Punch (88.1885)

38

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 24, 1885.

HEBREW MELODIES.

“Have you got ‘Moses in EgyptV"

“No, Miss. We ’ve got ‘Ehren on the Rhine.’

“ SEMPER EADEM”

A Ballad of (Butcher) Burthens.

“ In spite of reduction in value, and vast supply, I find that I do not derive the
slightest benefit, no reduction whatever, in the stereotyped prices which have ruled for
the last two or three years, and which rule as steadily as ever—such, for example, as a
shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops and steaks.”—
Letter from “ One op Many Interested ” on “ The Price of Meat,” in the Daily
Telegraph.

0 Christmas Bills, ye are cheery reading! The years they come, and the years
they go,

And Science advances, and Progress promises bounteous blessings to high and low.
Be it truth or fable, there’s one thing stable, in this time's changes no difference
makes,

’Tisa shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops
and steaks ■'

Nothing endures, sighs the sad Philosopher. Doesn’t it? doesn’t it, Savant,
mine ?

Just consider the price of meat—to a different view you may then incline.
Governments change, but poor Paterfamilias year after year to this verity wakes,
A shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops anil
steaks !

Frozen meat by the thousand carcases, foreign stock by the hundred head,

Come to our shores in a way men fancied would fill our butchers with dismal
dread.

Mine, I notice, is round and rubicund ; can the reason be that he takes
A shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops and
steaks ?

Oh! they were going to give us astonishing gluts of meat at the lowest price;
The River Plate was to fill our dishes with juicy viands as cheap as nice.

Rosy visions, how ye have vanished! What we pay still for our roasts and bakes
Is a shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops and
steaks !

Sage Economists all your treatises help us little in this sad fix.

Is not the wolf who robs Poverty’s larder as base as the rascal who steals a pyx ?
Is he not hostis humani generis who from the toiler’s poor pittance takes—

A shilling a pound for beef and mutton, and one-and-fourpence for chops and
steaks ?

THE LONG AND THE SHORT OF IT.

In connection with the little incident in' the office of
O’Donovan Rossa, the Times says.:—

“ Short was introduced to M‘Dermott as ‘Mr. Long,’ and,
afterwards, when Deasy was arrested at Liverpool, the police
searched in Cork for Long, the description of him corresponding
exactly with Short.”

If this he true, it goes a long way towards accounting
for the failure of the police in bringing the dynamitards
to justice. If, when they have a warrant to arrest
Short, they deliberately set themselves to look for
Long, it can scarcely be wondered at that these mis-
creants work with impunity. ‘1 How Long ? how Long ? ”
as an eminent tragedian used nightly to observe. Short
work should he made of such a system.

MORE HONOURS EOR ALFRED.

’Tis vain! In such a brassy time
To ask me to write verses,

Though Publishers should tempt my rhyme,
With magic more than Circe’s.

I ’ll move the Pawns, if not the Pen,

In very desperation;

For now I am the Chairman of
The Chess Association!

But what is this I hear—the whine
That I am still the Laureate ?

Heavens ! with rivals such as mine
That’s not a thing to glory at.

Morris is mute, and Swinburne’s last
Not much his fame enhances,

While Browning’s “genius, ” sure, has passed
Among Ferishtah’s Fancies,

Get out the Board of Black and White,
That charms my learned leisure !

Where “ all is square,” it must be right
For me to find my pleasure.

Those Kingly Idylls once I wrote,

But now I fear ’tis fated,

If I don’t idle with the King
My life would be stale-mated.

So I shall rule for months and years
The noble Chess Society;

I ’ll dub my Knights Sir Bediveres,

Or Modreds, for variety ;

And when I move my Gueen about,

If Pawns should dare to. cheek it,

I ’ll kick the Chess-board inside out,

Like Henry in my Becket.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.

[Selected Specimens.)

Dear Sir,

My name will he familiar to you as that of the
performer of the Second Murderer at the time when the
late Mr. Macready was proprietor of Drury Lane
Theatre. Since then I have not set foot on the London
Boards. Will you kindly help a brother Artist by insert-
ing the following little notice, which I have written
myself, in the next number of Punch ?

Tours gratefully, in advance,

Patrick: O’Rouge.

“ Mr. Patrick O’Rouge, the well-known and famous
tragedian, who has frequently been compared by good
judges of acting to Macready, and not altogether to
the latter’s advantage, takes his Annual Benefit at the
Theatre Royal, Muddleton-on-the-Slime, next Thurs-
day, on which occasion a nvfnstre attendance may he
confidently expected. Mr. O’Rouge will play Polonius,
perhaps his best character, if we can distinguish where
all are so good. Mr. O’Rouge, in addition to a com-
manding figure, a classic countenance, a mellow voice,
and perfect elocution, is one of the few Actors now left
to us, indeed the only one, capable of grasping the
Immortal Bard’s deathless creations.”

Dear Mr. Punch,

You are a hit slow. You don’t dig in at the
Aristocracy enough. Now, within a ten-mile radius of