Punch: Punch (89.1885)

August 15, 1885.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

83

INTERIORS AND EXTERIORS. No. 16.

SWA!/" Jo

A LIBERAL GARDEN PARTY IN A CONSERVATORY AT WOODEN DOLLI3 HILL.

Our Artist, having gone away for a holiday, has forgotten to send us either the Picture itself or the names of the persons in it, but has forwarded a
11 Pictorial Key," which we publish. "We offer a Prize of one of Mr. Punch's Half-Yearly Volumes to anyone who, within ten days from the date of
publication, scores the largest number of correct guesses at the names of the Members of Parliament intended to be represented in the above Key.

IZAAK WALTON'S COMPLETE(LY) DONE ANGLES.

Ghost of Piscatob. Ghost of Viator.

Viator. "Whither away, Maeter ? A good morning to you! I have
stretched my legs to catch the train to Tottenham, and here I find
you with rod and basket, as of old.

Piscator. Faith, Scholar, I have even been too long an angler with
Neko, in the lake of darkness, and would fain take a chub, Totten-
ham way, and see mine old haunts.

Viator. Then have with you, Master; and I do mind me of pretty
Maudlin" that hereabouts would sing us, " Come, Shepherds, deck
your heads ! "

Piscator. Ay, Scholar, methinks Maudlin was the Siren that led
thee to the River Lea more than all my wisdom. But here we are
got to Tottenham, and to the waterside.

Viator. Oh, oh. Master, what place is this, and what smell cometh
to my nostrils ? See, see, Master, here be no chub, but two dead dogs
and one departed cat!

Piscator. In sooth, Scholar, the country seemeth strange, and no
man may live, nor fish neither, hard, by such an open sewer. Can
this be the Lea! Nay, Scholars, this is no place for honest anglers
more. But hither walks Corydon. Let us ask him what makes
this blackness in the water, and the smell that abides here, as they
say frankincense and myrrh do cling, more sweetly, to the shores of
the blessed Arabia. What ho, Cobydon, what cheer ?

Corydon* Sir, the condition of the River Lea is something really
fearful. From Tottenham downwards the water is a mere open sewer,
emitting the most noxious exhalations. Boating and bathing have
ceased, and the River is now only a danger to the neighbourhood.

Piscator. Say you so ? And what maketh that it snould be so ?

Corydon. Ah, Master, the drainage of Tottenham is turned bodily
into the stream, and, in spite of Local Boards, the nuisance continues
unaltered.

Piscator. And why right they not this wrong; for, marry, the poor
folk here will die, and a pestilence be bred, if ye live not more
cleanly.

Corydon. Sir, no man knows this better than the Tottenham
Authorities themselves, who cause a horrible, disgusting nuisance to
the dwellers on the Lea. They simply sow disease broadcast among
thousands of helpless people, to save the expenditure of a certain
sum of money. .

Piscator. Penny wise, and pound foolish—penny wise, and pound
foolish! Soon shall we have the Great Plague here again, and none
to blame but the chuckle-headed " Authorities," my Masters! Come
away, Scholars, come away. The silver Lea is bedraggled. 'Tis no
place for peaceful ghosts, that would be quiet, and go a-fishing.

[ They vanish.

* Not being a ghost, Corydon does not talk in the style of 1670.

Libebal Cet foe the Coming Election.—" Umbrellas to Mend!"