Punch (103.1892)

October 22, 1892.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

181

IN MEMORIAM.

William psrMttitk §rairtarjr,

Born, Dec. 3, 1832. Died, Oct. 13, 1892.

Large-hearted man, most loyal friend,
Art thou too gone—too early lost ?
Our comrade true, our tireless host!

Prompt to inspire, console, defend !

Gone! Hearts with grateful memories stored

Ache for thy loss round the old board.

The well-loved board he loved so well,
His pride, his care, his ceaseless thought;
To him with life-long memories fraught;

For him invested with the spell

O'er a glad present ever cast

By solemn shadows of the past.

That past for him, indeed, was filled

With a proud spirit-retinue.

Greatness long since his guest he knew,
"Whom Thackeray's manly tones had thrilled;
Who heard keen Jerrold's sparkling speech,
And marked the genial grace of Leech.

What changes had he known, who sat
With our four chiefs, of each fast friend!
And must such camaraderie end ?

Shall friendly counsel, cordial chat,

Come nevermore again to us

From lips with kindness tremulous ?

No more shall those blue eyes ray out
Swift sympathy, or sudden mirth ;
That ever mobile mouth give birth

To frolic whim, or friendly flout ?

Our hearts will miss thee to the end,

Amphitryon generous, faithful friend!

Miss thee ? Alas! the void that's there
No other form may hope to fill,
For those who now with sorrow thrill

In gazing on that vacant chair;

Whither it seems he must return,

For whose warm hand-clasp yet we yearn.

Tribute to genius all may give,
Ours is the homage of the heart;
For a friend lost our tears will start,
Lost to our sight, yet who shall live,
Whilst one who knew that bold frank face
At the old board takes the old place.

For those, his closer kin, whose home
Is darkened by the shadow grey,
What can respectful love but pray

That consolation thither come

In that most sacred soothing guise

Which natural sorrow sanctifies.

Bereavement's anguish to assuage
Is a sore task that lies beyond
The scope of friendship or most fond
Affection's power. Yet may this page,
True witness of our love and grief,
To bowed hearts bring some scant relief !

" ANECDOTAGE."

Companion Paragraph to Stories of the same hind,

Curran, the celebrated Irish Patriot, was
a man of intense wit and humour. On one
occasion he was discussing with Richard
Brinsley Sheridan the possibility of com-
bining the interests of the two countries
under one Crown. " It is a difficult matter
to arrange," observed the brilliant author of
the School for Scandal, "Right you are,
darlint," acquiesced Ctjrran, with the least
taste of a brogue. " But where are ye to
find the spalpeens for it? Ye may wake so
poor a creature as a sow, but it takes a real
gintleman to raise the rint! " Then, with a
twinkle in his eves, "But, for all that, ma
cruiskeen, I'm not meself at all at all! "

THE LAY OF A SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.

The dainty artificial fly I And I will join, at times, jjf But when I reach

Designed to catch the no doubt, [pretence, yf/ the river's side

wily trout, _ | But yet my praise, without / Alone, for none of

Full loud laudabunt alii, Isnotfromgreatexperience. Jf these I wish,

I talk as well as anyone

No victim to a foolish
pride,

About the different f^^4 / My object is to

kinds of tackle feMt / capture fish:

I praise the Gnat, the J^pSfe^0# Let me confess, then,

01lveDun> /^^WV ff/ since you ask

it—

A worm it is which
fills my basket!

brown, unlovely, wriggling
worm,

On which with scorn the
haughty look,
It is thy fascinating squirm
Which brings the fattest trout
to book,
From thee unable to refrain,
Though flies are cast for him in
vain!

Deep gratitude to thee I feel,
And then, perhaps, it's chiefly
keen.

When rival anglers view my
creel,

And straightway turn a jealous
green;

And, should they ask me—"What's

your fly P "
" A fancy pattern," I reply!

Discuss the worth of wings and hackle ;
I've flies myself of each design,
No book is better filled than mine.

SWORD AND PEN;

Or, the Rival Commanders.

{Extract from a Military Story of the near
Future.)

Captain Pipeclay was perplexed when
his Company refused to obey him. He was
considered a fairly good soldier, but not up
to date. He might know his drill, he might
have read his Queen's Regulations, but he
had vague ideas of the power of the Press.

"You see, Sir," remonstrated his Colour-
Sergeant; "if the rear rank think they
should stand fast when you give the com-
mand ' Open order! ' it is only a matter of
opinion. You may be right, or you may be
wrong. Speaking for myself, I am inclined
to fancy that the men are making a mis-
take ; but you can't always consider yourself
omniscient."

"Sergeant," returned the officer, harshly;
"it is not the business of men to argue, but
to obey."

"Pardon me again, Sir, but isn't that
slightly old-fashioned? I know that theo-
retically you have reason on your side ; but
then in these days of the latter end of the
nineteenth century, we must not be bound
too tightly to precedent."

The Captain bit his moustache for the
fourth time, and then again gave the order.
But there was no response. The Company
moved not a muscle.

" This is mutiny! " cried the officer. " I
will break everyone of you. I will put you
all in the cells; and in the orderly room to-
morrow morning, we will soon see if there is
such a thing as discipline."

"Discipline!" repeated the Sergeant.
"Beg your pardon, Sir, but I don't think
the men understand what you mean. The
word is not to be found in the most recent
dictionaries."

And certainly things seemed to be reaching
a climax, for however much the Commander

a cloaked figure approached the parade-
ground. The new-comer strode about with
a bearing that suggested one accustomed to
receive obedience.

" What is the matter P" asked the Dis-
guised One.

"I can't get my men to obey me,"_ ex-
plained the Captain. " I have been desiring
them to take open order for the last ten
minutes, and they remain as they were."

'' What have they to say in their de-
fence ? " was the inquiry of the Man in the
Cloak.

" He won't let us write to the newspapers! "
was heard from the ranks.

" Is this really so ? " asked the new-comer,
in a tone more of sorrow than of anger.

" Well, Sir,'' returned the Captain, " as it
is a rule of the Service that no communi-
cations shall be sent to the Press, I thought
that-"

"You had no right to think, Sir!" was
the sharp reply. " Are you so ignorant that
you do not know that it is a birth-right of
a true-born Briton 'to air his opinions in the
organs of publicity ? You will allow the men
to go to their quarters at once, that they
may state their grievances on paper. They
are at perfect liberty to write what they
please, and they may rest assured that their
communications will escape the grave of the
waste-paper basket."

Thus encouraged, the Company dismissed
without further word of command.

"And who may you be ? " asked the Cap-
tain, with some bitterness, "Are you the
Commander-in-Chief P "

"I am one infinitely more powerful," was
the reply. And then the speaker threw off
his disguise-cloak, and appeared in morning-
dress. "Behold in me the Editor of an
influential Journal! "

A week later the Captain had sent in his
papers, and every man in the Company he
had once commanded wore the stripe of a
might shout, not one of the rank and file Lance Corporal. And thus was the power of

stirred an inch, It was at this moment that | the Press once again sufficiently vindicated.

vol. era. r