أنت هنا
قراءة كتاب Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, August 17, 1895
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
of the Balloon Society on the 6th inst., Herr S. A. Andrée read a paper on the projected Polar balloon expedition.... He intended, he said, to go to Spitzbergen and wait for a southerly wind, which would take him very quickly into the Polar regions."
TO CHLOË.
The usual scrambling, headlong letter;
Long vanished are the days of friends
Not otherwise more kind or better,
Who yet excelled in this respect—
In that they grudged not time or trouble
The choicest phrases to select,
Nor wrote their letters "at the double"!
You're but unconsciously reflecting
Our modern life, we cannot halt,
The vice is now beyond correcting,
But yet we sigh for old-world days
When lighter far was toil and worry,
When life was spent in peaceful ways
Without the least idea of hurry.
(The saying's not precisely novel)
That all that glitters is not gold,
The fairy palace proves a hovel,
So, possibly, that age was dull,
And since you've graciously consented
To live to-day—it's wonderful
And wrong, perhaps—but I'm contented!
Five minutes to a swift endeavour
To pen an answer to your note,
But let me sign myself, "Yours ever";
'Tis not an antiquarian taste
Which makes your phrase earn my displeasure
So much as that "you're mine in haste"
Suggests that I'll "repent at leisure"!
One of the Church Militant.—The Venerable Archdeacon Denison celebrated his ninetieth birthday last week. He has been in all the hard fighting, and never shirked. May he yet long be a Denizen amongst us. Prosit!
Mrs. R. says that, though she has known it all her life, yet she could never quite make out what is the meaning of the old saying that "One man can only stand at a door, while another may look over a house."
"Lor' bless yer, Sir, that's all right, Sir! That ain't a Fly, Sir!—That's a bit of Dirt!"
BALLAST FOR THAT BALLOON;
Or, Rubbish to be Shot at the Pole.
(Punch hopes you'll be successful, and he trusts you'll come back soon,)
Could you find a little room for some companions in your car?
We have some whom we should like to see thus travelling afar.
Place aux dames! There's the New Woman whom we really do not want,
And the Female-suffrage female, and the shrieking slave of Cant;
There's the Fashionable Mother who constricts her daughters' waists,
There's the Woman with a Past, who so pollutes the public tastes;
There's the female who is masculine, the male effeminate,
The Hedonist of hollow heart and paradox-muddled pate;
There's that big bore the Degenerate, he'll turn up, divil doubt him!
And that other bore, almost as big, who writes big books about him;
There's the pedlar of Emotions, and the petty foe of Morals,
There's the stirrer up in newspapers of journalistic quarrels;
There's the thorough paced denouncer of Creation's horror—Man;
There's the muckrake wielding maunderer on the Mysteries of Pan;
There's the dirty dynamiter, the neurotic novelist!—
Oh, take them to the Pole, Sir, I'll be happy to assist,
And drop them there—and leave them there—"they never will be missed!"
On account of the vogue for cycling in Battersea Park this summer, the past two months will be remembered as the "Bike-at-Batterseason '95."
BY OUR NOTES-AND-QUERY-MAN.
Mem. for the next Historian of England.
It is probable, from recent discoveries in the Archives of the State Paper Office, that immediately after the time of Cranmer, in consequence of his having recanted two or three times, the See of Canterbury was to have been re-named "The See of Recanterbury." Also the question as to the origin of the name is, we believe, finally settled by the fact having come to light, that, every Archbishop, in consequence of the extent of his diocese and the necessity of his taking exercise, was compelled to be (as was Dr. Tait, and as is the present Archbishop, Dr. Benson) an excellent equestrian, and that the favourite pace for proceeding comfortably and expeditiously was "a canter." The origin of the "bury" has yet to be accounted for, as it has been spelt at various times "bery, "berry", "berie," "burrie," "bury." But Kent being an hop county, and beer the popular beverage from time immemorial, it is highly probable that as "canter" referred to the horse, so "bery" (with the "e" long "beery") referred to the refreshment for man (not for beast) required during the journey. This is from an antiquarian point of view most interesting.
"The Cowes Week."—This, read out aloud to a dairyman and a butcher, sounds bad; as the first would be anxious as to the milk, and the second as to the veal: for he would argue, "If the cow's weak, what'll the calf be?"
The Poet Laureateship in Abeyance.—Why not go to the City for our Poet Laureate? If a name be any indication, the choice ought at once to fall upon "Alderman Rymer."
THE COUNTRY OF COCKAIGNE.
A Monologue—with a Moral.
Scene—An airless Court in a London back street. Time—August.