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قراءة كتاب Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 26, 1892
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Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 26, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 102.
March 26, 1892.
YE MODERATES OF LONDON!
The Stay-at-Home Voter.Ye Moderates of London
Who sat at home at ease,
Ah! little did you think upon
The dangerous C.C.'s!
While comfort did surround you,
You did not care to go
To remote
Spots to vote
When the stormy winds did blow.
The voter should have courage
No danger he should shun;
In every kind of weather
All sorts of risks should run.
Not he! So bold Progressives
Will tax him, and he'll know
He must pay
In their way,
Which is neither sure nor slow.
But when the Thames Embankment,
The finest road in town,
Is riotous with tramcars,
Will that make rates come down?
Will all these free arrangements,
Free water, gas, do so?
Oh, they may!
Who can say?
And the Companies may go.
When LIDGETT and McDOUGALL
Are censors of the play,
We can patronise the Drama
In a strictly proper way;
When PARKINSON's Inspector
Of Ballets, we shall know
He will stop
Any hop
If he sees a dancer's toe.
Such grandmaternal rulers
Will settle life for us,
And Moderates, escaping
All canvassing and fuss,
Can still, from cosy firesides,
Through three long years or so,
Watch whereat
Jumps the cat,
And which way the wind does blow.
LOCKWOOD THE LECTURER.
["Last Tuesday Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P., delivered a lecture entitled 'The Law and Lawyers of Pickwick,' to a large gathering of the citizens of York, which place he represents in Parliament."—Daily Telegraph.]
Oh, LOCKWOOD the Lecturer hath a rare store
Of jo-vi-a-li-tee
Of quips, and of cranks, with good stories galore,
For a cheery Q.C. is he!
A cheery Q.C. and M.P.
With pen and with pencil he never doth fail,
And every day he hath got a fresh tale.
"A Big-vig on Pig-vig," he quaintly did say,
When giving his lecture at York t'other day.
For Ho! ho! ho!
FRANK LOCKWOOD can show
How well he his DICKENS
Doth know, know, know!
Chorus.—For Ho! ho! ho! &c.
HOSPITALITY À LA MODE.
["Programmes and introductions are going out of fashion at balls."—Weekly Paper.]
SCENE—Interior of a Drawing-room during a dance. Sprightly Damsel disengaged looking out for a partner. She addresses cheerful-looking Middle-aged Gentleman, who is standing near her.
She. I am not quite sure whether I gave you this waltz?
He. Nor I. But I hope you did. I am afraid it is nearly over, but we shall still have time for a turn. [They join the dancers.
She. Too many people here to-night to make waltzing pleasant.
He. Yes, it is rather crowded. Shall we sit out?
She (thankfully, as he has not quite her step.) If you like. And see, the band is bringing things to a conclusion. Don't you hate a cornet in so small a room as this? So dreadfully loud, you know.
He. Quite. Yes, I think it would have been better to have kept to the piano and the strings.
She. But the place is prettily decorated. It must have cost them a lot, getting all these flowers.
He. I daresay. No doubt they managed it by contract. And lots of things come from Algeria nowadays. You can get early vegetables in winter for next to nothing.
She. Yes, isn't it lovely? All these palms, I suppose, came from the Stores.
He. No doubt. By the way, do you know the people of the house at all?
She. Not much. Fact was, I was brought. Couldn't find either the host or hostess. Such a crowd on the staircase, you know.
He. Yes. Rather silly asking double the number of people the rooms will hold, isn't it?
She. Awfully. However, I suppose it pleases some folks. I presume they consider it the swagger thing to do?
He. I suppose they do. Do you know many people here?
She. Not a soul, or—
He. You would not have spoken to me?
She. Well, no—not exactly that. But—
He. You have no better excuse ready. Quite.
She. How rude you are! You know I didn't quite mean that.
He. No, not quite. Quite.
She. By the way, do you know what time it is?
He. Well, from the rooms getting less crowded, I fancy it must be the supper hour. May I not take you down?
She. You are most kind! But do you know the way?
He. I think so. You see, I have learned the geography of the place fairly well.
She. How fortunate! But if I accept your kindness, I think I should have the honour of knowing your name.
He. Certainly; my name is SMITH.
She. Any relation of the people who are giving the dance?
He. Well, yes. I am giving the dance myself—or rather, my wife is.
She. Oh, this is quite too delightful! For now you can tell me what to avoid.
He. Certainly; and I have the pleasure of speaking to—?
She. You must ask my chaperon for my name. You know, introductions are not the fashion.
He. And your chaperon is—?
She. Somewhere or other. In the meanwhile, if you will allow me?
He (offering his arm). Quite!
[Exeunt to supper.
MR. PUNCH'S UP-TO-DATE POETRY FOR CHILDREN.
No. 1.—"LITTLE MISS MUFFIT."
Little Miss MUFFIT
Reposed on a tuffet,
Consuming her curds and whey—
She had dozens of dolls,
And some cash in Consols
Put by for a rainy day.
But though calm and content
While she drew Three per Cent.,
The Conversion unsettled her mien,
And she said, "Though they've thrown us
This Five-Shilling Bonus,
I cannot brook Two pounds fifteen!"
Comes a Broker outsider—
Who chanced to have spied her,
And