Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 8

previous scene _Mr. Ourrias_ had behaved very badly in first losing his temper, and then sticking a dagger into poor _Vincent Lubert_, who fell down behind a rock, presumably dead.
The golf-ground is cleared off, and we are back again in front of the village church. But at this moment a person, who knew all about it, whispered, "If you want to get your cab, and escape the crush, now's the time, as the Opera is just over." So I hurried off, and to this moment I haven't the faintest idea how it all ended, and I don't quite understand how it began. However, I have recorded my impressions, confused probably, but--the music is very pretty, and Miss EAMES very charming.
* * * * *
PARENTAL AUTHORITY.
Typical British Father (_according to the Home Secretary_). Now, come, JANE and JIM, bundle up to your work. Look sharp!
Government Inspector. No, Mr. SIKES, I think not. Your youngsters have not touched eleven yet.
Typical British Father. But they're over ten.
Government Inspector. That don't matter. The age is altered. You'll just send your young kids back to the Board School again.
Typical British Father. Well, I call it downright robbery. Why, they supports me, they do; and what more fitter work can you find for the kids, but to support their parients with the sweat of their brow. Why, I thought the 'OME SECRETARY was all on our side.
Government Inspector. Well, he's been beat, that's all. The country don't see the fun of sending children of tender years away from their proper training, to wear out their young bodies and poison their young systems in beastly close, ill-ventilated work-rooms, and all just to bring in an extra bit of money to enable their parents, like you, to laze and loaf at home, and, maybe, spend their hardly-earned wage on drink. However, you'll have to dock it, Mr. SIKES.
Typical British Father. Well, I call it downright bloomin' robbery. It's more. It's a invasion of the sacred rights of the British working man's domestic home. It's a infringement of the liberty of the subject, that's wot it is. It's a teaching the young 'uns rebellion against their natural protectors. It's a bloomin' shame!
[Government Inspector leads them off delighted. Typical British Father left swearing.
* * * * *
UNSELFISH HELP BY SMILES.--"Dr. QUAIN's advice to doctors," says Mr. JAMES PAYN in the _Illustrated London News_, "always 'to look cheerful,' ought to be written in letters of gold." So it is: in notes, or cheques. When the eminent novelist has to send for Dr. QUAIN, the latter will beam on him, and tell him a good story. The labour he delights in will "physic PAYN."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE EGOISM OF GENIUS.
Fond Mother. "DON'T YOU WANT TO SEE THE EVENING PAPERS, MORTIMER?"
Minimus Poet. "WHY, IS THERE ANYTHING ABOUT ME IN THEM?"
Fond Mother. "NOT THAT I KNOW OF, DARLING."
Minimus Poet (_pettishly_). "GOOD HEAVENS, MOTHER, THEN WHAT ON EARTH SHOULD I WANT TO SEE THEM FOR?"]
* * * * *
POLITICAL ASIDES;
OR, TRUTH IN PARENTHESES.
(VERY FREELY ADAPTED FROM THOMAS HOOD.)
Fond Mother. I really take it vastly kind, This visit, my dear creature! A family likeness here you'll find. (Like _hers_? Not in one feature!)
Friendly Visitor. Only too happy, I am sure, To see the little darling, Our family friendships are so pure! (They find effect in snarling.)
Fond Mother. Well, dear, with your experience, Your aid must be of value. You've not yet given its help immense. (Nor, if I know it, shall you!)
Friendly Visitor. Ah! Good Nurse G-SCH-N, is she out, That you the babe are dandling? Sweet-tempered child and strong, no doubt! (The brat wants careful handling.)
Fond Mother. G-SCH-N and D-KE are both at hand, But I'm so proud to show it. The weakness you will understand (Envious, and knows I know it!)
Friendly Visitor. Mothers must be as vigilant As--say 'Bus-strikers' pickets. It cries, dear! What does baby want? (Half-starved, and has the rickets!)
Fond Mother. Which, think you, the best Infant's Food? You see there are so many; I know your judgment is so good! (Not worth a single penny!)
Friendly Visitor. Well, dear, don't swaddle it too tight. That ruins the digestion, And--Forster's Food I've found work right. (She'll relish that suggestion!)
Fond Mother. Humph! Rather out of date, I fear! You've slight experience--_lately_-- Next time you nurse you'll know, my dear! (She'll like that home-thrust _greatly_!)
Friendly Visitor. Your nursing, dear, of course, is based Upon my Nursery Manual. The child looks rayther peaky-faced. (Not quite a hardy annual!)
Fond Mother. Think so? Look up, and laugh, my sweet, Show NANA she's mistaken-- It quite begins to "feel its feet." (With spite her soul is shaken!)
Friendly Visitor. I understand your family Call it "The Changeling." Why so? The family likeness all must see. (It squints with the left eye so!)
Fond Mother. Oh! there are always some