Punch (85.1883)

December 29, 1883.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. «i

“ T DRAW, and am not ‘drawn,’” said Air. Punch, with significant, though courteous sententiousness.

Brother Jonathan cast his eyes, gleaming with appreciation and an imminent joke, around the Sage’s “ snuggery.”

“ Wal, Siree,” said he, winkishly. “I don’t know about ‘drawn,’ but I’ll be hanged if you are not comfortably
* quartered.’ ”

Toby, who was enacting the part of canine Ganymede, for the occasion, yapped suggestively.

“ I guess the genius loci inspired me that time, Toby,” said Jonathan, accepting, and appropriately applying, a
tumbler of (sophisticated) hot water. “ But won't you come, Mister Punch '? ” he continued, entreatingly ; “ won’t you really,
now, old hoss ? ”

“ Too old a ‘ hoss ’ to be * trotted out,’ friend Jonathan,” returned the Sage, with a genial wink.

“ Why, everybody, who is anybody, stumps the States, now,” pursued Air. Punch’s visitor, persuasively.

“ Zero multiplied by a million is—zero,” remarked Mr. Punch, oracularly.

<! The bearings of that observation lie in its application, I suppose,” said the American, after a pause and some digital
manipulation. “I confess I can’t quite ‘cipher it up’ myself.”

“ How many Wildes make a—precedent ? ” queried his host, pleasantly.

** Oh ! pass Oscar, and—and Jumbo,” said Jonathan, showing his teeth. “ Preposterously puffed Pachyderms, both ! ”

“ Barnum’s Big Show is not confined to the Pachydermata, I presume,” said Air. Punch, suggestively.

“ But I’m not touting for the Big Showman, you know,” responded Jonathan. “ Pyramids and six-foot posters. No !! !
I’m od my own hook, I am. I invite you as the great Anti-Humbug. Law and Literature, Beauty and Beauty’s lisping
Parasite, Grotesque Art and Lucid Culture, all have had their turn. We are a Big Country, Sir, and we like to have a look at
’em all. If your Aladame Tussaud could get her whole collection animated, a la Pygmalion’s statue, and just send ’em round
posing or preaching, or lolling or lecturing, we should rayther relish it. We can’t have too many opinions upon the
Atlantic and Niagara Falls, upon New York City and ligneous Nutmegs, upon Democratic Alanners and the Republican
Outlook ! Coleridge wasn’t half bad, and Irving is more than half good. But we yearn for you, Sir ! ”

“ Very natural and proper,” said Air. Punch.

“ Then you ’ll come ? ”

“ The inference is precipitate. All natural yearnings are not to be gratified. The child yearns for the Moon. You
Americans yearn for the ‘Stars’—our ‘Stars.’ You have had a perfect galaxy of them ‘cavorting round’ amongst
you lately. But the Star of Stars is not a Wandering Star.”

The American gentleman looked disappointed.

4,Wal, Sir,” he pursued, after a pause, devoted to deglutition; “it’s mighty good of you to allow me to interview
you here. I suppose I am at liberty to-”