You are here
قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, October 1, 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 103, October 1, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Vol. 103.
October 1, 1892.
"STUMPED!"
(A would-be laudatory Ode.
By Jingle Junior.)
[The young Indian Gentleman, Mr. H. RANJITSINHJI, has "secured his century" at Cricket no less than eleven times this season.]
O H.S. RANJIT—(spelling a wild venture is!)
Wielder of willow, runner-up of "centuries"!
What's in a name? A name like RANJITSIN—
(Can't finish it, was foolish to begin!)
How many miles was it you ran, O RAN—
(Bowled out again. Am sorry I began!)
In running out those hundreds, RANJITSINGHJ—
(A man were a patched fool, a perfect ninny,
Who'd try to spell that name, Ask Bully Bottom!)
With such a name to carry, how you got 'em,
O RANJ—(that sounds like Orange!)—those same "notches"
Is quite a wonder. Were they "bowls" or "cotches"
That got you out at last, those times eleven?
(Where is GRACE now? He has not scored one even,
This season, though as close as ninety-nine to it.)
Applause has greeted you; let me add mine to it,
O RAN-JIT-SIN-HJI! (Those last three letters
What do they spell?) Orthography's cold fetters
Shan't chill my admiration, smart young Hindoo!
Say, did you smite a sixer through a window,
Like Slogger THORNTON in his boyish prime,
O RANJITSINHJI? Got it this time!
That is, it spelt all right. E'en admiration
Shan't tempt me to attempt pronunciation!
Eleven centuries we to Indian skill owe!
Will the East lick the West at its own "Willow?"
Here's luck to India and young RAN—Och, murther!
RAN-JIT-SIN-SIN—How's that! Out? Can't get further!
"OH NO, WE NEVER MENTION IT."—The KENDALS have got a Play by a young American Author with the very uncompromising name of DAM. He, or his Play, may be Dam good, or just the reverse: still, if he does turn out to be the "big, big D," then all the Dam family, such as Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Schiedam, and so forth, will be real proud of him. Future Dams will revere him as their worthy ancestral sire, and American Dam may become naturalised among us (we have a lot of English ones quite a spécialité in that line, so the French say), and become Dam-nationalised. What fame if the piece is successful, and DAM is on every tongue! So will it be too, if unsuccessful. Englishmen will welcome the new American playright with the name unmentionable to ears polite, and will recognise in him, as the Dam par excellence, their brother, as one of the uncommon descendants of A-DAM. By the way, the appropriate night for its production would be Christmas Eve. Fancy the cries all over the House, calling for the successful Author!!
IMMUNITIES OF THE SEA-SIDE.
"COME UNDER THE UMBRELLA, JACK, IT'S BEGUN TO RAIN, AND YOU'LL CATCH COLD, AND MAMMA'LL BE VEXED!"
"POOH! AS IF SALT WATER EVER GAVE ONE COLD!"
"PUNSCH"
(In the Reading-room of the Bernerhof.)
Although thy name is wrongly spelt
Upon thy case, what joy I felt
To find a place where thou hast dwelt,
My Punsch!
Yet wit and wisdom, even thine,
Can't wake up Berne, where folks supine
All go to bed at half-past nine,
My Punsch!
What art or jokes could entertain,
Such sleepy people? True, they feign
It's later, for they say "halb zehn,"
My Punsch!
My German "Punsch," what gender thine?
They who accept, likewise decline,
"Das Weib" might feminine assign—
Die Punsch!
No matter which, if I behold
Thy pages, worth their weight in gold—
It's true they're more than three weeks old,
My Punsch!
AN ODD FELLOW OUT.—The Church-breaking thief (vide the Standard's provincial news) who was arrested at Oswestry (fitting that a Church-thief should have been arrested by Os-Westry-men—which sounds like a body of mounted ecclesiastical police), explained that he was a "monumental mason of Dublin." Perhaps the Jury will find him monu-mentally deranged.
HEALTH AND HOPPINESS.
[It is reported that the latest move is for ladies to combine profit and pleasure by going "hopping."]
Fair Woman longs for novelty,
Her daily task is apt to cloy her,
The pastimes that were wont to be
Diverting now do but annoy her.
The common joys of life are spent
So tired of tennis, shooting, shopping,
She turns in her despair to Kent,
And tries her 'prentice hand at hopping.
Now girls whom you would scarce believe
Would not turn up their nose at soiling
Their dainty hands, to dewy eve
From early morn keep ever toiling.
There's ETHEL of the golden hair
Who flutters through existence gaily
(Her father is a millionnaire),
Hops hard and does her twelve hours daily.
Then pretty MAUD, with laughing eyes,
Who hardly knew what daily wage meant,
To everybody's great surprise
Proceeds to cut this, that engagement.
Amid the vines she daily goes,
And picks till weary fingers tingle,
The sweetest music now she knows
Is hearing hard-earned sovereigns jingle.
This latest move, it's very true,
Appears to be a rather rum thing,
But yet for idle hands to do
We know that Someone will find something.
Will fashionable hopping last?
Well, this it's safe to lay your cash on,
Before another year has passed
There'll be another female fashion.
VIVE LA RAIN DU BALLET À L'ALHAMBRA!—"Certainly," says MR. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD, "Ve've la rain. It comes pouring down on the stage, and the people come pouring in to see it. I suppose," says he, "they'll now call me 'The Wetter'un?" The ballet is very effective, not a drop too much, and "not a drop in the business" in front of the house, though there is, as is evident, on the stage. If Manager JOHN liked to quote SHAKSPEARE with a difference, in his advertisements, he might say, "With a hey, ho, the Wind and the Rain! For the Rain it raineth every night!" For some time to come this show will be the raining favourite at the Alhambra. By the way, the Sheffield Telegraph, describing the alterations and improvements in front at the Alhambra, wrote—"The ceiling has been bevelled with porous plasters so as to hide the girders." We know that hand:—it's Our "Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM," and she "comes from Sheffield." However, "porous plasters" would be another attraction at the Alhambra, or anywhere, as they certainly ought to draw.