Punch: Punch (81.1881)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [August 20, 1881.

DENUDATION."

Niece {after a header). "Oh, Aunt, you 're not coming in with your Spectacles on?"
Aunt Clarissa (who is not used to bathe in the " open.") " My Dear, I positively won't take

off anything more, I 'm determined ! ! "

regard hares as wild fowl. Cavendish bursts into the controversy, and is received with
prolonged and hilarious cheers. Cavendish seems to think the Premier (who hasn't spoken
since C. B.came in) has been saying something, and turns upon him, with lofty assumption
of superiority in all that relates to wild fowl. But C. B. is generous, even among his political
animosities. Premier knows nothing about wild fowl; why shouldn't he learn ? C. B. holds
out the wing of friendship, and suggests that under its cover he should run down and see a
little wild-fowl shooting. As"; in his mind's eye he beholds the picture of himself and the
Premier out on the lonely moor or adrift on the sedgy stream duck-shooting, with only stars
for companions, he grows positively enthusiastic, and his words tumble out over each other in
the haste of their hospitable intent.

. Happy thought this. Gladstone wisely varies the labours of the week by spending Saturday
to'Monday in some rural spot. He has been to The Durdans, and must be getting tired of Mill
Hill. "Why not go out for a quiet Sunday with Cavendish, hunting the snark and other wild
fowl dealt with in the Act 27 & 28 Yict. c. 27 ? Wandering arm-in-arm over the moist
land of _ Hampshire and Dorsetshire, these two eminent men might become better acquainted.
Business done— Lords' Amendments further considered.

Friday Night.—Great excitement in the
lobby of the House of Commons, and in the
corridors joining the two Houses. Houses
themselves pretty placid. In the Commons
Mr. Ritchie and Lord Sandon talking
Protection and Water. In the Lords, to all
outward appearance, equal placidity reigns.
Couple of hundred gentlemen engaged in
scratching out the Commons' Amendments
to the Land Bill. Quite a game of nine-
pins. The Lords, in their playful way,
knock over three-fifths of the Bill as it left
the Commons. The Commons painfully rein-
state them. To-night, the Lords, more than
ever playfully, knocking them all over again.

"I'll show 'em how to steer and sail a
ship!" says my Lord Marquis. " Stir up
the fire, pile on the wood, get up the steam,
and I '11 sit on the safety valve.

Business done.—The Lords' "gutted" the
Irish Land Bill.

DEMORALISING EEEECTS OE
THE HOLIDAY SEASON.

Most of Mr. Punch's Young Men are
"on the wing." Our Bilious Contributor de-
clares that he is on the (liver) wing, having
a bake-on the sands. A rasher attempt at
a pun we do not remember being made,
even by him. Another writes to say that
he is down by the Dee-side, and Dee-sidedly
means staying there for some time. This
is how he puts it:—

I live, a Mill-er hale and strong,

Beside the river Dee,
I lounge and smoke from morn till night.

(What a lark to be sure, dear P ! )
And this the burden of my song

For a month I mean to be : —
I care for nobody, no not I,

And^the public may go to—the Dee !

(He adds, incidentally, that the Public
couldn't do better.) A third Y. M. informs
us that he finds Dawlish so Dawlishous
that—but here we tore up his missive in
disgust. Three or four of our younger
Young Men (whom the gods evidently do not
love) are "gone yachting," which appa-
rently is the nautical equivalent for '' away
in the ewigkeit." One sends us (from no-
where in particular that we can see) the
following unintelligible (but we suspect
impertinent) piece of doggerel:—

Sammy would a yotting go,

Whether his Punchy would let him or no.

"With his Rowley—bowl-aLong bowsprit and

Spinnaker,
Yeo-ho ! says Eowley !

Another informs us' that he is as sick of
hearing Mynheer Van Dunk cited as a type
of bibulousness, as ever the Athenians were
of hearing Aristides called "Just so."
(Here he gets a little unhistorical.) He is
therefore off to the neighbourhood of the
Zuyder-zee to take the shine out of the
Dutchmen at deep-draught potations.
11 The few Contributors who do remain in
town are sulky, and as crabbed in their
" copy " as in their tempers.

When our Poet is not venting bilious strictures,
He's as busy with his Bradshaiv as can be.

When our Artist isn't adjectivising pictures,
He is brooding glumly o'er his A. B. G.

They swear that town's all swelter, smoke and
smother,

They vow the rambling chaps have all the fun.
No : take one consideration with another,
The Sage's life is not a happy one !

During the Holiday Season at least, and
the sooner it's over the better, both for
Mr. Punch and his beloved — though
bothersome—Public.