Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 3

artist, what he made manifest
during so many years in the pages of _Punch_, namely, the supreme
triumph of "Black-and-White" in the achievements of its greatest
master.
* * * * *

[Illustration: KING STORK AND KING LOG.
AN OLD FABLE REVERSED.]
The Frogs, who lived a free and easy life (As in the ancient fable)
Though not quite clear from internecine strife, Fancied they were well
able To do without a King. Batrachian wisdom Disdains the rule of
fogeydom and quizdom, And Frogs as soon would take to bibs and
corals, As ask a "King who might inspect their morals" From Jupiter.
Then 'twas _Juventus Mundi_; The true King-maker now is--Mrs.
GRUNDY, And she insisted that our modern Frogs Should have a
King--the woodenest of King Logs. At first this terrified our Frogs
exceedingly, And, sometimes passionately, sometimes pleadingly,
They grumbled and protested; But finding soon how placidly Log
rested Prone in the pool with mighty little motion, Of danger they
abandoned the wild notion, Finding it easy for a Frog to jog On with a
kind King Log. But in the fulness of the time, there came A would-be
monarch--Legion his fit name; A Plebs-appointed Autocrat,
Stork-throated, Goggle-eyed, Paul-Pry-coated; A poking, peering,
pompous, petty creature, A Bumble-King, with beak for its chief
feature. This new King Stork, With a fierce, fussy appetite for work;
Not satisfied with fixing like a vice Authority on Town and Country
Mice, Tried to extend his sway to pools and bogs, And rule the Frogs!
But modern Frogdom, which had champions able, Had read old-Æsop's
fable, And of King Stork's appearance far from amorous, Croaked forth
a chorus clamorous Of resonant rebellion. These, upreared On angry
legs, waved arms that nothing feared; King Log defending. Great
CRAUGASIDES, Among batrachian heroes first with ease, With
ventriloquial vehemence defied The long-beaked base usurper. At his
side His fond companion, PHYSIGNATHUS swelled Cheeks
humorously defiant; The ruddy giant CRAMBOPHAGUS, as tall as is
a Tree, Flouted King Stork with gestures fierce and free, Sleek
CALAMINTHIUS, aper deft of eld, Against the foe a pungent dart
impelled; HYDROCHARIS too, (Most Terryble to view), Fared to the
front, whilst smaller, yet as brave Tiny batrachian brethren, dusk of hue,
PRASSOPHAGUS, PRASSOEUS, staunch and true, Webbed hands
did wildly wave With the frog-host against the beaky bird-- "He be our
King?" they loudly cried. "Absurd!
Not Mercury, nor Jupiter we beg For a devouring despot, lank of leg,

Of prying eye, and frog-transfixing beak; Though singly we seem weak,
United we are strong to smite or scoff. Off, would-be tyrant, off!!!"
* * * * *
CHURCH AND STAGE.--Let no rabid Churchmen, of any school of
thought, ever again take exception to the irreligious character of
playhouse entertainments. Let them read the advertisement of the
Lyceum Theatre in The Times for March 13:--"During Holy Week this
theatre will be closed, re-opening on Saturday, March 28, with _The
Bells_, which will also be played on Easter Monday night." Could any
arrangement be more thoroughly in harmony with general ecclesiastical
practice? Any liturgical student knows that the bells are played once on
Holy Saturday, and that they should be played on Easter Monday is a
matter of course.
* * * * *
TRACKS FOR THE TIMES.
[A Magistrate has just decided that the Police have a right to interfere
with the growing practice of using the public roads of the Metropolis at
night-time as running-grounds for athletes.]
I come from haunts of smoke and grime, I start in some blind alley,
And race each night against Old Time Enthusiastically!
I dodge past frightened City gents, And sometimes send them flying,
Which makes them cherish sentiments Not wholly edifying.
I wind about, and in and out, Along the crowded pavement, While here
and there the mockers flout My costume and behavement.
I slip, I slide, I flash, I flee Amid the teeming traffic, And drivers often
use to me Idioms extremely graphic.
I murmur when a Lawyer's view Absurdly tries to hinder My turning
public roads into A private path of cinder.
Yet still to "spurt," agile, alert, Shall be my one endeavour; For Cits
may stare, and Jehus swear, But I run on for ever!
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE BLIZZARD.
MRS. SELDOM-FESTIVE "AT HOME" (AND THE BEST PLACE
TOO!), MARCH 9, 1891.
(_10 to 1 Nobody turns up._)]
* * * * *
A DIARY OF DOVER.

_March, 1891_.--Fearful storm in the Channel, when the Victoria is all
but lost. Proposals in all the newspapers for the immediate
commencement of an adequate harbour.
_April, 1892_.--Hurricane in the Channel, when seventeen ships are
lost, and the Club Train Boat (without passengers) is carried, high and
dry, as far as Amiens, by the force of the weather. Renewed
suggestions for the immediate