قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 107, December 22, 1894
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
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THE INFANT PHENOMENON.
THE INFANT PHENOMENON.
Little Jap lecturing on the Art of War to the European Representatives.
When the song said Jap Ah Sid was just nothing but a kid
Of what Alcock dubbed "a race grotesque and savage,"
The Wise West had not a notion of the kick-up and commotion,
The naval noise and military ravage,
That same "little kid" would raise; of the pæans of loud praise
The Wise Boy of the East would hear around him.
A pupil of the West he was held, but, upon test,
A teacher, in his way, the West has found him.
Phenomenal young Jappy, Occidental Powers seem happy
To gather round and watch the object lesson
In the wicked Art of War, seeing proof you've carried far
In matters which before we might but guess on.
If a kid, he's not a fool! With his ferula and stool,
His blackboard and his lump of chalk, he's showing
How to work an ironclad! It's amazing that a lad
With a lemon-face should be so wondrous knowing!
He'll teach you to work as he does in the matter of torpedoes,
And how to blow a rival fleet to blazes.
In naval matters practical, strategical and tactical,
The nipper shows a nous that almost dazes.
Though his names and terms sound funny, it is more than even money,
That he hides a lot of wisdom in his lingo.
And what matter baggy breeches, and a speech all "his" and "ichis,"
If this "Boy" can give the Chinese Giant stingo?
His phiz looks flat and pasty, and his head-gear's hardly tasty,
And his eyes are like black-beetles set a-swivel.
But though plain or currant-bunny, and the colour of fresh honey,
He's as full as Hadésu of dash and "divil."
See, those eyes are all a-twinkle! Like the sudu-mushi's tinkle
Fall his accents very suave, but full of gumption;
And you'll hardly now find any to retort, "Oh, teach your granny!"
Or to twit the "little kid" with youth's presumption.
For the stalwart Teuton listens, and the Great Bear's optic glistens,
And the "Melican" "lays low and don't say nuffin',"
Save to whisper to John Bull, "He's no mug, by a jug-full,
Who out of the Chinee has knocked the stuffin'!
Infant phenomenon? Wal, I rayther guess he's gone
And chalked it out a caution. He's a spry 'un!"
And John Bull, who'll have to strain to keep monarch of the main,
Thinks the infant Jap a chap to keep his eye on!
AN EXTRACT FROM A PRIVATE LETTER.
"——And oh, Mabel, a Wretch mistook my Skirt for the 'Bus Apron, the other day, and didn't find out his mistake for ever so long. Of course he was awfully nice about it; so I had to say, it didn't matter. But wasn't it dreadful!"
GENEROSITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
(The Question of the Day.)
Daisy. I want to buy a Christmas present for Jack. Do you see anything you think he would like?
Violet. Here's a morocco case with seven razors, one for each day of the week.
Daisy. Lovely! But Jack's got whiskers and a beard.
Violet. So he has! Then why not this exquisite silver cigar-ash tray?
Daisy. Yes, that would be just the thing; only, unfortunately, Jack never smokes, and always walks out of the room if anybody else does.
Violet. Oh! That's awkward. This drinking-horn—what do you think of it?
Daisy (gloomily). I'm afraid Jack's a Blue Ribbonite.
Violet (after a pause). He needn't use it for drinking from. It would do for a flower-vase, if it had a stand. Anyhow, let's make haste and choose something.
Daisy. I would give him this lovely ink-bottle, only he uses a type-writer. Ah, I have it—a purse!
Violet. The question is whether Jack has it, not you.
Daisy (enthusiastically). Yes, a purse it shall be. Jack never has any money—but that is only a detail. Showy, isn't it?
Violet. Awfully pretty! Made in Germany, too, it says; that makes it so much more romantic.
Daisy (groaning). Come away! Jack's a morbid patriot. Won't look at a thing not made in England. I must choose some other day. And we shall be horribly late for lunch. Really, present-choosing isn't as easy as one thinks!
Violet. Not for Jack, at any rate!
"Charge of the Light Brigade."—My Gas Company's bill.
A "B. AND S." AT THE SAVOY.
Sir Arthur. "Then Box——"
Sir Author. "And Cox——"
Both. "Are satisfied!"
[Curtain.
"Up in the morning early."
A great deal is expected from the collaboration of Sir Arthur Sullivan and Mr. F. C. Burnand, more especially when the work is staged at the Savoy, and is brought out under the direction of Mr. D'Oyly Carte. The brilliant audience that gathered on Wednesday night for the first performance of The Chieftain evidently came full of expectation, and as evidently went away filled with satisfaction. Twenty-seven years ago, when they were boys together, B. and S. (that sounds friendly and refreshing) brought out an early version of the opera which they called The Contrabandista. After the rehearsal of the new piece had gone forward for some weeks, Arthur Sullivan stumbled over this rather difficult word and sprained his ankle. Whereupon F. C. B., with characteristic promptitude and originality, changed the name to The Chieftain. That is the call-boy's narrative of events. However it be, since the opera has been entirely re-written, enlarged and beautified, it was natural to bestow upon it a new title. On the first night The Chieftain stormed the passes to public favour, and appears likely to occupy them for some time. Nothing brighter in colour,