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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, May 28, 1892
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 102, May 28, 1892
Aubyn might just as well have married Mary Giffard, and lived ever after in that charming Brereton Royal which Mrs. HENNIKER doubtless sketches from life. If she had insisted on his being a cripple for life, her dictum could not have been disputed. But there ought to have been a union between William and Mary."
Why are the Obstructives like last Season's Walnuts?—Because they are troublesome to PEEL.
VOLO EPISCOPARI.
Festive Middy. "I SAY, GUV'NOR! I THINK YOU MUST RATHER LIKE BEING BISHOP HERE!"
His Lordship. "WELL, MY BOY, I HOPE I DO! BUT WHY DO YOU ASK?"
Festive Middy. "OH, I'VE JUST BEEN TAKING A WALK THROUGH THE CITY, AND—I SAY!—THERE IS AN UNCOMMONLY GOOD-LOOKING LOT O' GIRLS ABOUT, AND NO MISTAKE!"
TO LORD SALISBURY.
(By a Perturbed Tory.)
["We trust that the present Administration will not commit the blunder of attempting to 'gain favour with this or that section of the constituencies, by indulging in loose talk on economical questions.'"—The Standard.]
To thump the Drum Ecclesiastic
Was very likely mere parade;
But oh, why make yourself seem plastic
To the fanatics of Fair Trade?
Of course a warning's no "incitement";
You only said, in tones of thunder,
The valiant Ulstermen to fight meant,
And on your soul you didn't wonder.
Encouragement in that? Go to!
Did shouting SAUNDERSON so take it?
(Still it did raise a hullabaloo.
It's settling now, DON'T re-awake it!)
No; civil war is far—and fudge!
But why the dickens make suggestions
That England is inclined to budge
An inch, on Economic Questions?
Let HOWARD VINCENT, if he likes,
Talk "Fair Trade" fustian; no one listens.
But you?—best keep to slating Strikes.
You bet the eye of HARCOURT glistens,
And GLADSTONE reading with a grin,
Says, "Now I have him on the hip!"
This will not do, if we're to win.
Of course, dear Lord, 'twas but a slip,
But then you do make such a lot;
Explaining them away gets wearying.
You seem as though—of course, 'tis rot!—
Our Free Trade system you were querying.
That cock won't fight; Protection's dead,
Don't trot its ghost out. Just ask GOSCHEN!
That Silver Conference, too! His head
Must have gone woolly, I've a notion.
Fire us with militant suggestions;
Your loyal followers they embolden,
But upon Economic Questions
Remember Silence is so golden!
REPORTED DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BROAD GAUGE.—It has been "converted," and in this sense our old friend, The Broad Gauge, with its easy-going ways, is defunct for ever. Is the conversion for the better? From "broad" to "narrow" is not, ordinarily speaking, beneficial to the individual or to society. And as applied to lines that fall in such pleasant places as do those of the Great Western, will the change to "narrow" result in the same breadth of view which the passengers have hitherto enjoyed? Will the ideas of the management and direction of the G.W.R. change from "broad" to "narrow"? We see it mentioned that the "cross sleepers" have been disturbed and re-laid (enough to make them crosser than ever; the ceremony should have been accompanied by a band playing selections from "The Sleeper Awakened"), and that "an inner row of chairs" is already fixed. But chairs are not so comfortable for sleepers as the good old-fashioned broad-gauge-G.-W.-R. first-class seat, in which, after you had lunched, you could repose from Swindon to Exeter. However, we all know the safety of choosing the "narrow" in preference to the "broad" way in life, and so, no doubt, the spiritually-minded Directors of the G.W.R. have acted with the best intentions and upon the most unanimous resolutions. Yet "intentions" or "resolutions" are more compatible with the "broad" than the "narrow" way.
Lord Bramwell.
BORN 1808. DIED 1892.
Alas! The Busy "B" is dead,
No more we'll hear him buzz a-wing,
Nor picture with a smiling dread
The pungent terrors of his sting.
As Io's gadfly was this "B"
To Sentiment and to Pretence.
Oh, Property! Ah, Liberty!
Fallen in your supreme defence!
Gone is the friend that in a phrase
The "Common Sense" of things could settle,
That with a stroke could slay a craze,
And folly lash with flail of nettle.
Who now will thunder in the Times
Against the Socialistic Rad's tone?
Who'll flout the cant and check the crimes
Of him, the all-surviving GLADSTONE?
Military Tournament at Islington successful as ever. All the glory of war, as Mr. JORROCKS observed in his lecture, with one-half per cent. of its danger. Under command of Major TULLY. For seats, apply per Tully-phone.
UNDER WHICH THIMBLE?
ON MY LADY'S POODLE.
I wonder what on earth it is
That makes me think my lady's poodle
(Her minion smug of solemn phiz,)
The pink and pattern of a noodle:
Its eyes are deep; their look, serene;
Its lips are sensitive and smiling;
But oh! the gross effect, I ween,
Is, passing measure, dull and riling.
It is not that its locks are crisp;
Your humble servant's hair is crisper,
It is not that its accents lisp;
I, too, affect a stammered whisper:
Nor that a gorgeous bow it wears
And struts with particoloured bib on;
I like these macaronic airs;
I'm very fond of rainbow ribbon.
Nor can it be—of this I'm sure—
Because she pampers all its wishes
And tempts her peevish epicure
With dainty meats in dainty dishes.
To tell the truth, while I'm her guest,
My little wants and whims she studies;
If "Beau"'s a rival, I protest
No jealous tincture in my blood is.
I wonder, wonder, at a loss
To justify such wayward snarling—
It makes her very, very cross
My poor opinion of her darling;
The cause (should pride the cause