Volume 101 — November 21st, 1891.
Reading edition
CARS, IN HONOUR OF THE WELSH LORD MAYOR,
STRANGELY ENOUGH OMITTED FROM THE PROCESSION ON THE NINTH.
CANCEL, OR RECALL.
The World last week sounded a note about the compulsory retirement, by reason of age, from one of the large Revenue Departments, of a gentleman who has the great honour to be the son of "the most distinguished Irishman of this century." If this sentence has really been passed authoritatively, which Mr. Punch takes leave to doubt, then said "Authority" will do well to recall it in favour of the son of the Liberator, which his name is also "DAN." And, to give the well-known lines so often quoted,—
When DAN'L saw the writing on the wall, At first he couldn't make it out at all."
And the sooner the official writing on the wall—if it exists—be obliterated, the better for the public service, as, when the public, like the Captain in the ballad of "Billy Taylor," "Comes for to hear on't," the said British Public will "werry much applaud what has been done" in suppressing, not issuing, reconsidering, or revoking the order. So says "Mr. P.," and the "B.P." will agree with him.
THE ANCIENT MILLINER.
(His Reminiscences of the Recent Gale.)
PART I.
IT was the Ancient Milliner Stood by his open door; The tale he told was something like A tale I'd heard before. * * * * I called forthwith a Hansom, and "Now, Cabman, drive!" I cried; "For I must get this bandbox home Before the eventide.
Raining Cats and Dogs
"The bride a-pacing up the aisle Mad as a dog would be, Without this sweet confection of Silk and passementerie." Westward the good cab flew. The horse Was kick-some, wild, and gay; He tossed his head from side to side In an offensive way. He tossed his head, he shook his mane, And he was big and black; He wore a little mackintosh Upon his monstrous back. I mused upon that mackintosh, All mournfully mused I; It was too small a thing to keep So large a beastie dry. And on we went up Oxford Street With a short, uneasy motion; What made the beast go sideways I Have not the faintest notion But we ran into an omnibus With a short, uneasy motion. All in a hot, improper way. The rude 'bus-driver said, That them what couldn't drive a horse Should try a moke instead. Never a word my cabman spoke— No audible reply— But, oh, a thousand scathing things He thought; and so did I. "What ails thee, Ancient Milliner? What means thy ashen hue? Why look'st thou so?"—I murmured, "Blow!" And at my word it blew.
PART II.
The storm-blast came down Edgware Road, Shrieking in furious glee, It struck the cab, and both its doors Leaped open, flying free. I shut those doors, and kept them close With all my might and main; The storm-blast snatched them from my hands, And forced them back again, It blew the cabman from his perch Towards the hornéd moon; I saw him dimly overhead Sail like a bad balloon. It blew the bandbox far away Across the angry sea; The English Channel's scattered with Silk and passementerie. The silly horse within the shaft One moment did remain; And then the harness snapped, and he Went flying through the rain; And fell, a four-legged meteor, Upon the coast of Spain. First Voice. "What makes that cab move on so fast Wherein no horse I find?" Second Voice. "The horse has cut away before; The cab's blown from behind." Then just against the Harrow Road I made one desperate bound— A leprous lamp-post and myself Lay mingled in a swound! And cables snapped, and all things snapped; When the next morn was grey, The Telegraph appeared without Its "Paris Day by Day."
PART III.
Oh, cheapness is a pleasant thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To get a thing at one-and-four, For which your friend pays twopence more, Is balm unto the soul. And cheaper than that Hansom cab Whose tale I've told thee thus, Far cheaper it had been to take The stately omnibus! To take the stately omnibus Where all together sit; Each takes his ticket in his hands, Obeys the Company's commands, And pays his pence for it. And if you would not find yourself Wrecked in the Edgware Road, Do not be vulgar and declare You wish you may be blowed!
THE "MASHER'S" ANSWER,
[Dr. ARABELLA KENEALY, in the Westminster Review, is severe on the young men of the day for not dancing, and avoiding matrimony.]
BLESS me, Doctor ARABELLA, Hard a lady's hand can strike! Do you really mean a fella' Is to dance; just when you like? Why so savagely sarcastic, That we will not "take the floor" And account the "light fantastic" An unmitigated bore? You avow we're shy of marriage. Is not that too hard again? When a maiden wants a carriage, And a mansion in Park Lane, Diamonds, furs, and opera-boxes: Although ardently one loves, All the balance I've at Cox's Wouldn't keep a girl in gloves.