeness on the subject of being kept alive, but secretly resent the
liberty that Nephew Jim is going to take with their existence. It
really sounds as if we were a set of old dummies, whose machinery
having gone wrong, was going to be set in motion by a touch-up
from Nephew Jim, and we are as much disturbed as would be a party
of over-fed lotos-eaters by the emptying out on them a tankful of
electric eels.

Jim has already given us his first shock with his telegram. "We
are undoubtedly more alive than we were an hour ago for example.

And, as I have said, everyone is beaming. The servants all beam,
specially the Butler, who beams almost to bursting, so intense is the
struggle going on within him between rapturous joy and proper
decorum.

The day goes on. Like Mariana, we become a-weary of waiting,
and anxious. The beams are hidden by clouds. The Butler is
shrinking again to his natural size. Suddenly they all beam again.
Another telegram ! ! Another five shillings ! Uncle Allison beams
less this time than at first; but the Butler is again inflated with joy,
and beams more than ever. But for a strong command over himself,
which enables him to "keep himself down," he would swell up, rise
in the air, and only descend after a sharp contact with the ceiling.

Uncle Allison I rather think I hear mutter,

'' Confound the fellow! Why the doose does he go on tele-
graphing ? "

We are all anxious to know the contents. What does he say ?
Is he coming ? Nothing wrong ? Let us know the worst or the
best.

"Missed train, catch next. Wire to Carlisle, say if carriage
meets. If not, will wire on for fly"

That's what he has to say. We breathe again. Butler, who, for
one second, has been in danger of collapsing suddenly, beams
again. All beaming. We 're all beaming, beam, beam, beaming,
we 're all beaming at our house at home—except Allison, who must
send another telegram to catch Jim at Carlisle en route ; for, if not,

Jim will order a fly to meet him, and that will be another useless
expense.

There is still a sort of uncertainty as to how or when he may
arrive. Were he an ordinary person he couldn't be here for five
hours at least. This, however, doesn't prevent the Butler from
going to the door about every half-hour, to look out and see if he is
coming.

IS o one who knows Jim would swear to feeling perfectly sure that
he isn't on the premises at this present moment, hiding, and ready
to bounce out on us.

Our host disposes of this idea, " as," he says, " if Jim were any-
where about, we should have heard him long ago."

When Nephew Jim does come, we do hear him with a vengeance.

Having finished our tennis, we are enjoying, after a bath, that
deliciously refreshing semi-siesta, when one dawdles over dressing for
dinner, and the edge of one's appetite becomes gradually keener and
keener,—when, suddenly, a blast from a coach-horn startles me
from a reverie over the waning state of my dress-boots. Coach-
horn or bugle, or whatever it is, sounds again, and the next
moment there is a shouting of directions, and a staggering on the
staircase of heavily-laden people with boxes ; then a dashing charge
of one, up the stairs, three steps at a time ; then a loud inquiry
from the landing as to the dinner-hour, to which the reply, that it is
at eight, is almost lost in a wild whoop, as an introduction to the
following mysterious sentence, delivered in the cheeriest possible
tone,

" All right! Hokee-pokee! Play up for the cocoa-nuts! "

When there is another bang of a door that shakes the house to its
foundations, and, judging from the noise of chucking heavy weights
about, the occupant of the room next to me is apparently " playing
up for the cocoa-nuts" in preference to dressing for dinner.

As I descend the stairs five minutes afterwards, I hear bursts of
vocal melody within, snatches of popular airs whistled, and a dull
wooden-sounding accompaniment, which may either be the clog-
dance, or a violent struggle with a boot-jack.

I meet my host on the stairs.

" Jim 's come! " he cries, gleefully.

I thought so. He has come—like a whirlwind—and the process of
" keeping us all alive " has commenced.