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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, April 2, 1919

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, April 2, 1919

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, April 2, 1919

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 156.


April 2, 1919.


CHARIVARIA.

A Liverpool grocer was fined last week for overcharging for margarine, eggs, cheese, ham, bacon, cocoa, jam and suet. Any other nation, it is pointed out, would have had a man like that at the Peace Conference.


The strike of wives, as proposed by a weekly paper, did not materialise. The husbands' threat to employ black-legs (alleged silk) appears to have proved effective.


A Reigate resident advertises in a daily newspaper for the recovery of a human jawbone. It is supposed that the owner lost it during a Tube rush.


"London from above," says a Daily Mail correspondent, "is gloriously, tenderly, wistfully beautiful." We rather gather that it is the lid of Carmelite House that gives it just that little note of wistfulness.


"How to Prepare Marble Beef" is the subject of a contemporary's "Hints to Young Housekeepers," We had always supposed that that sort of thing could be safely left to the butcher.


The demobilised members of a Herefordshire band have all grown too big for their uniforms. The contra-bombardon man, we understand, also complains that his instrument is too tight round the chest.


"The one unselfish friend of man is the dog," said Sir FREDERICK BANBURY, M.P. A less courageous man would certainly have mentioned the PRESIDENT of the United States.


A correspondent who signs himself "Selborne" writes to inform us that about 9 A.M. last Thursday he noticed a pair of labourers building within a stone's-throw of Catford Bridge.


A Hendon man has just completed sixty-two years in a church choir. Few choir-boys can boast of such a record.


One of the young recruits who joined the army last week in Dublin is seven feet two inches in height. It is satisfactory to note that he is on our side.


It is reported that seven cuckoos have been heard in different parts of the country during the past week. It is felt in some quarters that it may be just one cuckoo on a route march.


"Bacon Free Yesterday," says a headline. Somebody must have left the door open.


An American scientest claims to have discovered a harmless germ likely to defeat the "flu" microbe. It is said that some medical men have put up a purse and that the two germs are being matched to fight a ten round contest under National Sporting Club rules.


Those who have said that the unemployment donation makes for prolonged holiday have just been dealt a sorry blow. It appears that one North of England man in receipt of this pay has deliberately started work.


Plans for the housing of 12,000 Government clerks have just been passed. While 12,000 may suffice for a nucleus, we cannot help thinking that once again the Government isn't really trying.


A postman going his rounds at Kingston found a deserted baby on the lawn of a front garden. It speaks well for the honesty of postal servants that the child was at once given up.


We are pleased to announce with regard to the German waiter who, in 1913, gave a Scotsman a bad sixpence for change, that reassuring news has just reached Scotland that the fellow, is still alive.


A morning paper states that a gentleman who had been at the War Office since August 1914 was given a big reception on his return home. The name of the Departmental Chief whom he had been waiting to see has not yet been disclosed.


A morning paper tells us that FRISCO of New York, who is alleged to have invented the Jazz, has declined an invitation to visit London. Coward!


By the way, they might have told us whether the offer to FRISCO came from London or New York. Meanwhile we draw our own conclusions.


With reference to the horse that recently refused at the third jump and ran back to the starting-post, we are asked to say that this only proves the value of backing horses both ways.


"No man," says a writer in a daily paper, "can sit down and see a girl standing in a crowded Tube train." This no doubt accounts for so many men closing their eyes whilst travelling.


Mr. DEVLIN, M.P., has communicated to the Press a scheme for solving the Irish problem. This is regarded by Irish politicians generally as a dangerous precedent.


A defendant in a County Court case heard in London last week stated in his evidence that two of his daughters were working and the other was a typist at the Peace Conference.


"HOW PLEASANT IT IS, MY DEAR HORACE, TO PLAY WITH ONE'S TOYS WITHOUT INCURRING THE RISK OF HAVING ONE'S ENJOYMENT MARRED BY THE TRAGIC DISCOVERY OF THEIR TEUTONIC ORIGIN!"


Commercial Candour.

From a placard in a shop-window:—

"Do you buy Tea, or do you buy our Tea?"


"Should a customer cut his hair and shave at the same time, the price will be one shilling."—Advt. in "Daily Gleaner" (Jamaica).

Not a bit too much for such ambidexterity.


THE PRICE OF FREEDOM.

I thought the cruel wound was whole

Which left my inside so dyspeptic;

That Time had salved this tortured soul,

Time and Oblivion's antiseptic;

That thirty years (the period since

You showed a preference for Another)

Had fairly schooled me not to wince

At being treated like a brother.

When last I saw the shape I wooed

In coils of adipose embedded,

Fondling its eldest offspring's brood

(The image of the Thing you wedded),

I placed my hand upon the seat

Of those affections you had riven

And gathered from its steady beat

That your offence had been forgiven.

And now, to my surprise and pain,

Long past the stage of convalescence,

The wound has broken out again

With symptoms of pronounced putrescence;

And, from the spot where once was laid

Your likeness treasured in a locket,

The trouble threatens to invade

A tenderer place—my trouser pocket.

For AUSTEN (such is rumour's tale),

Faced with a rude financial deadlock,

Is bent on mulcting every male

Who shirks the privilege of wedlock;

With such a hurt Time cannot deal,

And Lethe here affords no tonic;

Nothing but Death can hope to heal

What looks as if it must be chronic.

And yet a solace soothes my brow,

Making my air a shade less gloomy:—

Six shillings in the pound is now

The figure out of which they do me;

But, were we man and wife to-day

(So close the Treasury loves to link 'em),

A grievous super-tax they'd lay

On our coagulated income.

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