* * * * *
Q.E.D.
"SIR ROBERT PEEL thinks a great deal of himself," says the _British
Critic_. "Yes," asserts PUNCH, "he is just the man to trouble himself
about trifles."
* * * * *
[Illustration]
ROEBUCK DEFYING THE "THUNDERER."
Roebuck was seated in his great arm chair,
Looking as senatorial and wise
As a calf's head, when taken in surprise;
A half-munch'd muffin did his fingers bear--
An empty egg-shell proved his meal nigh o'er.
When, lo! there came a tapping at the door:
"Come in!" he cried,
And in another minute by his side
Stood John the footboy, with the morning paper,
Wet from the press. O'er Roebuck's cheek
There passed a momentary gleam of joy,
Which spoke, as plainly as a smile could speak,
"Your master's speech is in that paper, boy."
He waved his hand--the footboy left the room--
Roebuck pour'd out a cup of Hyson bloom;
And, having sipp'd the tea and sniff'd the vapour,
Spread out the "Thunderer" before his eyes--
When, to his great surprise,
He saw imprinted there, in black and white,
That he, THE ROE-buck--HE, whom all men knew,
Had been expressly born to set worlds right--
That HE was nothing but a _parvenu_.
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