OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
by Sir Francis Burnand



PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 104.




February 4, 1893.




[Illustration: WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST.

_Burglar_ (_taking the ground heavily_). "NAOW, 'OOEVER'D 'A' THOUGHT O'
THE HOWNER O' THAT THERE HINNERCENT LITTLE VILLA BEIN' A PERFESSIONAL
'CHUCKER-HOUT'?!!!"]

* * * * *

LAMENT OF THE (WOULD-BE) IRISH EMIGRANT.

(_Latest Version, with apologies to Lady Dufferin._)

[Senator CHANDLER, in _The North-American Review_, recommends that
immigration into the United States should be suspended, at least
for a year.]

Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, an' lookin' o'er the tide,
An' by jabers Oi'm afraid, Aroon, that there Oi'll _have_ to bide!
The grass is springin' fresh an' green in Ould Oireland, but oh moy!
If there's any green in JONATHAN'S land, _it is not in his oi_!

The States are awful changed, MARY; it is not _now_ as _then_,
When they lifted a free latch-string to all exiled Oirishmen.
Now we miss the whoop ov welcome; they suggest it's loike our cheek,
And Oi'm listenin' for brave LOWELL'S words--which CHANDLER does _not_
speak!

It seems to me their Aigle for full Freedom no more pants,
And the Senator, he mutthers ov "degraded immigrants."
Says they can't "assimilate" us; faix, the wurrud sounds monstrous
foine,
But Oi fancy that it's maning is, "We mane to draw the loine!"

Shure, we're "ignorant and debased," dear; and the poor won't now find
friends
Even in free Columbia! So 'tis thus the ould boast ends!
"Stop 'em--for a year," says CHANDLER; "we'll be holding our Big Show,
An' poverty, an'--well, Cholera, are not wanted _thin_, you know."

It's an artful move, my MARY, but, it stroikes me, a bit thin,
And it won't come home consolin', to "the poor ov Adam's kin."
Faix! they won't stop 'cabin passengers,' big-wigs, an' British Peerage,
But--_they don't want the poor devils that crowd over in the steerage_!

So Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, and there Oi'll loikely sthop,
For they don't require poor PADDY in their big new CHANDLER'S Shop.
Uncle SAM'S some punkins, MARY, but he's not a great green goose;
An' he's goin' to sthop a braggin' ov that latch-string always loose!

* * * * *

MIXED NOTIONS--NO. IV. EGYPT.

_Two_ Well-Informed Men, _an_ Inquirer, _and an_ Average Man, _in
suburban morning train to London_.

_First Well-Informed Man_ (_reading his paper_). Oh, I say, dash it,
this'll never do. Here's this young KHEDIVE of Egypt kicking up a shine,
and dismissing British Ministers. We can't have that, you know.

_Inquirer._ What Ministers has he dismissed?

_First W. I. M._ Why, British Ministers,--at least (_reading on_) I mean
Egyptian Ministers; that's to say, chaps whom we appointed.

_Second W. I. M._ Come, come, we couldn't appoint Egyptian Ministers,
could we?

_First W. I. M._ Oh, it comes to exactly the same thing; they're
appointed subject to our proviso (_consulting paper_), yes, subject to
our veto, and then this little whipper-snapper goes and gives them the
chuck. He'll jolly soon have to climb down off that.

_Average Man._ Gently! The young chap's King, after all, isn't he? I
thought Kings might appoint or dismiss Ministers as they liked.

_First W. I. M._ Oh, rot! The QUEEN can't appoint her own Ministers. We
all know that. They're appointed by the Prime Minister. Any fool knows
that.

_Inquirer._ But who appoints the Prime Minister?

_First W. I. M._ He appoints himself, and tells the QUEEN he's done it.
They all go and kiss hands and get their seals, or something of that
sort.

_Inquirer._ Of course, of course. I forgot that. But how about these
Egyptian beggars?

_First W. I. M._ The KHEDIVE'S had the cheek to dismiss the Ministry, and
shove another