DOI issue:
May 29, 1880
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17763#0253
May 29, 1880.1 PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Grant Duf. Or this confounded Cyprus, or bad Porte.
Gipsy (aside). Crab it and swallow it! Just like your sort.
Better than Gladstone Claret.
Gladstone. 'Well,, we ’re here.
And though the prog’s unwholesome, tipple queer
Here’s luck, dear boys ! Ho heel-taps, no wry faces!
Hext year, /’ll cater.
Gipsy (aside). Yah! At next year’s races
You mayn’t be in it, p’raps. You can’t tool steady.
The ’osses have begun to shy already.
(Aloud, to Gladstone.)
My pretty Gentleman, do let me try
To tell your fortune. You’ve a wicked eye !
Gladstone (solemnly). Bibald impostor, hush!
liar court (peremptorily). _ How, you get out!
Gipsy (jeeringly). You can’t get in ! [As moved off.
Gladstone (briskly). _ Well, put the wine about!
’Tis just seven years since we were here together.
And though the lunch is queer, ’tis glorious weather !
[Left making the best of it.
PUNCH'S ESSENCE OE PARLIAMENT.
Thursday, May 20.—To-day the new Coach started for the
Session from the Queen’s Head, St. Stephen’s, Westminster, with
everything in spruce, spick, and span order ; William, the old
whip, on the box; Hartington as guard, to look after the drag;
the way-bill satisfactory, every seat booked, and all, let us hope,
promising and presaging a pleasant and prosperous season!
To be sure, there have been a couple of spills, before starting,—
but what is that among so many ? Harcourt has got a “ leg up ”
already, and M‘Laren, let us hope, won’t have to wait for one long.
The Queen’s Speech?—Well, it was dull in prose—in rhyme
Punch can’t promise it will he livelier, though shorter it certainly
shall be.
With the Treaty of Berlin we no more will play the fool,
But mean to insist on a little less cry, and a little more (Berlin) wool;
To which end with the Powers of Europe we hope to concert measures,
And not wait, any more, on the Sultan’s and Pashas’ wills and pleasures :
And, lest this should not suit Layard, we have had the happy notion
Of converting Stamboul, that land of dearth into a land of Goschen.
For the Afghanistan mess we ’ll rig the best stays that can be rigged for it;
Look into the Indian Deficit, and see who ought to be wigged for it.
Do what we can in South Africa to promote Confederation,
And not take our hand oil' the Transvaal, through regard for that favoured
nation.
Trade let us hope, is looking up, though the revenue doe?n’t show it.
That we've little time left for making laws, I need hardly say, as you know it.
But we mean to try and keep Irish peace without measures of coercion,
Seeing that they chiefly serve ’gainst the law to keep up aversion.
We hope to bury the Burials row, by giving Dissenters permission
To be buried anywhere with the forms for which they make provision.
We must renew the Ballot Act, and if Time but gives us tether,
We mean to give “fur’’ to the Tenants, while keeping the Landlords in
“feather.”
Fix employers’ liability for damage to those they employ;
And give all Borough-votes in Ireland who such votes would here enjoy.
Such is about the sum and substance of Hun Majesty’s gracious
Speech, over which the Ins and the Outs sat down, like Millennial
Lions and Lambs, for a playful picking of holes that was more like
fun than fighting.
Bat first there was the usual Moving and Seconding of the
Address : done in the Lords by Lord Elgin" livelily, and by Lord
Sandhurst lamely: in the Commons, by Mr. Albert Grey, gaily
and glibly, and by Mr. Hugh Mason, glumly and grimly; and t hen the
Duke of Marlborough and Lord Beaconsfield, in the Lords, did
the due amount of warning and verbal criticism, provoking the
pleasant and prompt counter-sparring that might be anticipated from
so accomplished a master of the noble art of self-defence as Lord
Granville. The same offices of the opening night were discharged
in the Commons, by Sir Stafford Horthcote for Her Majesty’s
Opposition, and Mr. Gladstone for Her Majesty’s Government.
Only Mr. O’Connor Power insisted on interrupting the harmony
| of the evening by a silly Amendment, turning on the omission from
the Speech of all allusion to the Irish Landlord-aud-Tenant difficulty,
though everybody, even Mr. Parnell, admitted that no dealing with
the matter could have been possible in this fag-end of a Session.
Still the Home-Rulers must do something to justify their exist-
ence, so they divided 47 to 300. Much good may it do them. Let
them, by all means, take for their motto “ Divide et non i/npera ! ”
if they like it.
Folly for Folly.
According to a telegram from Berlin : —
“The Czar has forbidden the inhabitants of Libau to export 'heat to
China.”
If the Emperor of China is a very great fool, perhaps he wil
forbid the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire to export tea to Russia
But perhaps the Chinese monarch is too wise to be persuaded by
Protectionist Mandarins or other stupid counsellors to make bad
worse, by resorting to self-depriving Retaliation under the name of
Reciprocity.
ADOLPHUS ON THE DERBY.
There are some things—aw—don’t yon know,
That tax a fellah’s brains to spot.
Horse-racin’ now’s a sort of show
That’s really little short of rot.
i like to see the fillies run
With graceful bounds along the course,
Their flanks all shinin’ in the sun.
There’s nothin’ prettier than a horse—
Exceptin’ p’raps a pretty gurl
With fetchin’ eyes and creamy skin,
And gold-brown hair inclined to curl,
And—aw—hum, well—and lots of tin !
But if a fellah’s got a fad
To run his nag for stakes or fun,
Why need a beastly howlin’ cad
Keej) yellin’ “ Two to one bar one ” ?
And why should pale quill-drivin’ snobs,
With groggy knees and i>imply gills,
Who don’t know racin’ tits from cobs,
Come here in droves to chew their quilL ?
Of course the pimples ain’t their faults ;
But chemists live in all the towns.
W’by don’t they take some Epsom Salts,
And keep away from Epsom Downs ?
Then gipsies singin’. Well, that’s right—
Horse-chantin’ is their reg’Iar trade ;
But why should sportsmen take delight
In hearin’ niggers serenade ?
Black-?eys, now, might he in the race,
And sportsmen’s hands ain’t always clean;
But what’s a dirty lamp-black face
To do with Horse ? What does it mean ?
The three-card trick’s all very well;
Aunt Sally, too, wants skill and force ;
But will some fellah kindly tell
What’s all this got to do with Horse ?
The Straightest of Tips.—The Toe’s—for a Tout.
Grant Duf. Or this confounded Cyprus, or bad Porte.
Gipsy (aside). Crab it and swallow it! Just like your sort.
Better than Gladstone Claret.
Gladstone. 'Well,, we ’re here.
And though the prog’s unwholesome, tipple queer
Here’s luck, dear boys ! Ho heel-taps, no wry faces!
Hext year, /’ll cater.
Gipsy (aside). Yah! At next year’s races
You mayn’t be in it, p’raps. You can’t tool steady.
The ’osses have begun to shy already.
(Aloud, to Gladstone.)
My pretty Gentleman, do let me try
To tell your fortune. You’ve a wicked eye !
Gladstone (solemnly). Bibald impostor, hush!
liar court (peremptorily). _ How, you get out!
Gipsy (jeeringly). You can’t get in ! [As moved off.
Gladstone (briskly). _ Well, put the wine about!
’Tis just seven years since we were here together.
And though the lunch is queer, ’tis glorious weather !
[Left making the best of it.
PUNCH'S ESSENCE OE PARLIAMENT.
Thursday, May 20.—To-day the new Coach started for the
Session from the Queen’s Head, St. Stephen’s, Westminster, with
everything in spruce, spick, and span order ; William, the old
whip, on the box; Hartington as guard, to look after the drag;
the way-bill satisfactory, every seat booked, and all, let us hope,
promising and presaging a pleasant and prosperous season!
To be sure, there have been a couple of spills, before starting,—
but what is that among so many ? Harcourt has got a “ leg up ”
already, and M‘Laren, let us hope, won’t have to wait for one long.
The Queen’s Speech?—Well, it was dull in prose—in rhyme
Punch can’t promise it will he livelier, though shorter it certainly
shall be.
With the Treaty of Berlin we no more will play the fool,
But mean to insist on a little less cry, and a little more (Berlin) wool;
To which end with the Powers of Europe we hope to concert measures,
And not wait, any more, on the Sultan’s and Pashas’ wills and pleasures :
And, lest this should not suit Layard, we have had the happy notion
Of converting Stamboul, that land of dearth into a land of Goschen.
For the Afghanistan mess we ’ll rig the best stays that can be rigged for it;
Look into the Indian Deficit, and see who ought to be wigged for it.
Do what we can in South Africa to promote Confederation,
And not take our hand oil' the Transvaal, through regard for that favoured
nation.
Trade let us hope, is looking up, though the revenue doe?n’t show it.
That we've little time left for making laws, I need hardly say, as you know it.
But we mean to try and keep Irish peace without measures of coercion,
Seeing that they chiefly serve ’gainst the law to keep up aversion.
We hope to bury the Burials row, by giving Dissenters permission
To be buried anywhere with the forms for which they make provision.
We must renew the Ballot Act, and if Time but gives us tether,
We mean to give “fur’’ to the Tenants, while keeping the Landlords in
“feather.”
Fix employers’ liability for damage to those they employ;
And give all Borough-votes in Ireland who such votes would here enjoy.
Such is about the sum and substance of Hun Majesty’s gracious
Speech, over which the Ins and the Outs sat down, like Millennial
Lions and Lambs, for a playful picking of holes that was more like
fun than fighting.
Bat first there was the usual Moving and Seconding of the
Address : done in the Lords by Lord Elgin" livelily, and by Lord
Sandhurst lamely: in the Commons, by Mr. Albert Grey, gaily
and glibly, and by Mr. Hugh Mason, glumly and grimly; and t hen the
Duke of Marlborough and Lord Beaconsfield, in the Lords, did
the due amount of warning and verbal criticism, provoking the
pleasant and prompt counter-sparring that might be anticipated from
so accomplished a master of the noble art of self-defence as Lord
Granville. The same offices of the opening night were discharged
in the Commons, by Sir Stafford Horthcote for Her Majesty’s
Opposition, and Mr. Gladstone for Her Majesty’s Government.
Only Mr. O’Connor Power insisted on interrupting the harmony
| of the evening by a silly Amendment, turning on the omission from
the Speech of all allusion to the Irish Landlord-aud-Tenant difficulty,
though everybody, even Mr. Parnell, admitted that no dealing with
the matter could have been possible in this fag-end of a Session.
Still the Home-Rulers must do something to justify their exist-
ence, so they divided 47 to 300. Much good may it do them. Let
them, by all means, take for their motto “ Divide et non i/npera ! ”
if they like it.
Folly for Folly.
According to a telegram from Berlin : —
“The Czar has forbidden the inhabitants of Libau to export 'heat to
China.”
If the Emperor of China is a very great fool, perhaps he wil
forbid the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire to export tea to Russia
But perhaps the Chinese monarch is too wise to be persuaded by
Protectionist Mandarins or other stupid counsellors to make bad
worse, by resorting to self-depriving Retaliation under the name of
Reciprocity.
ADOLPHUS ON THE DERBY.
There are some things—aw—don’t yon know,
That tax a fellah’s brains to spot.
Horse-racin’ now’s a sort of show
That’s really little short of rot.
i like to see the fillies run
With graceful bounds along the course,
Their flanks all shinin’ in the sun.
There’s nothin’ prettier than a horse—
Exceptin’ p’raps a pretty gurl
With fetchin’ eyes and creamy skin,
And gold-brown hair inclined to curl,
And—aw—hum, well—and lots of tin !
But if a fellah’s got a fad
To run his nag for stakes or fun,
Why need a beastly howlin’ cad
Keej) yellin’ “ Two to one bar one ” ?
And why should pale quill-drivin’ snobs,
With groggy knees and i>imply gills,
Who don’t know racin’ tits from cobs,
Come here in droves to chew their quilL ?
Of course the pimples ain’t their faults ;
But chemists live in all the towns.
W’by don’t they take some Epsom Salts,
And keep away from Epsom Downs ?
Then gipsies singin’. Well, that’s right—
Horse-chantin’ is their reg’Iar trade ;
But why should sportsmen take delight
In hearin’ niggers serenade ?
Black-?eys, now, might he in the race,
And sportsmen’s hands ain’t always clean;
But what’s a dirty lamp-black face
To do with Horse ? What does it mean ?
The three-card trick’s all very well;
Aunt Sally, too, wants skill and force ;
But will some fellah kindly tell
What’s all this got to do with Horse ?
The Straightest of Tips.—The Toe’s—for a Tout.