Punch: Punch (101.1891)

42

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[July 25, 1891.

RATHER LATE IN THE DAY, PERHAPS!

"Oh, Grandpapa deaf., such fun! The Fortune-teller's come! Do come and have your Fortune told

JEAMES'S SUMMARY.

Or, Le Monde ou Ton sennuu.

[" jSTott that the pageantry and the soeial stir
evoked by the presence of the Imperial guests are
over, there are few who will care to prolong the
dreary and disappointing existence either of the
Season or of the Session."—The Times.]

Jeames loquitur ;—-

Ya-A-A-w ! Yes, young man, yon 've 'it it

there, penny-a-liner as you may be,
And knowing, probably, no more about has

than a coster's baby ;
But dull it 'as been, and no kid, and dreary,

too, and disappinting ;
Is it this Sosherlistic rot Society is so

disjinting,

The Hinliuenza, or Hard Times, them Hirish,

or wotever is it ?
I couldn't 'ave 'eld on at all, I'm sure, but

for the Hemp'ror's visit.
Ya-a-a-w ! 'Ang it, 'ow I've got the gapes!

Bring us a quencher, you young Buttons !
And mind it's cool, and with a'ed ! Hour

family is reg'lar gluttons
For "Soshal Stir." The guv'nor, he's a

rising Tory M.P., he is.
And Missis all the Season through as busy as

a bloomin' bee is,
A gathering Fashion's honey up from every

hopening flower. That's natty.
I 'ave a turn for poetry ; you 're quite right

there, my pretty Pattt.
Lor ! 'ow that gal admires these carves ! But

that's " irrevelant," as the sayin' is ;
Master and Missis both complain 'ow dull and

slow the game they 're playin' is.

The Session ? Yah ! Give me the days, the

dear old days of darling Dizzy!
With him and Gladstone on the job a chap

could say " Now we are busy."
But Smith's a slug, 'Arcourt's ahum, and

Labby makes a chap go squirinish.
Dull as ditchwater the whole thing. One

longs e'en for a Hirish skirmish ;
But Parnell's fo par, and his spite, 'ave

knocked the sparkle out of Paddy.
No ; Parlyment 's a played-out fraud, flabby

and footy, flat and faddy.
The Season's similar. Season? Bah? By

seeh a name it ain't worth calling.
Shoulders like these and carves like those

was not ffui'te made for pantry-sprawling;
But wot's the use ? Trot myself hout for

'Ebrews, or some tuppenny kernel ?
No, not for Jeames, if he is quite aweer of

it! It's just infernal,
The Vulgar Mix that calls itself Society.

All shoddy slyness,
And moneybags ; a " blend " as might kon-

tamernate a Ilyal 'Igness,
Orinfry-diga Hemperor. It won't nick Jeames

though, not percisely; [self unwisely.
Better to flop in solitude than to demean one's
Won't ketch me selling myself off. I must

confess my 'art it arrers
To see the Strorberry-Leaves go cheap—like

strorberries on low coster's barrers !
Tuppence a pound ! Yes, that's the cry. It's

cheapness, that Had fad, that's done it.
Prime fruit ought to be scarce and dear,

picked careful, and kept in the punnet.
The same with all chice things I 'old, whether

'tis footmen's carves or peerages ;
But fools forget that good old rule in this yer

queerest of all queer ages.

Trade bad, things in the City tight, no Court

worth mentioning, queer scandals,
Socierty inwaded by a lot of jumped-up Goths

and Wandals ;
Swell-matches few, gurls' chances poor, late

Spring, and lots o' sloppy weather,
With that there Hinliuenza—wich perhaps

is wus than all together—
All over the dashed shop! When was a

Season sech a sell as this is ?
Wot wonder that it aggravates us all, per-

tikler Me and Missis ?
Ah! But for our " Himperial Guests" the

Times' young man names with sech f eel-

ina*

I don't know wot I should ave done. A

dismal dulness seems a-stealing
Afore its time o'er everythink ; and now Our

Guests 's gone wot reason,
As the Times sez, for trying to perlong the

Session or the Season ?
Ya-a-a-w! I shall gape my 'ed off 'ere.

The Row's a bore, the 'Ouse a fetter.
And now the Hemp'ror's slung 'is 'ook, the

sooner we are horf the better !

A Lusus Nature.—A paragraph in the
P. M. G., the other day, was headed, "A Lion '
Loose in a Circus." Bad enough. But a still
more extraordinary incident would have been
A Lion " tight" in a Circus.

Mr. Chauncy Depew, the well-known
American barrister, raconteur, and wit,
is on his way to England. His visit is
on business; probably to head a Depew-
tation.