Altogether a most satisfactory return, showing a marked improvement since last week.
THE MONSTER SWEEP.
We beg to propound the following question for the consideration of the members of the Peace Society. Is the Cannon who has lately created such a sensation in London, one they would like to see let off?
ELECTION INTELLIGENCE,
WITH THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN RECOGNISED.
(For which the Ladies are referred to Mr. Cruikshank's charming
picture of the Future.)
Sir Charles Darling (the Ladies' Candidate), presented himself on the hustings amidst a general waving of handkerchiefs, and spoke as follows:—
Ladies and—(with a smile)—need I say gentlemen? (Titters and "Droll creature!") I think not. Gallantry forbids my recognising their existence—in any light other than as the devoted slaves of that divine sex, of whom I am proud to esteem myself the humblest. (Cries of "How nice!")
Ladies, then, angels, goddesses ("Oh!" from an elderly bachelor, who was removed by the police), for the thrilling position in which I am placed, how can I be sufficiently grateful to that glorious reform in our electoral system, which has partially recognised the true position of lovely woman? ("Partially!" in a tone of sarcasm, from a member of Mr. Screwdriver's committee). My honourable and gallant friend objects to the adverb. I say partially, for by admitting the ladies to the Franchise with the gentlemen, they are but recognised as equals, instead of superiors. (Great sensation.) Yes, ladies, and it shall be my earnest endeavours as your representative ("Yah!" and "Not yet!" from Mr. Screwdriver). My honourable and gallant friend observes "Not yet." It is true I have a formidable rival to contend with. The charms of his person, (screams, and "the Old Fright!") his known politeness, above all his taste in dress (here the laughter and clapping of kid gloves rendered the speaker inaudible for some moments)—compared with such claims, mine are worthless ("Do listen!" and "The Duck!"), extending no farther than a willingness, I may say a downright anxiety, to die in the cause of the fair creatures, who, I believe I may say, have done me the honour to elect me as their champion ("Yes! Yes!") With the ladies' voices in my favour, I believe I need not fear those of the gentlemen being exerted against me. (Cries of "We should like to see them," "Speak up, Alfred, do," "I'm ashamed of you," &c.) I thank you, gentlemen—or rather I do not thank you; I honour you for your—may I say obedience? ("Oh yes!" in a rapturous tone, from the engaged gentlemen), though, after all, I don't see how you were to help yourselves. (Great applause, and numerous bouquets thrown.)
The Honourable Mrs. Poser stepped forward, and begged to be allowed to address a few questions to the candidate.