قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 4, 1890

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‏اللغة: English

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 4, 1890

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg

الصفحة رقم: 6

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"DEATH AND HIS BROTHER SLEEP."

SHELLEY.
(See Major Marindin's Report to the Board of Trade on the Railway Collision near Eastleigh.)

"THE CAUSE" AND THE EFFECT.

Mr. —— moved, "That this Mass-meeting pledges itself to support the efforts of Messrs. —— & Co.'s men, by joining the Union, and further pledges itself to take all legal efforts to prevent anyone obtaining a job there so long as the dispute lasts." The resolution was carried by acclamation.

Coroner. How is it the child's father cannot get work?

Witness. Because he has no Union card.

Coroner. Then if men do not belong to the different Trades Unions they must starve.—Coroner's Inquest Report.

ALL VERY VINE!

(With acknowledgments to the White Knight in "Through the Looking-Glass.")

["One of the most interesting exhibits (at the Royal Horticultural Society's Grape and Dahlia Show at Chiswick) were clusters of grapes with the scent and taste of strawberries and raspberries, as grown in Transatlantic hothouses."—Daily Paper.]

I'll tell thee everything I can;

There's little to relate:

I met a simple citizen

Of some "United State."

"Who are you, simple man?" I said,

"And how is it you live?"

And his answer seemed quite 'cute from one

So shy and sensitive.

He said, "I make electric cats

That prowl upon the leads,

To prey upon the brutes who raise

Mad music o'er our heads.

I also make all sorts of things

Which much convenience give;

In fact, I'm an inventor spry,

And that is how I live.

"And I am thinking of a plan

For artificial hens,

And automatic dairy-maids,

And self-propelling pens."

"Such things are stale," I made reply,

"They're old, and flat, and thin.

Tell me the last thing in your pate,

Or I will cave it in!"

His accents mild took up the tale:

He said, "I've tried to make

A sirloin out of turnips, and

A vegetable steak."

I shook him well, from side to side,

To stimulate his brain;

"You've got some newer dodge," I cried,

"And that you must explain."

He said, "I always willingly

Do anything to please.

What do you say to growing grapes

That taste like strawberr-ees!

They're showing off at Chiswick now,

As I a sinner am,

Some big black Hamburgs which, when pressed,

Taste just like raspberry jam."

So now whene'er I drink a glass

Of wine that seems like rum,

Or peel myself an orange that

Reminds me of a plum,

Or if I come across a peach

With flavour like a bilberry,

I weep, for it reminds me so

Of Chiswick's Grape and Dahlia Show,

And that 'cute man I used to know,

Who could at will transform a sloe

Into a thing with the aro-

-ma of all fruits known here below,

From apricot to mulberry.

NATIVE GROWTH.

According to a case about oysters—instead of a case, it ought to have been a barrel—heard before Mr. Alderman WILKIN,—and as the case may be still sub-Aldermanice, we have nothing to say as to its merits or demerits,—it appears, that in September, 1889, the price of Royal Whitstable Natives was 14s. per 100; i.e., 1s. 3d. for a baker's dozen of thirteen. Though why a baker should be allowed "a little one in," be it oysters or anything else, only Heaven and the erudite Editor of Notes and Queries know. But, without further allusion to the baker, who has just dropped in accidentally as he did into the conversation between Mrs. Bardell and Mrs. Cluppins, when Sam Weller joined in, and they all "got a talking," it is enough to make any oyster-lover's mouth water—no doubt the worthy Alderman's did water,—did water "like WILKIN!"—to hear that while everybody, including the worthy Alderman aforesaid, was paying 2s. 6d., and 3s., and even 3s. 6d. for real Natives, some people were gratifying their molluscous tastes at the small charge of One Shilling and Threepence for thirteen, or were getting six oysters and a half—the half be demm'd—for sixpence. Long time is it since we paid 1s. 3d. for Real Royal Natives. They may have left Whitstable at that price, but they never came to our Wits' Table at anything like that figure. Still, to the truly Christian mind it is pleasant, if not consoling, to know that some of our fellow-creatures, not generally so well-favoured as ourselves, should have been able to take advantage of the most favoured Native clause in the Oyster Season of 1889.

*** By the way, in answer to a Correspondent, who signs himself "AN ARTFUL DREDGER, WHO WISHES TO LIVE OUT OF TOWN," we beg to inform him that "Beds" is not a county specially celebrated for oysters.

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