Anything but an Alderman's Motto.—"Dinner forget."
Anything but an Alderman's Motto.—"Dinner forget."
A HINT TO THE ELEPHANTINE PROFESSOR AT ASTLEY'SA HINT TO THE ELEPHANTINE PROFESSOR AT ASTLEY'S.
(From our own Reporter.)
(From our own Reporter.)
There are some remarkable additions to the usual Waits this year, which the papers have uniformly neglected to notice. As Corrector-General of the Press, it devolves onMr. Punchof course to supply the omission. Half a moment's reflection will, he thinks, convince any of his readers who would be styled "intelligent," that—
There's theEarl of AberdeenWaiting—for the protracted war which will result most probably from his protracted peace policy.
There are the Rotten Boroughs Waiting—for the expected Reform Bill which is to put them in good odour.
There are the Inhabitants of London (and twenty miles about it) Waiting—for the extinction of that truly burning shame, the City Coal-Tax.
There are the Keepers of the Betting-shops Waiting—to evade the recent Act which apparently has shut them up.
There are the Women of England Waiting—for a law that willeffectuallyprotect them against brutal assaults.
There are the English Tourists Waiting—for hotels where they may enter without being let in.
There's many an English Operative Waiting—to find that his strike is in the end a heavy blow to him.
There's many an English Curate Waiting—to find that his income will exceed a London footman's.
There are the Readers at the Museum Waiting—for the end of the world, or that of the catalogue.
There's the Corporation of London Waiting—to be crushed by the Commission which is now sitting on them.
There's the Emperor of Russia Waiting—for the spring which will enable him to jump into Turkey.
And finally, there'sMr. Punchhimself Waiting—very pleasantly on The Universe with his Twenty-fifth Volume.
What is the World like?—Why, the world is like a stubble-field—in which the greatest geese generally pick up most of the golden grains.
Bind the woolly-haired slave, tarred with Nature's own brush,With base manacles load him; with vile shackles crush,He has no right to kick off his fetters, not he,But Bonds didn't ought to encumber the Free!Let Europe's old monarchies labour and groanBeneath the hard burden and weight of a Loan!To be sure, though, Spainhashad the courage to getThe directest way out of the irons of debt.Cut 'em through—that's the plan—as you'd sever a stick—It don't take but one stroke, and 'tis done smooth and slick;Hurl the bits off to fly on the wild winds afar!Unless you keep one just to light a cigar.For they are but paper—is paper to bindThe young Eagle to Earth, when to soar he's a mind?He will snap the weak chain the first instant he springsWith the sun in his eye and the steam in his wings.Loss of credit! what's that to the souls who relyOn themselves, and the hiss of the world can defy?What is debt? Don't the talentedEmersonsayWe have got other debts, besides money, to pay?We reckon those other debts due first to fall,The cash debt's the one which we'll pay last of all;That's the genuine rule by which true Genius goesIn settling the endless account which it owes.From the glorious fact, that our bonds we have bust,Let mankind learn the lesson of thorough self-trust,Though our sister States credit may cease to obtain,And no mortal will trust Mississippi again!
Bind the woolly-haired slave, tarred with Nature's own brush,With base manacles load him; with vile shackles crush,He has no right to kick off his fetters, not he,But Bonds didn't ought to encumber the Free!
Bind the woolly-haired slave, tarred with Nature's own brush,
With base manacles load him; with vile shackles crush,
He has no right to kick off his fetters, not he,
But Bonds didn't ought to encumber the Free!
Let Europe's old monarchies labour and groanBeneath the hard burden and weight of a Loan!To be sure, though, Spainhashad the courage to getThe directest way out of the irons of debt.
Let Europe's old monarchies labour and groan
Beneath the hard burden and weight of a Loan!
To be sure, though, Spainhashad the courage to get
The directest way out of the irons of debt.
Cut 'em through—that's the plan—as you'd sever a stick—It don't take but one stroke, and 'tis done smooth and slick;Hurl the bits off to fly on the wild winds afar!Unless you keep one just to light a cigar.
Cut 'em through—that's the plan—as you'd sever a stick—
It don't take but one stroke, and 'tis done smooth and slick;
Hurl the bits off to fly on the wild winds afar!
Unless you keep one just to light a cigar.
For they are but paper—is paper to bindThe young Eagle to Earth, when to soar he's a mind?He will snap the weak chain the first instant he springsWith the sun in his eye and the steam in his wings.
For they are but paper—is paper to bind
The young Eagle to Earth, when to soar he's a mind?
He will snap the weak chain the first instant he springs
With the sun in his eye and the steam in his wings.
Loss of credit! what's that to the souls who relyOn themselves, and the hiss of the world can defy?What is debt? Don't the talentedEmersonsayWe have got other debts, besides money, to pay?
Loss of credit! what's that to the souls who rely
On themselves, and the hiss of the world can defy?
What is debt? Don't the talentedEmersonsay
We have got other debts, besides money, to pay?
We reckon those other debts due first to fall,The cash debt's the one which we'll pay last of all;That's the genuine rule by which true Genius goesIn settling the endless account which it owes.
We reckon those other debts due first to fall,
The cash debt's the one which we'll pay last of all;
That's the genuine rule by which true Genius goes
In settling the endless account which it owes.
From the glorious fact, that our bonds we have bust,Let mankind learn the lesson of thorough self-trust,Though our sister States credit may cease to obtain,And no mortal will trust Mississippi again!
From the glorious fact, that our bonds we have bust,
Let mankind learn the lesson of thorough self-trust,
Though our sister States credit may cease to obtain,
And no mortal will trust Mississippi again!
A Thought picked out of the Coal-scuttle.—Vices are like coals—the more they are screened, the more the larger ones show.
THE MINISTERIAL SPLITTHE MINISTERIAL SPLIT.Palmerston."I'LL JUST FRIGHTEN THEM A LITTLE."
Palmerston."I'LL JUST FRIGHTEN THEM A LITTLE."
Index