Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 2

I'm all for freedom, I am!" "So am I all for freedom," I sez, "but ..." (_Here another disturbance takes place; a little man, with red whiskers, has mildly objected to being leant upon by a burly stranger, who bawls_--"What are you afraid on? You ain't bin fresh painted, 'ave yer? Are yer 'oller inside--or what? Ga arn--I never knoo a carrotty-'aired man good for anything yet," &c., &c.) Then there's Mr. MATTHEWS, the 'OME SECKERTARY, _'e's_ against us, which I think 'e must be a woman-'ater hisself! (Feeling suggestion from crowd that the HOME SECRETARY _has suffered a disillusion in his younger days._) But I was goin' to tell yer what we poor women 'ave got to put up with. Now there's a Mrs. HIRONMOULD, of Starch Row, Hacton Green, as I've worked for. (_A Lady in crowd, who knows_ Mrs. H. "Ah, _she's_ a beauty!" Cheers for Mrs. HIRONMOULD.) Well, I'll tell yer something about _'er_--it'll jest show you what she is! Why, that woman, as I know myself, she acshally ... (She relates a personal and Rabelaisian reminiscence of Mrs. H., _to the huge delight of the audience._) I'll tell yer another thing--I've worked for a man down at South End, Healing, and this'll show yer the amount o' hinsult and hill-treatment we 'ave to stand, and never say nothing to. I've seed 'im, hover and hover agen, walkin' about among us in his shirtsleeves, with 'is braces 'angin' about is 'eels! (_Cheers from the crowd; demonstration with scrubbing-brush by the old Lady in the drag._) I 'ave indeed, and I don't tell yer no lies. (_Here a Lady in the crowd suddenly exhibits a tendency to harangue the public on her own wrongs, and has to be suppressed._) And that man 'e'd come up to me and say, "Ain't them shirts finished yet?" he sez. "No," I'd say to 'im, "they ain't, and I don't deceive yer." "It's time they was," he'd say. "Beggin' your pardon," I'd tell 'im, "it's nothink o' the kind; and, if you don't believe my word, you may go and call your Missis out of the back kitching, as knows more about it than you do!" An' are you goin' to tell me we ain't to 'ave a Factory Act, after _that_?
[_She stands down, having made the speech of the afternoon, and is rewarded by approving cries of "Good old girl!" An employer of labour is next introduced, and received at first with suspicion, until he explains that he is heart and soul with them, that he does not dread the application of the Factory Acts to his own establishment, and considers that it would be an excellent thing if all the smaller laundries were closed to-morrow, whereupon the ladies habitually employed in these places cheer him heartily._
_A Common-Sense Speaker_. It's all very well for you to come 'ere and protest against the laundresses workin' too long hours, but I tell yer _this_--it's yer own fault, it's the Public's fault. You will 'ave yer clean shirts and collars sent 'ome every week! (_Several of the unwashed betray that this thrust has gone home._) A fortnight ain't a bit too long to wait for your linen! (_Unanimous and hearty assent by people in dingy flannels._) And if some o' these swells and aristocrats weren't so partickler, and didn't send so much linen to the wash as they do, why, it stands to reason as the hours the washerwomen 'ud work 'ud be shorter!
[_Chorus of agreement; sudden unpopularity--especially, oddly enough, with lighthearted young laundresses--of persons in the crowd whose collars are at all aggressive in their cleanliness; universal feeling that the blame has been fitted upon the right shoulders at last. More speeches; simultaneous passing of Resolution; the Processions march away with colours flying and bands playing, and, if they have succeeded in advancing the true interests of labour, no one will be more gratified than their friend, Mr. Punch._
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JOSEPH'S JOUST.
[Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, from the study of a certain "Liberal Leaflet" triumphantly draws the large conclusion that the Gladstonians have "dropped Home Rule."]
To "ride the high horse," my brave Brummagem boy, Is doubtless, to you, a delight and a joy; But little avails that equestrian quest, If the fruit of your ride is the merest "mare's nest."
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APPROPRIATE FOR THE SULTRY SUMMER WEATHER.--The revival of _Drink_, at Drury Lane. It ought to be "iced drink."
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"PALMAM QUI MERUIT, FERAT!"
[Illustration: "It takes time to get ever such journeys and such experiences."--_Mrs. Grimwood on her Manipur adventures._]
Mr. PUNCH, _loquitur_:--
True, Madam, and tasteless would be the intrusion That tactlessly took no account of the time The praises of Britons are yours, in profusion; The blame for a blunder, the judgment for crime, Let Statesmen apportion; all know