MINISTERS AT A PROVERB.

Anybody who cannot play the drawing-room game of a Proverb is an Nass whom it were base flatterly to call a Muff. But Mr. Punch is destined to be read in all after time, and in the course of three or four hundred years the game may be forgotten. Who, except Mr. Punch, now knows how nine out of ten of the Games of Gargantua, commemorated by Mr. Punch’s prototype, Francis Rabelais, were played. They are forgotten. And so may the Proverb be. Know, therefore, O friends of the twenty-second century, thet the way to play the Proverb is this: A player, usually a clever person with shrewdness and the gift of the gab, is sent our of the room, out of earshot. Then the others select a proverb, and the number of players being accommodated to the number of words in the proverb, each takes a word. The discoverer is called in, and he proposes any one question of any kind to each player. In the reply must come in the word which that player has had entrusted to him or her. The discoverer must use his wits, and find out what was the aphorism that hath been thus fragmentarily propounded. Give the leading or key-words to the cleverest players who can wrap them up neatest, and the little expletives to your weaker vessels and young ones. Do you understand that, O ye subjects of the Emperor of the United States, O ye bigoted Roman Baptists of St. Peter’s, O ye Evangelical worshippers in St. Sophia’s, O ye citizens of the Austrian Republic, O ye slaves of the negro King of Scotland?

If so, you will understand the fun Mr. Punch and the Palmerston Ministers had on last Twelfth Night as ever was. For they played the Proverb, and this was the manner. The dialogue was taken down in short-hand by Toby.

Mr. Punch, as incomparably the cleverest of the party, was desired to withdraw. So he went out and conversed affably with the extremely handsome damsel who ministered the ministerial refreshments, and being after a time re-invited, found the Government sitting in a semi-circle.

“Begin at Atherton and end at John Russell, please,” said Mr. Sidney Herbert.

“All is serene,” said Mr. Punch, glancing round the array, and gracefully taking his place across a chair, with the back of it in front of him.

“Mr. New Solicitor-General,” began Mr. Punch, “how do you like the duties of your office?”

“It is very kind of you to inquire, Mr. Punch. I hope I give satisfaction,” said the member for Durham.

“Has he said the word?” demanded Mr. Punch, thinking that his august presence might have flurried the young statesman.

“All right, my boy!” said Palmerston.

“Who are you calling boy?” retorted Mr. Punch. “Boy yourself, if you come to that! Campbell, what sort of a judge do you think Keating is going to make?

“It’s a vara deeficult problem, Mr. Punch,” said the Lord Chancellor, “an’ I canna rightly say that I’m free to gie ye a response, my mau.”

Mr. Punch looked dubiously round.

“My Lord has answered, if you translate the intolerable jargon called Scotch into Christian English,” said Sir Richard Bethell.

“Christian Young Men’s Association English, Sir Richard?”

asked Mr. Punch, slily. My dear Duke of Somerset, be pleased to favour me, if possible, with a civil answer to the following question; namely, “Why is it a good thing to be polite to people?”

“Neither you, nor the game, nor anybody shall make me admit that it is a good thing to be polite, Mr. Punch,” snapped the Duke, and the others applauded, at which his Grace looked more savage than ever.

“How are your Riflemen getting on, Siddy?”

“Capitally,” said Mr. Sidney Herbert. “Not a day passes but I have a large addition to our National Guard.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, Mr. Attorney, how do you think your Divorce Court – for really it is your invention – is working?”

“My dear Mr. Punch,” said Sir Richard Bethell, “I can say with perfect conscientiousness that there is no single act of mine, from the date at which I took silk to the present moment, that gives me so much unadulterated satisfaction as that which established a tribunal for the redress of conjugal grievances.”

Mr. Punch addressed Mr. Gladstone.

“Oh, thou tamer of Homer, when wilt thou take off the Income Tax?”

“I could answer you, my dear Mr. Punch, in three ways,” said Mr. Gladstone.

“But you shan’t, though,” said Mr. Punch. “Once for all.”

“In that case,” said the Chancellor of the Exchequer, “I must say that an unqualified pledge upon a financial subject is not a thing to be extracted from the custodian of the national purse.”

“Very neat,” said the Premier.

“Is it?” said Mr. Punch. “Perhaps, then you’ll do the gaudy, and tell me whether the Reform Bill is ready?”

“Talk to Johnny,” retorted the jaunty Palmerston. “I dare say he’s posted up in domestic details, as he is Foreign Minister; but the matter’s quite out of my department.”

“Confound your imprudence, Pam!” said Punch “If I believed you, there would be a jolly row; but I don’t. Now, Charley Wood, how far is it from Calcutta to Melbourne?”

“Oh, come, I say! I don’t think you’ve any business to be setting a chap sums when we’re only playing a game,” said Sir Charles, “and what is more, I will be blessed if I can tell you, and that’s all about it.”

“Answered, or blundered as usual?” asked Mr. Punch.

“Blundered, of course!” shouted everybody. “What did you expect?”

“Eh!” said Sir Charles, “haven’t I said the word. Bother! No more I have. Echo answers is the negative. Give us another question?”

“In which Presidency is Benares, Sir Charles?” said Mr. Punch, mildly. “Take your time.”

“Well,” said Sir Charles, after a pause, “I don’t profess to know a great deal of geography, but I have an impression that Benares is in Bombay.”

“He’s said it at last,” cried several voices.

“Hm,” said Mr. Punch, “I think I see the proverb. Lord Granville, what’s the last canard from Paris?”

“I’ve heard nothing these holidays,” said Lord Granville, “except that the French are quite sure Cobden’s to have a seat in the Cabinet, after the conversation with the Emperor.”

“Now, my dear Sir George Lewis, as I believe I have found out the secret, you must wrap up your word very discreetly. What, as a classical scholar, do you consider the most noble deed performed by the Ancient Romans?”

“Their smashing those Jews,” said the Home Secretary, with a promptitude that showed he had not forgiven the Mosaic race for the trouble he had been caused about certain loans, when Chancellor of the Exchequer. “That was far and away the best thing the Romans ever did, that demolishing Jerusalem, under Titus, a.d.60, walking into the hooknoses like one o’clock, making’em eat sow’s head and sausages before going to execution, and erecting the Arch of Titus in remembrance of that most laudable operation.”

“Habes,” said Mr. Punch, turning up his thumb, after the manner of the spectators of gladiator fights, when a victim was floored. “And now, last and least, my dearly beloved Johnny, do you mean that Palmerston or yourself shall introduce the Reform Bill of 1860 to the House of Commons?”

“I have no personal vanity to gratify,” said Lord John Russell, “and I am free to confess that, inasmuch as Lord Palmerston has the ear of the House, that is a reason why he would introduce the measure in a popular way. But on the other hand, I am the parent of the bill, and therefore it may be thought that I ought to bring it in, inasmuch–”

“That’ll do, John,” said Mr. Punch, “keep the rest for the introductory speech. I tell you, what, my lords and gentlemen, you might have selected a less vulgar proverb. Of course I know that

“You cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

“Mind that, if you are thinking of putting political power into the hands of the ignorant.”

[Loud cheering, and enter the pretty young lady with no end of punch. The party was left imbibing.]

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