["The record of the Opposition, so far, is one of wasted opportunities
and ill-conceived tactics. They have been beaten, out-manoeuvred and
discredited by a foe on whom, with proper management, they might often
have turned the tables.... These are no days for punctilious or
overstrained courtesy in dealing with political opponents....
Conservatives and Unionists may be tolerably certain that they will
gain nothing by this misplaced delicacy."--_The Standard._]
_Perturbed Old Party loquitur_:--
Wich, ARTHUR, I'm puffeck aweer as a fighter you're truly tip-top,
Our party's pecooliar pride, and our cause's particular prop!
_You_ can "pop in a slommacking wunner," if ever a lad could, dear boy:
But--well, there, you ain't scored _this_ round; and yer foes is
a-chortling with joy!
'Ow is it, my ARTHUR, 'ow is it! I've nurriged you up from a kid,
And if ever a lathy young scrapper showed pluck and fair promidge, boy,
_you_ did;
Wich I've cheridged and cracked you up constant, and backed you in all of
your fights.
And I've swore it was you, right as rain, as would do the Grand Ould 'Un
to rights!
But he's turned up more younger than ever--O drabbit him; 'ow he do
wear!--
I thought he'd be knocked out at once, the fust round, and he ain't
turned a hair!
He hits hard and fast as the "TINMAN," he's nimble as poor "Young
DUCROW."
And now this round's over, _where are we_? I'm jiggered, dear boy, if _I_
know!
Look at 'im! As perky as pickles! Weaves in like a young 'un, he do,
Jest as limber of limb as a kitten; pops in that perdigious one--two,
Like a new Eighty-tonner. Good gracious, the wetterun's all over the
shop!
He can mill you, or throw you a burster; feint, parry, duck, counter, or
stop!
Reglar mixture of MACE, Young DUTCH SAM, and a Old Pugilistical 'And!
'Ow the dooce does he do it, I wonder? I don't mind admitting it's grand.
But--wot price our Party, my ARTHUR? He's scoring two points to our one;
And I don't see the fun of it, ARTHUR, I certinly _don't_ see the fun.
Mustn't take it to heart overmuch, 'ARTY! 'Taint as I wants for to scold;
But--you play him too light--_entry noo_! 'Taint acos you are young, and
he's old.
As you need be so precious "punctilious." Delicate 'andling of _him_
Won't pay; it's misplaced altogether. Go at him, lad! Lam the old limb!
His bellows can't be as they used to wos. Youth will be served--that's
your chance;
But, if you play light with Old Shifty, he'll lead you no end of a dance.
Think of BENJY, dear boy, my old champion, bless his black curls! _He_
wired in,
Never thinking of manners or taste, wich is muck when you're fighting to
win.
Look at GRANDOLPH, the Marlborough Midget, as often reminds me of BEN!
There--there! Don't turn touchy, and tiff; we all need a straight tip now
and then.
You can do him, next round, I've no doubt, if you'll only fight up to
your form.
Pull yourself well together, 'it 'ard, bustle up the old boy, make it
warm!--
Remember wot JOHNNY BROOME'S mother once wrote to her boy--mark, and
mind!--
"Be sure you make use of your left; keep away from your man till you find
You can reach him in safety, and _then_--give him pepper. Avoid being
thrown.
But give 'im all the bursters you can!" Wich that Ammyzon, who is beknown
To the fistical world, gave her son--as you're mine--werry proper advice.
When time's called, my ARTHUR, wire in; and wotever you do, _don't be
nice_!
No "overstrained courtesy" _this_ time! It's blessed nigh bunnicked your
chance.
Let me fan you, dear boy, let me fan you! And when it is time to hadvance
Go at 'im for all you are wuth! Bless yer, him and his low Irish lot
Won't be in it with GENTLEMAN ARTHUR--_if only you'll give it him hot_!
[_Left fanning and fuming._
* * * * *
SHAKSPEARII JUNIORES.--Sir AUGUSTUS HARRIS'S and PETTITT'S _Prodigal
Daughter_ is going all over the shop. She is coming out in France, in
Germany, also, of course, in the Horse-tryin' capital, and will appear, as
a matter-of-Corso, in Rome. This for the original English authors is a
dramatic triumph which for the universality of their work is second only to
that of SHAKSPEARE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BETWEEN THE ROUNDS.
PERTURBED OLD PARTY (_loq._) "WHICH, ARTHUR MY DEAR, YOU'VE TREATED HIM TOO
DELICATE IN FUST ROUND! YOU'LL 'AVE TO PULL YERSELF TOGETHER, IF YOU'RE
A-GOIN' TO DO ANY GOOD!"]
* * * * *