The Lady Britannia was enthroned, Mistress of the Revel, and her golden apron was heaped with Pledges. The owners, a miscellaneous group, awaited the sentence of penalties.
Down, at a smile-signal from the Lady in the Chair, down went the broad brow of Mr. Punch, to repose on her knee, while Kings, and Ministers, and Hierarchs, and Demagogues came rustling round to listen.
The magic formula was silverly uttered.
"Answer, dear Mr. Punch," said the Lady in the Chair. "You always say exactly what I wish said."
"The Owner," said Mr. Punch, "will retire." And the Earl of Aberdeen, who had forfeited Public Confidence, withdrew, and Britannia murmured her intense satisfaction with the proceeding.
The next forfeit was called. "The Owner," said the oracle, "will go down upon his knees, will, in all abjectness of humiliation, beg pardon of all the world, and will humbly deposit his purse at the foot of the Ottoman nearest to him." A heavy tread, and the Emperor of all the Russias sullenly stalked away, sooner than thus redeem his Honour.
The third forfeit. "The Owner will find a Lady, whose well-omened Christian name is Victoria, and to her he will recite some verses, of his own making, in praise of Chobham and Spithead." "I am not much of a poet," said Mr. Cobden, "but if my Friend, Bright, will help me, I will gladly so redeem my Blunder."
The fourth. "A poor Foreigner," whispered the over-kindly Lady, but Mr. Punch sternly buttoned his pockets. "The Owner will behave with common honesty until further notice." A gentleman in a Spanish costume looked surprised at such a desire, and said that he did not care whether he did or did not redeem his Bonds.
The fifth was called, and a light step approached, and somebody was heard humming a melody of Tom Moore's. "The Owner," said Mr. Punch, "will carry three times through the chamber something to help you, Madam, to hear your own voice better." Lord John Russell smiled, and said that he hoped his Reform Bill would so redeem his Promise.