Volume 100 / Act 4 — "GENERAL ELECTION STAKES."
Reading edition
A COLLOQUY ON THE COURSE.
Mr. Punch. Your Stable, no doubt, has of late been a winning one; Horses and Jockeys have both done their best. Trainer. Yes; Guv'nor's black phiz—bless his heart!—is a grinning one; All our nags answer when put to the test. Mr. Punch. All? That's a bit of a stretch, my dear fellow. Wheel Tax went wrong. Compensation came down. Hasn't MATT's riding at times turned you yellow, And RAIKES's wild steering almost done you brown? Trainer. Maybe, Sir, maybe! We can't always spot 'em, But average winnings come out very well. On this next race, now, I fancy we've got 'em, Ah, fairly on toast, far as I can hear tell. Mr. Punch. The Sanguine Old Man—is he of your opinion? And SOLLY, the owner, is he at his ease? Trainer. Oh, dash the doldrums! I scorn their dominion. There are some people no fellow can please. What I say, Mister, is, look at their Stable, The old Opposition shop. Lot of old crocks! Flowing-Tide? Faugh! Half his doings are fable. Home Rule? The deadest of utter dead-locks! Socialist? Why, half the Party won't back him. Eight Hour? A roarer, all noise and no pace! Eh? Local Option? Won't win; though they whack him! What have they got, that can score the Big Race? Mr. Punch. Well, I must own they do seem a bit out of it. Still, the Big Race for surprises is famed. Trainer. Bah! It's a moral for us, not a doubt of it. Horse that can lick us is not foaled or named. Mr. Punch. Glad you're so cock-sure, dear JOKIM. Still lately They've scored some small handicaps, that you'll allow. Trainer. Oh! Harborough Stakes! Well, that don't scare me greatly, Mere fluke after all, though they raised a big row. Mr. Punch. It's mostly "a fluke" when opponents go by us; But flukes, you know, count, at the end of the game. Trainer. Well, look at the betting! Although they decry us, They'd like to have money on us all the same. Their best horse is "aged," their best jockey oldish, He's plucky, but years, Sir, will tell on the nerve. Some of 'em who've backed him the longest grow coldish, Whilst others do hint that he seems on the swerve. The lot who are sweet on that leggy colt, Labour, Would like a new "mount," if they dared to speak out. There isn't a man of 'em quite trusts his neighbour, Home Rule with BILL up! That inspires 'em with doubt! (Ask H-RC-RT or R-S-B-RY—on the Q.T., Sir.) The Old Jock is obstinate, new 'uns can't ride. Funk M-RL-Y, or L-BBY and that lot! Not me, Sir! I tell you the chances are all on our side. Mr. Punch. Well, luck goes with them who're not shirkers or shrinkers. Ah! here comes your crack—rather restive, I fear. By Jove, are you going to run him in blinkers? And who's your new Jock? His seat seems a bit queer. Trainer. Well, Sir, don't you see, it's just this way. He's borrowed, That Jock is; a wonderful pet of Brum JOE's Must work with his Party; some of us have sorrowed To make such close pals of such reglar old foes; The horse don't half like him, I'm bound to admit it, Between you and me I don't like it myself, For me and dear JOSEPH have not always hit it. But then, he stands in; we must look to the pelf; Can't afford to offend him, our Stable can't—blow it! Eh! What? You have heard me disparage Boy Bill As too Free in his ways by long chalks. Well, I know it; But JOE is dead nuts on his go and his skill— The Blinkers? Oh yes! Horse not used to him yet, Sir, And if he should spot him, might throw the young pup— We must "go it blind," only square chance, you bet, Sir, Of winning,—espesh'lly with JOE's jockey up!
"GENERAL ELECTION STAKES."
MR. P. "WHAT! RUNNING HIM IN BLINKERS?"
G-SCH-N (Trainer). "YES; IT'S THE ONLY CHANCE OF A WIN.—ESPECIALLY WITH THAT JOCKEY UP!"
IT'S A GREAT THING FOR A MAN TO KNOW WHEN HE'S WELL OFF.
Salisbury's Version.
(See the Premier's Speech at Glasgow.)
War is a game Which, if Kings have their will, Peoples won't play at.
"FRENCH AS SHE IS SPOKE."—The indefatigable international entrepreneur, Mr. M.L. MAYER,—who announces himself as "Sole Manager," evidently, therefore, a fishmonger, and, according to Hamlet, a representatively "honest man,"—intends to save Londoners the trouble and expense of visiting Paris by giving them three weeks, from June 15th to July 4th, of French plays, performed by the Théâtre Français Company, including Mesdames REICHENBERG and DUDLEY, three COQUELINS, one FEBVRE, and one MOUNET SULLY, at the Royalty Theatre. Those whose hobby is the French Theatre, will be delighted to assist at the start of the well-trained MAYER, who has achieved the curious feat of "saddling himself" with this responsibility.
PARLIAMENTARY DIAGNOSIS.—"Inflammation"—of temper—is the preliminary of "Congestion"—of business, and these threaten to culminate in "Collapse"—of credit.