Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Ernest Schaal, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 62. JANUARY 6TH, 1872. [Illustration: PUNCH VOL LXII.] LONDON: PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET, AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1872. LONDON: BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. [Illustration: PREFACE] "GENTLEMEN ARBITRATORS, I salute you in the concrete," said MR. PUNCH, walking up to the table of the Hall of Congress at Geneva. "I also salute you specially. COUNT SCLOPIS, _una voce poco fà_; M. STAEMPFLI, my Merry Swiss Boy, _point d'argent, point de Suisse_; BARON ITAJUBA, I hope your _sangre azul_ is cool this hot weather." "Really, MR. PUNCH," said the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE COCKBURN---- "And really, my dear SIR ALEXANDER," was MR. PUNCH's lightning-like repartee. "How are you? and DAVIS, my BANCROFT, how are you? Have you seen MRS. BANCROFT in _Caste_? Capital, isn't she? And now to business, and after that we'll go for a row on the Lake, my Allobroges. Know they settled here, DAVIS?" "I know several things," said MR. DAVIS, "and one is that you have no business in this chamber." "_Rem acu tetigisti_, my Occidental. My visit is strictly on pleasure. And I reckon to have the pleasure of sticking these here Negotiations in a greased groove before I quit." "Porter!" exclaimed the COUNT SCLOPIS, angrily. "Not a drop, I thank you," said MR. PUNCH, smiling. "We should not get it good here. A bottle of Seltzer, if you please, with a slight dash of the liquid named after yonder lake, but unsweetened." His exquisite good-temper--he associates with GRANVILLE and DISRAELI--was too much for the dignitaries. They all shook hands with him, said he was welcome, and begged that he would go away until dinner-time. "Not a bit of it, my Beamish Boys," said MR. PUNCH. "I am going to earn that dinner." "But, dear MR. PUNCH," pleaded MR. DAVIS, "we can't admit another British Representative, especially so omnipotent a one as yourself." "You are polite, and I'm cosmopolite, my dear DAVIS. _Non ubi nascor, sed ubi pascor_, and being asked to an international repast I shall behave internationally." "You will have to let him speak," laughed BARON ITAJUBA. "You open your mouth to drop Brazilian diamonds, my Baron." "_He'd better remain, for I don't think he'll go_," gaily carolled the Chief Justice, with a reminiscence of a burlesque written at a time when burlesques were comic. "_Take your brief, and belabour away_," sang the Merry Swiss Boy. "Come, MR. PUNCH," said the Count, "you and I have a common Italian ancestry. Do us credit." "_Con rispetto parlando_, Count, you ought not to doubt that I shall. Arbitrators! Have you all read RABELAIS?"