Punch: Punch (82.1882)

262

PCJNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Juxe 3, 1882.

THE IRISH DEFECTIYES.

These gentlemen have amused the
Pablic for some weekswith imaginary
“clues,” and have probably spent a
small fortune in telegrams and cable-
grams. They have caused the arrest
in various parts of the world of a
number of penniless vagabonds, who
have been discharged in a few hours
after accounting for their poverty.
The newspapers have seconded their
efforts in a most admirable manner.
Every “ clue ” has had the honour of
sensational type, and assertions made
in one number have been duly con-
tradicted in another. In one case the
assertion and contradiction appeared
together, though scarcely wit-h the
same prominenee. New York has
been worked with great activity, but
has Dublin been overhauled in a
workmanlike manner ? The “ slums ”
have doubtless been exhausted, but
this was not a crime of the “ slums.”
The men that are “ wanted ” eat,
drink, and make merry, and are pro-
bably treated every night in some
place of amusement, as Hanlan
would be treated in a London Music
Hall after one of his victories.

Mtrsic in Hyde Park from Five to
Eight p.m. on all days in the week
except Tuesdays and Thursdays,
when the Band. plays in Regent’s
Park. Hooray for the Sunday-in-
London Rational Recreation Move-
ment! And one cheer more for the
Duke of Albany, the President of
the Sunday Band Society ! Sabbata-
rians and Pharisees must be careful,
or we shall be having a “ People’s
'Garden ”—such as the weak-minded
Emperor of Austpja allows under
the windows of his Palace. A cafe
or two in the Park, bands playing,
and people actually enjoying them-
selves on Sunday! Dreadful!

PUNChPS FANCY PORTRAITS.-No. 86.

PUNCH THE PROPHET ! RIGrHT
AGAIN ! !

Oue. Fancy Portrait last week of
Mr. Rymill mounted on the noble
Bruce, with an Auctioneer’s hammer
in his hand, and thelegend under-
neathof “ Going! Going! . .?”was
startlingly prophetic. He went, he
went, and where was he ? “ Going !
Going ! . . . Gone ! ” Nowhere !
Right out of it.

Those who looked our Fancy Por-
trait in the face, who regarded it
between its lines, and took all they
could get against our Fancy, have
written, with tears in their pens,
to express their thanks for such a
straight tip, as was suggested by the
point of the rider’s nose ; but their
acknowledgments have not taken
a more substantial form, though,
owing to us—- and there is a good
deal owing to us—they must all of
them have become millionnaires—or
liymill-ionnaires — by the event.
Ah ! where is gratitude ?

“ My Brother-in-law,” said Mrs.
Ramsbotham, “ came back from the
Derby so sunburnt and red, that he
reminded me of Julius CLksar after
he had crossed the Rubicund.”

SUGGESTED SYNONYM EOR THE
NEXT CYCLUS OF THE “ MUSIC OF

the Futuee.” — The By-and-by-
Cycle._

LlGHT - HEADED SPECULATORS. —
The present buyers of Electric Shares
at Stock Exchange prices.

SIR MICHAEL COSTA,

O0K LtGHTNING CONDUCTOR.

A Royal Studio.—Her Majesty’s
Drawing-Room.

THEIR NOBLE ANCESTORS;

OR, WHAT IT MAY COME TO AT LAST.

■ Scene — The Smoking Room of a West End Clab, a.d. 1982.
Descendants of Smith, Brown, and Jones, discovered dis-
cussing the newest batch of Baronets.

Smith. Well, I call it a downright degradation of the great
hereditary principle! (Takes up evening paper.) Look here.
Here ’s a set of feliows to have the right to tack “ Bart.” on to their
names for ever !

Brown [in disgust). Fancy Mollusk—a wretched, plodding beggar,
who has merely spent forty-live years of his life in research, that
has revolutionised the whole last five centuries of European
science!

Jones. Yes! He’s had enough ; but Octavo is worse !—a soribbling
cad, whose name is known wherever the English language is spoken !
By Jove, who would ever have thought we should have come to see
the day when they throw mud over a Baronetcy by associating it
with such beastly vulgar things as Science and Uiterature ! Why,
they ’ll be dragging it down to Art next!

Smith. Next! Why, they’vedone it! Here ’s Easel down for one,
too ! Only think now,—a fellow like Easel being made a Swell of
because the world has seen nothing like his work since Titian went
ofi the hooks!

Broivn (with warmth). Titles are going to the dogs—that’s about
it. {Turning over the pages of the very latest edition of “ Burke.”
- Why, the good old names will blush to be in such company.
Take ’em at random. (Reads.) “ Sir De Mowkray Plantagenet
Fortescue Eno, Fourth Baronet.” Dare say his ancestor, now,
was at the battle of Bosworth. Here, here ’s some more created
much about the same t-ime. Read ’em.

Jones (referring^ to “ BurJie”).—“ Sir SEYMOUR BEAUCHAMP
Swan,” there ’s a fine old name for you !

Smith. And here’s another, “ Sir Athet ney Hugh Edgaii.” A

couple of Crusaders, I ’ll be bound! Then look at “ Sir Marmaduke
Oscar Cockle!” If the Cockles didn’t come over with the
Conqueror, I should like to know who did.

Brown. Yes ; and I shouldn’t wonder if “ Sir Herbert de Pears,
Sir Humphrey Holloway, and Sir Richard Reckitt” didn’t trace
back to Magna Charta. Ah, they were grand times those !

Jones. Ah ! they knew then how to keep up the dignity of a title.
Rather ! They never conferred it on a man unless he had done his
country some distinguished and splendid service. That was the age
in which you had to be a Bass, an Ellis, or a Freake, before you
couldride the high horse above the heads of your fellow-countrymen.

Srnith. And, by the way, what splendid and distinguished services
did Freake, Ellis, and Bass do their country ?

Brown. Be hanged if I remember ! But you may be sure that
whatever it was, it was a cut above “ Science, Literature, and Art.”
They hadn’t quite sunk so low as that a hundred years ago. Take
my word for it, they understood what they were about in 1882.

THE GREAT PAUPER COUNTRY.

Ireland is to have a clean slate, and, as usual, at the expense
chiefly cf the British Taxpayer. That patient Jackass is to'be
saddled with another burden. Thp rent wh'ich the Irish malcontent
can’t, or won’t pay, and which the Irish Landlord probably ought
not to receive, is to be partly paid by the hard-working, _ over-
taxed, and much-abused Saxon. If the Saxon will indulge in the
luxury of keeping a prodigal son, the Saxon must not grumble at
the expense of the luxury. No one is disposed to underrate such a
blessing as Davitt, but Davitts may be bought at toohigh a figure.
The pauperisation of Ireland will be the demoralisation of England.

Race-y Sayings. To an Outside Ring Boohmaker.—“ I suppose
it ’s all right; here ’s the fiver; but do you remember, and it ’s not so
long ago, when you wore a red hat and a blue coat, and were thrown
into the river for welshing at Hampton ? ”

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