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diff --git a/37779-h/37779-h.htm b/37779-h/37779-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffef399 --- /dev/null +++ b/37779-h/37779-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2338 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, January 6th, 1872.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +<!-- + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +p {text-align: justify;} + +p.author {margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right;} + +p.center {text-align: center;} + +p.indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} + +blockquote {text-align: justify;} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + +pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + +hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + +html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + +hr.full {width: 100%;} + +html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + +hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + +html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + +.note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + +span.cursive {font-family: "Blackmoor LET", cursive;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-weight: normal;} + +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + +.figure {padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center;} + +.figcenter {padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center;} + +.figright {padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center;} + +.figleft {padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center;} + +.figure img {border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none;} + +.figcenter img {border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none;} + +.figright img {border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none;} + +.figleft img {border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none;} + +.figure p {margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em;} + +.figcenter p {margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em;} + +.figright p {margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em;} + +.figleft p {margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em;} .figure p.in {margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em;} + +.figcenter p.in {margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em;} + +.figright p.in {margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em;} + +.figleft p.in {margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto;} + +.figright {float: right;} + +.figleft {float: left;} + +--> + +div.tnote { + border-style: dotted; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 1%; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 90%; + text-align: justify; +} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 62, +January 6, 1872, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 62, January 6, 1872 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 18, 2011 [EBook #37779] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, LONDON CHARIVARI, JAN 6, 1872 *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Ernest Schaal, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>Vol. 62.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>January 6th, 1872.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<a href="images/0001.png"><img width="100%" src="images/0001.png" alt="PUNCH +VOL LXII. +LONDON: +PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET, +AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS +1872." /></a> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="center">LONDON:</p> + +<p class="center">BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pageiii" id="pageiii"></a>[pg iii]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/0003.png"><img width="100%" src="images/0003.png" alt="PREFACE" /></a> +</div> + +<p>"GENTLEMEN Arbitrators, I salute you in the concrete," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, walking up to the table of the Hall of +Congress at Geneva. "I also salute you specially. <span class="smcap">Count Sclopis</span>, <i>una voce poco fà</i>; <span class="smcap">M. Staempfli</span>, my Merry +Swiss Boy, <i>point d'argent, point de Suisse</i>; <span class="smcap">Baron Itajuba</span>, I hope your <i>sangre azul</i> is cool this hot weather."</p> + +<p>"Really, <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>," said the <span class="smcap">Lord Chief Justice Cockburn</span>——</p> + +<p>"And really, my dear <span class="smcap">Sir Alexander</span>," was <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>'s lightning-like repartee. "How are you? and <span class="smcap">Davis</span>, my +<span class="smcap">Bancroft</span>, how are you? Have you seen <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bancroft</span> in <i>Caste</i>? 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, <span class="smcap">Davis</span>?"</p> + +<p>"I know several things," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Davis</span>, "and one is that you have no business in this chamber."</p> + +<p>"<i>Rem acu tetigisti</i>, 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."</p> + +<p>"Porter!" exclaimed the <span class="smcap">Count Sclopis</span>, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Not a drop, I thank you," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, 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."</p> + +<p>His exquisite good-temper—he associates with <span class="smcap">Granville</span> and <span class="smcap">Disraeli</span>—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.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it, my Beamish Boys," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>. "I am going to earn that dinner."</p> + +<p>"But, dear <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>," pleaded <span class="smcap">Mr. Davis</span>, "we can't admit another British Representative, especially so omnipotent +a one as yourself."</p> + +<p>"You are polite, and I'm cosmopolite, my dear <span class="smcap">Davis</span>. <i>Non ubi nascor, sed ubi pascor</i>, and being asked to an +international repast I shall behave internationally."</p> + +<p>"You will have to let him speak," laughed <span class="smcap">Baron Itajuba</span>.</p> + +<p>"You open your mouth to drop Brazilian diamonds, my Baron."</p> + +<p>"<i>He'd better remain, for I don't think he'll go</i>," gaily carolled the Chief Justice, with a reminiscence of a burlesque +written at a time when burlesques were comic.</p> + +<p>"<i>Take your brief, and belabour away</i>," sang the Merry Swiss Boy.</p> + +<p>"Come, <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>," said the Count, "you and I have a common Italian ancestry. Do us credit."</p> + +<p>"<i>Con rispetto parlando</i>, Count, you ought not to doubt that I shall. Arbitrators! Have you all read <span class="smcap">Rabelais</span>?"</p> + +<p>"There's a question!" shouted Everybody, indignantly. "Have five great nations sent clowns to represent them?" +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pageiv" id="pageiv"></a>[pg iv]</span> +"I will soon see about that," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>. "When the good <span class="smcap">Pantagruel</span> was asked to decide a most +tangled, knotty, and vast law-suit, over which a hundred lawyers had wrangled and fattened for years, what was his first +order? Nay, answer me not in words, but let me take my cooling draught, and see whether you know <span class="smcap">Rabelais</span>."</p> + +<p>As with one impulse all sprang up, delight in each face. Secretaries and porters were summoned, and every +scrap of paper, from the smallest Note to the most gigantic Case was removed into the court-yard. In five minutes all the +painted glass in the windows was richly illuminated, and the flames roared like Vesuvius.</p> + +<p>"In these circumstances," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, "and as thinking of the 'frozen Caucasus' will not enable one to bear +roasting, M. the Count, you might order me some ice."</p> + +<p>"Icebergs to <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span> till further notice," said the magnificent Italian, in a style worthy of <span class="smcap">Cosmo</span> himself.</p> + +<p>"You <i>have</i> studied <span class="smcap">Rabelais</span>," said <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, when the fire had subsided, "and I am sure that you will continue +to be guided by his wisdom. Do you accept my sentence, in this Anglo-American business, as final. No 'understandings,' +mind. Swear it, with good mouth-filling oaths."</p> + +<p>They all sent out fervent voices, but <span class="smcap">Mr. Davis</span> (who has had the advantage of knowing <span class="smcap">Mr. Greeley</span>) discharged +a kuss so terrific that it tore all the other sounds to tatters.</p> + +<p>"Hear, and record the oath, immoral Gods!" exclaimed <span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, in a manner like that of <span class="smcap">John Kemble</span>, only +superior in impressiveness. "And now I shall give you a judgment like that of the good <span class="smcap">Pantagruel</span>. Stenographers!"</p> + +<p>Then said <span class="smcap">Pantagruel-Punch</span>, "and the pauses amid his speech were more awful than the sound:"</p> + +<p>"<span class="cursive">Not</span> having read one word of the cackle just combusted, and knowing and caring nothing about the matter in +question, I hereby give sentence that England shall pay to America, on the first of April last, nineteen thousand bottles +of hay with a needle in each. Shall, on the very first Sunday in the middle of the week, further pay to America eleven +millions of pigs in pokes; and finally, and without fail, Shall, in the next Greek Kalends, remit to Washington two +billions of bottles of smoke, and one thousand casks of the best pickled Australian moonshine, deodorised and aërated.</p> + +<p>"<span class="cursive">But</span> seeing that America, in her turn, has reparation to make, I hereby give sentence that she shall send to +England, on the day of the election of the first Coloured President, twelve thousand barrels of the best pearl-oysters, +the pearls to be set with emeralds and rubies. Shall, on the day of celebration of the utter and entire extinction of +Bunkum, further pay to England eighty thousand barrels of Columbian Hail, and as many Birds o' Freedom, potted with +truffles; and lastly, Shall, on the recognition of the Independence of Mormonism, remit to London a hundred boxes of the +letters of which the United States have robbed the Queen's English; a thousand of the ropes which ought to have been +used in accelerating the quietude of Fenianism, and finally, and without fail, shall pay 30 per cent. on the profits of +'annexed' English literature.</p> + +<p>"<span class="cursive">And</span> this I give for final judgment and decree indissoluble."</p> + +<p>Everybody remained wrapt, in speechless admiration at the ineffable wisdom of <span class="smcap">Pantagruel-Punch</span>, who had +thus <span class="smcap">settled the American Question</span>. But what a shout went up to the Empyrean when he gently added:—</p> + +<p>"To enable you to interpret this sentence aright, I present you with my</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> <a href="images/0004.png"><img width="100%" src="images/0004.png" alt="Sixty-Second Volume." /></a></div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/001.png"><img width="100%" src="images/001.png" alt="EUROPE. ASIA. PUNCH AFRICA. AMERICA. +VOL. 62" /></a> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>OUR QUEEN TO HER PEOPLE.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> open our New Volume with a record that will become historical. +No more acceptable Christmas gift could have been bestowed +upon a loyal and affectionate people than that which <span class="smcap">Queen Victoria</span> +has been pleased to present. It is the simple, warm, graceful +expression of a Mother's "deep sense of the touching sympathy of the +whole Nation on the occasion of the alarming illness of her dear son, +the <span class="smcap">Prince of Wales</span>." Thus writes our Sovereign, dating, happily, +from Windsor Castle:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"The universal feeling shown by her people during those painful, terrible +days, and the sympathy evinced by them with herself and her beloved +daughter, the <span class="smcap">Princess of Wales</span>, as well as the general joy at the +improvement in the <span class="smcap">Prince of Wales's</span> state, have made a deep and +lasting impression on her heart which can never be effaced. It was, indeed, +nothing new to her, for the <span class="smcap">Queen</span> had met with the same sympathy when +just ten years ago a similar illness removed from her side the mainstay of her +life, the best, wisest, and kindest of husbands.</p> + +<p>"The <span class="smcap">Queen</span> wishes to express at the same time, on the part of the +<span class="smcap">Princess of Wales</span>, her feelings of heartfelt gratitude, for she has been as +deeply touched as the <span class="smcap">Queen</span> by the great and universal manifestation of +loyalty and sympathy.</p> + +<p>"The <span class="smcap">Queen</span> cannot conclude without expressing her hope that her +faithful subjects will continue their prayers to God for the complete recovery +of her dear son to health and strength."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"What can he do that cometh after the King?" is the language +of the Book. He who cometh after the <span class="smcap">Queen</span> will vainly seek to +write worthy comment on these words. But comment will be supplied +by all the hearts that are rejoicing in the happiness of a +Mother and of a Wife, and in the deliverance of a Nation from a +great sorrow.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>The Festive Bored.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> olden time the boar's head was a common Christmas adjunct +to the board. The custom, it appears, has not entirely yet died out. +If one believes one's eyes and ears, one can hardly ever join a +family Christmas party, without finding at least one, if not more +than one, bore's head there.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>THE NATIONS' NEW-YEAR'S DAY.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Beneath</span> the fading mistletoe in Time's wide-echoing Hall,—</p> +<p>The Yule-log's light still brisk and bright, on storied roof and wall—</p> +<p>The Spirits of the Nations, some strange, some kith and kin,</p> +<p>Are met to flout the Old Year out and <i>fête</i> the New Year in.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With war-stains dim on robe and limb, fresh scars on cheek and brow,</p> +<p>France strives to look as though no pains could crush, no losses bow:</p> +<p>But her glance is quick and restless, and her hands are never still,</p> +<p>As one that, fevered inly, masks but masters not her ill.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As if in mock of Christmas wreaths,—their "peace, good-will to men"—</p> +<p>What fierce hate in her eyes whene'er proud Prussia meets their ken!</p> +<p>Prussia that, stern and stately, her great sword, laurel-wreathed,</p> +<p>Bears wary, so, 'tis hard to know if bare the blade, or sheathed.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So light and lithe that stalwart frame in movement or at rest,</p> +<p>You scarce would deem you caught the gleam of steel below her breast;</p> +<p>Beneath the wide imperial robe, that, fire-new, sweeps the ground,</p> +<p>With what now seems a diadem, and now a helmet, crowned.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But mark yon maid, of loveliness more radiant and more rare</p> +<p>Than all the showers of gems and flowers that star her night of hair;</p> +<p>For strength and grace to fit that face, what music but the tongue</p> +<p>Wherein stern <span class="smcap">Dante</span> chaunted, and silvery <span class="smcap">Petrarch</span> sung?</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Queen among Queens! But never Queen full-robed and crowned till now,</p> +<p>The double diadem of Rome on her exultant brow!</p> +<p>Who notes the dust, who recks the rust, that dulls or dims its sheen,</p> +<p>Or asks how she came by it, or through what mire it has been?</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From sleep or strife new roused to life that lights her antique face,</p> +<p>No monkish train nor slavish chain to cramp her strength and grace,</p> +<p>What wonder if she hardly know in soberness to still</p> +<p>The throbbing of late-loosened blood, the stir of waking will?</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Others are there, though notable, less notable than these:</p> +<p>See Russia, blue-eyed giantess, still rude and ill at ease:</p> +<p>But who can tell what undrawn wells of power and strength are there,</p> +<p>Under the brow that looms so broad below her fell of hair?</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And Austria, motley madam, 'twixt Vienna <i>demi-monde</i>,</p> +<p>Tyrolian <i>mädchen</i>, Magyar <i>brune</i>, and rough Sclavonian <i>blonde</i>:</p> +<p>Of look more gracious than her mood, more potent than her power,</p> +<p>Trying all arts, and changing trick and toilet with the hour.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And Spain, still proud as when she walked New World and Old a Queen,</p> +<p>Beneath her soiled and frayed brocades the rags plain to be seen,</p> +<p>Stately of speech, but beggarly of all but sounding phrase,</p> +<p>Slattern at home and shrew abroad, in worse as better days.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With sidelong and suspicious looks on Russia, Austria cast,</p> +<p>Which scarce her yashmak serves to hide, see Turkey gliding past.</p> +<p>A harem-beauty out of place 'twixt angers and alarms</p> +<p>At the hot looks of would-be Lords, that lust to own her charms.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Casting about for shelter she draws where, hand in hand,</p> +<p>Fair England and Columbia, proud child, proud mother, stand:</p> +<p>Time was upon each other they had turned less friendly eyes,</p> +<p>But of late both have grown wiser than let angry passions rise.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To the side of stout <span class="smcap">Britannia</span> I see scared Turkey creep,</p> +<p>Though <span class="smcap">Britannia</span> lifts no finger her foes at bay to keep:</p> +<p>But, for all her quiet bearing, there is something in her air</p> +<p>That brings to mind the good old saw, "Of sleeping dogs beware!"</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Twelve struck—and I saw grey Old Time his wassail-bowl uprear,</p> +<p>As he called on all the Nations to drink in the New Year;</p> +<p>But first to drink the Old Year out, that to his end has come,</p> +<p>With small cause to regret him, as he passes on to doom.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And looking on those Nations, scarce a single face I saw</p> +<p>But over it lay such a cloud as doubt and fear might draw:</p> +<p>As if all wished the Old Year gone, while yet all doubted sore</p> +<p>If their welcome to the New Year should be hopefuller, therefor.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some, thinking of disasters past, worse sorrows seemed to see,</p> +<p>In the near or farther future, up seething gloomily:</p> +<p>Some thinking of advantage won, seemed scarce to trust their hold</p> +<p>On that advantage, lest their prize turn dust, like fairy gold.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Only methought that Britain and Columbia, 'mid their peers,</p> +<p>Showed eyes more hopeful, calmer brows, and lips less pale with fears:</p> +<p>As having clearer view than most where surest faith should lie—</p> +<p>To put their trust in Providence, and keep their powder dry.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As being bent to fight the fight of common sense and truth:</p> +<p>Nor yield the faith therein to fear, the rights thereof to ruth:</p> +<p>Not give knaves, fools, or fanatics, the driving seat and reins:</p> +<p>Worthy his hire to own each man who works, with hand or brains.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To recognise the Heavenly rule that various lots assigns,</p> +<p>But ranges high and low alike 'neath Duty's even lines:</p> +<p>To do to others as we would that they to us should do,</p> +<p>To prize the blessings that we have, and others help thereto.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>While Britain to this faith is firm, and puts this faith in deed,</p> +<p>Little to her how plenteous or how poor the years succeed.</p> +<p>She holds a hope good fortune reared not up, ill casts not down;</p> +<p>Trusting the Power whose hand alike is o'er Red-Cap and Crown.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> <a href="images/002.png"><img width="100%" src="images/002.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>UTILE CUM DULCE.</h2> + +<p><i>Inquisitive Gent.</i> "<span class="smcap">You will—a—Think me very Indiscreet—but I cannot +help Wondering what this Elaborately-Carved and Curiously-Ramified +Structure is for. Is it for Ornament only, or intended to +Heat the House, or Something?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Fastidious Host.</i> "<span class="smcap">O, it's the <i>Drains</i>! I like to have 'em where I can +Look after 'em myself. Pooty design, ain't it? Majolica, you know.... +Have some Chicken?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>OLD GHOSTS AND NEW.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> old, around the whitening embers,</p> +<p>One, here and there, as yet remembers</p> +<p>The tales of Ghosts, at Christmas season,</p> +<p>Which once were wont to stagger Reason.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Those tales are told no more at Christmas,</p> +<p>Whose Ghosts are laid beyond the Isthmus</p> +<p>Of Suez, all beneath the billows</p> +<p>Of the Red Sea, on sandy pillows.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Ghosts with eyes of flame and saucer</p> +<p>Are now as obsolete as <span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>;</p> +<p>No Ghosts now rattle chains, nor blue light</p> +<p>Emit, but "Spirit Lights"—a new light.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>White-sheeted Ghosts have grown mere fables.</p> +<p>Instead of groaning, Ghosts rap tables:</p> +<p>With smells of sulphur ne'er assail us;</p> +<p>With curious perfumes oft regale us.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They "mediums" raise by "levitation,"</p> +<p>And subject them to elongation,</p> +<p>And in and out of windows float them,</p> +<p>Two stories high, lords vow, we quote them.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Fruit, flowers, ice, other forms of matter,</p> +<p>On tables, in the dark, Ghosts scatter;</p> +<p>Live lobsters, wriggling eels, and so forth:</p> +<p>Thus their "so potent art" they show forth.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is a lady, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Guppy</span>,</p> +<p>Mark, shallow scientific puppy,</p> +<p>The heaviest she in London, marry,</p> +<p>Her, Spirits three miles long did carry.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Upon a table down they set her,</p> +<p>Within closed doors. What! you know better?</p> +<p>And we're all dupes or self-deceivers?</p> +<p>Yah, Sadducees and unbelievers!</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some Ghosts, do, mortal hands compelling,</p> +<p>Write letters in phonetic spelling.</p> +<p>Some others, on accordions, cunning</p> +<p>In music, <i>Home, Sweet Home</i>, play, punning.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The grisly Ghosts of old have vanished;</p> +<p>The ancient Bogies all are banished.</p> +<p>How much more credible and pleasant</p> +<p>Than the old Spirits are the present!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>Memorandum for Lords of the Manor.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">A game</span> which, when played on Commons, becomes +illegal, is the Game of Cribbage.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> +MEDICAL BARS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>,</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">A pretty</span> dodge that is of the doctors and sawbones which +have signed that there declaration respectin' Halcohol has as bin +publish'd in the Papers. Wot I refers to moor partickler is their +sayin that "Alcohol, in whatever form, should be prescribed with +as much care as any powerful drug." Take this here along with +their likewise sayin as they thinks the sale of liquors ought to be +restricted by "wise +legislation." Yah! +What's the legislation +as them medical +gentlemen would +call wise? I won't +say, I should like to +know, cos why I do +know, and which +therefore please alow +me for to state, for +to put a inliten'd +Brittish Public on +their gard agin a +Doo. A liquor law +for to shut up all the +publichouses, and +confine the sale of +liquors—Halcohol in +wotsomedever form, +mind yer—to the +'pothecaries, chemists, +and druggists, +to be sold hunder +conditions, like assnic +or strikenine, or +only wen horder'd +by a fisitian's perscription. +That's +their objeck. That's +wot they're arter. +Anybody may see +with arf an i they're +all leged together to +get the ole of the +licker trade away +from the legitimit +Licens'd Wittlers +into their own ands.</p> + +<p>Now, Sir, just +fancy under that +sistim, if so be ever +it passes, witch Evin +forbid, what a halteration +we should +see direckly in +doctors' shops. In +coarse they'd ave to +be a good deal inlarged +to make room +for the Bar and Beer-engine. +Then, my +i, what a variety of +rum labels there +would be on the big +bottles, and the reseavers, +and resevoys +witch praps would +do dooty amongst +the fizzic for caskes +and barrels. A +young doctor chap, +as uses my ouse, and +promises to be a horniment +to his perfession, +rote me down a +few names of liquors; he says, in Doctors' lattin, along with Pil: Colocynth +Comp:, and Mist: Camph:, and sitch as we shall then see—Cerevis: +Fort: XXX Burton:; Barel: Perk: etSoc: Integr:; Aq: Vitæ +Gallic:; Sp: Junip: Batavorum:; Vin: Rubr:; Vin Alb: Hispan:; +Sp: Sacchari Jamaicens: Opt:; Vetus Thomas:; Ros Montan:; +&c.; all witch you and your honour'd readers, bein scollards, will +hunderstand. Yes; and you'll have medickle men perscribin wine, +beer, and sperrits in quantities of Oj., and ℥j. or ℥ij., and ʒifs., +and ♏iij.; and patients will be payin extry fees to ave the same +perscribed for 'em—dram drinkin in drams order'd medisinally.</p> + +<p>Wich, afore that state of things is brought to pass, with defence +not defiance for our motter, wot I say is, let's nale our cullers to the +mast, No Surrender, and take to supplyin our customers with the +werry best rubub, senna, and prerogative drugs, and likewise +pilicotia, bark, prussic hacid and pizon of hevery description, as well +as Halcohol in watever form, wich they pertends is so pernishus.</p> + +<p>The Doctors' liquor shops, I dare say, will shut up on Sundays—but +then no doubt but wot a short Notis outside will hinform you +that "Medicine may be obtained by ringing the bell," the medsin +including anything on draught you may choose to name, not exceptin +punch, which +cures the gout, the +collect, and the +tizzic—And it is +allowed to be the +werry best of fizzic. +So no more at present +from your obegent +umbel Servant,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Bung.</span></p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/003.png"><img width="100%" src="images/003.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>TOILETTE</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">(Dare we say à la Beefeater?) suitable for Ladies of Robust Figure.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>MILITARY +ECONOMY.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> is a fine +specimen of Army +Reform. We cite it +from that Military +authority, the <i>Civilian</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"The expense of +providing and maintaining +window blinds +for officers' quarters is +not chargeable against +the public. Blinds now +fixed, which have been +supplied free of charge, +may remain, provided +they be maintained at +the occupants' expense. +Any occupant not wishing +to retain the blinds +at his own cost, will +make a notification to +this effect to the Controller +of the district, +in order that they may +be removed and taken +into store."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Officers' better +halves are hardly +likely to approve of +this retrenchment in +officers' quarters. +Faded furniture and +carpets will probably +not find much favour +in their eyes, +nor will those eyes +shine any brighter +for being dazzled, as +they will be, when +the sunbeams +stream in blindingly +through the blindless +windows. In +rooms that face due +South, a parasol will +be a useful adjunct +to a breakfast table, +and we may even +hear of officers with +weak eyes being attacked +by sharp +ophthalmia, and, all owing to their blindless quarters, becoming +helpless inmates of the Blind Asylum.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>A Minor Cannon.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> new 35-ton gun, or 700-pounder, is called The Woolwich +Infant. Sweet Innocent! Let us hope that affairs may allow it +long to remain such. Is the Woolwich Infant supposed to be a boy +or a girl? If a boy, it must be admitted that there was never yet +before such a Son of a Gun.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> +EVENINGS FROM HOME.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A New Plan.</span>—<i>To Everyone whom it may Concern.</i></h3> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:25%;"> <a href="images/004.png"><img width="100%" src="images/004.png" alt="York, you'r wanted! T" /></a> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">is</span> a gratification to <i>Mr. +Punch</i>, to be able to announce +that he has entered +into an arrangement with +descendants of the celebrated +<i>Masters Sandford +and Merton</i>, who, with +their admirable preceptor, +the grandson of the illustrious +<i>Mr. Barlow</i>, will, +during the present Christmas +Holidays, visit most +of the Metropolitan amusements.</p> + +<p>One morning, as they +were sitting, after breakfast, +in their lodgings in +the Strand, <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> said to +<span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span>, "May I ask +you a question, Sir?"</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> considered +for a few moments, and +then granted the desired +permission.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> What, Sir, is a +Pantomime?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow</i> (<i>smiling</i>). +Perhaps <span class="smcap">Harry</span> can tell +you.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> Willingly, <span class="smcap">Master +Tommy</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> I should like +very much to hear.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> You must know, +then, <span class="smcap">Master Tommy</span>, that in London there are a great many +buildings called Theatres, or The<i>ay</i>ters, to which some people go, +and, in cases where the free list is entirely suspended, and the +absurd system of orders is abolished, actually pay money in the +expectation of being amused by the performers. Indeed, at Christmas-time, +when nearly every sort of entertainment is open to the +public, it is a person's own fault if he is not constantly amused.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> But pray, <span class="smcap">Harry</span>, have you no more particulars to tell +me about these Pantomimes?</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> You can judge for yourself, <span class="smcap">Master Tommy</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tommy</span> was so affected with this rebuke, that he only restrained +his tears by a strong physical exertion, which resulted in his giving +<span class="smcap">Harry</span> a kick on the shins underneath the table. For this, being +a boy of generous disposition, he had the good-breeding and courtesy +to apologise, in time to avert the severe damage which his head +would have received at the hands of his friend <span class="smcap">Harry</span>; and, in order +to propitiate the justly-aroused anger of <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow, Master +Tommy</span> offered to treat <span class="smcap">Harry Sandford</span> and their worthy preceptor +to the play that very night; a proposal which, after some +show of reluctance, both <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> and <span class="smcap">Harry Sandford</span> cordially +accepted.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>At <span class="smcap">Drury Lane</span>.—On their arrival in the lobby of the Dress +Circle, a kindly-spoken gentleman insisted upon relieving the party +of their coats, and gave them a programme of the performance, for +which they returned him their most sincere thanks; <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span>, +moreover, promised him a gratuity on his leaving the theatre. This +promise was accompanied by a significant look at <span class="smcap">Harry</span>, who fully +appreciated his worthy preceptor's conduct. As to <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, he was +too full of wonder and admiration of all he saw to notice this transaction, +and, indeed, the questions which arose to his lips during the +evening were so numerous, that, with a discretion beyond his years, +he determined to reserve them for a future occasion.</p> + +<p>The Pantomime was <i>Tom Thumb</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> The <span class="smcap">Vokes's</span> are very comical people with their legs.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> Yes, truly; and, being so, it is a thousand pities +any of them should attempt to sing. Their dancing is highly amusing.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tommy</span> was here very much alarmed by the appearance of a +Giant's head over the castle wall. His fears were not allayed when +the Giant ate <i>Tom Thumb</i>, who, on his re-appearance from the +Giant's mouth, was taken up in the claws of a huge bird. This +made <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> cry; and it was not until <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> had explained +to him that the object of the Pantomime was to make little boys and +girls laugh, that he at all recovered his wonted spirits. However, +on seeing that <span class="smcap">Harry</span> was smiling, and that <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> was +composing himself to sleep, he was reassured by their demeanour, +and became deeply interested in the stage representation.</p> + +<p>At the Scene of Dresden China Watteauesque figures, <span class="smcap">Tommy's</span> +delight declared itself in loud applause.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> Are <i>those</i> the Clowns? I thought you said, Sir, that +there was only <i>one</i> Clown!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> To the eye of the rightly constituted mind there can +be but one Clown; and our mental vision is only disturbed and confused +by this multiplication of drolls.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> further explained that the Clown is human like +ourselves; whereat <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> expressed himself dissatisfied.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> As the comic scenes appear to depress you, <span class="smcap">Harry</span>, +and as <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> is evidently becoming tired and cross withal, it were +best to leave.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> Indeed, Sir, this Pantomime reminds me of what you told +me about the shape of the earth.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> I do not see, <span class="smcap">Harry</span>, how you connect the two +subjects. There is a vast difference between this planet and a +Pantomime.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> Indeed, Sir, there is; for our planet is entirely round, +and this Pantomime is remarkably flat.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> Beware of such wholesale condemnations, my dear +<span class="smcap">Harry</span>; this Pantomime has already given delight to some twenty +thousand persons, every one, it may be, as good as yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Tommy</span> was much pleased, however, at <span class="smcap">Harry's</span> application of a +scientific fact, and expressed his determination of learning Astronomy +at once, in order that he might be as ready as <span class="smcap">Harry</span> on +any suitable occasion.</p> + +<p>On quitting the theatre, <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> promised the box-keeper a +sixpence, whereat the poor man could scarcely refrain from embracing +his benefactor. So they left.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Next Night—covent Garden.</span>—Here they saw the Pantomime +of <i>Blue Beard</i>. As each new Scene presented itself to their view, +they were vehemently enraptured, and thought that no expression +of praise could suffice to express their pleasure.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> Certainly the scenery is very beautiful.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> The ladies are indeed lovely!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> They are mortal.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> O, here is <i>Blue Beard's</i> procession! I know the story! +And here are the Camels, and—O!—a White Elephant!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> The Camel, my dear <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, is found chiefly in +burning climates. In his temper he is gentle and tractable, and his +patience in being——</p> + +<p><i>Audience.</i> Hush! Order! Turn him out!</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> Indeed, Sir, they are alluding to you! Would it not be +better to remain silent, and watch a Scene which gives everyone so +much gratification?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> perceived the sense of this remark, and confined +himself to explaining to <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, in an undertone, that <span class="smcap">Mr. Macdermott</span>, +who played <i>Blue Beard</i>, had been, till lately, an actor at +the Grecian Theatre, where he was considered "funny;" but that +here his humour seemed to be limited to an imitation of one <span class="smcap">Mr. +Clarke</span>, an actor of burlesque parts most favourably known to +playgoers; and, indeed, the audience seemed to be largely of <span class="smcap">Mr. +Barlow's</span> mind, for it was not until <i>Mr. Blue Beard</i> danced, +which he did cleverly, that they testified their approbation of his +drolleries.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> This Scene of the Amazons' Encampment will attract +the whole town. It is indeed a magnificent spectacle.</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> There must be thousands on the stage!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> smiled at this, and was about to demonstrate, mathematically, +the improbability of more than three hundred of the <i>corps +de ballet</i> being on the scene at once, when his attention was attracted +to the Grand Transformation Scene by vociferous applause, in which +he was conscientiously able to join. On their quitting the theatre, +at eleven o'clock, the boys were loud in their praises of what they +had seen.</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> How diverting were those French dancers! and the +Shadows!</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> And the Clown with the two boys! and their fiddles and +musical bells!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Barlow.</i> You are right. With the comic scenes and the +Clown came the fun peculiar to this species of amusement, of which +there was, amid all the glitter and splendour, a lack. And perhaps +this is as it should be; for why term the Harlequinade "the Comic +Scenes," unless they are so by comparison with the previous portion +of the Pantomime?</p> + +<p><i>Harry.</i> Your observation, Sir, reminds me of the entertaining story +of <i>Sophronius</i> and <i>Kydaspes</i>, which <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> has not yet heard.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span> was about to commence the tale without further parley, +when it was discovered that <span class="smcap">Tommy</span> had slipped out of the room, +and had, it was supposed, retired to bed. <span class="smcap">Mr. Barlow</span> therefore +intimated that, as <i>he</i> had heard the story before, it would be better +if they both followed their young friend's example.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Harry</span> submitted to this arrangement; and when the two boys were +assured that their worthy preceptor was asleep, they took his latchkey, +and sallied forth to enjoy themselves at <span class="smcap">Evans's</span> supper-rooms.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> +A VIRTUOUS VESTRY.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:25%;"> +<a href="images/005.png"><img width="100%" src="images/005.png" alt="B" /></a> +</div> + +<p>E it known that a sort of +Fair or miscellaneous Market +is held in the New Cut +(excuse mention of such a +place) every Sunday morning. +There do people of +the baser sort buy their +Sunday dinners, and other +matters which they fancy +they want. The Lambeth +Vestry, justly indignant +at such goings on, appealed +to <span class="smcap">Colonel Henderson</span> +to put a stop to +them. That haughty and +sarcastic official declared +that he should do nothing +of the sort, unless the +shopkeepers who keep +their shops open on Sundays +were also obliged to +respect the day of rest. +We pity the Colonel's want +of logical power. What is +there in common between +a respectable shopkeeper, who pays rates, and a low person who +wheels a barrow, or rents the flap over a cellarage? The Vestry +scorned such terms, and have been taking the names of the vendors +at this fair, and such addresses as the miserable creatures could +give. Summonses have been issued, but the matter stands over +for a few weeks.</p> + +<p>At the end of that time, <i>Mr. Punch</i> cordially trusts that the +Lambeth Vestry will sternly carry out their plan for promoting the +respectability of the New Cut, and if <span class="smcap">Colonel Henderson</span> again +refuses to help them, let appeal be made to <span class="smcap">Mr. Bruce</span>. There is +not the least pretence for holding the Fair. Let the people in and +about the New Cut buy their fish, meat, and the rest of their luxuries +on Saturday. What is to prevent them from doing so. Wages +are always paid at an early hour on Saturday, and by four o'clock +on that day the wife of an artisan has always received from her +husband the bulk of his earnings, less perhaps by a trifle which she +playfully returns to him, that he may have a pipe and a pint before +going to bed. He would be considered a bad fellow if he did not +give her the money, or if she had to coax it out of him late, or to +take it from his pocket when he had sunk into the gentle slumber of +intoxication. That he should surlily refuse it, and strike her, and +force her to wait until morning brought better temper, is too monstrous +an idea. "Our flesh and blood" never does this sort of thing.</p> + +<p>Let the Wife therefore make her purchases on Saturday. Let her +take her fish and meat home. We are perfectly aware that they are +perishable articles, but we suppose that they can be put into the +pantry down-stairs, or that, if domestics or cats are distrusted, the +food can be placed in the refrigerator. That article is cheap enough, +anyhow, and a very good one can be got for three or four guineas, +and it is the affectation of ignorance to say that ice is not at hand, +for we know that the Wenham Lake carts go round several times a +week—this we state from our own knowledge, and we hate sentimentality. +By this means not only will offence to the refined +natures of the Lambeth Vestry be avoided, but the vendors of the +articles will be released from work, and enabled to attend places of +worship. To their own declaration that but for Sunday trade they +must go to the workhouse, we lend a deaf ear. Morality cannot +yield to Necessity. A prudent man will earn his income in six days. +If he cannot, we must echo the remark made by a conscientious +person at a meeting on the subject, and say, "Let him starve."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Punch</i> strongly upholds the Lambeth Vestry in this business, +and thinks their conduct quite worthy of the reputation they have +so long borne. He is much displeased with the Colonel of Police, +and hopes never to have to say, in <span class="smcap">Mr. Pope's</span> words—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Stern <span class="smcap">Henderson</span> repented,</p> +<p>And gave them back the Fair."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>If Vestries will enforce Sabbatarianism, and if Alliances will +totally deprive the weaker classes of the Refreshments of which +they mostly make bad use, we shall raise the standard of national +morals, and entirely efface the discontent which some persons believe +is felt with national institutions.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Seasonable Sentiment.</span>—May the Commission of Inquiry into +the Megæra business get to the bottom of it!</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>HOROSCOPE FOR 1872.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">With</span> the aid of this ingenious little instrument, the horoscope, +which is simple in construction, easily cleaned, and to be had of all +respectable dealers throughout the kingdom in gold, silver, mother-of-pearl, +ormolu, aluminium, and other suitable materials, a clear +insight may be obtained, on a fine evening, into the more salient +events of the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy-two.</p> + +<p>The observations we have been enabled to make with one of these +instruments (fitted with the patent self-acting forecaster) are so +startling that, without loss of time, we hasten to lay them before +the world, for the guidance and direction of reigning Sovereigns, +Cabinet Ministers, School-Boards, Members of Parliament, Mayors, +Magistrates, Mothers of Marriageable Daughters, Managers of +Theatres, Newspaper Editors, Speculators, and others, who may be +desirous to make their arrangements at once for the ensuing twelve +months.</p> + +<p>Parliament will meet early in February, a few days after it ceases +to be legal to slaughter pheasants. It will be prorogued early in +August, about the period when grouse-shooting becomes a lawful +pastime.</p> + +<p>The <span class="smcap">Home Secretary</span> will withdraw several measures in the +course of the Session.</p> + +<p>The London School-Board, by the active interposition of its +Beadles, will clear the streets of from ten to twenty children.</p> + +<p>Australian meat will appear on the bill of fare at the Lord +Mayor's banquets.</p> + +<p>In the month of February a most serious astronomical occurrence +will take place, one which ought to make a great noise in the world, +and is likely to be attended with disastrous consequences to those who +may be unfortunate enough to be on the spot—<i>the full moon will +fall</i> on Saturday, the 24th.</p> + +<p>There will be at least one new cookery-book published during the +year.</p> + +<p>Good port wine will become scarcer and dearer than ever.</p> + +<p>The <span class="smcap">Chancellor of the Exchequer</span> will, in his annual Budget, +propose a tax upon one or more of the following articles:—calling +cards, dolls, pins, perambulators, umbrellas, and wigs.</p> + +<p>The Mines Regulation Bill will be brought before Parliament; +also the <span class="smcap">Collier</span> affair.</p> + +<p>There will be a show (the first) of guinea-pigs, white mice, parrots, +bullfinches, and squirrels at the Crystal Palace. The <span class="smcap">Duchess +Of Launceston</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Ida Down</span>, and the Honourable <span class="smcap">Mrs. Alfred +Warblemore</span> will act as Judges.</p> + +<p>Several new animals will be added to the collection in the Zoological +Gardens.</p> + +<p>The jury in the Tichborne case will retire when the trial is concluded, +and, after deliberating for several days, will return into +Court late at night, and deliver their Verdict amidst breathless +silence. The <span class="smcap">Lord Chief Baron</span> will have a sleeping apartment +fitted up in the Westminster Sessions House, that no time may be +lost in calling him up to receive the verdict.</p> + +<p>Several Colonial Bishops will return home.</p> + +<p>An eye should be kept on the Pope, the Orleans Princes, the Irish +Roman Catholic Bishops, the Publicans, the Republicans, the +Spiritualists, the Ritualists, <span class="smcap">Sir Charles Dilke</span>, <span class="smcap">Mr. Whalley</span>, +<span class="smcap">Mr. Butt</span>, and <span class="smcap">Mr. Brock</span>, the pyrotechnist, as they may all be +expected to do extraordinary things.</p> + +<p>An eminent Archdeacon of the Established Church, well known +in the West of England, will conduct the services at <span class="smcap">Mr. Spurgeon's</span> +Tabernacle, and <span class="smcap">Mr. Spurgeon</span> will exchange pulpits with him.</p> + +<p>A new Opera will be brought out on the last night but two of +the season.</p> + +<p>There will be some failures in the City, and constant stoppages in +the streets.</p> + +<p>The British Public will remit large sums of money for the relief of +the Chinese, and allow charitable institutions at home to languish +for want of funds.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. John Brown</span>, <span class="smcap">Mr. Thomas Jones</span>, <span class="smcap">Mr. William Robinson</span>, +<span class="smcap">Mr. James Thompson</span>, <span class="smcap">Mr. Charles Jackson</span>, and <span class="smcap">Mr. Henry +Smith</span> will contract matrimonial alliances after harvest.</p> + +<p>The Gulf Stream will be heard of again, probably for the last +time, the tendency of modern scientific investigation being to show +up that bugbear as a humbug.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Disraeli</span> will deliver an address <i>de omnibus rebus et quibusdam +aliis</i>, at Glasgow at Easter, and on Cottage Cookery at +Hughenden in the autumn.</p> + +<p>Letters will be addressed to <span class="smcap">Mr. Gladstone</span> demanding explanations +from him as to his religion, his relations, his favourite poet, +and his private account at his banker's.</p> + +<p>Oysters will be sixpence apiece.</p> + +<p>Spain will have one or two new Ministries.</p> + +<p>The estimates will include a vote for the purchase of robes and a +wig for the new <span class="smcap">Speaker</span>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/006.png"><img width="100%" src="images/006.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>A VOICE FROM THE SEA.</h2> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">O let me Kiss him for his Mother!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>MARK LEMON.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> became our duty, some weeks ago, to invite the attention of our +readers to the fact that a Memorial Fund, in aid of the Widow and +unmarried Daughters of our late lamented friend, <span class="smcap">Mark Lemon</span>, had +been opened. On a page at the end of our present issue will be +found the list of those who have subscribed to the Fund. Several +donors have been generous, many have been very liberal, and thanks +are due to those who have "done what they could." But the aggregate +amount as yet obtained is altogether inadequate to the purpose, +that of making a permanent provision for those so dear to one +who never lost an opportunity of doing a kindness. It is with +reluctance that, after examining the list, we admit to ourselves +that very much is owed to private friendship, and comparatively +little to public recognition of the noble character and the merits of +<span class="smcap">Mark Lemon</span>. Believing, as we sincerely believe, that we may +account for this by supposing that thousands are still unacquainted +with the fact that their aid is invited, we re-iterate our Appeal. +We venture also to ask our contemporaries, who have already so +ably and kindly promoted the object, again to perform that labour +of love. We, lastly, call attention to the notice at the foot of the +list, stating how subscriptions can be forwarded. Some misapprehension +on this point may have retarded the liberality which +we refuse to believe will not be shown to those who possess such +inherited and such personal claim to the kindly consideration of all.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>Juvenile Gulosity.</h2> + +<p>A <span class="smcap">Sage</span> said to a Schoolboy, home for the holidays, "A contented +mind is a continual feast." "Is it?" quoth young Hopeful, "I +should rather say that a continual feast was a contented mind."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>THE RETICENCE OF THE PRESS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The American Press</span> admires the reticence which the British +Press has practised during the seventy odd days occupied in hearing +one side of a cause which will be celebrated. The English Press +also takes credit to itself for that reticence. It is, doubtless, exemplary. +By not interfering with, we know how much it furthers, +the administration of Justice. A trial such as the great lawsuit now +pending, or any other in a British Court of Law, is determined, +we all know, simply by the weight of evidence, in relation to which +the minds of the jury are mere scales. The Counsel on either side +respectively confine themselves to the production of true evidence +each on behalf of his client, and the refutation of false evidence +advanced for the opposite party. The Judge is the only person in +Court who expresses any opinion on the case which could possibly +influence the jury; his opinion being expressed under the obligation +of strict impartiality. No barrister, whether counsel for the plaintiff +or the defendant, ever attempts to bias their decision either by +sophistry or appeals to their passions and prejudices. It is therefore +highly necessary that the Press should abstain as strictly as it +does from any explanation or argument with reference to a pending +suit which, how sincerely soever meant to instruct, might possibly +have the effect of misleading the jury sitting thereon.</p> + +<p>If, indeed, Counsel were usually accustomed to employ the arts of +oratory, and the dodges of dialectics, in order to make the worst +appear the better cause in the eyes of twelve men more or less liable +to be deceived and deluded, then, indeed, the reticence of a respectable +and intelligent Press, in abstaining from any remarks capable +of helping a jury to deliver a righteous verdict, would not perhaps +be quite so purely advantageous as it is now.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>Riddle for the Young Folks.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Why</span> are the two letters at the tail the most sensible of all the +Alphabet?—Because they are the <i>Wise Head</i>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/007.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>THE BIG CRACKER.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Punch.</span> "PULL AWAY, MY DEAR! I'LL BET YOU A KISS IT CONTAINS SOMETHING WE SHALL BOTH LIKE. PULL AWAY!"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> +MY HEALTH.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"> +<a href="images/009.png"><img width="100%" src="images/009.png" alt="T" /></a> +</div> + +<p>ALK over all these +arrangements at +dinner. Then, as +we have, <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> +tells me, to be up +early for otter-hunting, +we determine +upon going +to bed early.</p> + +<p><i>Process of Going +to Bed Early.</i>—<span class="smcap">Mrs. +Pendell</span> retires +at nine, having +seen that "everything +we want" is +left out on the +sideboard. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> +observes that +he shan't be half +an hour at most +before he's upstairs. +I yawn, to +show how tired I +am, and corroborate +his statement as to +the time we intend +to pass in front of +the fire.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Pendell</span> +has retired. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> wishes to know what I'll take. Nothing, +I thank him. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> doesn't "think—um—that—he'll—um—take +anything," and stands before a row of bottles with the critical +air of a Commander-in-Chief reviewing the line. It almost looks +as if he wanted a bottle to step out of the rank and invite him to +make up his mind at once and take a drop of <i>him</i>. In order +not to prevent him from enjoying himself, I sacrifice myself, and +say, "Well, I'll have just the smallest glass of whiskey." <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> +is of opinion that no one can do better than whiskey, it being, he +says, the most wholesome spirit.</p> + +<p>We whiskey. The quarter-past arrives. We take no notice of it, +except that <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> remarks that <i>that</i> clock is about twelve +minutes fast, in which case, of course, we have nearly half an hour +at our disposal. Conversation commences. We somehow get +upon Literature, especially upon the subject of my <i>Analytical +History of Motion</i>. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> quotes a line from somewhere. We +can't think where it is to be found.</p> + +<p>This leads <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> to the book-shelves. While he is up, would +he mind just mixing me the least drop more whiskey—<i>and water</i>, +plenty of water. He does so, and continues his search for the book, +ending by bringing down the <i>Ingoldsby Legends</i>. "Do I remember +this one?" he asks me. No, I have forgotten it. He thinks the +line he quoted is there. He is, he says, going to give it at a Penny +Reading, and has already done so with great success. He reads a +few lines.</p> + +<p><i>Flash.</i>—Ask him to read. Nothing so pleasant as the sound of +some one reading poetry when you're very tired, and are sitting +before a good fire. Light a pipe as an aid to listening comfortably. +Better than going to bed. Besides, if he reads, it's <i>his</i> fault that +we don't go to bed early, as we told <span class="smcap">Mrs. Pendell</span> we would.</p> + +<p>He reads aloud. I interrupt him occasionally (opening my eyes +to do so), just to show I am attending, and twice I dispute the propriety +of his emphasis; but I don't sustain my side of the argument, +from a feeling that to close my eyes and be droned to sleep, is preferable +to straining every nerve in order to talk and keep awake.</p> + +<p><i>11 o'clock</i>, <span class="smcap">P.M.</span>—<span class="smcap">Pendell</span> stops, and says, "Why, you're asleep!" +I reply that he is mistaken (having, in fact, just been awoke by +feeling as if a spring had given way at the nape of my neck), but I +own, candidly, to feeling a little tired.</p> + +<p>"Um!" says <span class="smcap">Pendell</span>, and puts his selection for a Penny Reading +away. Bed.</p> + +<p><i>Morning.</i>—Am aroused by <span class="smcap">Pendell</span>, who is always fresh. "Lovely +morning," he says, opening the curtains. [<i>Note.</i>—When you're +only one quarter awake there's something peculiarly obtrusive in +any remark about the beauty of the day. To a person comfortably +in bed and wishing to remain there, the state of the weather is +comparatively uninteresting, unless it's dismally foggy or thoroughly +rainy, when, in either case, you can congratulate yourself upon your +cleverness and forethought in not having got up.] "Is it?" I ask. +Through the window I see only mist and drizzle.</p> + +<p>"Just the morning for otter-hunting!" exclaims <span class="smcap">Pendell</span>, enthusiastically. +Then, as he's leaving the room, he turns, and says, +"O, by the way, I've just remembered that Old <span class="smcap">Ruddock's</span> pretty +sure to be out with the hounds. He's great fun out hunting."</p> + +<p>This stirs me into something like exertion. Otters and <span class="smcap">Ruddock</span>. +<span class="smcap">Ruddock</span>, during a check, setting the field in a roar.</p> + +<p><i>At Breakfast.</i>—"Um," says <span class="smcap">Pendell</span>, thinking over something +as he cuts a ham, "we shan't want to take anything with us, because +Old <span class="smcap">Penolver</span> gives us lunch. He's a picture of an Old English +Squire is <span class="smcap">Penolver</span>. Quite a picture of a—um—yes——" here he +apparently considers to himself whether he has given a correct +definition of <span class="smcap">Penolver</span> or not. He seems satisfied, and closes his +account of him by repeating, "Yes—um—yes—an Old English +Squire, you know—quite a character in his way," (I thought so,) +"and you'll have pasties and cider."</p> + +<p>"Pasties!" I exclaim. The word recalls Bluff <span class="smcap">King Hal's</span> time, +the jollifications—by my halidame!—gadso!—crushing a cup, and +so forth. Now I have the picture before me (in my mind's eye) of +the Old English Squire, attended by grooms bearing pasties and +flagons, meeting the Otter Hunters with spears and dogs. Good! +Excellent! I feel that My Health will be benefited by the air of the +olden time. And perhaps by the pasties.</p> + +<p>"Do any ladies come?" I ask.</p> + +<p>"Safe to," answers <span class="smcap">Pendell</span>, "last day of hunting—all the +ladies out—sort of show meet, and lounge."</p> + +<p>Pasties, flagons, dames, gallants with lutes, and pages with +beakers of wine. I am all anxiety to start.</p> + +<p><i>The Drive.</i>—Bleak, misty, sharp, dreary. I am in summer costume +of flannels, intended for running. Hope we <i>shall</i> have some +running, as at present I'm blue with cold and shivering.</p> + +<p><i>Six miles finished.</i>—We get out at a tumble-down roadside inn. +Three boys, each one lankier and colder-looking than the other, are +standing together with their hands in their pockets, there being +evidently among them a dearth of gloves. A rough man in a +velveteen coat and leggings appears, carrying a sort of quarter-staff +spiked. I connect him at once with otters. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> returns his +salute. This is the Huntsman. The three chilly boys are the Field. +We are all shivering, and evidently only half awake. Is this what +<span class="smcap">Pendell</span> calls a "show meet, and a lounge?"</p> + +<p><i>Flash.</i>—To say brightly, "Well, it couldn't have been <i>colder</i> for +an <i>otter</i> hunt." The chilly boys hearing this, turn away, the man +with the spear takes it literally and is offended, "because," he says, +"we might ha' had a much worse day." <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> says to himself, +thoughtfully. "Um—<i>colder</i>—<i>otter</i>—ha! Yes, I see. I've made +that myself lots of times." I thought that down here, perhaps, it +wouldn't have been known. Never risk an old joke again. If I +feel it's the only one I've got, preface it by saying, "Of course +you've heard what the Attorney-General said the other day to +(some one)?" and then, if on being told, they say, "O! that's +very old," why it's not your fault.</p> + +<p>A fly appears on the road with the Master. He welcomes <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> +and friend heartily and courteously. Is sorry that it's the last +meet. Thinks it's a bad day, and in the most genial manner possible +damps all my hopes of seeing an otter. "A few weeks ago," +he says, "there were plenty of otters."</p> + +<p><i>Flash.</i>—To find out if that spearing-picture is correct. Show myself +deeply interested in otters.</p> + +<p>The Master says that spearing is unsportsmanlike. Damper +number two. No spears. We walk on, and get a little warmer.</p> + +<p>More "Field" meets us: some mounted.</p> + +<p><i>Note on Otter-Hunting.</i>—Better than fox-hunting, because you +trust to <i>your own</i> legs. You can't be thrown, you can't be kicked +off, or reared off; and, except you find yourself alone with the +otter in a corner, there's no danger.</p> + +<p><i>Note Number Two. Additional.</i>—Yes, there is one other danger. +A great one.</p> + +<p>Here it is:—</p> + +<p>We have been walking miles along the banks of a stream, crossing +difficult stepping-stones, climbing over banks eight feet high +[thank goodness, impossible for horses], with drops on the other +side, and occasional jumpings down, which shake your teeth, +but still you land on <i>your own</i> legs, and if you fall you haven't got +a brute on the top of you, or rolling over you, or kicking out your +brains with his hind hoofs. We number about sixty in the Field. +The shaggy, rough hounds are working up-stream, swimming and +trotting, and stopping to examine the surface of any boulder which +strikes their noses as having been lately the temporary resting-place +of an otter. A few people on horseback are proceeding, slowly +in single file, along the bank. Difficult work for them. Ladies, too, +are on foot, and all going along as pleasantly as possible. Suddenly +a cry—a large dog is seen shaking its head wildly, and rubbing his +front paws over his ears—another dog is rolling on the bank—another +plunges into the river furiously, also shaking his head +as if he was objecting to everything generally, and would rather +drown than change his opinions.</p> + +<p>Another cry.</p> + +<p>Horses plunging—one almost into the river—shrieks of ladies—exclamations +from pedestrians—the field is scattered—some attempt +to ford the river—some jump right in—some on horseback cross it +shouting—some plunge into the plantation on the left—some are +running back upon us! A panic.</p> + +<p>Mad bull, perhaps—if so—with admirable presence of mind I +jump into the water up to my waist, and am making for the opposite +side, when a man, running and smoking a short pipe, answers +my question as to the bull with—</p> + +<p>"No! Wasps! Wasps' nest!!" In a second I see them. <i>At</i> +me. Pursuing me. I dive my head under water. Wet through! +Scramble up bank. One wasp is after me. One pertinaciously. +My foot catches in a root, I am down. Wasp down too, close at my +ear. A minute more I am up. Wasp up too, by my right ear.</p> + +<p><i>An Inspiration.</i>—It flashes across me that wasps hate mud. +Don't know where I heard it. Think it was in some child's educational +book. No time for thinking. Jump—squish—into the mud! +Over my knees—boots nearly off. The last thing I see of <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> +is holding on his spectacles with his left hand, and fighting a wasp +with his stick in his right. Squish—flop—flosh!... Up against a +stump—down in a morass. Wasp at me. Close to my ear as if he +wanted to tell me a secret. I won't hear it! Now I understand why +the dog shook his head. Through a bramble bush (like the Man +in the Nursery Rhyme, who scratched both his eyes out and in +again by a similar operation), and come out torn and scratched, +but dry as a pen after being dragged through a patent wiper of +erect bristles. No wasp. Gone. I am free. But still I keep on.</p> + +<p>That's the only great danger in Otter-Hunting. At least, that I +know of at present.</p> + +<p>I pick up the man with pipe. Kindest creature in the world. He +has two pipes, and he fills and gives me one. He says, "Wasps +won't attack a smoker."</p> + +<p><i>Flash.</i>—Smoke.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pendell</span> comes up. "Um!—aha!" he says; "narrow escape!" +He has <i>not</i> been stung.</p> + +<p>The Field is pulling itself together again. <span class="smcap">Pendell</span> chuckles. +"Did you see Old <span class="smcap">Ruddock</span>?" he asks. "There were two wasps +at him."</p> + +<p>No! It appears that Old <span class="smcap">Ruddock</span> has been quite close to me +throughout the day. Yet there was no laughing crowd, and I +haven't heard one of <span class="smcap">Ruddock's</span> jokes bruited about. Odd. Wonder +how the wasps liked <span class="smcap">Ruddock</span>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> <a href="images/010.png"><img width="100%" src="images/010.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON.</h2> + +<p><i>Squire</i> (<i>who interests himself with the Moral and Material Condition of his +Peasantry</i>). "<span class="smcap">Hullo, Woodruff! what an Eye you've got! How did you +get that?!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Labourer.</i> "<span class="smcap">O, it's nawthin' Partic'lar, Sir. Last Night—at the +White 'Art, Sir. But</span>—(<i>in extenuation</i>)—<span class="smcap">Chrishmash Time, Sir—on'y Once +a Year!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>MONODY ON M'GRATH.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Master M'Grath</span> has passed away;</p> +<p>He breathed his last on Christmas Day.</p> +<p>He quitted this terrestrial sphere,</p> +<p>In doghood's prime—his twice-third year.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He was a dog of high repute.</p> +<p>But now he'll be for ever mute.</p> +<p>—Though living he gave little tongue—</p> +<p>Ah, well! the dogs we love die young.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">Master M'Grath</span>, old Ireland's pride,</p> +<p>The fleetest Saxon dogs defied,</p> +<p>Alike to run with him or kill:</p> +<p>His legs, once limber, now are still.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>This peerless paragon of hounds,</p> +<p>Did win his good lord—<span class="smcap">Lurgan</span>—pounds</p> +<p>By thousands; dog as good as horse—</p> +<p>The canine Courser is a corpse.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He was presented to the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>,</p> +<p>As many a puppy may have been,</p> +<p>Who yet that honour lives to boast—</p> +<p>But is not worth the dog that's lost.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="smcap">M'Grath</span> returns to his Dam Earth.</p> +<p>The papers mostly to his worth</p> +<p>Publish a tribute, not too long,</p> +<p>A paragraph—and here's a song.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They won't continue, for a week,</p> +<p>Each day about <span class="smcap">M'Grath</span> to speak</p> +<p>In memoirs, and in leading columns,</p> +<p>To preach of prosy sermons volumes.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Upon the Dog defunct that lies</p> +<p>Briefest is best to moralise,</p> +<p>As every dog, then, let us say,</p> +<p>Must have, <span class="smcap">M'Grath</span> has had his day.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>Happy Dispatch.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> have just read in a delightful book that "Japanese +verse is for the most part lyric or descriptive." It +is of two kinds, "Uta," of purely native growth, and +"Shi," of Chinese origin and structure. The difference +between the Japanese and the English is that nearly +all the modern poetry of the latter is Shi.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>RAILWAY REFORM.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> a meeting of Railway Directors, which will probably be held +in the middle of next week, it will be resolved, in order to increase +the safety of the public, that no pointsman, guard, or engine-driver, +shall ever be on duty much more than six-and-forty hours +at a stretch; and that every such servant shall always, when on +duty, be allowed at least four minutes, no less than three times +daily, for enjoyment of his meals. With the like view of security, +it will also be resolved that porters shall on branch lines be required +to act as pointsmen, signalmen, and ticket-clerks, and that due and +timely notice of the changes in the time-bills shall on no account be +furnished to the drivers of goods trains.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>To the Afflicted.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">A word</span> of comforting advice to all those—and they are many—both +men and women, who are nursing a secret sorrow, grieving that +they are short, small of stature, below the average size. Let them +think of those more than consolatory words, in that famous passage +in <i>Henry the Eighth</i>, where <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> speaks of—"the blessedness +of being little."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> <a href="images/011.png"><img width="100%" src="images/011.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>EASILY SOLD.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>Railway Station in a Town where Highland Regiment is quartered. Foxhunters taking Train for the Meet.</i></p> + +<p><i>Little London Gent.</i> "<span class="smcap">He ain't going out Hunting, too, is he?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Funny Friend.</i> "<span class="smcap">Of course he is.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Little London Gent.</i> "<span class="smcap">Well, but—won't it be rather Risky riding in those——Togs?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>HINTS ON CHRISTMAS SHOPPING.</h2> + +<h3>(<i>By a good Old-fashioned Clown.</i>)</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Knock</span> at a shop-door, and then lie down flat in front of it, so +that the shopman, coming out, may tumble headlong over you. +Then bolt into the shop, and cram into your pockets all the big +things you can find, so that in trying to get out, you cannot squeeze +them through the doorway. For instance, if it be a watchmaker's, +clap an eight-day kitchen clock and a barometer or two, let us say, +in your right pocket, and a brass warming-pan, or some such little +article of jewellery (as you will take care to call it) in your left one; +taking pains, of course, to let the handle stick well out of it. If it +be a butcher's, pouch a leg of beef and half a sheep or so, and be +sure not to forget to bring a yard or two of sausages trailing on the +ground behind you. Then, if you can't squeeze through the doorway, +the simplest plan will be to jump clean through the shop-front, +and in doing this take care to smash as many panes of glass as you +are able, crying out, of course, that you took "great pains" to do +so. <i>En passant</i>, you will kick into the street whatever goods are +in the window, and then run off as quickly as your heels can carry +you.</p> + +<p>If the shopman should pursue you, as most probably he will, make +him a low bow, and say that it was really quite an accident, and +that of course you mean to pay him—indeed, yes, "on your <i>honour</i>!" +If he won't believe you, punch him in the waistcoat, and batter +him about with his barometer and warming-pan, or sausages and +mutton.</p> + +<p>Should a policeman interfere, and want to know what you are up +to, catch up your red-hot poker (which you will always have about +you), and hold it hidden behind your back, while you beg him to +shake hands with you, because you mean to "square the job" with +him. Then, when he puts his hand out, slap the poker into it, and +run away as fast as your stolen goods will let you.</p> + +<p>But after a few steps, of course you must take care to let the +handle of your warming-pan get stuck between your legs, and trip +you up occasionally; and you will manage that your sausages become +entangled so about you that, at every second step, you are obliged +to tumble down and roll along the ground, and double up into a +heap, till the policeman, who keeps up the chace, comes close enough +to catch you. Then you will spring up again, and, jumping on his +back, you will be carried off to Bow Street, with the small boys +shouting after you; or, else, if you prefer it, you may "bonnet" +the policeman, and run away and hide yourself ere he can lift his +hat up, to see where you are gone to.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>SCIENCE FOR THE SEASON.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sir Charles Lyell</span>, according to a correspondent of the <i>Daily +Telegraph</i>, is credited with the saying that there are three things +necessary for a geologist: the first is to travel; the second is to +travel; and the third, also, is to travel. This seems to mean that +your geologist must travel, travel, travel over the face of the earth +in order to be enabled to explore its interior. The earth is round; +so is your plum-pudding: the earth has a crust; so has your mince-pie. +Happily, conditions like those needful for the exploration of +the earth do not delay analogous researches.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>Problem for the Poet Laureate.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Knights of <span class="smcap">King Arthur's</span> Round Table of course formed a +Circle when they sat round it. Tournaments in general used to +come off in lists; but can the Author of <i>The Last Tournament</i> +inform a Spiritualist whether, in a <i>sÈance</i> of <span class="smcap">Arthur's</span> Knights at +Table, there was ever any table-tilting?</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> +MRS. WASHTUB ON TELEGRAMS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah, drat them nasty telegrams that keeps folks all in sitch a flurry,</p> +<p>Whenever there's the least to-do, with constant worry, worry, worry!</p> +<p>I recollect in my young days when there was no sitch expectation,</p> +<p>And news to travel took its time, suspense was bore with resignation.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What was to be, we used to say, would be, and couldn't be prewented,</p> +<p>Which 'twas consolin' for to think, and made one happy and contented.</p> +<p>What would be we should live to see, if we lived long enough, 'twas certain,</p> +<p>And p'raps it might a mercy be the future was behind the curtain.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Misfortunes came, as come they must, in this here wale of trile and sorrow.</p> +<p>But then, if bad news come to-day, no news was like to come to-morrow.</p> +<p>No news was good news people said, and hoped meanwhile they might be better,</p> +<p>Leastways until the next day's post brought 'em a paper or a letter.</p> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Tis true, relief as soon may come, sometimes, by artificial light'nin'.</p> +<p>When days and weeks of dark and storm you've undergone afore the bright'nin':</p> +<p>All's well as ends well, thanks be praised, the croakers found theirselves mistaken—</p> +<p>But by them plaguy telegrams how my poor old narves have bin shaken!</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christmas Present for the Claimant.</span>—<i>Coleridge's Works.</i></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>TWELFTH NIGHT.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> closing night of the Christmas season is observed by every +nation in Europe, except Switzerland, in which country the Republican +form of government introduced by <span class="smcap">W. Tell</span> (the first President), +prevents the recognition of Kings and Queens.</p> + +<p>Throughout England, particularly in those rural districts where +the study of physics is yet in its infancy, great importance is +attached to the weather on Twelfth Day. The occurrence of rain, +or wind, or sleet, or snow, or hail, or the appearance of the Aurora +Borealis over the roofs of the Bank of England is considered a most +favourable augury, and in some counties determines the day on +which the sowing of the Spring wheat commences. But the slightest +indication of the Zodiacal light is dreaded as a sure forerunner of the +turnip-fly, and the connection of a parhelion with protracted drought +is established by a long series of observations, reaching as far back +as the Reformation.</p> + +<p>Most lawyers are of opinion that under the provisions of an old +Act of Parliament, still unrepealed, it is illegal to solicit a Christmas +box after twelve o'clock on the 6th of January.</p> + +<p>If Twelfth Night falls on a Sunday, the harvest will be late; if +on a Monday, the back door should be carefully looked to on the long +evenings; if on a Tuesday, pilchards will be caught in enormous +quantities; if on a Wednesday, the silkworms will suffer; if on a +Thursday, there will be no skating on the Serpentine during the rest +of the year; if on a Friday, the apple crop will be a failure; and if +on a Saturday (as this year), you should on no account have your +hair cut by a red-haired man who squints and has relations in +the colonies. The sceptic and the latitudinarian may smile superciliously +at these predictions, but they have been verified by inquiries +conducted at centres as wide apart as Bury St. Edmunds, Rotherham, +Dawlish, Rickmansworth, Kirkcudbright, and Cape Clear.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christmas Present for Sir Charles Dilke.</span>—Packet of Court +Plaster and some Household Bread.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>NEW YEAR'S "<i>NOTE</i>" TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Punch</span>, in spite of his emphatic and repeated Notices and +Explanations, being still copiously afflicted with Communications +from Persons whom he has not invited to take the liberty of addressing +him, issues the following <span class="cursive">Note</span>, and advises such persons to study +it closely.</p> + +<p>He calls them "Correspondents," but does so only for convenience. +A Correspondent means a person who not only writes, but to whom +the recipient of the letter also writes. Ninety-nine out of a hundred +of those who address <i>Mr. Punch</i> are, and will be, unanswered, +except by this Note.</p> + +<p>Let all understand that he is answerable for the real or supposed +value of No literary or artistic matter which may be sent him, +unasked. This is law. Let all understand that at the earliest +possible moment after his discovery that such matter is useless to +him, it is Destroyed. This is fact.</p> + +<p>Notice also that stamped and directed envelopes, for the return +of such matters, will not operate to the fracture of his rule.</p> + +<p>After this notice, "Correspondents" will have no one but themselves +to thank for the Snub <i>Mr. Punch's</i> silence implies.</p> + +<p>But is he unwise enough to believe that the plague of foolish +Correspondence will thus be stayed? Verily, no.</p> + +<p>He expects to continue to receive—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>1. Jests that have appeared in his own pages, but which +are warranted to have been invented, or heard, "the other +day."</p> + +<p>2. The jest of the day, one that has been heard a million +times.</p> + +<p>3. Profane, and even lower jests, sent by creatures who +pretend to be readers of <i>Punch</i>.</p> + +<p>4. Idiotic jests, usually laid upon the shoulders of "my +little boy," or "my youngest girl." <i>Punch</i> would pity the +children of such parents, but that he generally disbelieves +in the existence of the innocents.</p> + +<p>5. Sketches, to be used in his next without fail, or, if +rejected, to be instantly returned. These burn well, and he +prefers those on cardboard, as they crackle prettily.</p> + +<p>6. Things, literary or artistic, that have been "dashed +off." The mere word "dash" is the cue for instant fire.</p> + +<p>7. Compositions, poor in themselves, whose insertion is +prayed because the authors are poor also. Is <i>Mr. Punch</i> to +perform his charities at the expense of society?</p> + +<p>8. Aged jokes, possibly recently heard for the first time +by the Stupid Sender, but more probably copied from print.</p> + +<p>9. Post-Cards, or communications with the Halfpenny +Stamp. These are all selected by his Deputy-Assistant-Under-Secretary, +and destroyed unread.</p> + +<p>10. Absolute Stupidities.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Let them come. And when a Sender getteth no answer, let him +take counsel with himself, and consider to which of the above Ten +Categories his work belongs. One will certainly fit it. To this +Table <i>Mr. Punch</i> will make reference when he may please to do +so. Let intending Contributors learn it by heart.</p> + +<p>Now, laying down the Chopper of <span class="smcap">Lycurgus</span>, and putting on the +Smile of <span class="smcap">Plato</span>, <i>Mr. Punch</i>, raising the festal goblet, wisheth to all +his faithful and true Disciples, those whose handwritings ever give +him joy and gladness,—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> <a href="images/012.png"><img width="100%" src="images/012.png" alt="" /></a> +<h2>A HAPPY NEW YEAR!</h2> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h3> + +<p>At the top of page 2, there was an illustration (Utile Cum Dulce), a poem +(Old Ghosts and New), and a short clip (Memorandum for Lords of the +Manor). They have all been moved to after the poem (The Nation's +New-Year's Day) that continued from page 1.</p> + +<p>At the top of page 10, there was an illustration (Compliments of the +Season), a poem (Monody on McGrath), and a short clip (Happy Dispatch). +They have all been moved to after the article (My Health) that continued +from page 9.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +62, January 6, 1872, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, LONDON CHARIVARI, JAN 6, 1872 *** + +***** This file should be named 37779-h.htm or 37779-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/7/7/37779/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Ernest Schaal, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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