Punch, or The London Charivari | Page 8

thus, though magistrates expostulate,
[_All take hands and raise their truncheons._
And hint that ANANIAS dressed in blue, We'll grapple with the thing called Evidence, And if we fall, by Heaven! we'll fall _together_!
Inspector. There spoke Policedom's genius! Then, are we all resolved?
All. We are--all resolved.
Inspector. To pull--and swear--together?
All. To pull--and swear--together.
Inspector. All?
All. All!
_Mr. P._ _Nem. con._ Egad!
Commissioner. Oh, yes! When they do agree in the Force, their unanimity is wonderful!
Inspector. Then let's embrace this resolution, and "Keep it with a constant mind--and now--"
[_Kneels._
_Mr. P._ What the plague, is he going to pray?
Commissioner. Yes--hush! In great emergencies--on the Stage or in the Force--there's nothing like a prayer in chorus.
Inspector. "O MENDEZ PINTO!"
_Mr. P._ But why should he pray to MENDEZ PINTO?
Commissioner. Oh, "the Knight, PINTO-MENDEZ FERDINANDO," as POE calls him, is the tutelary genius of Bards--and Bobbies! Hush!
Inspector. If in thy homage bred Each point of discipline I've still observed; Swearing in squads, affirming in platoons; Nor but by due promotion, and the right Of service to the rank P.C. Inspector, Have risen; assist thy votary now!
_1st P.C._ Yet do not rise--hear me! [_Kneels._
_2nd P.C._ And me! [_Kneels._
_3rd P C._ And me! [_Kneels._
Inspector. Now swear--and pray--all together!
All. We swear!!! Behold thy votaries submissive beg That thou wilt deign to grant them all they ask, Assist them to accomplish all their ends, And sanctify whatever means they use To gain them
_Mr. P._ A very orthodox and harmonious chorus. Their "_tutti_" is perfection.
Commissioner. Vastly well, is't not? Is that well managed or not? Is the "thin Blue line" well disciplined or not? Have you such absolute perfection of "alltogetherishness" on your lyric stage as the Force voluntarily maintains--in its own interests, and obedient to its own peculiar _esprit de corps_?
_Mr. P._ (_with significance_). Not exactly!
* * * * *
MANY HAPPY RETURNS!
(_PUNCH TO MADAME LA RéPUBLIQUE._)
["The Republic attains its majority to-morrow (Sept. 4). It is the first Government since the Revolution which has had a twenty-first birthday."--The Times.]
Dear Madam, "Perfidious Albion" proffers The best birthday wishes good feeling can shape! A snap of the fingers for cynical scoffers! A fig for the framers of venomous jape. May Peace and Goodwill be your lasting possession, Your proud "Valour" tempered by "years of discretion!"
* * * * *
HYGEIA OFF THE SCENT.--It is stated that even the charms of a champagne luncheon failed to attract more than one out of twenty-four members of the Hygienic Congress invited to test the merits of sewage-farms by ocular--or should we say _nasal_?--demonstration. Perhaps the missing three-and-twenty thought that in this case, at least, Mrs. MALAPROP would be both correct and pertinent in saying that "Comparisons are _odorous_!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: "NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH."
INSPECTOR. "NOW SWEAR! ALL TOGETHER!" CONSTABLES. "WE SWEAR!!"
MR. PUNCH (_aside_). "DEAR ME, SIR EDWARD; WHEN THEY DO AGREE, THEIR UNANIMITY IS WONDERFUL!."--"_The Critic_," _freely adapted._]
* * * * *
ROBERT'S ROMANCE.
I have been so bothered for coppys of my Romanse, as I read at the Cook's Swarry some time back, that I have detummined to publish it, and here it is. In coarse, all rites is reserved.
ROBERT.
[Illustration]
THE MYSTERY OF MAY FARE.
(BY ONE BEHIND THE SEENS.)

CHAPTER I
.--_DESPARE!_
It was Midnite! The bewtifool Countess of BELGRAVIER sat at the hopen winder of her Boodwar gazing on the full moon witch was jest a rising up above the hopposite chimbleys. Why was that evenly face, that princes had loved and Poets sillybrated, bathed in tears? How offen had she, wile setting at that hopen winder, washed it with Oder Colone, to remove the stanes of them tell tail tears? But all in wane, they wood keep running down that bewtifool face as if enamelled with its buty; and quite heedless of how they was a spiling of her new ivory cullered sattin dress that Maddam ELISE's yung ladies had been a workin on up to five a clock that werry arternoon.
She had bin to the great ball of the Season, to be washupped as usual by the world of Fashun, but wot had driven her home at the hunerthly hour of harf-parst Eleven? Ah, that cruel blo, that deadly pang, that despairin shok, must be kep for the nex chapter.

CHAPTER II
.--_THE HELOPEMEANT!_
Seated in the House-keeper's own Room at the Dook of SURREY's lovely Manshun, playfoolly patting his fatted calves, and surrounded by his admiring cirkle, sat CHARLES, the ero of my Tale. CHARLES was the idle of that large establishment. They simply adored him. It was not only his manly bewty, tho that mite have made many an Apoller envy him. It was not only his nolledge of the world, tho in that he was sooperior to menny a Mimber of Parlyment from the Sister Oil, but it was his stile, his grace, his orty demeaner. The House-keeper paid him marked attenshuns. The Ladies Maid supplyed him with Sent for his ankerchers.