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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 11, 1890
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 99, October 11, 1890
and, when she died, many dowagers sent wreaths as tokens of their sorrow at the loss of an admirable woman.
VERSES FOR A VIOLINIST.
"The violin has now fairly taken its place as an instrument for girls."—Daily News.
In old days of Art the painter much applause would surely win,
When he showed us Saint Cecilia playing on the violin.
I've no skill of brush and palette like those unforgotten men;
My Cecilia must content herself with an unworthy pen.
Fairy fingers flash before me as the bow sweeps o'er each string;
Like the organ's vox humana, Hark! the instrument can sing.
That sonata of TARTINI's in my ears will linger long;
It might be some prima donna scaling all the heights of song.
Every string a different language speaks beneath her skilful sway.
Does the shade of PAGANINI hover over her to-day?
All can feel the passion throbbing through the music fraught with pain:
Then, with feminine mutation, comes a soft and tender strain.
Gracious curve of neck, and fiddle tucked 'neath that entrancing chin—
Fain with you would I change places, O thrice happy violin!
THE TOURNEY.
["Golf is superseding Lawn-Tennis."—Daily Paper.]
The Champions are mounted, a wonderful pair,
And the boldest who sees them must e'en hold his breath.
Their breastplates and greaves glitter bright in the air;
They have sworn ere they met they would fight to the death.
And the heart of the Queen of the Tournament sinks
At the might of Sir GOLF, the Red Knight of the Links.
But her Champion, Sir TENNIS, the Knight of the Lawn,
At the throne of the lady who loves him bows low:
He fears not the fight, for his racket is drawn,
And he spurs his great steed as he charges the foe.
And the sound of his war-cry is heard in the din,
"Fifteen, thirty, forty, deuce, vantage, I win!"
But the Red Knight, Sir GOLF, smiles a smile that is grim,
And a flash as of triumph has mantled his cheek;
And he shouts, "I would scorn to be vanquished by him,
With my driver, my iron, my niblick and cleek.
Now, TENNIS, I have thee; I charge from the Tee,
To the deuce with thy racket, thy scoring, and thee!"
And the ladies all cry, "Oh, Sir TENNIS, our own,
Drive him back whence he came to his bunkers and gorse."
And the men shake their heads, for Sir TENNIS seems blown,
There are cracks in his armour, and wounds on his horse.
But the Umpire, Sir PUNCH, as he watches says, "Pooh!
Let them fight and be friends; there is room for the two."
A LAMB-LIKE GAMBOL.
Some little time ago we noticed with great satisfaction, that the Committee of the Sunday School Union had advertised in the Athenæum for the "best Tale on Gambling," for which they were anxious to pay One Hundred Pounds sterling. The principal "condition" that the C.S.S.U. attached to their competition was that "the tale must be drawn as far as possible from actual life, and must vividly depict the evils of gambling, setting forth its ruinous effects sociably and morally on the young people of our land." Perhaps the following short story may serve as a model to the candidates. This romance must be considered "outside the competition." Here it is.
PLEASANT POVERTY BETTER THAN WICKED WEALTH!
PETER was a good boy. He went to Sunday school regularly, and always took off his hat to his superiors—he so objected to gambling that he never called them "betters." One day PETER found a sovereign, and fearing, lest it might be a gilded jubilee shilling, decided to spend it upon himself, rather than run the risk of possibly causing the Police to put it in circulation, under the impression that it was a coin of the higher value. He spent ten shillings on a ticket to Boulogne-sur-Mer, and with the remaining half-sovereign played at Chemin de Fer at the Casino. And, alas! this was his first straying from the path of virtue. Unfortunately he was most unlucky (from a moral point of view) in his venture, leaving the tables with a sum exceeding forty pounds. Feeling reluctant that money so ill-gained should remain for very long in his possession, he spent a large slice of it in securing a ticket for Monte Carlo.
Arrived at this dreadful place he backed Zero fifteen times running, was unhappy enough to break the bank, and retired to rest with over ten thousand pounds. He now decided, that he had best return to England, where he felt sure he would be safe from further temptation.
When he was once more in London, he could not make up his mind whether he should contribute his greatly scorned fortune to the Committee of the Sunday School Union, or plank his last dollar on a rank outsider for a place in the Derby. From a feeling of delicacy, he adopted the latter course, and was indescribably shocked to pull off his fancy at Epsom. Thinking that the Committee of the same useful body would refuse to receive money obtained under such painful circumstances, he plunged deeply on the Stock Exchange, and again added considerably to his much-hated store. It was at this period in his history that he married, and then the punishment he had so justly merited overtook him. His wife was a pushing young woman, whose great delight was to see her name in the Society papers. This pleasure she managed to secure by taking a large house, and giving costly entertainments to all sorts and conditions of individuals. Poor PETER soon found this mode of life intolerably wearisome. He now never knew an hour's peace, until one day he determined to run away from home, leaving in the hands of his wife all that he possessed. His absence made no perceptible difference in Mrs. PETER's ménage. It was generally supposed that he was living abroad. However, on one winter night there was a large gathering at his wife's house, and, it being very cold, the guests eagerly availed themselves of the services of the linkman, who had told himself off to fetch their carriages.
And, when everyone was gone, the poor linkman asked the mistress of the house for some broken victuals.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed that Lady, "if it isn't my husband! What do you mean, PETER, by so disgracing me?"
"Disgrace you!—not I!" returned PETER. "No one recognises me. Of all the guests that throng my house, and eat my suppers, I don't believe there is a solitary individual who knows me by sight."
And PETER was right. Ah, how much better would it have been had PETER remained at school, and not found that sovereign! Had he remained at school, he would some day have acquired a mass of information that would have been of immense assistance to him when his father died, and he succeeded to the paternal broom, and the right of sweep over the family street-crossing!
