Punch (95.1888)

202

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[October 27, 1888.

PRIMITIVE ARITHMETIC.

New Mistress. "And what Waoes do you expect?"

New Cook. "Well, Mum, it depends on the Style you live in. If I'm to do the
Dining-room, Entrance 'all and Doorstep, as well as the Cooking, like in a Middle
Class 'ouse—Twenty Pounds a year. But if I'm to have a Kitchen-maid to 'elp, and
nothing but the Cooking to attend to, like in a Gentleman's 'ouse, I shall require
Forty ! "

HISTORY AND MYSTERY.

[At Liverpool, Queen Patience, tel. 19, wife
of the deposed King Ja-Ja, was highly charmed
with the railways and the electric light, hut
imputed hoth to the inventive genius of the
" debble," " as man have no sabbey do dem
tings."—Evening Taper.}

Old English worthies never saw
The Railway or Electric Light,

Which, seen but unexplained, with awe
And wonder would have dazed their sight;

Such marvels, certes, they'd have thought,

Could be by warlocks only wrought.

Witchcraft, not very long ago,

Stood on the code of actual crimes;

Most things whose causes none could know
Were magic in the good times.

Whate'er they didn't understand,

To solve the " debble " was at hand.

Orave doctors, lawyers, and divines,
Regarded, from their point of view,

As portents, prodigies, and signs,
And cantrips, to his action due,

Each new discovery science made.

Invented by the " debble's " aid.

In her philosophy, to-day,

Queen Patience, not above a child,
Is just about as wise as they,

When faggots were for witches piled.
The learned need not boast, a pebble
They care no longer for the "debble."

A Last Flake-up !—The flickering Lord
Mayor, who will be extinguished on the
Ninth of November, has been writing to
the papers, indignantly denying that when
in Belgium he ever made the "ridiculous
statements" or expressed the "contemptible
opinions" about London {e.g., its being

the cesspool of Europe") that have been
attributed to him. Neither Mr. Punch,
nor any other sensible citizen, ever for one
moment believed that the now flickering
and sputtering Civic Light could have
" said such a tings." The idea of a Lord
Mayor of London fouling his own Mayor's
nest! Why, it would be enough to make
Whittington "turn again" in his grave.
Farewell, brave Polydore ! Here comes
the Ninth of November, with the Extin-
guisher, and the next Lord Mayor's banquet
will be your " blow out! "

SEEN YOUR CRISPI?

Signor Crispi, the Italian Premier, having recently been inter-
viewed by an English Journalist, a representative from 85, Pleet
Street, was despatched to Rome to see him. The following is the
report that has been received from our Correspondent, which is pub-
lished with all rights reserved, but not necessarily as a guarantee of
good faith.

I must say I was a little surprised to find that instead of being
" a short compactly-built Italian," as I expected to see him, from
the description furnished by my journalistic colleague, Signor Crispi
was decidedly podgy, not to say stout. He received me with great
courtesy, seating himself gracefully on the only chair there was in
the room, and apologising profusely for not being able to offer me one
too.

"You have seen, no doubt," he said, with a smile, "that your
predecessor, in interviewing me, 'had not exchanged half-a-dozen
sentences with me ere he recognised in me a man to whom waste of
time and verbal banalities were assuredly little less than intolerable.'
He was right. And now what can I do for you ? "

" Lend me half-a-crown," I replied, from force of habit.

To my surprise he produced the coin, and, for a moment, I thought
he was about to present it to me. However, the shrewd common
sense of the man conquered, and he replaced it in his waistcoat
pocket.

" You will pardon me, but, to please a dear little niece of mine,
aged Ave, I promised never to put my name on a bill of exchange,
and never to lend a sixpence to any one. I am unwilling to deceive
her."

i " Well, if you will not do me this trifling favour," I replied, a
little vexed, "perhaps you will reveal the secret of your future
policy."

"With pleasure," returned Signor Crispi, promptly; "but I
must rely on your discretion to tell no one save the readers of your
paper. If you cannot give me that assurance, I must be, as we say
in Italy, as dumb as a plum-pudding, and as reticent as a mince
pie."

I gave the required assurance.

"Now I can tell you what I propose to do. As you are aware, we
have a secret treaty with Russia (the Emperor William: brought it
from St. Petersburg, as a present for me, in his portmanteau) and
relying upon this we shall insult France next month so grossly that
we are sure to be nicely at war with her by Christmas. Consequently
I would advise you to sell for the fall."

"Most interesting," I murmured, " and no w tell me about England.
I think you were in London ? "

" Only for a short time—six months. But I admired your city.
Your Vauxhall Bridge Road was magnificent! "

" Did you see any of the buildings,—monuments ?"

"Why, certainly, yes. Your Victoria Station was not then built,
but your Lambeth Suspension Bridge was splendid! "

"Where did you lunch?"

" At a baker's. I used to buy a crumpet, soak it well in water,
and eat it. It was really excellent!"

" Yes—and could you speak the language ? "

" Only a few words. ' Cabman, you are a thief—I will not pay
you your fare!' This sentence was electric, and, thanks to the
teaching of the Cabmen, I soon learned good, strong, forcible