Punch: Punch (81.1881)

August 13, 1881.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

ORGANISED ROBBERY.

There are many who hold that
mad-houses contain all the really
sensible people, and that the only
lunatics are the crowd at large ;
and we might go farther and say
that the prisons contain all the
honest folk, while the thieves are
left untouched. Those who regu-
late, manage and thrive on the
food supply of London, are cer-
tainly not marvels of fair dealing,
and the Fair-Trade League will
do well to spend their Fifty
Thousand Pounds in reforming
these incorrigibles, before they
even dream of touching foreign
tariffs. Owing to our scanty and
disgraceful markets, London pays
nearly double what any other
important town in England pays
for its fish and vegetables. Be-
tween the City Corporation and
the Duke of Mudford, the me-
tropolis is made to suffer more
heavily in health, patience, and
pocket, than any other city in
the civilised world.

The Best Club in London.

If the House of Commons this
Session has done little work for
the English and Scottish public—
the great taxpayers of the country
—beyond the reform of Receipt
Stamps, it has looked after its
own comforts. It has overhauled
its refreshment department,
threatened to discharge its caterer,
and proposed to install a new sup-
plier of food with the appropriate
name of Tuck ! Fry-er Tuck ?

A Reporter on a very hot
day, doing very hard work, says
" There's many a cup 'twixt the
lip and the slip "—before the slip
appears in the journal.

PUNCH'S FANCY PORTRAITS.-No. 44.

RIGHT HON. G. JOACHIM GOSCHEN, M.P.

This is a Joke-'im Goschen Picture of a Wise Man from the
East, at present ascertaining which way the Wind blows.

AN OPENING FOR HIM.

Mr. Bradlaugh^s recent per-
formance in the Lobby will open
up a new line to him, so that
he will not have to come on
his Constituents or Mr. Newde-
gate for "Maintenance." The
Managers of Melodramatic Thea-
tres will be delighted to hear
from him, and there will be a
rush to offer him engagements
for the Leading Heavy business.
Mr. Brad laugh as Ajax defying
the Lightning would bring the
house down—though it didn't
bring down the House of Com-
mons, except as that other hero,
Samson, brought down the house,
i.e., on himself. By the way, was
Samson an ^Esthete—for he was
most certainly anti-Philistine,—
not that this has anything what-
ever to do with the eminent
tragedian Mr. Bradlaugh.

"Fair is Foul, and Foul
is Fair."

A so-called " National Fair
Trade League " has been founded,
with a capital of Fifty Thousand
Pounds, and a Committee includ-
ing a Banker, a Manufacturer,
and a Brewer. These capitalists
coolly propose, amongst other
things, to tax the food of the
people, of course for the people's
good, and the half-fed millions
will equally of course appreciate
the benevolence of these dis-
interested benefact-urers.

Female Suffrage in France.
—Is M. Gambetta an advocate
of Woman's Rights ? As the can-
didate for Belleville, he ought to
be a Ladies' Man.

THE WISE MAN FROM THE EAST.

There was a Wary Man lately home from out the East,
Where high-jinks Ambassadorial he had led, led, led,

He'd a brain as broad and big

As you'd find in any Whig,
And a crisis never knocked him off his head, head, head.

And this Wise Man from the East, coming back to join the Crew
That on special secret service he had left, left, left,

Found the Vessel's courses set

On a tack untravelled yet,
And demanding novel trim and steering deft, deft, deft.

And this Wise Man from the East cast his weather-eye aloft,
And says he, " Now I should rather like to know, know, know,

If it's safe all sail to crack

On this same uncharted tack,
And which way the wind is likeliest to blow, blow, blow.

" As a ,' candid friend' of G.'s, I'm disposed to think these seas
Are a little bit more risky than I like, like, like.

'Fore a favouring wind to run

Is, no doubt, exciting fun,
If on hidden rocks or quicksands you don't strike, strike, strike."

So this Wise Man from the East takes no hand at sail or rope,
But he gives his snowy slacks a hitch behind, 'hind, 'hind,

And in silence standing by,

Cocks aloft his weather-eye,
Like a wary salt a-watching for a wind, wind, wind.

Says the Skipper, " Dash my Whigs ! I dislike these shirking rigs.
Shall he up and join the Scotchman ? 'Twere a rise, rise, rise!

But he may doubt on promotion.

To the real Land of Goschen,
If the Wise Man from the East was quite so wise, wise, wise ! "

A BAD BAR-GAIN.

Mr. Serjeant Wigley [finishing his story in Benchers'1 Room at
dessert). Ha ! ha! ha! And so of course I got my refreshers, when
poor young Phunky had to whistle for his fees!

Chorus of Benchers. Capital! Profession too crowded !

Mr. Purple Bagge, Q.C. {helping himself to wine). By the way,
I see Solicitors want to be called after a year's dinners.

Mr. Serjeant Wigley. Why not ? Fact is, I 've got a young
nephew in my brother's firm, who's going to join us. Now it seems
to me awful shame to make him go through three years of bad
dinners for nothing, eh ?

Mr. Purple Bagge, Q.C. Quite so. Can't see what the Junior
Bar object to. Free trade—right principle. (Genially.) Pass the port.

Mr. Serjeant Wigley, {continuing his argument). And don't see
how it can hurt us! We are safe enough. Public believe vnus.
Know our names, and the rest of it. So it won't hurt the Profession.
We shan't lose prestige by it. Serious thing if it affected us !—
serious thing I mean, of course, for the Profession.

Mr. Purple Bagge, Q.C. {examining wineglass before drinking).
Exactly! Really think the more we throw open the door to
Solicitors the better. Nothing like competition. Sound wine this.

Mr. Serjeant Wigley, {more argumentative than ever). Then the
Junior Bar, if they have brothers and fathers in the other Branch
of the Profession, will be looked after by—in point of fact—their
brothers and fathers. And if Junior Bar haven't brothers and
fathers in the other Branch of the Profession—they had better marry
into the other Branch of the Profession or—try something else!

Mr. Purple Bagge, Q. C. Exactly! Nonsense for young men
without fees to make a fuss. Confoundedly unprofessional! By all
means admit everybody anyhow!

Chorus of Benchers. By all means !

\_Scene closes in—upon Mr. Briefless !