Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 9

Do just let me get at the Lobster, old chap!
While it's fast to your tail, and you wriggle and wail, And romp all around, the best master, And kindest of heart, Dog and Lobster can't part. _Don't_ think I deride your disaster! The pinch of it might make an elephant prance; No, all that I ask is--_just give me a chance!_
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[Illustration: "THAT CON-FOUNDLAND DOG!"
JOHN BULL. "IF I COULD ONLY GET HIM TO STAND STILL, I COULD SOON SETTLE THE LOBSTER!"]
* * * * *
A TEN MINUTES' IDYL.
Life is a farce, a dreary round, A fraud--of that there's not a doubt, Although I've only lately found It out.
Bad boldly masquerades as good, Fruit turns to ashes in the taking, Unpleasant very 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 representing BRITANNIA astonished at the success of her recent Foreign Policy.
_Mr. Gladstone_.--Pocket Edition of Cyclop?dia of Universal Information, copiously illustrated, for the use of veteran Statesmen.
The Emperor of Germany.--Prize Homily on the Art of Governing, with special reference to the science as applied to the subordination of "temper."
_Mr. Parnell_.--Sculptured Group representing 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 expenses, 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 Proposal 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.
[Illustration]
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 DAUDET.
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 paintresses 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 bref_ 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 BILTON."-- "She? She's the representative, The last, of MILTON!"
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 WHITELEY!" 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 FIRST--to speak in slang-- Was scarcely in it.
That smilelessness! What meant the curse? Who could the