To the Electors of the United Kingdom! 
  I, PUNCH, who shoot at follies, and have wing’d ’em
  For fifty years, and shall for fifty more,
  Greet ye!  It were to force an open door
  To ask ye one and all, to give your votes
  To ME!  There, there, my boys! don’t strain your throats! 
  My tympanum is tender. Punch rejoices
  To listen once more to “your most sweet voices,”
  Only you need not howl and make them raucous. 
  I’m not a Party Nominee, no Caucus
  Has wire-pulled Me!  I’d like to see ’em do so! 
  I am Man Friday to no party Crusoe,
  SALISBURY, GLADSTONE, BALFOUR, HARCOURT, GOSCHEN,
  Are all on my Committee.  MORLEY’s notion
  (Shared for the nonce by JOE the shrewd and able),
  Is, that it’s safe to sit at my Round Table,
  Where they all hob-a-nob as friends, not foes! 
  E’en the MACULLUM MORE cocks not his nose
  Too high in Punch’s presence; he knows better! 
  Supremacy unchallenged is a fetter
  E’en to patrician pride, provincial vanity;
  Scot modesty, and Birmingham urbanity,
  Bow at my shrine, because they can’t resist. 
  Thus I’m the only genuine Unionist,
  While all the same, my British Public you’ll err,
  If you conceive I’m not a firm Home-Ruler. 
  Perpend!  There’s sense and truth in my suggestions,
  And therefore, do not ask superfluous questions. 
  You might as fitly paint Dame Venus freckled,
  As fancy Punch will stoop to being “heckled.” 
  I have no “Programmes,” I. My wit’s too wide
  To a wire-puller’s “platform” to be tied. 
  I know what’s right, I mean to see it done,
  And for the rest good-tempered chaff and fun
  Are my pet “principles”—­till fools grow rash
  From toleration, then they feel the lash. 
  I am a sage, and not a prig or pump,
  Therefore I never canvas, spout or stump,
  I’m Liberal—­as the sunlight—­of all Good,
  Which to Conserve I strive—­that’s understood,
  But Tory nincompoop, or rowdy Rad,
  The thrall of bigotry, the fool of fad
  I hate alike.  There’s the straight tip, my bloaters! 
  Now run and vote for Punch—­all who are voters;
  And if some few have not that boon indeed,
  Well those who cannot run at least can read. 
  There! that’s enough, my lads!  I’m off to lunch,
  You, go and do your duty; plump for PUNCH!!!

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[Illustration:  “SED REVOCARE GRADUM.”

Beauty (with cool candour).  “OH YES, INDEED, I FREQUENTLY MAKE BETS; BUT I AM SO UNLUCKY!”

Sporting Youth (trying to be sympathetic).  “REALLY?  BUT I SUPPOSE YOU NEVER HAVE MUCH ON—­THAT IS—­I MEAN—­” [Collapse.]

* * * * *

OTHERWISE ENGAGED!

(A SENTIMENTAL FRAGMENT FROM HENLEY.)