Punch (98.1890)

February 22, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 85

THE SCIENTIFIC VOLUNTEER.

"If ever I have to choose----I shall, without hesitation,

shoulder my nfte mth the Orangeman."-** Professor Tyndall'l
Meply to Sir W. V. Sarcourt. " Times," Feb. 13, 1890.

'ABEY ON EQUALITY.

Dear Chaelie—Bin down as a dab with that dashed
, heppydemiok, dear boy.

av,s bloomin' nigh sneezed my poor head orf. Yon know

that there specie of toy
Wot they call cnp-and-ball! That's me, Charlie ! My

back seemed to open and shut,
As the onppe-demon danced on my innards, and played

pitch-and-toss with.my nut.

Hmfluenza be blowed! It licks hagne and cholera rolled
into one.

K^ive " that name, I'm aware, but of
T»™ >°Te ftat 8 their f ™.

we™?'^8 head by the hunderd, but this

Ho^SSSF — ■ *—«

T00kprtfedwitghmedi4 " 1 ^ ™»** a

7haEt ImyadeHd0W.1)a0k ^ ^ *F

A party named Eobbht Buchawjkt i Lonthejob,

°W feuS^dpo" ^ «

f"C'SSaSt1,d 6qUal? AM that'S WOt

J^™ tlayS ^US;" HUX^7> V No ; » and Bob>s
wrong, there's no manner of doubt.

fo^SS a peri ^ FOnr"klt Bh0Uli be e4Tlally

Nice hidea, but taint so, that's the ,wust on it. There's where these dreamers
go wrong.

Ought's nothink, and that as is, is; all the rest isn't wuth a old Song.
Bad as Buggins, the Radical Cobbler, these mugs are. Sez Buggins, sez he,
Wos it Nature give Mudford his millions, and three bob a day to poor me ?
Not a bit on it. Nature's a mother, and meant all her gifts/or us.all.
It's a Law as gives Mudford his Castle, and leaves me a poor Cobbler s Stall.
All I've got to say, Charlie, is this. If so be Nature meant all that there,
She must be a fair " J." as a mater. I've bin bested out of my share.
So has Buggins, and nine out o' ten on us. If the few nobble the quids
Spite of Nature, wy Nature's a noodle as cannot purtect her own kids.
Poor Btjggins ! He's nuts'upon Henery George, William Mobeis, and such.
He's got a white face, and is humpy, and lives in a sort of a hutoh
Smellin' strong of wax-end and stale dubbin. Him born free and equal?
Great Scott !

'Bout as free as a trained flea in harness, or sueties piled in a pot.
Nature's nothink, dear boy, simply nothink, and natural right don't exist,
Unless it means natural flyness, or natural power of fist.
It's brains and big biceps, wot wins. Is men equal in muscle and pith ?
Arsk Bismaeck and Derby," dear boy, or arsk Jackson the Black and
Jem Smith.

There'd be precious few larks if they wos, Charlie—where'd be the chance of
a spree

If every pious old pump or young mug was the equal of Me ?
It's the up-and-down bizness of life, mate, as makes it such fun—for the ups.
Equal ? Tus, as old Babnum and Btjggins, or tigers and tarrier pups.
He's a long-winded lot, is Buchanan, slops over tremenjous, he do •
Kinder poet, dear boy, I believe, and they always do flop round a few,
Make a rare lot o' splash and no progress, like ducks in a tub, dontcher know,
But cackle and splutter ain't swimming; so Robert, my nabs, it's no go.
Men ain't equal a mite, that/s a moral, and patter won't level 'em up.
Wy yer might as well talk of a popgun a holding its own with a Krupp.
Ow the brains and the ochre got fust ladled hout is a bit beyond me,
-But to fancy as them as has got 'em will part is dashed fiddle-de-dee.

Normans nicked? Landlords copped? Lawyers fiddled? Quite likely; I
dessay they did.

Are they going to hand back the swag arter years ? Not a hacre or quid!
finding's keeping, and 'olding means 'aving. I wish J'd a spanking estate
Wot my hancestors nailed on the ready. They wouldn't wipe me orf the slate.
No fear, Chaelie, my boy! I'd hang on by my eyelids ; and so will the nobs,
Despite Mounseer Roosso's palaver or rattletrap rubbish like Bob's.
As Huxley sez, Robbery's whitewashed by centries of toffdom, dear boy.
Poor pilgarlicks whose forbears wos honest rich perks carn't expect to enjoy.

Life's a great game of grab, fur's I see, Charlie. Robbery ? "Well, call it that.
If you only lay hands on your own, mate, you won't git remarkable fat.
There isn't enough to go round and yet give a fair dollop to each,
It's a fight for front place, and he's lucky who gets the first bite at the peach.
Sigh priori hideas about Justice, as Huxley declares, is all rot.
Fancy tigers dividing a carcase, and portioning each his fair lot!
" Aren't men better than tigers ? " cries Bugglns. Well, yus, there's religion
and law; [olaw.
Pooty fakes! But when sharing's the word they ain't in it with sheer tooth and

Orf ul nice to see Science confirming wot I always held. Blow me tight,
If I don't rayther cotton to Huxley ; he's raey, old pal, and he's right.
The skim-milk of life's for the many, the lardy few lap up the cream,
And all talk about trimming the balance is rubbish, a mere Roosso's Dream!
Philanterpy's all very nice as a plaything for soft-'arted toffs, [coughs ;

Kep in bounds it don't do no great 'arm. Poor old Buggins, he flushes and
Gets hangry, he do, at my talk. I sez, keep on your hair, my good bloke,
Hindignation ain't good for your chest; cut this Sosherlist cant, or you HI choke.

Philanterpy squared in a system would play up Old Nick with the Great,
As 'cute Bishop Magee sez Religion would do—carried out—with the State.
Oh, when Science and Saintship shake hands, in a sperret of sound common
sense,

To chuck over the cant of the Pulpit, by Jingo, old pal, it's Himmense !
All cop and no blue ain't my motter; I likes to stand treat to a chum;
And if I wos flush of the ochre, I tell yer I'd make the thing hum. [know;
And there's lots o' the rich is good parters; bit here and bit there, dontcher
But shake up the Bag and share round, like good pals a pot-lucking ? Oh no!
Wot these jokers call Justice means knocking all 'andicap out of life's race;
" Equal chances all round," they declare, wouldn't give equal power and pace!
Wy, no; but if things weren't made nice for the few with the power and

the tin, .
The 'andicapped many would be m the 'unt, and some on 'em might win.

Pooty nice state o' things for the perkers! Luck, Law, and the Longheads,
dear boy,

Have arranged the world so that the many must work that the few may enjoy.
These " Equality " jossers would spile it; if arf their reforms they can carry,
The enjoyers will 'ave a rough time, and there won't be a look in for Abry.

tol. xcvm.