Volume 100 — THE TRYST.
Reading edition
"It is stated that the Pungwé route to Mashonaland has been again closed by the Portuguese Authorities."—Reuter, May 24.
Cecil Rhodes
, "YOU CLEAR OUT! SHE'S MY 'MASH!'"
Now then, young Obstructive, still playing the sentry, Where nobody wants you to watch or mount guard? Are you to rule everyone's exit and entry? Clear out, my young friend, or with you 'twill go hard. You Portuguese Tappertit, turn it up, do! D'ye think I'll be stopped by a monkey like you? My Mash, that young woman! Will you bar our meeting? We're sweethearts. Will you interfere with our tryst? You pert whippersnapper, my sable-skinned sweeting My masculine wooing's too wise to resist. Shall RHODES be cut out by a small Portuguese, With a gun and a swagger? Pooh! Fiddle-de-dee! We've put up too long with your pranks, my fine fellow, Because of your size, upon which you presume. Oh, it's no use to twirl your moustache and look yellow! Mean having that gal, howsoever you fume. You'd better behave yourself, boy, or no doubt Before very long we shall clean you right out. Look at home, keep your own ways a little bit clearer, And don't go a-blocking up other folks' roads. Eh? You warn me off her? I mustn't come nearer? Ha, ha! My good-nature your impudence goads. Clear out, whilst you're safe, you young shrimp! Don't be rash! For I shan't let you come between me and my Mash!
THE VICTORY ROAD-CAR.
TO PLY TO AND FROM THE NAVAL EXHIBITION.
A LAST WORD ON THE WHAT-YOU-MAY-CAL-DERON PICTURE.—It isn't often that one of "the inferior clergy," represented by a Clarke in orders, is pitted against an "Abbott," as recently happened in the discussion about Mr. CALDERON's picture of "St. Elizabeth's Heroic Act of Renunciation." In this instance the Clarke got the better of the Abbott, and the others, including Professor HUXLEY, who is always ready to rush in and invite somebody to tread on the tail of his coat, were nowhere. The Times issues its fiat, concluding the arguments on both sides—"The Times has spoken, causa finita est"—and the picture will remain one of the chief attractions in the Royal Academy Exhibition until such time as it ascends to the undisturbed Oilysium of The Happily Immortals. In the meantime, being on the line, Mr. CALDERON will be perfectly satisfied if his picture be generally recognised as "St. Elisabeth of Well-Hung-ary."
RECIPE.
(For a speech in the House of Commons on the proposed adjournment for the Derby.)
Take a handful of jokelets and beat them up small, In sophistical fudge, with no logic at all; Then pepper the mixture with snigger and jeer; Add insolent "sauce," and a soupçon of sneer; Shred stale sentiment fine, just as much as you want, And thicken with cynical clap-trap and cant, Plus oil—of that species which "smells of the lamp"— Then lighten with squibs, which, of course, should be damp; Serve up, with the air of a true Cordon Bleu, And you'll find a few geese to taste it and praise you!