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.”

PUNCH.—­Capital!  The very politician for a Court carpet.  Besides, he knows the etiquette of every green-room from the Pavilion to the Haymarket.  He is, moreover, a member of the Garrick Club; and what, if possible, speaks more for his State abilities—­he used to drive the Brighton coach!