Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 5

of Fashion to carry out successfully; and, though few of the "smart" Ladies of my set habitually indulge in the habit. I am happy to think I am encouraging them in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the Summer, may in time even rival Lawn Tennis! However--not to beat about the bush any longer--an utterly absurd expression this is!--as if it could hurt the bush to beat it!--to say nothing of the difficulty of keeping a bush always handy to beat!)--it is time I told you what this great achievement of mine was--_I went paddling!_ There!--the secret is out!--the Fashion is set!--the new Summer Amusement discovered! The Rules of the Game are being written, and will shortly be published under the title, "_Routledge's Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of Good Standing_." I need hardly tell you that the first thing necessary is to find a secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few children to take with you--(there are usually plenty left about on the beach from which you can make a selection)--as a sort of excuse;--no other implements are required for the game, in fact, superfluities are a nuisance and only get wet--thus equipped--the game can be played with freedom--(not from pebbles)--combined of course with propriety, and will be found amusing and invigorating--(quotation from the preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German Doctor, HERR SPLASHENWASSER--inventor of the Water-Cure.
The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at Doncaster this week, and the most important race, I take it--at least, I don't take it--but the winner will--another senseless expression--is naturally the St. Leger, for which I make a poetic selection, which has cost me weeks of anxious thought, no "leger" task!--(French joke)--owing to the number of horses engaged, so few of which will run!
Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
ST. LEGER SELECTION.
The best of the classic events of the year We are told by the students of "form," Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear, For the noble possessor of Orme.
[Footnote 1: This should really be Burgee, but then it wouldn't rhyme, and a Poet may drop a syllable, if he or she mayn't drop an H!]
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[Illustration: THE WOMAN THAT WAS!
_Monsieur le Maréchal_ (_who, during the Forties, was a dashing young Military Attaché at, the French Embassy in London_). "AH, DUCHESS, AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE VERE, ZAT EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND? VEN I TINK OF 'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"
The Duchess (_née Mary Gwendolen Vere de Vere_). "OH YES, MONSIEUR LE MARéCHAL, I REMEMBER HER ONLY TOO WELL!"
_M. le Maréchal._ "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA DUCHESSE?"
Her Grace (_with a sigh_). "_ELLE N'EST PLUS!_"]
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STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
NO. V.
It may be objected that _Mr. Punch's_ fifth example does not strictly conform to the canons laid down by him in his prefatory remarks to No. I. _Mr. Punch_ neither admits nor denies the charge. He is convinced, however, that those who do him the honour to read these Studies, might justly complain if he failed to include in them an example of the work of a Poet who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes, cattle and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the author of the following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N. Like others who might be named, he has not the honour to be an agricultural labourer; but no living man has sung at greater length of rural life, and its simple joys. Many of his admirers have asserted that Britain ought to have more than one Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be among the number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They have been heard to complain that cows and trees, and woodmen and farms, and sheep and wains, and hay and turnips, do not necessarily suggest the highest happiness, and that it is not always dignified for an aspiring Poet to be led about helpless through the byeways of sense by those wilful, wanton playfellows, his rhymes. The two factions may be left to fight out their quarrel over the present example, which, by the way, is not taken from the collected edition of the Poet's works.
IS LUNCH WORTH LUNCHING?
(_BY A-FR-D A-ST-N._)
Is Lunch worth lunching? Go, dyspeptic man, Where in the meadows green the oxen munch. Is it not true that since our land began The hornéd ox hath given us steaks for lunch?
Steaks rump or otherwise, the prime sirloin, Sauced with the stinging radish of the horse. Beeves meditate and die; we pay our coin, And though the food be often tough and coarse,
We eat it, we, through whose