Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, February 4, 1893

Name: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, February 4, 1893
Author: Various

by Various

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Language: en448 downloads on Project Gutenberg

Subjects

English wit and humor -- Periodicals

In: Punch·Humour·British Literature

Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #20538.

The opening · free to read

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!

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 lot in. I see Lord CROMER has been to the Palace to protest.

Inquirer. Lord CROMER! Who's he?

First W. I. M. My dear fellow, fancy not knowing that! Lord CROMER'S our Ambassador at Cairo.

Second W. I. M. Oh, nonsense. There are no ambassadors at Cairo.

First W. I. M. Aren't there? Oh, indeed. Well, then perhaps you'll tell me what Lord CROMER is?

Second W. I. M. He's our Minister. That's what they call them.

Inquirer. Was it him the KHEDIVE dismissed, then?

Second W. I. M. (laughing heartily). No, no; we haven't got to that yet. He dismissed his own Johnnies, of course; Egyptians. Lord CROMER'S the English Minister.

Average Man. No, he isn't. He's the English Agent.

Second W. I. M. Oh, well, it's the same thing.

First W. I. M. (taking his revenge). No, it isn't at all the same thing; it's a very different thing. A Minister's only just short of an Ambassador, and an Agent (pauses)--well, he's something quite different. I don't think he gets as much pay for one thing, and of course he can't live in the Embassy.

Inquirer. But who does live in the Embassy, then?

First W. I. M. It's unoccupied, of course.

Average Man. No, it isn't. There isn't any Embassy at all. [_A pause._

Inquirer (returning to the charge). But look here, who is Lord CROMER? I never heard of him before. I thought we'd got BARING or ROTHSCHILD, or somebody representing us in Egypt.

First W. I. M. (with smiling superiority). My dear chap, you're thinking of Sir EVELYN BARING. He left Egypt long ago.

Inquirer. Why did he leave?

First W. I. M. Old GLADSTONE gave him the sack.

Second W. I. M. No, he didn't. GLADSTONE wasn't in power when BARING left Egypt. It was SALISBURY who dismissed him.

First W. I. M. I bet you a sov. it was GLADSTONE.

Second W. I. M. And I bet you a sov. it was SALISBURY.

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