Punch: Punch (100.1891)

[May 23, 1891.

THE MOST IRRESISTIBLE SIRENS ARE NOT THOSE WHO SING, BUT THOSE WHO LISTEN (OR PRETEND TO)!

Daughter of the House. "Tell me, Professor Borax, how did tod like the Lady Mamma gate tod to take in to Dinner?"
The Professor {innocently), "My dear Girl, she's simplt the most Charming Woman I ever met ! I never Talked so much
i.v my Life !"

IN A MAZE.

" Mr. Balfour brought up a new sub-section,
which he admitted was so obscure that he only
' more or le3s ' understood it himself, and which,
indeed, is of '^'swywam-Thueydidean' dimness
and involution. . . . There is no excuse, we must
say, for the muddle into whieh the Government
has got over the Bill. . . . The House of Commons
has adjourned for a short holiday, but the Irish
Land Purchase Bill is not yet through Com-mttee.
. . . . There still remained all the new clauses, for
which no time had been found."—Times.

Little Bill loquitur:—
Oh do, if you please, Mr. Balfour, Sir, if

you can,—and who can if you can't, Sir ?—
Get me out of this Maze, where for days and

days I have strayed till I'm all of a

pant, Sir.

Twelve moiths ago we started, you know,

and I 've been on my feet ever since, Sir.
And oh, if you please, I feel weak at the

knees, and the pains in my back make

me wince, Sir.
Mister Hood's "Lost Child" wasn't half as

bad, for he only strayed in the gutter,
"While this dreadful Maze is enough to craze ;

and my feeling of lostness is utter.
Oh, my poor feet! This is worse than Crete,

and old Hampton Court isn't in it.
Oh*stop, do stop! for I feel I shall drop if I

don't sit down half a minute.

I really thought you knew the way out—
which I own J'm unable to guess, Sir—

And now 'twould appear you are far from
clear, and are puzzled "more or less," Sir.

The paths are really so twirly-whirly, the
hedges so jliable-jumbled ;

It must be hundreds and hundreds of miles
along whioh we have staggered and
stumbled.

I thought you were a cool card, Mister
Balfour, and did know your way
about, Sir,

But what I should like to know at present is,
when'we are like to gat out, Sir.

How Labby will laugh at the Labyrinth-
maker, who gets lost in his own Great
Maze, Sir!

Djn't say, Sir, pray, that you've lost your
way,—you, whom people so cosset and
praise, Sir.

You won't be hurried, and you can't be
flurried, and you're always as oool as a
cucumber.

Can a little 'un like me, your own child, don't
you see, such a Emart pioneer as are you
camber ?

You, the modern Theseus? Where's your
Ariadne ? Oh, I know you are oool, |and
clever,

Yet I feel a doubt. "When shall we get out ?—
whioh I can't go on wandering for ever!

Mazemaster loquitur :—j

Poor little man! Yes, I had a plan, and a

perfectly plain one, too, boy;
But—I fear—for a moment—I've—lost'the

clue! Ah! I'm awfully sorry for you, boy!
You have been on your feet for a precious

long time, and all this roundaboutation,
It "p/w«g«am-Thucydidean,"_ perhaps, and

at any rate mean aggraTation.
But you '11 please understand I'm a Tery

"cool hand;" there's abundance of

"humour " about me,

And though for a jiffy I seem at a loss, don't
you come for to go for to doubt me.

'Tis most complicated, this Miz-Maze ! I've

stated the clue I've let slip for a moment,
And Labby, no doubt, and his henchmen, will

shout and indulge in invidious comment:
The Times, too, may gird, and declare 'tis

absurd not to know one's own Labyrinth

better.

The Times is my friend, hut a trifle too fond
of the goad and the scourge and the
fetter ;

You really can't rule the whole civilised
world with the aid of the whip and the
closure;

Though I should enjoy—but no matter, my
boy, let us try to maintain our composure!

When shall we get out f That's a matter of
doubt, cross-hedges my pathway still
chequer,

The clue I've let slip, but you just take my
tip ; we '11 get clear—if you keep up your
pecker!

Change for Thirty-Five Shilling's.

There is a singular directness of purpose
in the following advertisement which appears
in the Daily News :—

REPORTER (27), now on "Weekly, "WANTS
CHANGE. 355.
The advertiser not only wants change, but
he mentions the exact sum. It seems odd.
One often wants change for a sovereign, and
even oftener wants the sovereign itself. But
what precise coin a man hands you when he
wants thirty-five shillings change is not quite
clear.