We beg to propound the following question for the consideration of the
members of the Peace Society. Is the Cannon who has lately created such
a sensation in London, one they would like to see _let off_?
ELECTION INTELLIGENCE,
WITH THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN RECOGNISED.
(_For which the Ladies are referred to Mr. Cruikshank's charming
picture of the Future._)
SIR CHARLES DARLING (the Ladies' Candidate), presented himself on the
hustings amidst a general waving of handkerchiefs, and spoke as
follows:—
Ladies and—(with a smile)—need I say gentlemen? (Titters and "Droll
creature!") I think not. Gallantry forbids my recognising their
existence—in any light other than as the devoted slaves of that divine
sex, of whom I am proud to esteem myself the humblest. (Cries of "How
nice!")
Ladies, then, angels, goddesses ("Oh!" from an elderly bachelor, who was
removed by the police), for the thrilling position in which I am placed,
how can I be sufficiently grateful to that glorious reform in our
electoral system, which has partially recognised the true position of
lovely woman? ("Partially!" in a tone of sarcasm, from a member of Mr.
Screwdriver's committee). My honourable and _gallant_ friend objects to
the adverb. I say _partially_, for by admitting the ladies to the
Franchise _with_ the gentlemen, they are but recognised as _equals_,
instead of _superiors_. (Great sensation.) Yes, ladies, and it shall be
my earnest endeavours as your representative ("Yah!" and "Not yet!" from
Mr. Screwdriver). My honourable and _gallant_ friend observes "Not yet."
It is true I have a formidable rival to contend with. The charms of his
person, (screams, and "the Old Fright!") his known politeness, above all
his taste in dress (here the laughter and clapping of kid gloves
rendered the speaker inaudible for some moments)—compared with such
claims, mine are worthless ("Do listen!" and "The Duck!"), extending no
farther than a willingness, I may say a downright anxiety, to die in the
cause of the fair creatures, who, I believe I may say, have done me the
honour to elect me as their champion ("Yes! Yes!") With the ladies'
voices in my favour, I believe I need not fear those of the gentlemen
being exerted against me. (Cries of "We should like to see them," "Speak
up, Alfred, do," "I'm ashamed of you," &c.) I thank you, gentlemen—or
rather I do not thank you; I honour you for your—may I say obedience?
("Oh yes!" in a rapturous tone, from the engaged gentlemen), though,
after all, I don't see how you were to help yourselves. (Great applause,
and numerous bouquets thrown.)
The Honourable Mrs. Poser stepped forward, and begged to be allowed to
address a few questions to the candidate.
_Mrs. Poser._ What are Sir Charles's views with regard to the existing
Excise regulations?
_Sir Charles._ My first measure will be to bring in a bill legalizing
the smuggling of laces and French ribbons. (Rapturous cheering.)
_A Voice._ About the Sanitary Movement?
Sir Charles thought every family should leave town at the end of the
season. It was his opinion, that all husbands paying the income tax
should be compelled to take their wives and children to the seaside for
the autumn months. It should have his earliest attention. In answer to
another speaker, he considered that Assembly-rooms should be maintained
in every town by the public purse.
_Mrs. Poser._ What Foreign Policy will you advocate?
Sir Charles would advocate peace with France at all hazards, that
nothing might endanger the immediate importation of Parisian fashions.
(_Cheers and bouquets._)
_A Young Lady._ About the Army?
_Sir Charles._ I am for keeping up a standing army, to consist entirely
of regiments of horse-guards, composed exclusively of officers.
(_Immense sensation._)
_Mrs. Poser._ I should like to hear your intentions as to the tobacco
duties.
_Sir Charles._ To prohibit the importation and cultivation of that
objectionable plant altogether, so that there may be no more smoking.
A show of parasols was demanded, and Sir Charles Darling was declared
duly elected.
SCRAP FROM A NEW "SEASONS."
BY THOMPSON, OF THE LONDON DAILY PRESS GENERALLY.[11]
* * * * *
And now September comes, and Parliament
Hears, and obeys, for once, the nation's cry,
By "shutting up" at last. Forth to the moors
Hies the tir'd senator: his high-born dame,
Seeking her rustic bower, entertains
A most select and fashionable circle.
Now stares the peasant at the season's strange
Ethereal mildness! Not a hundred miles
From the secluded village where we write
(Small worth its humble name), the troubled sky
Pours down in wrath a mystic show'r of frogs!
Bewilder'd fly the scared inhabitants,
Of whom the Oldest fails to recollect
A like phenomenon! Now erst are seen
Enormous gooseberries——
* * * * *
Footnote 11:
The amount paid for this short contribution may be ascertained by a
simple process of linear enumeration—and reference to the pence table.