Volume 146 — FORGIVENESS.
Reading edition
(A Dream after losing a Dog.)
Methought I saw the man that stole our Tim In a night vision; and "Behold!" he cried, "This was a task too easy for my whim, A job of little worth and little pride, An Irish terrier." Then his pal replied, "I know a place where you may pinch with ease One of these here carnation Pekinese. "You see them nasty spikes on that there wall? Climb it, and you shall find a little yard; An unlatched casement leads you to a hall, Thence to the crib where, odorous with nard, Slumbers the petted plaything; 'twere not hard Out of his cushioned ease (and gorged belike With sweetmeats) to appropriate the tyke." So, filled with high ambition and the hope Of gaining huge emolument, this man Hung to the toothed battlements a rope, Climbed and leapt down to execute his plan— But even as he leapt a noise began As when the Arctic icebergs break and grind; This was because his pants were caught behind. Awhile they tore, then stayed. And helpless there Betwixt the silvery moonlight and the ground He hung convulsive, grasping at the air, For two full hours it may be, whilst a hound Of the Great Danish breed, that made no sound Save a deep snarl, below him watching stood (This portion of my dream was very good). And much he vowed because of his great pain That he was the most dashed of all dashed fools And never would he steal a dog again, No (strite!) he would not. He recalled the rules That teachers taught him in the Sunday Schools And thought on serious happenings and the grave; And with dawn's earliest flush his trousers gave. And having waited for a time I went To see him in the hospital. And hours Of earnest converse with the man I spent, Told him of Nemesis and what dark powers Punish our mortal crimes, and brought him flowers, Dog-roses and dog-violets, and read The Eighth Commandment out beside his bed. Evoe.
The Daily Telegraph on the next Drury Lane melodrama:—
"We are able to say on the very best authority that the idea at the root of the story is of a quite unusual nature; indeed, if secrecy were not for the moment imposed, one might even go a step further and declare it to be of startling originality."
As it is, one doesn't; for if once the secret got about that the play was to be original there would be riots in Fleet Street.
"Song, 'March of the Men of Garlick' (Tune, Welsh melody)."
Ripon Observer.
A pardonable mistake. The national emblem is of course the leek.
THE WOOING.
Miss Ulster. "AN' WHAT'S THE GOOD OF HIM SENDIN' ME FLOWERS WHEN I'VE TOLD HIM 'NO' ALREADY?"
Mr. Punch. "WELL NOW, COME, MY DEAR—WON'T YOU JUST TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT THEM BEFORE YOU START TURNING UP YOUR PRETTY NOSE?"
"A HOLLOW DEMONSTRATION."
(With acknowledgments to Gillray's caricature of Napoleon as Gulliver among the Brobdingnagians.)
[Mr. D. M. Mason's motion for the reduction of the Supplementary Navy Estimates was defeated by 237 votes to 34.]