Punch (86.1884)

216

PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 3, 1884.

A WOMAN’S REASON,

“Man more consistent than Woman! Oh no, Sir Peter. Look at my
Husband ! In all things he puts his Sister before his Wife. Look at
my Brother ! In all things be pots his Wife before his Sister ! When

IN BOTH CASES IT OUGHT TO BE EXACTLY THE REVERSE ! NOW DID YOU EVER
HEAR ANYTHING SO ABSURDLY CONTRADICTORY IN ALL YOUR LIFE ? ! ”

[Sir Peter wisely gives in.

THE END OE THE HUNTING SEASON.

By Our Own Novice.

Good-bye to the Season ! E’en gluttons
Have had quite enough of the game,

And if we returned to our muttons,

Our horses are laid up and lame.

We hunted straight on through the winter,

And never were stopped by the frost,

As I know right well from each splinter
Of bone that my poor limbs have lost.

Good-bye to the Season ! The “ croppers”

I got where the fences were tall,

And Oh the immaculate “toppers”

That always were crushed by my fall.

Don’t think though that I’m so stout-hearted
As e’er to jump hedges or dikes,

It’s simply that after we’ve started,

My “ gee ” gallivants as it likes.

In vain I put on natty breeches.

And tops like Meltonian swell,

It ends in the blessed old ditches,

I know like the Clubs in Pall Mall.

And when from a “ gee ” that’s unruly
I fall with a terrible jar,

I know that old Jorrocks spoke truly,

And hunting’s “ the image of war.”

And never for me “ Fair Diana ”

Shall smile as we know that she can,

With looks that are sweeter than manna,

On many a fortunate man.

It adds to the pangs that I suffer,

When thrown at a fence in her track,

To hear her “ Ridiculous duffer ! ”

When j umping slap over my back.

I ’ve fractured my ulnar, I ’m aching
Where over my ribs my horse rolled;

Egad! the “ Old Berkeley” is making
One man feel uncommonly old.

Good-bye to the Season! I’m shattered
And damaged in figure and face ;

But thankful to find I’m not scattered
In pieces all over the place !

“ Werdant Green at Oxford.”—On the judgment
against Sir Werdant for £4 15s., for flowers at election
time, the Observer observes that the question is whether
Sir Werdant was “properly served.” If he received a
white summons, he wasn’t; if a pink one, he was. A
certain sporting journal will be anxious to |know if Sir
Werdant was duly served with a “ Pink ’un.” But as
to being “ properly served,” the Fathers of the City de-
clare that that can’t be until they have had a turn at him.

“ No. Thinking at the moment of the Home Office.

‘ And who can tell

Whether these awful Messengers of Fate
Are meant for Kings or Sectaries of State.’

Know your Dombastes Furioso f ”

“Yes. A former Home-Secretary, wasn’t he ? But why so early ? ”

“It’s this Earthquake. Understand Warton is going to ask
‘ What steps Her Majesty’s Government took to prepare for or avert
the catastrophe ? ’ Ashmead-Bartlett will ask ‘ Whether it is true
that for some days past suspicious persons, understood to be Russian
Officers in disguise, have been seen in the Eastern Counties P ’
Chaplin wants to know ‘ Whether the Privy Council took any steps
to have the Earthquake slaughtered at the port of entry ? ’ Don’t
know why I should have to answer, but Cabinet agreed that Earth-
quake is in my Department.”

Oddly enough, no Questions put at all, the explanation being that
there was no business to delay. Business done— None.

Thursday.—“ Curious how this Government feels my influence to
uttermost ends of its policy,” said Mr. Marriott, puffing himself
out in imitation of the inimitable Peter counterfeiting the Lord
Lawrence Monument. “ At my election all the four-wheelers voted
for me. What follows ? Childers _ brings in Budget. Got a
miserable surplus. Admits can’t remit taxation, but takes care to
throw a sop to cabby. Reduces licence-duty off four-wheelers. Not
quite sure how far this might be affected by Corrupt Practices Act.
Shall look it up.”

Randolph much quieter since his Birmingham trip. “No more
larks, Wolffy,” he says. “All very well when we were boys

together. Now I’m a Statesman and must behave as such.” Never-
theless couldn’t resist temptation about Mr. Hubbard to-night. Old
gentleman got a speech ready for to-morrow on Income Tax, House
Duty, Local Taxation or some other cheerful topic. Government
propose to take Morning !Sitting. “ Then what will become of my
speech,” says Old Mother Hubbard, dismally looking round to
laughing House. Wanted to get bit of it off now. Called to order.

“ Move Adjournment,” Randolph whispered in his ear, ‘ V urgent
matter of public importance,’ don’t you know P ”

So, 0. M. H., wringing his hands, trying hard to keep back rising
burst of tears, and looking comically as if he had just been to
the cupboard, and found it empty of provisions, took the paper from
the wicked Randolph, and made his Motion whilst House laughed
and jeered, and for a whole hour wouldn’t let him withdraw Motion,
whilst Childers fidgeted and Gladstone fumed.

Business done.—Budget brought in.

Friday.—Nice useful day. Met for Morning Sitting to prepare
Municipal Elections Bill for Grand Committee. No one objects to
Bill; Second Reading an affair of an hour ; so other Bills put down j
to follow. That was the arrangement. What really happened was
this : Conservatives, headed by Jemmy Lowther, worried Daddy
Dodds and his Railway Bill for two hours. Easy task thereafter to
talk out Municipal Elections Bill. At Evening Sitting Old Mother
Hubbard triumphantly produced her treasured bone labelled “In-
cidence of Income Tax.” Gladstone sprung upon bone, utterly
demolished it, frightened life out of 0. M. H. Then interesting
discussion on Jamaica, and at One o’Cloek House Counted Out.

Business done.—None.