Punch (94.1888)

Aphil 7, 1888.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

159

ENCUMBERED '.

Brown (with expectations, to Ms Landlady, who had just brought in a telegram). "From my Father, Mrs. Wilkins." (Heads)
' Yottr Aunt Thompson died last evening aged Eighty-Eight, and in F0ll possession of all her Faculties.' "

Mrs. Wilkins. "An, Sir I I remember it was just the same in my own Family, only "—Regretfully)—" my Aunt had
'eavy Mortgages on 'em, Sir !!"__

BELOW THE HORIZON;

OR, CELESTIAL CYNICS IN COUNCIL.

[A conjunction of Mercury and YenuB occurred,
before the rising of the planets, in the early morn-
ing of Wednesday, March 28.]
Venus. "Well, how fare you, pod of thieves ?
Mercury. That old scandal who believes ?

I'm reformed, and a fair-dealer;

Y/ou are still the true (heart) stealer I
Venus. That's a fad, and not a crime.

Where's the heart that's worth a dime ?

If on earth I could descry it,

1 'd not stt al that heart,—I'd huy it!
Mercury. Cynic I

Venus. Why, of course I I'd blush

If thought capable of gush.

Cynic calm is all the fashion,

E'en In what the world calls " passion."
Mercury. Happy world!
Venus. ' Oh, well, I guess

"What was once termed " happiness "

Is a thing too queer and queasy:

Free and—what is better—easy

Is the present " form" of Love.
Mercury. You had better sack your dove!
Venus. Not at all!—trust Cytherea!

You have really no idea

What an artful bird it is,—

Fly.to " trap" and up to "biz."

Twigs a " plant" in half a minute.

Serpent really isn't in it.
Mercury. Humph I I thought myself astute!

Pray, is Cupid also 'cute ?
Venus. Rather!—or there'd be a term

To his interest in our firm.

If that boy went soft or stupid,
Well,—it would be, exit Cupid!
Mercury. Bless my heart!—I mean, my soul.
Things seem tending to a goal
Whither even I scarce follow.
Ha! and how about Apollo Y
Venus. Oh, he thrums the same old strains:
But there's nobody—with brains—
Listens to his antique twangling. _
And, besides, he's always wrangling
With the Yankees—they are bright!
Mercury. What about P
Venus. Oh, Copyright!

Mercury. And the ladies ; do they like
This new style of things, or strike—
Like the miners—in a body ?
Venus. Mercury, you mutt be a noddy'
Don't you better know the Sex ?
A new mode may gall or vex; _
Bat they'll follow it with passion,
Just because it is the fashion.
Mercury. Oh! ah! quite so! Yes, I see.
So, whereas it used to be,
In Life's game, that "hearts are trumps,

Hearts are now- . ,

Venus. Pneumatic pumps!

Fact 1 And do you really think
I have any cause to shrink
From your hasty charge of stealing
Things like these, devoid of feeling
As of value ?
Mercury. As a crime, ,

No ! But don't you waste your time r
Venus. Hardly I It is rather fun 1

But, I think I see the Sun.
Mercury. Well, before we meet again,

I must, as the Pugs say, "train"
For this reign of the cheap Timon:
Now I feel a Simple Simon.
Venus. You are out of it, indeed !
Well, you 've only got to read
Gossip in which Jenkins grovels
And the best Society novels; '
Then you'll learn my modern function.
Ta-ta! till our next Conjunction !

FAREWELL, OLD FRIEND!
Last week died Mr. Thomas German Reed,
who, with his clever wife, originated the
celebrated Entertainment which for ever so
many years filled the Gallery of Illustration
in Regent Street. With sporting tastes that
would have qualified him for a Dolly Spanker
of private life, and with a knowledge of sail-
ing a yacht that would have entitled him to
the degree of Past Master of any small craft,
he passed the greater part of his existence in
what was to all intents and purposes a Theatre,
appearing several times in the course of an
evening as somebody else, but invariably
being found out as the genuine German
Reed, and as himself "Pa' Reed" was
really amusing. Mr. Punch has a kindly
recollection of the "Old Gallery Days," and
dedicates this " par " to the pleasant memory
of "Pa' Reed."

George Jokin'sLatest.—"Yes; fiveshil-
lings per dozen on champagne, all superior
bottled wines, and Sock genus omne.