[pg 30] PUNCH AND PEEL THE NEW CABINET. PUNCH.—Well, Sir Robert, have you yet picked your men? Come, no mystery between friends. Besides, consider your obligations to your old crony, Punch. Do you forget how I stood by you on the Catholic question? Come, name, name! Who are to pluck the golden pippins—who are to smack lips at the golden fish—who are to chew the fine manchet loaves of Downing-street? PEEL.—The truth is, my dear Punch— PUNCH.—Stop. You may put on that demure look, expand your right-hand fingers across the region where the courtesy of anatomy awards to politicians a heart, and talk about truth as a certain old lady with a paper lanthorn before her door may talk of chastity—you may do all this on the hustings; but this is not Tamworth: besides, you are now elected; so take one of these cigars—they were smuggled for me by my revered friend Colonel Sibthorp—fill your glass, and out with the list. PEEL.—(Rises and goes to the door, which he double locks; returns to his seat, and takes from his waistcoat pocket a small piece of ass’s skin.) I have jotted down a few names. PUNCH.—And, I see, on very proper material. Read, Robert, read. PEEL.—(In a mild voice and with a slight blush.)—“First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Robert Peel!” PUNCH.—Of course. Well? PEEL.—“First Lord of the Admiralty—Duke of Buckingham.” PUNCH.—An excellent man for the Admiralty. He has been at sea in politics all his life. PEEL.—“Secretary for Foreign Affairs—Earl of Aberdeen.” PUNCH.—An admirable person for Foreign Affairs, especially if he transacted ’em in Sierra Leone. Proceed. PEEL.—“Lord Lieutenant of Ireland—Lord Wharncliffe.” PUNCH.—Nothing could be better. Wharncliffe in Ireland! You might as well appoint a red-hot poker to guard a powder magazine. Go on. PEEL.—“Secretary for Home Department—Goulburn.” PUNCH.—A most domestic gentleman; will take care of home, I am sure. Go on. PEEL.—“Lord Chancellor—Sir William Follett.” PUNCH.—A capital appointment: Sir William loves the law as a spider loves his spinning; and for the same reason Chancery cobwebs will be at a premium. PEEL.—“Secretary for the Colonies—Lord Stanley.” PUNCH.—Would make a better Governor of Macquarrie Harbour; but go on. PEEL.—“President of the Council—Duke of Wellington.” PUNCH.—Think twice there.—The Duke will be a great check upon you. The Duke is now a little too old a mouser to enjoy Tory tricks. He has unfortunately a large amount of common sense; and how fatal must that quality be to the genius of the Wharncliffes, the Goulburns, and the Stanleys! Besides, the Duke has another grievous weakness—he won’t lie. PEEL.—“Secretary for Ireland—Sir H. Hardinge.” PUNCH.—Come, that will do. Wharncliffe, the flaming torch of Toryism, and Hardinge the small lucifer. How Ireland will be enlightened, and how oranges will go up! PEEL.—“Lord Chamberlain—Duke of Beaufort.”