Volume 103 — LEFT TO THE LADIES.
Reading edition
My dear Mr. Punch,
Everyone—I mean everyone with a right mind—will sympathise with those nice people at Bristol who have been holding a "Woman's Conference." So kind and thoughtful of them, isn't it? I notice that Lady Battersea gave a spirited account of a Confederation of Temperance of some thirty villages in Norfolk. The dear, good inhabitants are to keep off the allurements of drink by "listening to such shining lights as Canon Wilberforce, and social teas, processions with banners, and magic-lanterns, play their part." How they are to listen to the teas, processions and lanterns, I don't quite understand, in spite of the fact that they (the aforesaid teas, &c.) seem to be "playing their parts." Evidently teas, &c., are amateur Actors.
Then somebody who described herself as "a nobody from nowhere," is said to have "touched a moving chord, as she spoke with great feeling of the sympathy and the moral help the poor give back to those who work among them." What "moving chord?" Sounds like a bell-rope!
Then another lady who wore "the black and lavender dress of the Sisters of the People," followed with a paper, "perhaps overfull of details." And here let me say that I am quoting from "a woman correspondent" who seems to be full of admiration for her talking sisters. But in spite of this admiration, she knows their little faults. For instance, she describes a speech as "vigorous, racy, and perhaps a trifle sensational." Then, when someone else delivered an "address to educated mothers," she says that it excited deep interest, and "almost too many educated mothers threw themselves into the discussion that followed."
Then she observes, "It was disappointing that Lady Aberdeen was at the last moment forbidden by her Doctor to undertake the long journey from Scotland." So it was, most disappointing; and "at the last moment," too!
Then she announces that "Some ladies expressed a feeling, that introducing young men and women in business to each other, when assembled in their hundreds at Prince's Hall, was an office fraught with considerable responsibility." To be sure! Great responsibility! Might even be improper! Everyone should be so careful!
However, there was one good thing in this Woman's Conference that everyone will praise. The delightful, genial, charitable females seem to have kept to themselves. No men were present. What a blessing—for the men! Yours gratefully,
An Old Bachelor.
The Growleries, Lostbuttonbury, Singleton.
CHRISTMAS IS COMING!
When the ruddy autumn leaves Flutter down on golden sheaves, And on plum-trees one perceives No more plums— All the swallows have not fled, Hardly is the summer dead— Then, alas, it must be said Christmas comes! Christmas! Hang it all! But how Can that be? 'Tis weeks from now. What a fearful thought, I vow That it numbs! "Order Christmas papers" fills Bookshops, bookstalls. With its bills, Taxes, tips, fogs, frosts, coughs, chills, Christmas comes! Even Christmas-cards appear, They are with us half the year, I would banish them from here, Say, to Thrums, Or to any mournful place, Where I'd never show my face, For they tell one that, apace, Christmas comes!
Seasonable Christmas Motto for Well-Known Fine-Art Publishers.—"Tuck in!"
