Punch (82.1882)

AN OVERTAXED INTELLECT.

“And what is yodk kew Regiment?”
“M? new Regiment ? Oh, it ’s the—a-
the Watekloo Station ! ”

- THEY ’VE GOT GkEEN ON THE CUFF, YOU KNOW, AND YOU GO TO IT FROM

THE MAN EOR THE POST.

Jojiit Bull loquitur:—

Well, well, here ’s comfort—and, by Jove ! it ’s needed -
Amidst the chaos of cantankerous cackle,

Here is one man has silently succeeded,

Oue man who a tough job can stoutly tackle.

O si sic omnes ! In my blatant Babel
Business is a lost art—at least it seems so.

All the more honour to the Champion able
Who still can realise my hopes and dreams so.

To serve the State, to sagely shape and plan for it,

Is the true Statesman’s post, and here’s the man for it.

No epic hero ! Well, I ’m getting weary
Of the huge windiness now dubbed heroic;

“ Arms and the Man ”—and a fiasco dreary,

Too oft repeated, irritate a stoic
Such as I ’m grown. And then I ’m not quite certain,
Applied to him the name is pure misnomer.

Fawcett, though seldom “ called before the curtain,”

Perhaps iu more than one point pairs with Homeb.
Although one sang Achilles and his host,

The other schemed, not sang, the Parcels Post.

Perhaps the large ambition that loves spangles
And warrior fame, might pooh-pooh the projector’s,
But I ’m inclined to fancy Red-Tape’s tangles
Are tougher foes than many Trojan Hectors.

Achilles as Laocoon might have thundered

And thrust tremendously, and yet been thrott.led.

St. Stephen’s spouters long have fought and blundered,
And long my rising wrath I ’ve choked and hottled.
But I am glad to see one silent, strong fellow,

Who emulates the hero sung by Longfellow.

“ Something attempted, something done.” Precisely !

A friend of mine, who much inclined to scoff is,
Declares when Fawcett’s plans have ripened nicely,
The World will be a branch of the Post Office.

Let the Wit wag. The World won’t find salvation
In parcels or reply-cards, stamps or thriftiness ;
Danger there may be in “ centralisation,”

But, after all the squabbling, hobbling shiftiness
Of the cantankerous, rancorous jaw-jaw-jaw set,

’ Tis a relief to turn to Henky Fawcett !

THE JUMBOLOGICAL GARDENS.

Since Elephantiasis has been cured at the Zoo, the number of
visitors have decreased. So they have tried another sensation, namely,
the Baboon with the Toothache. If this does not draw the British
public, now that the tooth has been drawn, we advise Mr. Baktlett
to try the Lion with Lumbago, the Bear with Bronchitis, the Hyena
with a Headache, the Tiger with Tetanus, the Antelope with Asthma,
the Kangaroo with a Cough, the Marmoset with the Measles, the
Hippopotamus with Hysteria, the Cobra with Catarrh, the Rhino-
ceros with Pcheumatism, or the Giraffe with the Gout.

Go, or No-GoP

The question of safety in Theatres is gradually taking a ludicrous
form, since it has been aiscussed by a body calling itself the Fire
Brigades Association. In addition to the suggestion that iron
verandahs and balconies should be erected outside theatres, to hold
the audience while the house is burning, it is solemnly proposed
that the audience should bind themselves to leave a burning building
quietly when the word “go ” is exhibited on the curtain !

A Natural Sukporter of the Cloture.—The Earl of Cork.