[Illustration: A Native Hoister.]
He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name,
No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game.
The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster
And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster?
A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow,
Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how.
At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them,
And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them."
Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said,
"So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed?
For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason.
I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season."
The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see,
He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree!
It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction,
You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action."
Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear,
"Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere?
I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely,
So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely."
They brought that friendly action, and the clever counsel tried
To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his side.
But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one too many,
So he had to pay the piper--to be quite exact, a penny.
And you who love your oyster in the latter end of May,
In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the day,
For philanthropic folk will find it unremunerative
To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English native.[1]
[Footnote 1: Oysters are to be six shillings a dozen this winter!! How
many of the ordinarily careless will now be compelled to go by RULES
without going in for Oysters. N.B.--"Action" in these verses is poetic
license for "summons."]
* * * * *
"SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS!"
SCENE--_A Place of Meeting. Enter Parliamentary Leader and
his Subordinate. They greet one another effusively._
_Leader_ (_cordially_). And now, my dear fellow, how are my interests?
_Sub._ (_with much heartiness_). Getting on capitally! Just been
writing to all the papers to say that it is stupid to call you "Old
Dot-and-go-one," because it is inapplicable to either your age or your
mode of controversy.
_Lead._ (_with a feeble smile_). That _was_ kind of you! But who had
said it?
_Sub._ (_airily_). Oh, someone of about fourth-rate importance! and it
had been quite forgotten you know. So I dragged it up again, and put
it all right for you.
_Lead._ (_shaking hands_). Thanks, so very much. But if persons had
forgotten it, why revert to it?
_Sub._ Oh, don't you see? Why, the point is, you are not a bit like
it-not a scrap like it! Next week I shall write and say that
it's rubbish to call you a turncoat, because you have always been
consistent.
_Lead._ (_anxiously_). But _is_ anybody calling me a turncoat?
_Sub._ Not that I know of, but they might, don't you see. So it's as
well to be on the safe side. I shall say that, if any one _did_ call
you a turncoat, that the speaker would prove himself a liar! That
ought to give you a leg up, oughtn't it?
_Lead._ (_with some hesitation_). My dear friend, you are _most_ kind;
but if you don't mind, I would be so immensely obliged if you would
leave my interests alone.
_Sub._ (_with great cordiality_). What, leave your interests alone!
Never! You may be always sure of _my_ hearty support!
_Lead._ (_earnestly_). But as a personal matter, I must beg of you
kindly to leave me alone.
_Sub._ (_reluctantly_). Well, of course, if you make it a personal
matter, I must consent. But the Party will suffer.
_Lead._ (_dryly_). Possibly--from your point of view. [_Exeunt._
* * * * *
JAWFUL NEWS!--_The Diminution of the Jaw in the Civilised Races_ is
the title of a pamphlet by Mr. F. HOWARD COLLINS. We haven't read
it; but if it be in favour of the diminution of "jaw," we heartily
recommend its study to all Members of Parliament, actual or intending,
and to all post-prandial speechmakers generally.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BUMBLEDOM'S BIG OPENING.
_Bumble_. "DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT YOUR DRAINAGE AND SICH! WHY, NOW
THE SWELLS IS 'OOKIN' IT, I'M A-GOING TO BE CHAIRMAN OF THE COUNTY
COUNCIL!"]
_Bumble (after reading Dr. T. Orme Duffield's Report to the Vestry
of Kensington on the health and sanitary condition of the district),
loquitur_:--
Oh bother this sanit'ry bosh! Always piping the same dull old strains,
One would think there wos nothink in life to be done but go sniffing the
Drains!
Wich my nose is a dalicot one, and I don't like the job, not by lumps;
And I _won't_ be perpetual poked up by these peeping and prying old pumps.
"Bumbledom and Disease!" I like that,--like the _Times_' dashed himperence,
I think.
We porochial pots is to pass all our time a-prospecting for Stink!
Doctor DUDFIELD thinks WE should inspeck, periodical, all privit dwellings,
Discover and show up defecks, sech as fumings and leakings, and smellings,
As "lurk unsuspected about," which the tenants theirselves do not twig,
And the landlords, in course, don't remove. Well, your tenant is mostly a
pig,
And your landlord is sometimes a 'og; still between 'em _we_ jest slip
along,
But do dooty for both of 'em? Snakes! that is coming it slightly _too_
strong.
The tenants 'old on jest as long as they can, and the landlords 'old orf.
A sort of a ketchy sore-throat, or a bit of a qualm or a korf,
Make some idjots go fair orf their chumps on diphtheria, and typhod and
such;
But then others, who don't like a hupset, put up with the lot, pooty much,
Jest to save topsy-turvey and 'oles in the garden, and mud on the stairs;
Landlords, likeways, is dabs at postponing, and patching, and 'ushing up
scares.
But if _we_ are to spot wot goes quisby, and be the responsible chaps,
Wheugh! we _should_ 'ave a regular beanfeast with sockets and air-pipes
and traps!
No, no, westry worrying sneaks, it won't work. As for "W.B.E."
He may frighten the Kensington lot, he won't 'ave no effeck upon Me!
Diphtheria be jolly well dashed! It is often, as DUDFIELD explains,
Mere "follicular(--hem!--) tonsillitis." _Me_ bother my 'ed about Drains?
Go to! I 'ave got other fish, in a manner of speaking, to fry,
That L.C.C. gave itself airs and declared it would wipe my old heye
With its bloomin' Big Pots and "Progressives." Aha! where the doose are
they now?
Mister ROSEBERY resigned, regular sick of bad manners and endless bow-wow;
Now LIBBOCK and FARRER are orf. FARRER gave the _Times_ one in the eye,
'Cos it seemed for to 'int even he of them precious Progressives wos shy.
Swears their manners is quite up to dick, most consid'rit, and all that
there stuff.
Well they may 'ave been Brummels of course, but _he seems to 'ave 'ad
quite enough!_
'Owsomever, wotever the cause, now they're quit of the Great Toffy Three,
They must 'ave a new Chairman, in course, and--ha! ha!--_wot_ a hopening
for Me!!
Porochial Bumble _must_ rule, spite of fads, in a steady and sane age,
And 'aving a heye on High Orfice _I_ can't waste _my_ time on mere
Drainage!
[_Kicks Report, and strikes an attitude._
* * * * *
[Illustration: TRUE LITERARY EXCLUSIVENESS.
"DON'T YOU ADMIRE ROBERT BROWNING AS A POET, MR. FITZSNOOK?"
"I USED TO, ONCE; BUT _EVERYBODY_ ADMIRES HIM NOW, DON'TCHERKNOW--SO
I'VE HAD TO GIVE HIM UP!"]
* * * * *