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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, February 13, 1892
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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 102, February 13, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 102.
February 13, 1892.
"PLEASING THE PIGS!" (From a Private and Confidential Report.)
Mr. CHAPLIN received a deputation on the subject of the Swine-fever last week. True to his dramatic instincts as regards the fitness of things, the Minister for Agriculture was, on this occasion, wearing a Sow-wester. He regretted that he was unable to don a pig-tail, which, as the representative of the Fine Old English Gentleman of years gone by, he should much like to do, but it was a fashion with the pig-wigs of the last century which he hoped to see revived as "a tail of old times." It was better, far better to be pig-tailed as were their great grandfathers, than to be pigheaded as were so many people with pig-culiar notions, specially in Scotland.
"I am doing and have been doing," said the Ministering CHAPLIN, "my very best to please the pigs, but there are some pigs that won't be pleased when they find that everything is not going to be done for them gratis. You may take this for grunted,—I should say granted. Now let me give you an illustration. There were five pigs belonging to a well-known littery family. The first pig went to market but no one would purchase him, the second pig stayed at home (not feeling well), the third pig had pleuro-pneumonia, and the fourth pig was in full swing—if you can imagine a pig in a swing—of swine-fever; and the fifth and quite the smallest pig of the lot, a mere sucking-pig, went 'wheeze, wheeze, wheeze!' and 'wheezes' were always a very bad sign. À propos of 'signs' I have little doubt but that the well-known sign of the 'Pig and Whistle' descends to us from ancient times of Influenza. He trusted that the whole pig-family would soon be pigging up again."
The Right Hon. Gentleman finished by apologising for not being able to quote anything apposite from the works of either the philosophic BACON, the Ettrick Shepherd HOGG, or the poetic SUCKLING, his motto for the present being "porker verba," and he had to issue a Circular about the cattle who were all going wrong.
The Deputation thanked Mr. CHAPLIN, and unanimously expressed their opinion, that where pigs were concerned, the Minister should have his stye-pend increased. Noticing that Mr. CHAPLIN had risen from his chair, and had assumed a threatening attitude, the Deputation hurriedly thanked the Minister of Agriculture, and speedily withdrew.
ANSWER TO THE RIDDLE IN LAST WEEK'S NUMBER.—"Mire + t = Mitre."
Charles Haddon Spurgeon.
Born, June 19, 1834. Died, Jan. 31, 1892.
Sturdy saint-militant, stout, genial soul,
Through good and ill report you've reached the goal
Of all brave effort, and attained that light
Which makes our clearest noontide seem as night.
How much 'twill show us all! We boast our clarity
Of spiritual sense, but mutual charity
Is still our nearest need when faith grows fierce
And even hope earth's mists can hardly pierce.
You were much loved; you spake a potent word
In the world's ear, and listening thousands heard
With joy that clear and confident appeal.
The lingering doubts finer-strung spirits feel,
The sensitive shrinkings from familiar touch
Of the high mysteries, moved you not. Of such
The great throng-stirrers! And you stirred the throng
Who felt you honest and who knew you strong;
Racy of homely earth, yet spirit-fired
With all their higher moods felt, loved, desired.
Puritan, yet of no ascetic strain
Or arid straitness, freshening as the rain
And healthy as the clod; a native force
Incult yet quickening, cleaving its straight course
Unchecked, unchastened, conquering to the end.
Crudeness may chill, and confidence offend,
But manhood, mother wit, and selfless zeal,
Speech clear as light, and courage true as steel
Must win the many. Honest soul and brave,
The greatest drop their garlands on your grave!
'LOOK HERE, UPON THIS PICTURE AND ON THIS!'
(The Haymarket Hamlet as he is and ought to be.)
Mr. H. Kemble. "My dear Tree, I ought to have played Hamlet. First, my name—Kemble. Secondly, Shakspeare's authority—'Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt,' and again, 'Fat and scant of breath'!"
Mr. B. Tree. "All right, my dear Kemble. Quite true what you say; and, any night I am unable to play, you shall be my double!"
WHIPPED IN VAIN.
(By an M.P. of a Retiring Nature.)
The Whip, he writes to me to-day,
Not, as his wont, in tones pacific,
But in the very strongest way,
And using language quite terrific.
He hopes to see me in my place,
And woe betide the sad seceder,
Whose absence helps to throw disgrace
Both on his Party and his Leader.
I throw my hat up to the sky.
At taunts of treason or defection
I flip my fingers. What care I?
For I do NOT seek re-election!
"THIS INDENTURE WITNESSETH."—According to the Times of Friday last, February 5, Cardinal MANNING died practically a pauper. He had given everything away in charity. He was a "Prince of the Church," and his gifts to others were, indeed, princely. In the wills and deeds of how many of our Very Reverend and Right Reverend Lordships shall we find nothing gathered up and bequeathed of the loaves and fishes which have fallen to their share? Such a testament as the Cardinal's would be in quite a New Testamentary spirit.
FOREIGN AND HOME NEWS.—"The Prussian Education Bill," remarked an elderly bachelor to. Mr. PETER FAMILIAS, "is a very important matter; because you see—"
"Hang the Prussian Education Bill!" interrupted PETER F., testily. "You should see the English Education Bill I've had for my boy's schooling last half!"
MR. PUNCH TO THE LIFEBOAT-MEN.
[The President of the Board of Trade has, by command of the QUEEN, conveyed, through the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, to the crews of the lifeboats of Atherfield, Brightstone, and Brooke, Her Majesty's warm appreciation of their gallant conduct in saving the crew and passengers of the steamship Eider.]
Your hand, lad! 'Tis wet with the brine, and the salt spray has sodden your hair,
And the face of you glisteneth pale with the stress of the struggle out there;
But the savour of salt is as sweet to the sense of a Briton, sometimes,
As the fragrance of wet mignonette, or the scent of the bee-haunted limes.