Punch (86.1884)

,

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI [January 26, L884.

ANNALS OF A QUIET WATERING-PLACE.

Lady Visitor. “Oh, that’s your Vicar, is it? What sort of Vicar is'

flE ? ”

Lady Resident. “Oh, well, middling! High Church during the Season,
vou know, and Low all the rest of the Year ! ” |

ST. GILES’S TO ST. JAMES’S.

Yes ! I plays a little fairy
In the Panto, at the “ Lane,”

And my togs is somewhat airy
(But that’s not where I complain),

And I don’t complain of waiting
About them ice-cold wings,

Nor of getting lots of “ slating,”

Nor of swearing and such things ;

For they ’re what we all get used to
And must bear ’em with a grin;

We are all of us abused too,

But we never care a pin.

Now what I wants to state is

(In my not School-Boardish way),

And, what me and my mate is
Resolved too ’s not fair play :—

We can see you,—you and others
(Don’t we envy ev’ry one ?)—

With you fathers and your mothers,

A-laughing at our fun,

And we says, “There’s young St. James’s
A-laughing at St. Giles.”

And the more our jokes and games is,

The more you laughs and smiles.

So we want you to remember
That we ’re not a lot of things
Who are born here each December
In some tights and pairs of wings :

We are kids, but we are trying
Just to make a bob or two,—

We are working when you ’re crying,

And have nothing else to do.

We have fathers and have mothers,

And it’s nice for us to know
That we save them cares and bothers
By earning what they owe.

And, if our eyes are weary,

And we tired look at night,

And we can’t be gay and cheery,

J ust you think we ’re weak and slight;

Just think we ’re ’rnong the many 1

Who must labour for the few;

Just believe we earn our penny, l

And not spend the pound you do, {

But believe (if you trust any) \

That we ’re children just like you! )

NOT SO WHITE AS HE ’S PAINTED!

{Fly-leaffrom an Elephant's Diary.)

Nearing the Zoo at last! Thank goodness ! Not bad conveyance,
though. Seems to be a huge trunk on wheels, and is nice and roomy.
Still, it doesn’t quite come up to my idea of the “ Sacred Moveable
Temple ” in which Barnum’s Agent, ratifying his oath with the
lighting of the mystic tire, and a payment of live hundred dollars.
down on account, assured His Majesty I should accomplish my holy
pilgrimage. Perhaps there’s something symbolic in the word
“ Hudson ” on the side. Perhaps this old dressing-gown I’ve got on
is part of a religious ceremony. Shouldn’t wonder. Anyhow, it’s
great fun being a “sacred beast.” Still, it is strange they should
want to drag me over here. A little boy has just looked through a
chink, and shouted, “ 0 my '. ain’t he black neither ! ” I ’ll ask the
High Priest who has come with me as a steerage passenger, what
this means. Tells me to “ mind my own business, and be quiet
before Bartlett.” Don’t like his manner—a deal too mysterious.
Something’s up—that’s certain. But what ? Mem.—Try and think
it out.

******

Come, this isn’t half bad! Capital apartment, lined with green
baize. Sort of “green room,” in fact. Quite suggestive. Half
inclined to take a nap, but can’t on account of row outside. Listen.
Voices in altercation. Listen again. Come—that is funny ! Some-
body seems very Aigrv, because I’m not “ white ”! What a
joke ! Fancy a White Elephant! Why—whoever heard of such a
thing ? Yet they seem to be getting to high words about it. Yes,—
surely that’s Bartlett calling the High Priest “a swindling old
nigger.” This seems to have put everybody in a good temper again,
for they are all laughing heartily. Catch random suggestions.
Somebody wants to whitewash me. Somebody else says, “ It will
come off, and make him look worse than ever.” I fancy the Secretary
is trying to get me painted with white lead, and picked out with ver-

milion, like a Christmas Clown. This annoys the High Priest, who
says Buddha wouldn’t stand it, and he has called Mr. Bartlett a
“ twangialattoung ” ; but as there is no interpreter handy, the latter
has simply retorted, “You’re another!” Wish they would settle
something without quarrelling. Fresh free-tight—evidently about me. ;
All I can catch now is, “Then, wash him yourself.” What will they ,
be up to next ? Sending for somebody, are they ? Bother the lot!
******

Matters clearing. The “ Somebody ” has arrived, and is introduced,
with much ceremony. Quite a charming person, with a large packet,
which he presents to me, and wants me to sign_ something, and
politely leaves a form for purpose. Open packet with High Priest,
Contains twenty pounds of something very nice and transparent,
done up in small oval tablets. We eat six each. _ Excellent! Ha !
here’s Bartlett, with twenty attendants, scrubbing-brushes, mops,
Hippopotamus sponge, and hot water. Offer him one oval tablet.
Says it’s a celebrated soap. Dear me !

* * * * * *

Over now!—every bit of it used ; but a precious time I’ve had ol
it! Such a lather ! Still, the result is wonderful. I’m not white,
but I certainly have come out fresh and pinky to aa extent that
quite startles me ; and even the High Priest said “ he wouldn’t have
known me,” and is in constant fits of laughter. 1 have signed the
recommendation form of that soap at once. Here it is, for the
benefit of the proprietors :—

“ I have used nothing else for ten minutes, and consider it match-
less for the trunk and complexion. 1 Toung.

*»**■*■*

Installed. Ha ! here come the British public in shoals. I suppose
these are the devout daily “worshippers” guaranteed by Barnum s
agreement with the Governor at home ! Judging from their remarks,

I don’t call them reverent: hut, bless you, what’s that, as long as
they’ll only keep up those buns. Talk of Burmah after this.-
Gammon! Toung, my boy, you ’re having a time of it. bo s the
High Priest. Three cheers for both of us!