Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 7

consumption, In toasts and salutes, for they're friends and invited; JOHN and JOHNNY clasp paws, And drink deep to the Cause Of NEPTUNE's two guests and brave Neighbours United!
The scribes and the specials report wondrous things, Of the grand preparations, the routs and the rackets. Gone the old days of huge wooden walls and white wings, We now meet without mutual dusting of jackets. Well so much the better! Our seas let them try, Their squadrons are welcome to float 'em and swim 'em. Like good _Cap'n Cuttle_ we'll smile and "stand by," Friendly bumpers we'll empty as fast as they brim 'em To welcome his guests Father NEPTUNE's delighted, He'll clasp both their paws, And drink deep to the Cause Of Sailors as shipmates and Neighbours United!
Old NEP is "At Home" to the Sailors of France. Old foes turn new friends as their reason grows riper; "All hands for Skylarking!" A measure we'll dance, With friendship for fiddler and pleasure for piper. 'Tis a good many years since they sought our white shore; Once more at hands'-grip we are glad to have got 'em. As to Jingos or Chauvinists,--out on the bores! Such Jonahs should promptly be plumped to the bottom; Poor swabs! For this party they are not invited; Shall they come athwart hawse As we drink to the Cause Of Shipmates for ever and Neighbours United?
Yes, we know that humanity fondly may scheme For Peace, of all ills the supposed panacea: We know that Utopia's only a dream, Unbroken good fellowship but an idea. Old NEP knows his great Naval Show is now on, And ARMSTRONG and WHITWORTH's huge works he's aware on; He sees what our shipwrights and gunsmiths have done To send foes o'er the Styx in the barque of old Charon. At sight of War's murderous monsters half frighted, E'en valour may pause, And drink deep to the Cause, Of Good-will among Nations and Neighbours United!
But, gushing apart, 'tis a sight for sad eyes To see ancient rivals on joint messmate duty. A French ship in our waters and not as a prize Might once have perturbed British Valour and Beauty. But now Father NEPTUNE, "At Home," calmly grips His trident, and smiles with most friendly benignity. We welcome French Sailors, and shout for French ships, Without an abatement of patriot dignity. To see any friend of JOHN BULL NEP's delighted. He holds out his paws, And will drink to the Cause Of Peace on the Ocean and Neighbours United!
Then shout, Britons, shout, while the neighbouring crews Hob-nob, as the symbol of neighbouring nations; Whilst NEPTUNE at Home welcomes brave Brother Blues, And serves out the stingo to each in fair rations. Your spirits, ye sturdy old seadogs, might smile On a friendship which to your true hearts is no treason. The Sea-God makes free of his favourite Isle The French lads he once would have shied, and with reason. Now to greet brave GERVAIS and his tars he's delighted. Midst general applause Let us drink to the Cause. Hooray for NEP's Visitors, Neighbours United!
* * * * *
[Illustration: NEPTUNE'S "AT HOME;" OR, NEIGHBOURS UNITED.
JOHN BULL (_loq._). "ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MY MESSMATE, MR. NEPTUNE."
NEPTUNE. "ALWAYS GLAD TO WELCOME ANY FRIEND OF YOURS, JOHN!"]
* * * * *
TO THE SHELVED SEX.
(_BY ONE WHO KEEPS HIS EARS OPEN._)
["Believing firmly in the absolute justice of woman's claim to the 'Parliamentary' franchise, I shall at all times support that claim."--_Mr. Logan, the new M.P. for the Harborough Division._]
[Illustration]
O woman, in our hours of ease. The mockery of false M.P.'s! When an Election comes in sight, E'en Ministers admit thy "right." Believe them not; they do not dote On the Political Petticoat. 'Tis all a politic pretence. Some of them are upon the fence; Some of them have "political" wives, And shirking stings in their home-hives, Take up "the Cause" with a sham zeal, Which not five in five thousand feel. But hear them over a Club-dinner Chuckling about the "pretty sinner" Who hankers for that finer Club, The House o' Commons! There's the rub! They do not want you there, my dears; The prospect of your "franchise" queers Wire-pullers' plans, and party reckoning-- Hope, in male guise, stands blandly beckoning. He--_Codlin_--is the friend, _not Short_, But, in his heart he's making sport. Of course 'tis wickedest of shames, But--recollect Sir HENRY JAMES, Your open enemy avowed, Did not the House o' Commons crowd Of frauds and shams play up to him, And shelve "the Female Franchise" whim Only the other day? Sheer diddle! Have you not nous to read the riddle? How wondrous prompt was W.G. To back up SMITH! With what sly glee The "Woman's-Rightists" did subside. And--_sub silentio_--let you slide! Your Grand Old Man, dears,--well, _he's_ human. He doesn't want some Grand Old Woman As