Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 4

I don't see how!"
"Why, look here," the White Queen cried; "the Rat would lose its temper with its 'tail,' wouldn't it?"
"Perhaps it would," ALICE replied, cautiously.
"Then, if the 'Rat' went away from its 'Tail,' its temper would remain," the White Queen exclaimed.
ALICE said, as gravely as she could. "They might go different ways--the 'Rat,' the 'Tail,' and the 'Temper.'" But she couldn't help thinking to herself, "What dreadful nonsense we are talking!"
* * * * *
THE ONLY ONE.--A ready-penning writer in his Daily Graphic notice of doings in the Houses of Parliament, winds up his description of giving the Royal Assent to Bills in the Upper House with these words--"_So ends the ceremony, which seems to take one away from the Nineteenth Century_"--a little sum in subtraction--i.e., take one away from the Nineteenth Century, and the Eighteenth Century remains; but to continue--"back to the days of the Edwards and the Henrys." But why go back to any other century than the "so-called Nineteenth"? Isn't it only a very few years ago that the EDWARDS, the singular HENRY with plural surname of EDWARDS, sat for Weymouth? What other HENRYS or EDWARDS could ever occur to any well-conditioned Parliamentary scribe?
* * * * *
VOCES POPULI.
A RECITATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
SCENE--_An Evening Party; Miss FRESIA BLUDKINSON, a talented young Professional Reciter, has been engaged to entertain the company, and is about to deliver the favourite piece entitled, "The Lover of Lobelia Bangs, a Cowboy Idyl." There is the usual crush, and the guests outside the drawing-room, who can neither hear nor see what is going on, console themselves by conversing in distinctly audible tones. Jammed in a doorway, between the persons who are trying to get in, and the people who would be only too glad to get out, is an Unsophisticated Guest who doesn't know a soul, and is consequently reduced to listening to the Recitation. This is what he hears:--_
[Illustration: "I am only a Cowboy."]
Miss Fresia Blud. (in a tone of lady-like apology).
I am only a Cowboy--
[_Several Ladies put up their glasses, and examine her critically, as if they had rather expected this confession. Sudden burst of Society Chatter from without._
Society Chatter. How d'ye do?... Oh, but her parties never are!... How are you?... No, I left her at ... Yes, he's somewhere about ... Saw you in the Row this mornin'.... Are you doing anything on ----?... Oh, what a shame!... No, but doesn't she now?... No earthly use trying to get in at present ... &c., &c.
Miss Fresia B. (_beginning again, with meek despair, a little louder_).
I am only a Cowboy; reckless, rough, in an unconventional suit of clothes; I hain't, as a rule, got much to say, and my conversation is mostly oaths.
[_Cries of "Ssh!" intended, however, for the people outside, who are chattering harder than ever._
When the cackle of females strikes my ear--
Society Chatter (as before). Oh, much cooler here ... Yes, delightful, wasn't it? Everybody one knows ... No, you don't really?... Oh, POPSY's flourishing, thanks ... The new Butler turned out a perfect demon ... but I said I wouldn't have his tail dooked for anything ... so they've painted it eau de Nil, and it looks so nice!
Miss F.B. (pointedly).
When the cackle of females strikes my ear, I jest vamose, for they make me skeered, And I sorter suspicion I skeer them too, with my hulking form, and my bushy beard!
[Here, of course, she strokes a very round chin.
Society Chatter. Seems to be somethin' goin' on in there--singin', actin', dancin', or somethin' ... Well, of course, only heard her version of it as yet, y'know ... Have you seen him in ... white bensaline with a Medici collar, and one of those ... nasty gouty attacks he will have are only rheumatism, &c., &c.
Miss F.B. (when next heard).
I cleared my throat, and I tried to speak--but the words died strangled--
A Feminine Voice outside. So long since we had a quiet talk together! Do tell me all about, &c., &c.
Miss F.B. --strangled by sheer alarm.
For there in front--
[_Here she points dramatically at a stout matron, who fans herself consciously._
--was the slender form, and the sweet girl-face of our new "School Harm"! Say, boys! hev' ye heard an ?olian harp which a Zephyr's tremulous finger twangs? Wa'al, it kinder thrills ye the way I felt when I first beheld LOBELIA BANGS!
Soc. Chat. Oh, you really ought to go--so touching! DICK and I both regularly howled all through the last Act ... Not in the least, thanks. Well, if there is a seat ... You're sure there are any ices? Then, strawberry, please--no, nothing to drink!... Will you allow me?... Told she could dress hair perfectly, but I soon found she was ... a Swedenborgian, my dear, or something horrid ... Haven't you? I've had it three times, and