"Colossal Bayard, beau-sabreur, whose blade
A dozen desert spearmen faced and stayed,
Stoops his high-shoulder'd stature
To hear the twittering tones of Tiny Tim,
A midget, but the soul of whit and whim,
The genius of good-nature.
"Boy-faced, but virile, vigorous, and a peer,
Lord Mossmore talks with Violet de Vere,
The latest light of Fiction;
Steadily-rising statesman, season's star!
Calmly he hears, though Caste's keen instincts jar,
Her strained self-conscious diction.
"Meldrum, the modish medico, laughs low
At ruddy Rasper's keenly-whispered mot—
Rasper, a soul all strictures,
Holds the great world a field for sketchy chaff.
Many love not the man, but how they laugh
At his swift, scathing pictures!
"Wits of all grades, and Talents of all sorts,
With rival beauties holding separate courts,
Find here parade, employment.
And yet, and yet, they all look cross, or tired;
Your cultured city has not yet acquired
The art of true enjoyment.
"Strange! London's poor find pleasure far too dear,
But here, with wealth, and wit, and charm, and cheer,
All should go so delightfully.
Time gay as in the Golden Age should fleet,
But the most brilliant stars in Babylon meet,
And—bore each other frightfully."
(To be continued.)
IN THE NAME OF CHARITY—GO TO PRISON!
Last week Mr. Punch asked, "Oh, where, and oh where, is The Public Prosecutor?" and he has received an answer. It appears that the official has been recently engaged (his letter is dated the 30th of November) in suppressing an "illegal scheme" to aid the funds of the North-West London Hospital. It appears that, with a view to increasing the revenue of that most deserving charity, it was arranged to treat some presents that had been made to the Institution as "prizes," to be given to those who sent donations to the hospital. There was to be a "drawing," which was to be duly advertised in the daily papers. But this could not be tolerated. Sir A. K. Stephenson, Solicitor to Her Majesty's Treasury, after denouncing the scheme in the terms above set forth, informed the Secretary of the Hospital, "that all persons concerned therein subjected themselves to the penalties imposed by the Acts passed for the suppression of illegal lotteries." Well, the law is the law, and it would never do for Mr. Punch to dispute the point with so learned a gentleman as Sir A. K. Stephenson—the more especially as Sir A. K. S. has just been patented a Q.C.—but if the Public Prosecutor can stop "illegal schemes" for benefiting the sick, why can he not also deal with the professional perjurers, suborners of witnesses, and fabricators of false evidence? Mr. Punch pauses for a reply, but is disinclined to pause much longer!