Punch (99.1890)

July 25. 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

39

ODE TO MONEY.

(By a Poplimist.)

Hair that is golden grows
olden,

Hopes that are golden decay;
Suns that are bright, and em-
bolden

The tourist to go on his way,
Leaving his gingham tight
folden,
Turn to a drizzling grey.
But gold of the Mint is all-
golden,
Safe in the strictest assay.

Cynics may rail a gainst money,
Spurn its beneficent power;

Bears spurn impossible honey,
Foxes the grapes that are
sour.

Men, who can never be funny,
Scoff at the funny man's
dower;

Lands where it seldom is sunny
Find little praise for a flower.

When a man's safe at his
bankers,
What does it mean, let u9
think—
Freedom from care and its
cankers,
Plenty of victuals and drink?
Nay, but it opens the garden
Of tender illusion and joy,
Where faults find immediate
pardon, [annoy.
And worrying ways don't
In the light of futurity's
favours [amain,
Fair gratitude burgeons
And the flittermouse Love
never wavers [gain.
In truth to the Psyche of
Bountiful Money! 'Twill
make you [birth;
Worthy in manners and

LATEST INTELLIGENCE.

"Br the way, where is that place, heligoland, they 're all
talking so mtch about?"

"On—don't you know, dear? It's one of the Places lately

discovered by Mr. stanley ] "

Beauty for better will take you
(Little as that may be worth),
Hosts by the hand kindly
shake you, _ [funny,
Crowds, when you wish to be
Mind doing homage to Money,
Laugh withinordinatemirth.
Sages and moralists blame
thee, [thee,
Stoics stand gloomy above
Preachers with obloquy

name thee,
Hermits and anchorites
shame thee,
But symbol of all that is sunny,
Coy, courteous, flattering
Money,

I love thee, I love thee, I
love thee!

"BETTER LATE THAN

NEVER!"
(An Open Letter to Somehody.)

Dear Noble Correspon-
dent to the Times,— We
see that you are doing your
best to defend the proposed
destruction of the Lincoln's
Inn Gateway in Chancery
Lane. In the course of your
exertions, you have been not
too civil to several worthy
persons, and inaccurate in
your description of the Society
of Antiquaries. Now, do take
our advice. We know you
were a clever "Silk" when
you practised at the Bar, and
we have heard that your fore-
fathers (for a generation or so)
were excellent hands at Bank-
ing; but, in the name of
Lombard Street, do let Archae-
ology alone!

With the best of wishes,
Yours sincerely,
(Signed) Everybody.

day was, however, not the success we could have wished. During
the night the weather turned hot, and the food turned—well, not
good,—and next morning the obligatory sacrifice to Father Thames
was appalling. Then when the necessary viands did not arrive from
London, I in my capacity of " professional guest," and of being
always ready for any emergency, volunteered to forage in Henley
town. Oh! that expedition. I fought at the fishmonger's, battled
at the butcher's and baker's, grovelled at the grocer's, and finally
ended by committing a theft at the butterman's. The number of our
visitors was large, and was much augnmented by friends' friends,
who came in battalions. It may have been the extra weight on
board, or it may be that the hunted rat had designed a base revenge,
but during lunch, and just as Kitty's husband was beginning to be
genial, an odd idea seized me that the river was rising. Yes! And
the bank behind us was rising too. And gracious! the water was
flowing over the little promenade place, and running about the floor
of the Batoon ; and then the Goldfields gave a lurch and a shiver,
and settled down in the mud, with a foot-and-a-half of dirty water
downstairs, and nothing but the roof left us to perch upon.

How we ever recovered our belongings I don't know. All I
remember is, being taken to the station in an old green wherry, and
coming back to town seventeen in a second-class carriage. My last
view of the wreck embraced Kitty, propped up against the railing
of the roof, and making tea on a table, which looked more like
tipping over than standing straight. Kitty's husband was mutter-
ing to himself as he handed roundthe cups; and, as I moved off
through the crush of boats, I fancied I caught the word " Jonah."
Of course I may have been mistaken, as my name is not that, but
_The Odd Girl Out.

Chance for Buyers.—Last week, among the Tuesday's arrange-
ments in the Daily Telegraph, was announced:—"Bath Horse
Show." Did this include ''Bath Towel-Horse Show?" Fine
chance for sporting Mr. Blundkl Maple, M.P., as a Towel-Horse
dealer. "Great Towel-Horse Show in Tottenham Court Road!"
3 he sale of yearlingB and the pedigrees would be interesting.

THE TOMATO-CURE TOR DYSPEPSIA.

Don't talk to me of oolocynth or famed cerulean pill,

Don't mention hyoscyamus or aloes when I'm ill;

The very word podophyllin is odious in mine ears,

The thought of all the drugs I've ta'en calls up the blinding tears;

The Demon of Dyspepsia, a sufferer writes to say,

At sight of the Tomato-plant will vanish quite away.

The Faculty will diet you till indigestion stops,

On what have always seemed to me interminable slops:

A dainty dish is sure to be the worst thing you can eat;

The bismuth and the charcoal come like nightmares after meit.

Away with all restrictions now, bring mutton, beef, and veal,

As long as ripe Tomatoes come to supplement a meal.

Hepatic action, doctors say, is very hard to start,

And if you have too much of it, that also makes you smart;

And so the fate of many folks, especially in town,

Is first to stir the liver up, and then to calm him down.

Now he can trouble us no more, although we go the pace;

A diet of Tomatoes keeps the tyrant in his place.

Away with deleterious drugs, for here's a plant been found,

Worth all the weird concoctions that dispensers can compound:

Get fresh Tomatoes, red and ripe, and slice and eat, and then—

You'll find that you are liver-less, and not like other men.

Come ye who dire dyspepsia's pangs impatiently endure,

It cannot hurt, and may do good, this new Tomato-Cure.

Sweets to the Acid.—In an excellent speech, last week, Mr.
Henry Irving suggested that a Charitable Organisation Society
should be established for the Distribution of Art Relief. He rightly
contended that the Beautiful was as necessary to perfect happiness
as the Severely Useful. Drains (excellent things in their way) are
scarcely on a level with Pictures. This is an idea that the so-called
" goody-goody folk" find a difficulty in accepting ; possibly because
most of them personally represent everything that is unlovely.