Punch: Punch (100.1891)

April 4, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

165

A TEN MINUTES' IDYL.

Life is a farce, a dreary round,

A fraud—of that there's not a doubt,
Although I 'ye onlv lately found
It out.

Bad boldly masquerades as good,

Fruit turns to ashes in the taking,
Unpleasant yery is the rude

Awaking.

'Tis Spring, when something, so one learns,

Seems to affect the burnished dove,
And when a young man's fancy turns
To love.

With window open to the breeze,

The tramp of passers-by unheeding,
I sit reclining at mine ease,

A-reading.

I've read enough—and not amiss

I rather fancy now would be
A little rest—ah! what is this
I see ?

A sight that's almost past belief,

And makes me think I must/be_raving,
For there a girl a handkerchief
Is waving!

Like to a light that in the black

And inky night shines o'er the main,
It disappears, and then comes back
Again.

I know the house quite well—I've heard

Her father's something in the City,
And she's a blue-eyed girl absurd-
-ly pretty.

By Jove! she does it with a whirr,

It's clear this inexpressive she
Is given to the fortiter

In re.

Of course it's forward—and indeed

It's worse—it's shockingly imprudent
Thus to encourage me, a need-
-y student.

Her form is shadowy—I must

Get out my glasses, so to bring

Her nearer. Yes—the range is just

The thing !
» * * * *

Life is a farce, without a doubt!

The cause of all this fuss and fluster
Is just a housemaid shaking out
Her duster!

IN THEIR EASTER EGGS.

Lord Salisbury.—Allegorical Cartoon re-
presenting B&itannia astonished at the suc-
cess of her recent Foreign Policy.

Mr. Gladstone.—Pocket Edition of Cyclo-
pedia of Universal Information, copiously
illustrated, for the use of veteran Statesmen.

The Emperor of Germany.—Prize Homily
on the Art of Governing, with special refer-
ence to the science as applied to the subordi-
nation of " temper."

Mr. Parnell — Sculptured Group represent-
ing the Reptile of Egotism turning the tables
on St. Patrick, and endeavouring to drive
him out of Ireland.

The President of the United States,—An
Italian Iron—over-heated.

Ex-King Milan of Servia.—A Monthly
Cheque for amusement and travelling ex-
penses, but not including a return ticket to
Belgrade.

The Post-Master-General.—One hundred
Receipts for getting into hot water.

Mr. Sheriff Augustus Harris— Draft Pro-
posal for buying up and working the British
Government with duly audited Schedule,
showing how the "takings" could be more
than doubled by spirited management.

Mr. Jackson of Clitheroe.—Prize Farce
entitled, " Lynch Law and Conjugal Rights."

MEN WHO HAVE TAKEN ME IN-
TO DINNER.

(By a Dinner-Belle.)
No. III.—The Great Unknown.

He was a dapper, dumpy thing,

With nought decisive on him graven
But smiles, like footlights flickering
O'er visage shaven.

And it, that kind of social myth

Where every guest (and each a rum one)
Is Somebody, because the kith
Or kin of Someone.

The Great Siberian Victim's Aunt,
The Godfather of Colonel Cody,
And some affinity I can't

Recall to Datjdet.

In fine, a Tussaud's once removed,

Not waxworks, but their far connections ;
The names, the attitudes, approved,
But mere reflections.

Our hostess, wont to pedigree

Her portents, slurred his surname sweetly;
So up my smiler tripped—to me

Unknown completely.

Thus mystified, I needs must bruit

The weather—" It was rainy, rather.
" Yes," he rejoined, " It does not suit
My Poet-father:

" Strange how the damp affects great men ;

My nephew, not the Wit, the Artist,
You know paints always smartest when
It rains the smartest."

" In water-colours ? " feebly next

I faltered, falling quite to pieces:
" No, no," he murmured mildly vexed,
" You mean my nieces.

" Those delicate young pain tresses

Of Idyls in Cobalt and Bistre,
Though for Impressionist success,
Give me my sister.

" My nephew, he's inspired of course,

Divine, quite autre chose : en href you—
Forgive an uncle's pride—perforce
Adore my nephew."

Reeling with Relatives, I quite

My compass lost: to shift our bearing,
" Who is the Lady on your right ? "

Quoth I, despairing.

" That Beauty, like the portraits I've

For sale beheld of Miss Belle Bllton."—
" She ? She's the representative,
The last, of Milton I "

This was too much : what could I try
To burst from such a tangled tether ?

The shops for neutral ground, thought I,
Eclipse the weather.

The shops! The very thing. I dared
The shops. " How wonderful was White-
ley!"

Dazed at the Wizard's name he stared,
And shuddered slightly.

A silence froze his ready twang :

No more he smiled—from that fell minute,
Henry the Fiest—to speak in slang—
Was scarcely in it.

That smilelessness! What meant the curse ?

Who could the skein unravel ? I did.
This was the Diner " Univers-
ally provided."

Renowned, if nameless—hired to be

Salvation of a banquet's ruin,
" Monsieur Le Quatorzieme " took me,
And may take you in.

THE MERRY GREEN WOOD.

An " Epping Forest" Chorus,

" For ever and again the Corporation of London
send down their proteges, the young City sports-
men who may, or may not, know how to load a
gun, but who are very keen on ' Sport.' Then
the herds are driven by beaters towards the gallant
huntsmen, the forest re-echoes with the report of
guns, and next day you can trace the whereabouts
of the wounded bucks and deer by tracks of blood
among the bushes, and by impressions on the grass
where the maimed creature has fallen in its flight
for life."—Ball Mall Gazette.

Chorus of Huntsmen.

Oh, we like,—we love the Merry Green Wood,
As should Huntsmen bold of the proper sort!
And we would hit the stag if toe possibly
could,—

As is meet with such palpable sons of Sport.
Away to the forest we cheerily run,

And wait for the beaters' welcome cry ;
And though we are new to the use of a gun,
What matters ? At anything we '11 let fly!
So Sing hey, sing ho, for the startled deer;
We warrant we '11 hit him, if he comes near
And we '11 send him lame and limping away,
With a shot he '11 remember for many a day !
For marry come up I But it would be absurd
To expect a bold Sportsman to bag the whole
herd !

So he blazes away ; and he hits one or two ;
And they hobble away in some thicket to lie,
And, after a day or two's suffering, die :
We don't see precisely what more we could do,
Than shout that "we love the Merry Green
Wood!"

And would settle the stag,—if we possibly
could !

The following advertisement appears in
the Standard:—

ALady wishes to have twice from the country
a "SUPPLY of LIVE SPARROWS, for a
favourite cat.—Address, &c.

There is an uncomfortably blood-thirsty
look about this "Lady's" desire to supply
her favourite cat with some downright real
Sport. For it is to be presumed that she
intends her well-cared for pet literally to do
the unhappy sparrows to death in the most
approved fashion. How will she manage it ?
Clip their wings, and set them on the draw-
ing-room floor; or tie strings to their legs,
and let the favourite cat "go for them?"
Cats must be fed. But it is not necessary
to provide them with a '' Supply of Live
Sparrows " twice, or even once. We submit
the subject to the notice of the S.P.C.A.

One Pound Notes.—Probable rate that a
fashionable prima donna will charge for a
song in the near future.