Punch, or the London Charavari, Volume 93, October 8, 1887

I. S. (soliloquising). Hah! Really reads very well, very well indeed. Points neatly put, hits smartly delivered! They shan't call me the "Champion Slugger" for nothing. American pugilist, named SULLIVAN, original bearer of that honorific title, I believe. Should like to see SULLIVAN. A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous--curious. Not kind, always, or JOSEPH and WILLIAM--but no matter.

Hm--m--m! Hm--m--m--m! Excellent! Sparklers calculated to illuminate Lewes, startle Sussex, electrify the country. Slugging and sparkling my specialities. One or two decent speakers about; "our distinguished leader" can--distinguish, at great length and with considerable verbosi--I mean eloquence. RANDOLPH can rattle, and MORLEY can pound, and ROSEBERY twitter pleasantly. But they can't coruscate and crush. The power of the bolt, which at once shines and smashes, is Jovian--not Rhodian, as DIZZY once nastily suggested. "My thunder," and I'm proud of it.

By the way, wonder what the other "Thunderer" thinks of it. Touches a tender chord, the chord of memory. Lost chord now, indeed. But no matter, let's see.

Hm--m--m! Hm--m--m--m! Hah! Too bad! "His bludgeon, or--considering his present connection--may we say his shillelagh?" Tut-tut! The Cloud-Compeller as a bludgeon-man, the Titan-queller flourishing a blackthorn like a tenth-rate Theseus, a Hibernian Hercules! Absurd! No sense of keeping whatever. "Swashbuckler," too! Nasty, and not even new!

As to "beating the big drum in Sussex"--why, how often have I done it--to their delight--in their own pages! "Travesty of contemporary history"--this to their own omniscient HISTORICUS!

Shows the "Champion Slugger" has struck home, though. Your hard-hitter--your fellow who smites, as the appreciative rustic (Sussex man, I wonder?) put it, "blooming hard, blooming high, and blooming often," generally scores--even in the cricket-field. I am the BONNOR of debate, the THORNTON of the platform. And doesn't the "Ring" like it?

Knocked holes in the "Jubilee Session," I fancy, "Ignorant people who mistake the flush of fever for the bloom of health, the torpor of apoplexy for the tranquillity of sleep," think that blazing BALFOUR and stertorous SMITH are never "a penny the worse" for my repeated poundings. Pooh! "Salted with fire"--_my_ fire--they--not being of the indomitable race of DIZZY--will not "undecaying live" much longer. I prophesy--but no, prophecy, private prophecy at least, is not profitable. Don't suppose a Delphic priest, or even a Derby tipster ever wasted time in prophesying to himself!

Still--still, if Champion "slugging" combined with coruscation does lead to Leadership--as why should it not?--I fancy I know some one who will have what the sporting patterers call, I think, "a look in" one of these days. Parochial shrewdness is all very well, so is philosophical precision combined with Puritan fervour. But the "swashing blow" strikes home, and if the Unionist bucklers are beaten down thereby, let who likes cry "swashbuckler!" As to "shillelaghs"--why is not "blackthorns to the front!" the order of the hour?

IN TROUBLED WATERS.--Mr. CHAMBERLAIN is being praised in some quarters for saying that we should leave Irish affairs, and "attend to our own business." The inference seems to be that "Irish affairs" are not "our business." Is not Ireland as much a part of the United Kingdom as England, Scotland, or Wales? We shall be glad of a line from Mr. CHAMBERLAIN--when he gets to his Fisheries.

Thanks, great descendant of GHAZEE-OOD-DEEN! A gracious gift! It well may move the spleen Of England's enemies--and yours. The Bear Will stir, and growl in his chill Northern lair To see the Indian Tiger arm-in-arm With England's Lion, linked by the strong charm Of mutual confidence and common aim. A generous friendship, Prince, is our best game. Not loyalty alone approves your gift, But wise self-interest, and sagacious thrift. Sage SALAR JUNG would cordially approve The liberal impulse, the far-sighted move. Punchius, my Prince, is far too great to gush, And fulsome flattery wakens manhood's blush. England's true honour England's hand must hold; Steel for defence, and for equipment gold 'Tis hers to furnish; when that hand shall fail, Auxiliar sword or purse will nought avail To prop her sway, or 'stablish shaken power, Not though she had the more than Danaë dower Of all "the wealth of Ormuz and of Ind." Fear must not shake and softness must not blind The man, the people, who would lead and light Progress's Army in the World's great fight. Each nation finds, when Fate its courage tests, Its last, best frontier is its soldiers' breasts. War's sinews, though, wise captains won't contemn, Loyalty, liberal aid,--who laughs at them Is churl and goose at once. All England's ranks Will hail your generous gift with cordial thanks, NIZAM-OOL-MOOLK! Our DUFFERIN has Wit, Trust him to make the wisest use of it; Or failing that--which doubtless will not fail-- Trust Punch to throw his bâton in the scale, Whose wood, in hands like his, as skilled as bold, Ofttimes outweighs the worth of steel and gold. NIZAM, that North-West Frontier, Punch's eye Shall watch henceforth with sharpest scrutiny. The lakhs not lacking, should swift wisdom lack, That bâton will descend with thundering thwack On dolts who dull delay shall cause or suffer;-- But there, our DUFFERIN is not a duffer. Red-tape itself would hardly be so mad As to misread the moral Hyderabad Reads to Calcutta in this princely proffer. _Punch_--for his QUEEN--acknowledges the offer Of him who brings, a tribute free as leal, Gold for her peace, and for her war-time steel.

Well, it does seem rayther rum, I confess, but it's nevertheless true, that hardly nothink of a singlar and xtraordinary charackter seems to appen in London that I don't seem to be present. In these dredful dull days, when there ain't not no great dinners a going on, no not hardly one Livery Company a dining in their Alls of dazzling light, and the LORD MARE hisself a injoying of his olliday at Pangburn, what is a pore Hed Waiter to do to wile away a idle hour or 2; so hearing as two of the seven Champions of England was about to run a race of ever so many hundred yards in just a few seconds, at Lilly Bridge, me and BROWN went there on that now sillybrated Monday, and saw sich a rewolutionary riot as would have done justice to old Ireland itself. Determined to be in good time, we went early, and took up our plaices, and patiently waited. At about 5 o'clock pea. hem. the two galliant Champions walked on the ground, and took a good look at it. I didn't think werry much of their pussonal aperance, and shouldn't a thort as they was Champions if I hadn't bin told, and one was a good deal older than the other one, which didn't seem quite fare to me. However, I didn't interfere, as it wasn't no bizziness of mine, and the two running Champions walked in to dress, or rather praps I should say, to undress for the race. Harf past 5 came, and no Champions, and 6 o'clock struck and no Champions, and we began to get jest a little fidgetty; at aquarter-past 6 a wild roomer spread around that we was all a going to be sold!

There was about a hundred thowsand on us, more or less, a waiting patiently and quietly for a sight that thousands had cum hundreds of miles for to see, and we was told as how as the two galliant Champions had had a jolly row jest as they was a undressing, and then both on em dressed themselves again, and set off at their werry best speed, in quite different and rong directions, and never cum back! At this howdacious swindle our true British pluck begun for to arise, and we all with one acord began to shout tout, "Give us back our Money!" As they didn't do it, we all made a rush to the Pay Places, jest to help ourselves to our several shillings, but the cowardly money-takers had bolted with our money!

Then we Great Britains, feeling as we had been hartfully swindled, rose up in our mighty wroth and wowed wengeance! And wengeance we took! Some of the leading sperits among us who had come hundreds of miles to see the Recorder beaten, tho why they wanted to beat him I coudn't at all understand, shouted out "We'll have sum-think for our money afore we gos back," and quite right too, if they'd ha' stopped at the beer and lemonade, and the spunge cakes, at which the first rush was made, but when it came to destruction and fire and rebellyon, me and BROWN withdrawed our countenances from the hole thing and remembered our duty to our QUEEN and Country, and seeing as the blue Gardiens of the Peeple was rayther hard pressed by the raging and angry Mob, we got two of our friends, as was there, to jine us, and then them, and me, and BROWN, thinking as perhaps a reserve force might be wanted, and out of respect to the great Country that begot us, and bread us, and eddicated us, we stood a long ways off and formed ourselves into a reserve Corpse accordingly, and from there we surweyed all the wild and wicked proceedings in peace and quietness, and, strange to say, wasn't wanted after all!