Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 107, September 8, 1894Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 107, September 8, 1894
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
The "form" of the Pack is the law of the Pack. It will pardon white
lies,
And a wriggle or two, but that Wolf's a gone coon who the Pack "form"
defies.
XII.
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will
With his prey when he's hunted it down; but he shouldn't let pals
_see_ him kill.
XIII.
Cub-Right is the right of the Minor. For deeds of crass folly or shame
He may put in the plea, "I'm an Infant!" and Law will acknowledge the
same.
XIV.
Sale-Right is the right of the Mother. For all her she-cubs she may
claim
The right of free-market (or marriage), and none may deny her the
same.
XV.
Law-Right is the right of the Male. He has made Jungle-law all his
own,
He is free of all voice of the Female; and judged by the he-wolves
alone.
XVI.
Because of his age and his cunning, his grip and his power of jaw,
In all that the Law leaveth open the word of King Mammon is Law.
_Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, to sway human Wolves where they
swarm;
But the head and the front of the Law, the beginning and end
is--CONFORM!_
Wonderful, is it not, how little the Law of the Wolf requires modifying
to make it the Law of the Worldling! The reason, perhaps, is that the
average Worldling is so very much _like_ a Wolf, especially in
gregariousness and greed for prey!
* * * * *
[Illustration: A "NEW WOMAN."
_The Vicar's Wife._ "AND HAVE YOU HAD GOOD SPORT, MISS GOLDENBERG?"
_Miss G._ "OH, RIPPIN'! I ONLY SHOT ONE RABBIT, BUT I MANAGED TO INJURE
QUITE A DOZEN MORE!"]
* * * * *
LYRE AND LANCET.
(_A Story in Scenes._)
PART X.--BORROWED PLUMES.
SCENE XVII.--UNDERSHELL'S _Bedroom in the East Wing at Wyvern_.
TIME--_About 9_ P.M.
_The Steward's Room Boy (knocking and entering)._ Brought you up some
'ot water, Sir, case you'd like to clean up afore supper.
_Undershell._ I presume evening dress is not indispensable in the
Housekeeper's Room; but I can hardly make even the simplest toilet until
you are good enough to bring up my portmanteau. Where is it?
_Boy._ I never 'eard nothink of no porkmanteau, Sir!
_Und._ You will hear a good deal about it, unless it is forthcoming at
once. Just find out what's become of it--a new portmanteau, with a white
star painted on it.
[_The_ BOY _retires, impressed; an interval._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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