Punch: Punch (89.1885)

34

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 18, 1885.

HONOURS !

First Alderman. " Any News ?"

Second Ditto (Radical). " Blessed if I ain't a'most afraid to look in the Papers !
'Find myself a Hearl or a Barrernite or somethink !!"

A GENTLE REMINDER.

" We haven't heard much about Mud-Salad Market lately," writes a Correspondent. No;
because we haven't been much about Mud-Salad Market lately. We have sniffed it from
afar, and once a Cabman tried it as a short cut from Garrick Street to Fleet Street. It was
a sultry day, and we only awoke to the fact that he was attempting the impossible when we
found ourselves wedged in between carts and barrows at the corner of Southampton Street.
And oh! for the beautiful scent, and oh! for the lovely language of flowers! No; Mud-Salad
Market does not seem to have improved. Long live the Duke with the iron will, or rather the
iron " won't." There's no moving him; bo let him be re-titled " The Duke of Stof-in-
Bed-ford." "Well, Mr. Punch has done all he could; but if the Covent-Gardeners themselves
have learned to love the muck, why they must be left to enjoy it, and to,write up over their
gates the optimistic motto, " Everything is for the Pest!"

This age flatters itself on being philosophic. Much is heard, of Neo-Platonism. To our
thinking, much that tries to pass for philosophy is Electro-Platonism.

THE CONQUERING MACHINE.

(After a Visit to (lie Inventions Exhibition.)

You say that " Evolution's blind,

Her purpose unforeseen,"—

Nay, for as types she leaves behind,
She keeps for ever in her mind
The Conquering Machine!

Even now,—oh future years of grace

The prophecy fulfil!

Our hearts the dawning influence trace,
The " nerve of steel" we try to brace,
Or bend " the iron will."

Now, to the eye of faith displayed

The coining form is seen,

In every office, every trade,

I watch, in human garb arrayed,
The Conquering Machine!

In the dim watches of the night

I see the portent rise,

A creature of unearthly might,

Irradiate with electric light,

And justly focussed eyes!

By careful Evolution planned
With many a gliding wheel,

To warn, to comfort, to command,

To fly, to drive a four-in-hand,

Or dance a Highland reel I

Volition vain will fret no more

The Automatic Soul,

Emotion then will fail to score,

"While reflex action takes the floor,
And dominates the whole !

Machines no conscience will neglect,

No scruples will endure,

For conscience, in that realm correct
Of automatic intellect!

"Will be a sinecure !

Ay, driven no more by passion's gale,

Nor impulse unforeseen,

Humanity shall faint and fail,

And on her ruins will prevail
The Conquering Machine 1

Responsibility begone!

Let Freedom's flag be furled;
Oh, coming ages, hasten on,

And bring the true Automaton,
The monarch of the world 1

Recreation and Rowdyism.—A party
of athletes, assembled the other Sunday in
the Abbey meadows at Leicester to play
cricket, were prevented by a mob from pur-
suing their game. Granted the right of
any who have the might to enforce the ob-
servance of Sunday as a Sabbath, how does
that authorise them to stop a game of cricket ?
It surely stands to reason that persons en-
gaging themselves in pure play are dis-
tinctively doing no manner of work.

New Song of Sixpence,

Sing a Song of Sixpence

Telegrams awry;

Promise of cheap messages

Proving all my eye.'
"When the Tories opened,

Said it couldn't be,

Isn't that a pretty " dish "
To set before John B. ?

Song H>b "Wimbledon (by one who ob-
jects to the kicking of the Martini-Henry).
—'' How happy could I be with Snider ! "