[Illustration: ANOTHER PRETTY LITTLE AMERICANISM ENGLISHMAN (to fair New Yorker): "May I have the pleasure of dancing with you?" DARLING: "I guess you may--for I calc'late that if I sit much longer here, _I shall be taking root!_"] [Sidenote: _Baker and Stanley_] Sir Samuel Baker, who returned from his adventurous and fruitful explorations in Central Africa in October, 1865, with his heroic wife and companion of his travels, was the hero of that year, and the lion of the winter of 1873, after his successful but arduous campaign against the slave-traders of the Equatorial Nile basin. In 1866, after Baker was knighted, _Punch_ printed a poem of congratulation to the heroic pair, winding up with the lines:-- Three cheers for the Knight and the Lady so brave, If Echo's asleep let us lustily wake her; For none are more worthy of shout and of stave, Than the Two who ennoble the old name of Baker. [Illustration: "THIS IS THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL!"] Stanley, whose historic "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" when he found the great missionary-explorer at Ujiji, had been duly chronicled by _Punch_ in July, 1872, found himself famous on his arrival in London later in the year. He was, however, a somewhat intractable lion, and the criticisms of the geographical pundits caused him to roar in a rather formidable fashion. Still he received many gratifying proofs of recognition for his great services. He was entertained at Dunrobin Castle by the Duke of Sutherland; his book and lectures brought him in a handsome sum; and the Queen sent him a gold snuffbox set with brilliants. [Sidenote: _The Shah-in-Shah_] The last of the lions of this period was the Shah. The lion-hunting of Royalties was always offensive to _Punch_; it is frequently castigated throughout this period, and here it reached a pitch which moved "the Democritus of Fleet Street" to explosions of sardonic and mirthless laughter. There is true satire in the bitter lines headed, "The Shah's Impressions," in the issue of July 12, 1873:-- Yes! Shah-in-Shah in truth I must be Or why this fuss of the Feringhee?[15] Why all these hosts my steps that crowd, With bows so low and cheers so loud? If the Inglees Queen, so great among princes All this respect for me evinces; If the Tsarevitch, when I appear Falls flat as the flattest of bitter beer; If all these Wuzeers[16] and Aghas, and Khans, For me spend their time and their tomauns[17]; Their parks and their palaces lay at my feet, Muster for me their army and fleet And their miles upon miles of merchant ships; If without their ferashes[18] and their whips, Manchester gathers and Liverpool runs, With voices of men and thunder of guns, To the light of the face of the Shah-in-Shah, As unto the amber is drawn the straw; All this is proof in more than words, I am King of Kings and Lord of Lords!